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YELUTJ IE" SPECIJMIM 
 
Fun for the Million, 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 CONSISTING OF 
 
 SEVERAL THOUSAND 
 
 OF THE BEST 
 
 JOKES, WITTICISMS, PUNS, EPIGRAMS, 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 WITTY COMPOSITIONS, 
 IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, 
 
 INTENDED AS 
 
 FUN FOR THE MILLION 
 
 A NEW EDITION. 
 
 Honiion : 
 
 PRINTED FOR SHERWOOD, GILBERT, AND PIPER, 
 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 Price Is. 6d. Boi 
 
 1835. 
 
 HD 
 
IN 6/73 
 
 ?3 
 
 .f**^ 
 

 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Gentle Reader, 
 
 We present thee with a volume of examples of Wit. Whatever be thy humour, its 
 contents must please thee even in spite of thyself. Whatever be thy diseases of mind, 
 thou wilt here find medicine for all of them — antidotes to bad weather, dull neigh- 
 bourhoods, contrary winds, protracted remittances, chronic disorders, lawsuits, 
 gout, scolding wives, drunken husbands, and all the numerous et c&teras in the cata- 
 logue of life's miseries. With this volume in thy hands, thou mayst always enjoy 
 " the soul's calm sunshine," and be a stranger to ennui, hypochondria, the blue 
 devils, and devils of all colours, which would disturb thy repose and sense of well- 
 being. 
 
 Talk of the Philosopher's Stone, Fortunatus's Wishing-cap, and the diminutive 
 Gianticide's Invisible Coat, these are mere baubles, when compared with this book, 
 for thou wilt be cheerful, merry, and without any wants, while thou hast in thy 
 pouch or pocket this unfailing and omnipotent talisman. " I would rather," said a 
 profound philosopher, " have been born with a cheerful disposition, than heir to ten 
 thousand a-year," and he might have said, twenty or fifty thousand ; for what is 
 wealth without that healthful state of mind, which this golden volume will infallibly 
 ensure ? This book is therefore worth twenty thousand a-year ; and its possessor 
 may look down with pity on the man, however wealthy, who nevertheless lacks this 
 treasure. Before breakfast, it will create good spirits for the day ; after dinner, it will 
 promote digestion and healthful secretions ; and after supper, it will so weary thy 
 muscles, and exercise thy diaphragm, that repose, sound and sweet, will be the cer- 
 tain companion of thy pillow. 
 
 b«2 
 
FRO LOG UK. 
 
 Momus passed a few centuries in Greece, where lie specially dispensed his favours 
 *o the lively sons of Attica. He thence crossed into Italy, where the monk's cowl 
 so disgusted him, that he quitted that country for France, and dwelt there till the 
 return of the Bourbons, when, to escape the thraldrom of dulness, he took passage 
 in a steam-boat for England. During the last seven years he has been frisking it 
 between Bath, Cheltenham, Leamington, Brighton, Hastings, Buxton, Harrowgate 
 Sidmouth, and other favoured seats of British gaiety. In these jaunts, however 
 he passed through London, Bristol, Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, Leeds, 
 Nottingham, and other dens of care, and taking pity on the wretched inhabitants, 
 his godship inspired two Editors of the genuine race of the Bulls to construct this 
 work, to cheer and enliven the present gloomy existence of so many members of 
 their family. 
 
 Having received their commission, which authorized them to destroy the hags of 
 melancholy, and to sink, burn, and overwhelm by suitable reaction all the forms of 
 mental disease described by Haslam, or suffered by preaching and praying zealots, 
 thrifty misers, swallowers of quack medicines, lawyers' clients, and other victims 
 of misguided reason, they resolved to call a Council of Wits ; but Dr. Walcot 
 being dead, they could hear of none except George Colman, whose stock was either 
 exhausted, or forestalled by the purveyors of royal amusement. They therefore be- 
 sought Momus to evoke a council of his deceased favourites from the Shades, and 
 fixed upon Salisbury-plain for the place of rendezvous. The god, on hearing this, 
 burst into a roar of laughter, telling them that the area of Stonehenge would more 
 than suffice. To this lone place, the wits of other times one night were summoned, 
 temporarily invested with an unsubstantial garb, resembling in appearance their 
 mortal forms, and were brought into the presence of the Editors. The latter might 
 have felt alarmed, but the numbers in attendance were few, and instead of the usual 
 groans of ghosts, incessant peals of mirth alone were heard. These at length sub- 
 sided, when Cervantks demanded "the business of the two knaves who had brought him 
 bttck W this mrru'uxxrLL" Ckn» o£ th Editors theft aamed the commission which he and 
 
his colleague had received, on which the whole assembly burst into a provoking 
 fit of laughter 5 till Voltaike was heard inquiring, in a sarcastic tone, " What is that 
 to us ? We have bequeathed legacies, which mortals may use if they think proper.' '' 
 " True," said the second Editor, <e but we want the test of true wit, and your several 
 opinions of its essence and nature." Fresh peals of laughter followed this question, 
 and a full hour elapsed ere silence could be obtained. Several of the phantoms 
 then exclaimed together, " Why trouble us on this subject ? why not consult our 
 works ?" " But," said Sterne, "we are sent by the gods at the request of Momus, 
 and it is our duty to obey. I yield for one, but I can only quote my own Tris- 
 tram j" and so saying, he delivered, in his sprightly manner, the following passage : 
 
 ' Men of least wit are reported to be men of most judgment, but it is no more than report, and a vile 
 and malicious report into the bargain. . Will you give me leave to illustrate this affair of Wit and Judg- 
 ment, by the two knobs on the back of my chair. Here stands wit — and there stands judgment. You see 
 they are the highest and most ornamental parts of its frame — as wit and judgment are of ours, and like 
 them too, indubitably both made and fitted to go together, — in order, as we say in all such cases of dupli- 
 cated embellishments — to answer one another. Now, for the sake of an experiment, and for the clearer 
 illustrating this matter, let us, for a moment, take off one of these two curious ornaments from the point or 
 pinnacle of the chair it now stands on. But did you ever, in the whole course of your lives, see such a ridi- 
 culous business as this now is 1 Nay, let me ask you, whether this single knob, which stands here like a 
 blockhead by itself, can serve any purpose, but to put one in mind of the want of the other ? And rather 
 than be as it is, would not the chair be ten times better without any knob at all 1 Now these two knobs, 
 or top ornaments of the mind of man, which crown the whole entablature — being, as I said, wit and judg- 
 ment, which of all others, as I have proved it, are the most needful — the most prized — the most calami- 
 tous to be without, and consequently, the hardest to come at ; — for all these reasons put together, there is 
 not a mortal among us so destitute of a love of fame or feeling — or so ignorant of what will do him good 
 therein — who does not wish and steadfastly resolve in his own mind to be, or be thought at least, master 
 of the one or the other, or indeed, both of them, if the thing seems any way feasible, or likely to be brought 
 to pass. Now, your graver gentry, having little or no kind of chance in aiming at the one, unless they 
 laid hold of the other — pray what do you think would become of them 1 — Why, sirs, in spite of all their 
 gravities, they must e'en have been contented to have gone with their insides naked. This was not to be 
 borne, but by an effort of philosophy not to be supposed in the case we are upon, — so that no one could 
 well have been angry with them, had they been satisfied with what little they could have snatched up and 
 secreted under their cloaks and periwigs, had they not raised a hue and cry at the same time against the 
 lawful owners." 
 
 This opinion was warmly seconded by Roghefoucault, who observed, 
 
 " Those are mistaken who imagine wit and judgment to be two distinct things. Judgment w only th« 
 
VI PROLOGUE. 
 
 perfection of wit, which penetrates into the recesses of things, observes all that merits observation, and 
 perceives what seems imperceptible. We must therefore agree that it is extensive wit which produces all 
 the effects attributable to judgment." 
 
 Swift, who had listened to the preceding speakers with more than his wonted 
 
 complacency, insisted on the necessary union of wit and knowledge, somewhat 
 
 inelegantly asserting, that 
 
 " Wit without knowledge is a sort of cream which gathers in a night to the top, and by a skilful hand 
 may be soon whipped into froth ; but once skimmed aw r ay, what appears underneath will be fit for nothing 
 but to be thrown to the hogs*" 
 
 The Dean then proceeded to illustrate the thfficulty of defining wit, in the follow- 
 ing caution to the Editors : 
 
 " Nothing is so tender as a piece of wit, and which is apt to suffer so much in the carriage. Some 
 things are extremely witty to-day, or fasting, or. in this place, ot over a bottle ; any of which by the 
 smallest transposal or misapplication is utterly annihilate. Thus wit has its walks and purlieus, out of 
 which it may not stray the breadth of a hair upon peril of being lost." 
 
 "I confess," said Pope, "that I am not a little disposed to coincide with the opi- 
 nion of those whom the last speaker has attacked. My idea of wit is that it 
 
 ' Is nature to advantage dress'd, 
 
 What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express' d ;' 
 
 nor am I less persuaded of the truth of my assertion, that 
 
 * wit and judgment ever are at strife.' " 
 
 Here he was interrupted by Dryden, who observed, ' ' that while he agreed in the 
 sentiments of Pope, he must be allowed to say, that they appeared to be borrowed 
 from the well-known couplet in his own works, 
 
 ' Great wits to madness sure are near allied, 
 And thin partitions do their bounds divide.' " 
 
 When Dryden had finished, Addison expressed himself in the following 
 elegant and perspicuous language : 
 
 •* True wit consists in tke resemblance of ideas, and false wit in the resemblance of words, as puns and 
 
PROLOGUE. Vll 
 
 quibbles, of syllables-, as in echoes and rhymes, or of letters, as in anagrams and .acrostics. But every 
 resemblance of ideas is not what we call wit, and it must be such an one that gives delight and surprise 
 to the reader. Wheie the likeness is obvious it creates no surprise and is not wit. Thus, when a poet 
 tells us that the bosom of his mistress is as white as snow, there is no wit in the comparison ; but, when 
 he adds with a sigh, it is as cold too, it then grows into wit." 
 
 "I," said Buckingham, " would not so coldly speak of this vivifier of human 
 
 intellect : 
 
 *■ True wit is everlasting like the sun, 
 
 Which, though sometimes behind a cloud retir'd, 
 
 Breaks out again, and is by all admir'd : 
 
 A flame that glows amidst conceptions fit, 
 
 E'en something of divine, and more than wit. 
 
 Itself unseen, yet all things by it shown, 
 
 Describing all men, but describ'd by none.' " 
 
 "Pshaw," exclaimed Dennis, with the utmost impatience, ." what rhapsody- 
 is here ! His Grace, when he wrote the Rehearsal, obtained reputation as an ex- 
 emplifier of wit, which he has destroyed, and thus done justice to the world, by 
 attempting to define it. No intelligible characteristic of that quality has he favoured 
 us with, if we except the very amusing paradox, that true wit is sometldng more than 
 wit. But, so it is. Prose writers have seldom been capable of conceiving, illus- 
 trating, or defining wit ; and for the poets, they have generally lost their wits, in 
 attempting to do the last. For instance, the crooked little gentleman, who has 
 so gravely amused us with his sententious plagiarism from Dryden, when he en- 
 tered the lists, propria marte, and soared on his own feeble wings, indulged us with 
 the following delectable apophthegm : 
 
 ' There are whom Heaven has bless'd with store of wit, 
 Yet want as much again to manage it.' 
 
 which would have stood alone in palpable absurdity, but for the kind example 
 afforded it by his Grace of Buckingham.' 
 
 A general murmur of disapprobation, which arose from the writers both of 
 prose and verse, at this attack of Dennis's two-edged sword, compelled the Zoilus 
 to silence ; when Sir William Temple claimed the attention of the assembly, and 
 thus delivered himself; 
 
" Wit is a Saxon word that \s used to express what the Spaniards and Italians call mgenio, and the 
 French Espi-it, both from the Ladn; but I think Wit more peculiarly is the characteristic of poetry than 
 of prose, and is displayed in those writings or discourses which are the most pleasing and entertaining to 
 all that read or hear them." 
 
 " I must acknowledge/' said Johnson, who followed him, 
 
 " That I do not perceive the imperative necessity of ascertaining the etymology of a term in general use 
 for the purpose of arriving at its ordinary acceptation ; and though the labours of the philologist may be 
 usefully and successfully employed in collating the several terms employed in different languages, to 
 convey the same idea, such research must be deemed futile and superfluous in investigating the precise 
 import of a word vernacular in our own tongue, and regarded as sufficiently intelligible to general 
 capacities. I cannot see why the properties attributed to wit by Sir William Temple, should characterise 
 verse more than prose compositions. Mr. Pope's definition of wit would exclude that originality which is 
 one of its peculiar ornaments. Buckingham's flight, turn usitata nee tenui pennci, I shall not pretend to 
 follow. The attempt to oppose wit to judgment is obviously sophistical, and I consider Sterne's observa- 
 tion on this head extremely happy ; but a simile is not a definition. When a philosopher of antiquity was 
 required to define motion, he simply rose and walked round the room. In my opinion the case is much 
 the same with regard to wit. He who cannot conceive its nature, unless it be defined to him, will rarely 
 reap advantage from any definition with which he can be presented." 
 
 It was the voice of thunder, and a reproof on the Editors which reached their 
 organs of hearing, like the great clock of St. Paul's. However, in a moment 
 they were relieved by the suavity of Locke, who suddenly presented himself, leaning 
 against one of the eternal stones of the circle. 
 
 " If a definition strictly logical," said he, " be intended by the Doctor, his 
 opinion is perhaps correct. But this does not seem to be a reason why we should 
 decline inquiring into the nature and distinguishing properties of Wit. Wit ap- 
 pears to me to consist in the assemblage of ideas, and in putting them together with 
 quickness and variety, wherein can be found any semblance or congruity, thereby 
 to make up pleasant pictures and agreeable visions in the fancy. It is a junction of 
 things by distant and fanciful relations, which surprise because they are unex- 
 pected." 
 
 f* With all my veneration for the illustrious philosopher," replied Congreve, " I cannot join in his view 
 of the subject. "Wit, I consider, as a singular and uuavoidable manner of doing or saying any thing pecu- 
 liar and natural to on« tnau only, by which his speech and action* are distinguished from those of other 
 
PROLOGUE. IX 
 
 Goldsmith now spoke, and maintained, with his usual pleasantry, that 
 
 ■' As almost every character which has excited either attention or pity, has owed part of its success to 
 merit, and part to a happy concurrence of circumstances in its favour, had Caesar or Cromwell exchanged 
 countries, the one might have been a sergeant and the other an exciseman. So it is with Wit, which 
 
 generally succeeds more from being happily addressed, than from its native poignancy." 
 
 " I admire the laconic inference drawn by the last speaker," said the author of 
 
 Hudibras, " and thus far coincide in his idea of the qualities cf wit: 
 
 'All wit and fancy, like a diamond, 
 
 The more exact and curious 'tis ground, 
 
 Is forc'd for every caract to abate 
 
 As much in value, as it wants in weight.' " 
 
 " For my part," said the venerable author of the Night Thoughts, " I have always 
 regarded wit as chiefly characterised by a happy union of courtesy and severity: 
 
 • As in smooth oil, the razor best is whet, 
 So wit is keenest by politeness set. 
 Their want of edge from their offence is seen, 
 Both pain us least when exquisitely keen.' " 
 
 " I object," said Seldon, " to the observations of the four gentlemen who have last spoken. Those of 
 the first are very loose aud general, and all have been too epigrammatic in their remarks ; and though I 
 would not place wit and judgment in antithesis,, 1 by no means agree with those persons who entertain an 
 idea that wit necessarily implies wisdom. Wit and wisdom differ : wit is upon the sudden turn ; wisdom 
 is bringing about ends. Nature must be the groundwork of wit and art. Wit must grow like fingers ; if 
 it be taken from others, it is like plums stuck upon blackthorns, there they are awhile, but they come to 
 nothing. He that lets fly all he knows or thinks, may by chance be satirically witty." 
 
 " What wit is," said Hume gravely, " it may not be easy to define ; but it is sufficient to our purpose 
 that it affects taste and sentiment, and bestows i omediate enjoyment. The most profound metaphysics 
 might nevertheless be employed in explaining the various kinds and species ot wit, and many classes of it 
 might perhaps be resolved into more general principles." 
 
 On Hume's silence, Lord Kaimks thus addressed the audience. 
 
 u After all the ingenious, and, in mauy instances, piofound observations, which have been elicited 
 from the preceding speakers, some of the most striking and decided properties jf wit seem to have been 
 left unnoticed. Wit," as Mr. Locke has justly remarked, "consists chiefly iu joining things by distant 
 and fanciful relations, which surprise because they are unexpected. Wit is of all the most elegant re- 
 creation : the image enters the mind with gaiety, and givts a sudden flush, which is extremely pleasant. 
 Wit therefore gently elevates without straining," raises mirth without dissoluteness, and relaxes while it 
 
 bS 
 
X PROLOGUE,. • 
 
 entertains. The term Wit is applied to such thoughts and expressions as are ludicrous, and occasion 
 some degree of surprise by their singularity. In its proper sense it is of two kinds : wit in the thought, 
 and wit in the words or expression." 
 
 Kant, who had hitherto stood in a corner, now darted in the midst of the assem- 
 bly and proceeded thus : 
 
 " In every thing capable of exciting hearty laughter, there must be absurdity. Laughter is an affec- 
 tion from the sudden change of a strained imagination into nothi?ig. This change, which certainly is by 
 no means grateful to the understanding, indirectly, and for a moment, produces very lively gratification. 
 The cause must therefore consist in an influence, exerted upon the body, and in the reaction of this upon 
 the mind. The idea presented is not, in itself, an object of pleasure, as it is in the case* of a person who 
 receives tidings of a successful stroke in trade. How, in fact, can mere balked expectations be pleasing 1 
 But a play of ideas takes place, and this excites a play of the powers of life. 
 
 " An Indian, at table with an Englishman, at Surat, expressed his surprise by loud exclamations, on 
 seeing a vast quantity of froth ooze out of a bottle of porter, as soon as the cork was drawn. Being 
 asked, What surprised him so ? Nay, said he, don't suppose I wonder it comes out ; but how did you 
 ever contrive to squeeze it in ? We do not laugh at this story, because we find ourselves wiser than the 
 poor Indian, or because the understanding finds in it any thing satisfactory, but our expectation was 
 strained, and suddenly vanishes. A rich man's heir is desirous to celebrate his funeral with all solem- 
 nity, but he complains that he cannot accomplish his purpose : for, says he, the more I give my mourners 
 to look sorrowful, the more cheerful do these fellows appear. The reason why we laugh aloud at this, is 
 the sudden vanishing of expectation. Let a person of humour, by way of reply, seriously and circumstan- 
 tially relate how a merchant, on his return home with all his whole fortune in goods, was obliged to 
 throw them all overboard during a violent storm, and that the loss affected him so, that the very same 
 night his periwig turned grey ; and we shall laugh aloud. For we feel pleasure in striking to and fro the 
 idea we are catching at, as if it were a ball. 
 
 "Assuming that, with all our thought, corporeal movements are harmonically connected, we can pretty 
 well conceive how the sudden removal of the mind, from station to station, in order to consider its object, 
 is answered by a reciprocating contraction and dilatation of the elastic parts of our viscera. These are 
 communicated to the diaphragm, which (as from tickling) throws the air out by sudden jerks, and occa- 
 sions a healthy concussion. Tins alone, and not what passes in the mind, is the true cause of the plea- 
 sure derived from a thought, which in reality contains nothing. Voltaire says, that Providence has given 
 us hope and sleep, as a compensation for the many cares of life. He might have added laughter, if the 
 wit and originality of humour, necessary to excite it among rational people, were not so rare." 
 
 At the conclusion of Kant's discourse, several of the assembly sought at once 
 to deliver their opinions,but before the point of precedency could be adjusted, the time 
 limited for their absence from the Shades expired. The sunbeams now touched the 
 eastern horizon, and the shadowy congregation disappeared in an instant, 
 
PROLOGUE. XI 
 
 Thus, gentle reader, have we, the Editors of this volume, enabled thee to benefit 
 at thine ease by the discourses uttered by these luminaries of wit at the solemn hour 
 of night, in obedience to preternatural power. Who shall decide when such doctors 
 disagree ? Thou wilt doubtless remark the discrepancies of opinion existing among 
 the hallowed dead, and wilt hesitate, ere presumption shall make thee arbiter among 
 them, by rashly deciding where wit is and is not. Our self-love induces us to 
 believe, that there is no part of our collection which may not take shelter under 
 one or other of the great authorities composing this illustrious convocation. We 
 have endeavoured " to be all things to all men, that we might by any means win 
 some." Judge not, therefore, of the contents of our volume by the extent of 
 thy reading, nor by thy own bright conceptions, for thatwhich is familiar to thee may 
 be new to others ; and thou shouldst moreover remember that wit, like music, seldom 
 becomes old, unless it be really good. 
 
 Neither let the refinement of thy taste be in all cases a criterion of the merit 
 of our labours ; for in works of humour, as in those of theology, there must be 
 *' milk for babes." Every reader is not endued with a microscopic perception of 
 wit ; and the rough jest of a sailor, or the blunder of a rude Irishman, will afford 
 unequivocal delight to many, who would derive little pleasure from the sallies of 
 Congreve or Addison. Yet if thine own disposition incline thee to seek the higher 
 regions of intellectual amusement, thou canst here indulge it. Our book is not a 
 mere collection of jests and stories, or a revived Joe Miller. We have not aimed 
 wholly at exciting the yeXws aa^eato<i ) and cracking the sides of the reader. Thou 
 wilt find treasures of humour drawn from the richest veins of classic ore, in which 
 the voluptuary of wit may revel in perfect enjoyment. And let not thy judgment, 
 if that judgment should happily incline in our favour, be biassed against us, albeit 
 some splenetic railer, obtuse in his perceptions, should say of our book in thy hearing, 
 " There is nothing in it ;" but remember the just observation of Sterne, that " it is 
 not in the power of every one to taste humour, however he may wish it j it is the 
 
gift of God ! and a true feeler always brings half the entertainment along with hhn," or 
 
 as Shakspeare expresses it ; 
 
 "A jest's prosperity lies in the ear 
 
 Of him that hears it, never in the tongne 
 
 Of him that makes it." 
 
 Lastly, we beseech thee to bear in remembrance that our attempts have been 
 directed to promote thy entertainment and enjoyment ; and consequently, shouldst 
 thou even be of opinion that we have failed in our undertaking, we are persuaded 
 that, in thy liberal mind, gratitude for our intention will beget forbearance for 
 our deficiencies, and exempt us from becoming the victims of spleen or petulance. 
 
 For Self and Co., 
 
 JOHN BULL. 
 Poets Corner, Wiestmimi&r, 
 May 1, 1824. 
 
LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 FAMILY ATTAINMENTS. 
 
 A medical gentleman, distinguished not only for 
 his professional ability, but likewise for his attach- 
 ment to literature, being in a very debilitated con- 
 dition from the effects of long illness, engaged a 
 young man to read to him. It happened that the 
 person who was reeomr.j ended to the doctor for 
 this purpose had not exactly received what is 
 termed a libera! education -, in fact, he had been 
 accustomed fcy dispense other than literary sweets, 
 having taken his degrees in a magazine of spices 
 and groceries. It will, therefore, not appear sur- 
 prising, that on being installed in his lectureship, 
 several lapsus lingua occurred in the execution of 
 bis office, which not a little astonished as well as 
 annoyed the sensitive ear of his learned auditor. 
 At length the unfortunate reader, meeting with 
 one of those exquisite polysyllables of Greek deri- 
 vation, equally the delight of the pedant and the 
 terror of the uninitiated, fairly broke down. Dis- 
 concerted at the circumstance, the doctor inquired 
 of him whether he had ever learned Greek or La- 
 Un ; not receiving an immediate answer to his 
 question, " Do you mean, sir," said the sick gen- 
 tleman, " to tell me that you know any language 
 but English ?" The unfortunate catechumen, thus 
 completely screwed to the sticking-place, reluc- 
 tantly acknowledged that he did not, but gravely 
 assured the interrogator that he had a brother who 
 was perfectly acquninted'with French. 
 
 THE COQUETTES. A DIALOGUE". 
 
 I love, and am beloved again, 
 
 Strephon no more shall sigh in vain : 
 
 I've try'd his faith, and found him true, 
 
 And all my coyness bid adieu. 
 j 2. I love, and am belov'd again, 
 
 Yet still my Thyrsis shall complain ; 
 
 I'm sure he's mine while I refuse him, 
 
 But when I yield I fear to lose him. ' 
 
 1 . Men will grow faint with tedious fasting. 
 ! 2. And both will tire with often tasting, 
 
 When they find the bliss not lasting. 
 
 1. Love is complete in kind possessing. 
 
 2. Ah no ! ah no ! that ends the blessing. 
 
 Chorus of both. 
 Then let us beware how far we eonsent 
 Too soon when we yield, too late we repent $ 
 'Tis ignorance makes men admire ; 
 And granting desire 
 ! We feed not the fire, 
 
 But make it more quickly expire. 
 
 UNPALATABLE IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 Wilkes attended a city dinner, not long after his 
 promotion to city honours. Among the guests was 
 a noby vulgar deputy, a great glutton, who, on 
 his entering the dinner room, always with great 
 
 I deliberation took off his wig, suspended it on a pin, 
 and with due solemnity put on a white cotton 
 
 ;night-eap. Wilkes, who was a high bred man, 
 and never accustomed to* similar exhibitions, could 
 
14 
 
 THE LAUGHING 
 
 not take his eyes from so strange and novel a pic- 
 ture. At length the deputy walked up to Wilkes, 
 and asked him whether he did not think that his 
 night-cap became him? " Oh I yes, sir," replied 
 Wilkes, " but it would look much better if it was 
 pulled cfuite over your face." 
 
 NONSENSE V. SENSE. 
 
 When Wilkes was confined in the King's 
 Bench, he was waited upon by a deputation from 
 some ward in the city, when the office of alderman 
 was vacant. As there had already been great fer- 
 mentation on his account, and much more ap- 
 prehended, they who were deputed undertook to 
 remonstrate with Wilkes on the danger to the public 
 peace which would result from bis offering him- 
 self as a candidate on the present occasion, and 
 expressed the hope that he would at least wait till 
 some more suitable opportunity presented itself. 
 But they mistook their man ; this was with him an 
 additional motive for persevering in his first inten- 
 tions. After much useless conversation, one of the 
 deputies at length exclaimed, " Well, Mr. Wilkes, 
 if you are thus determined, we must take the sense 
 of the ward." " With all my heart," replied 
 Wilkes, " I will take the non-sense, and beat you 
 ten to one." 
 
 NOVEL WAGER. 
 
 An English gentleman, travelling in America, had 
 his attention arrested by a singular contest between 
 a negro and the mule on which he was mounted. 
 The indocile animal had thought proper to take 
 exception to the carriage of the gentleman, which 
 preceded him,, and evinced a decided disinclination 
 to pass it; his rider, on the other hand, was as 
 ■resolute in his determination to effect a change in 
 the conduct of his beast. At length the gentleman 
 heard Blackey exclaim to the mule, " I'll bet you a 
 fivepenny I make you go by this time ;" then, nod- 
 ding his head, he added, "Do you bet?" After 
 which, by means of some very pressing arguments 
 of whip and spur, h3 succeeded in making the ani- 
 aial pass the carriage. The gentleman, who had 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 been highly amused with the scene, called to the 
 negro, and observed that though the wager had 
 been laid, he did not see how payment could be 
 obtained from the mule. " Oh yes," replied the 
 black, " Massa give me tenpenny for corn for him; 
 he lose the bet, and me only give him fivepenny." 
 
 RECOLLECTION. 
 
 False tho' she be to me and love, 
 
 I'll ne'er pursue revenge ; 
 For still the charmer T approve, 
 
 Tho' I deplore her change. 
 In hours of bliss we oft' have met, 
 
 They could not always last ; 
 And tho' the present T regret, 
 
 I'm grateful for the past. congreve. ' 
 
 DR. JOHNSON AND THE SCOTCH. 
 
 On Johnson's return from his tour to the He- 
 brides, lie expressed, notwithstanding the hospita- 
 lity he had experienced on his progress through 
 Scotland, the strongest antipathy to every thing 
 connected with that country. A Scotch gentleman 
 who had been informed of this, being in company 
 with the doctor, addressed him with " Well, doc- 
 tor, so I learn you are just arrived from Scotland : 
 pray what do you think of my country ?" « Think, 
 sir," replied Johnson, " why, it is a detestable 
 country, to be sure." Disconcerted by a reply so 
 unpalatable and unceremonious, the North Briton 
 could only answer, u Well, doctor, such as it is, 
 God made it." "True, very true, sir," rejoined 
 Johnson, " but you will recollect that he only made 
 it for Scotchmen ; and were not comparisons justly 
 deemed odious, I might remind you, sir, that God 
 made Hell." 
 
 TO I. H. W N, ON HIS SPECIMENS OF A 
 
 TRANSLATION OF TASSO. 
 
 O thou ! whom poetry abhors, 
 Whom angry prose kick'd out of doors, 
 Hear'st thou that groan ? proceed no further, 
 Translated Tasso roars out, murder ! 
 
THE LAUGHING PHIEOSOJfHEB. 
 
 15 
 
 PROGRESS OV LUXURY. 
 
 la an old Cambridge comedy of the Returne from 
 Parnassus, we find this indignant description of the 
 progress of luxury in those days, put into the mouth 
 of one of the speakers. 
 
 " Why is't not strange to see a ragged clerke, 
 Some stammell weaver, or some butcher's sonne, 
 That scrubb'd a late within a sleeveless gowne, 
 When the commencement, like a morrice dance, 
 Hath put a bell or two about his legges, 
 Created him a sweet cleane gentleman : 
 How then he 'gins to follow fashions. 
 He whose thin sire dwelt in a smokye roofe, 
 Must take tobacco, and must wear a locke. 
 His thirsty daddrinkes in a wooden bowle, 
 But his sweet self is served in silver plate. 
 His hungry sire will scrape you twenty legges 
 For one good Christmas meal on new year's day, 
 But his mawe must be capon cramm'd each day." 
 
 CARDS AND KISSES. 
 
 Cupid and my Campaspe play'd 
 
 At cards for kisses, Cupid paid ; 
 
 He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows ; 
 
 His mother's doves, and team of sparrows • 
 
 Loses them too, then down he throws 
 
 The coral of his lip, the rose 
 
 Crowing on's cheek (but none knows how) 
 
 With these the crystal of his brow, 
 
 And then the dimple of his chin; 
 
 All these did my Campaspe win. 
 
 At last he set her both his eyes, 
 
 She won, and Cupid blind did rise. 
 
 O, Love ! has she done this to thee ? 
 
 What shall, alas ! become of me 1 
 
 WIT WITHOUT KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 Wit without knowledge is a sort of cream which 
 gathers in a night to the top, and by a skilful hand 
 may be soon whipped into froth ; but once scum- 
 med away, what appears underneath will be fit for 
 nothing but to be thrown to the hogs. 
 
 SHIRT AND NO SHIRT. 
 
 Foote having signified in his advertisement, while 
 
 he was exhibiting his imitations at one of the Theatre s 
 Royal, that he would, on a stated evening, take off 
 Quin : who, being desirous of seeing his own picture, 
 took a place in the stage box, and when the audience 
 had ceased applauding Foote for the justness of the 
 representation, Quin bawled out, " 1 am glad on't, 
 the poor fellow will get. a clean shirt by it." When 
 Foote immediately retorted from the stage, " A clean' 
 shirt, Master Quin ! — a shirt of any kind was a very 
 novel thing in your family some few years ago." 
 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH AT COVENTRY. 
 
 In a second tour through England, soon after the 
 defeat of the Spanish Armada, queen Elizabeth paid the 
 city of Coventry another visit. The mayor, on her 
 majesty's departure, among other particulars, said, 
 '* When the King of Spain attacked your majesty, 
 egad, he took the wrong sow by the ear." The queen 
 could not help smiling at the man's simplicity, which 
 was further heightened, when he begged to have the 
 honour to attend the queen as far as the gallows ; 
 which stood at that time about a mile out of the 
 town. 
 
 At another time when the queen, in her progress 
 through the kingdom, called at Coventry, the mayor, 
 attended by the aldermen, addressed her majesty in 
 rhyme, in the following words : — 
 " We men of Coventry 
 Are very glad to see 
 Your royal majesty : 
 Good Lord, how fair you be !" 
 To which her majesty returned the following gra- 
 cious answer : 
 
 '" My royal majesty 
 Is very glad to see 
 Ye men of Coventry : 
 Good Lord, what fools ye be!" 
 
 CLERICAL CHATTERING. 
 
 That mad wag, the Rev. S. S., sitting by a bro- 
 ther clergyman at dinner, observed afterwards, that 
 his dull neighbour had a ** twelve parson power" of 
 conversation. 
 
16 
 
 TUB LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 riCTUKE OF TARTARUS 
 
 known by the sign of the Bagpipes One morning j, 
 In an old play, called the Four P's, by John Hey- 1 after the rehearsal of a comedy which was to be per 
 
 wood, the epigrammatist, is the following ludicrous 
 portraiture of the infernal regions, as described by 
 an adventurer who went thither to recover his lost 
 love : 
 
 " This devil and I walked arm in arm 
 
 So far, 'till he had brought me thither, 
 
 Where all the devils of hell together 
 
 Stood in array in such apparel, 
 
 As for that day there meetly fell. 
 
 Their horns were gilt, their claws full clean, 
 
 Their tails were kempt, and as I ween, 
 
 With sothery butter their bodies anointed ; 
 
 I never saw devils so well appointed. 
 
 The master-devil'sat in his jacket, 
 
 And all the souls were playing at racket. 
 
 None other rackets they had in hand, 
 
 Save every soul a good fire-brand ; 
 
 Wherewith they play'd so prettily, 
 
 That Lucifer laugh'd merrily. 
 
 And all the residue of the fiends 
 
 Did laugh thereat full well like friends. 
 
 But of my friend I saw no whit, 
 
 Nor durst not ask for her as yet. 
 
 Anon all this rout was brought i,i silence, 
 
 And I by an usher brought to presence 
 
 l Of Lucifer ; then low, as well I could, 
 
 1 kneeled, which he so well allowM 
 
 That thus he beck'd, and by St. Antony 
 
 He smiled on me well-favour'dly, 
 
 Bending his brows as broad as barn-doors ; 
 
 Shaking his ears as rugged as burrs ; 
 
 Rolling his eyes as round as two bushels j 
 
 Flashing the fire out of his nostrils ; 
 
 ■Gnashing his teeth so vain-gloriously, 
 
 That methought time to fall to flattery, 
 
 Wherewith I told, as I shall tell ; 
 
 ! Oh pleasant picture ! prince of hell !" &c, 
 
 TRUE CONSOLATION. 
 
 When Daueourt, the playwright, gave a new piece, 
 if it were unsuccessful, to console himself, he was ac- 
 customed to sup with two or three friends, at a tavern 
 
 formed for the first time that evening, he asked one of 
 his daughters, not ten years of age, how she liked the 
 piece. "Ah, papa, said the girl, you will go to night 
 and sup at the sign of the Bagpipes." 
 
 A FAIR FROLIC. 
 
 In a letter from Mr. Henshaw to Sir Robert Paston, 
 afterwards earl of Yarmouth, dated October 13, 1670^ 
 we have the following account : " Last week, there 
 being a faire neare Audley-end, the queen, the 
 duchess of Richmond, and the duchess of Bucking- 
 ham, had a frolick to disguise themselves like country 
 lasses, in red petticoats, wastcotes, &e. and, so goe 
 see the faire. Sir Bernard Gossoign, on a cart jade, 
 rode before the queen ; another stranger before the 
 duchess of Buckingham, and Mr. Roper before 
 Richmond. They had all so overdone it in their 
 disguise, and looked so much more like antiques than 
 country volk, that as soon as they came to the faire, 
 the people began to goe after them : but the queen 
 going to a booth to buy a pair of yellow stockings for 
 her sweethart, and Sir Bernard asking for a pair of 
 gloves stitched with blue for his sweethart, they 
 were soon, by their gebrish, found .to be strangers, 
 which drew a bigger flock about them ; one amongst 
 them had seen the queen at dinner, and knew her, 
 and was proud of his knowledge. This soon brought 
 all the faire into a crowd to stare at the queen. 
 Being thus discovered, they, as soon as they could, got 
 to their horses •> but, as many of the faire that had 
 horses, got -up with their wives and children, sweet- 
 harts or neighbours, behind them, to get as much 
 gape as they could, till they brought them to the 
 court gate. Thus, by ill conduct, was a merry frolick 
 turned into pennance." 
 
 PUNISHMENT OF THE STOCKS. 
 
 Lord Camden, when chief justice, was upon a visit 
 to Lord Dacre, at Alveley, in Essex, and liad<walked 
 out with a gentleman, a very absent man, to a hill 
 at no great distance from the house, upon the top of 
 which stood the stoeks of the village : he sat down 
 
I upon them ; and after a while, having a mind to kuow 
 j what the punishment was, he asked his companion 
 ' to open them and put him in. which being done, his 
 friend took a book from his pocket, sauntered on, and 
 j so completely forgot the judge and his situation, that 
 ! he returned to Lord Dacre's. When the judge was 
 j tired, he tried, but tried in vain, to remove out of the 
 I stocks : and asked a countryman who passed by to 
 j release him, who said, " No, no;, old gentleman ; you 
 I was not set there for nothing ;" and left him, until he 
 I was seen, and released by some servant of the house 
 I despatched in quest of him. Some time after he 
 j presided at a trial in which a charge was brought 
 against-a magistrate for false imprisonment, and for 
 I setting in the stocks. The counsel for the magistrate, 
 ia his reply, made light of the whole charge, and more 
 especially setting in the stocks, which he said every 
 body knew was no punishment at all. The chief jus- 
 tice rose, aud leaning over the bench, said, in a half 
 whisper, " Brother, were you ever in the stocks V 
 " Really, my lord, never." " Then I have," said the 
 judge, " and I assure you, brother, it is no such trifle 
 as you represent." 
 
 EXTRAORDINARY StJICIDE. 
 
 On Hie day before Christmas- day, 1773, about 
 eleven o'clock, two soldiers came to the Cross-Bow 
 Inn at St. Dennis, and ordered dinner. Bordeaux, 
 one of the soldiers, went out and bought a little paper 
 of powder, and a couple of bullets, observing to the 
 person who sold them to him, that St. Dennis seemed 
 to be so pleasant a place, he should not dislike to 
 spend the remainder of his life there. Returning to 
 the inn, he and his companion passed theday together 
 very merrily. On Christmas-day they again dined 
 as merrily, ordered wine, and about rive o'clock in 
 the afternoon, were found by the fire, on breaking 
 open the door, sitting on the opposite sides of atrble, 
 whereon were three empty champaign bottles, the 
 following will and letter, and a half-crown. They 
 i were both shot through the head ; two pistols lay 
 J upon the floor. The noise of the pistols brought up 
 ! the people of the hou*e, who immediately sent for 
 
 fHK LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 17 
 
 M. de Rouilleres, the commandaut of the marti- 
 chaussee at St. Dennis. 
 
 The Will. 
 
 A man who knows he is to die, should take care to 
 do every thing which his survivors can wish him to 
 have done. We are more particularly in that situa- 
 tion. Our intention is to prevent uneasiness to our 
 host, as well as to lighten the labours of those whom 
 curiosity, under pretence of form and order, will bring 
 hither to pay us visits. 
 
 Humain is the bigger, and I, Bordeaux, am the 
 lesser of the two. 
 
 He is drum-major of mestre de camp des dragoons, 
 and 1 am simply a dragoon of Belzum e. 
 
 Death is a passage. 1 address to the gentleman of 
 the law of St. Dennis (who, with his first clerk as 
 assistant, must come hither for the sake of justice) 
 the principle, which joined to this reflection that every 
 thing must have an end, put these pistols into our 
 hands, The future presents nothing to us but what 
 is agreeable — Yet that future is short, and must end. 
 
 Humain is but 24 years of age ; as for me, I have 
 not yet completed four lustres. No particular reason 
 forces us to interrupt our career, except the disgust 
 v»e feel at existing for a moment under the continual 
 apprehension of ceasing to exist. An eternity is the 
 point of reunion ; a longing after which leads us to 
 prevent the despotic act of fate. In fine, disgust of 
 life is our sole inducement to quit it. 
 
 If all those who are wretched would dare to divest 
 themselves of prejudice, and to look their destruction 
 in the face, they would see it is as easy to lay aside 
 existence as to throw off an old coat, the colour of 
 which displeases. The proof of this may he referred 
 to our experience. 
 
 We have enjoyed every gratification in life, even 
 that of obliging our fellow-creatures. We could still 
 procure to ourselves gratifications : but all gratifica- 
 tions must have a period. That period is our poison. 
 We are disgusted at the perpetual sameness of the 
 scene. The curtain is dropped ; and we leave our 
 parts to those who are weak enough to feel an incli- 
 nation to play them a few hours longer. 
 
18 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Two or three grains of powder will soon break the 
 springs of this moving mass of flesh, which our 
 haughty fellow-creatures stile the King of beings. 
 
 Messrs. the officers of justice, our carcasses are at 
 your discretion. We despise them too much to give 
 ourselves any trouble about what becomes of them. 
 
 As to what we shall leave behind us — for myself, 
 Bordeaux, I give to M. de Bouilleres, commandant 
 of the niar6chauss£e at St. Dennis, my steel-mounted 
 sword. He will recollect, that, last year, about this 
 very day, as he was conducting a recruit, he had the 
 civility to grant me a favour for a person of the name 
 of St. Germain, who had offended him. 
 
 The maid of the inn will take my pocket and neck- 
 handerchiefs, as well as the silk stockings which I 
 now have on, and all my other linen whatever. 
 
 The rest of our effects will be sufficient to pay the 
 expense of the useless law proceedings of which we 
 shall be the subject. 
 
 The half-crown upon the table will pay for the last 
 bottle of wine which we are going to drink. 
 
 At St. Dennis, Bordeaux. 
 
 Christmas-day, 1773. Humain. 
 
 Letter from Bordeaux to his lieutenant in the 
 regiment of Belzunce, he did not see the French he 
 could not therefore answer for the translation. 
 " Sir, 
 
 " During my residence at Guise, you honoured me 
 with your friendship. It is time that I thank you. 
 You have often told me I appeared displeased with 
 my situation. It was sincere, but not absolutely true. 
 I have since examined myself more seriously, and 
 acknowledge myself entirely disgusted with every 
 state of man, the whole world, and myself. From 
 these discoveries a consequence should be drawn ; 
 if disgusted with the whole, renounce the whole. 
 The calculation is not long. I have made it without 
 the aid of geometry. In short, I am on the point of 
 putting an *nd to the existence that I have possessed 
 for near twenty years, fifteen of whkh i; | as been a 
 burden to me; and, from the moment that I write a 
 few grains of powder will destroy this moving mass of 
 
 flesh, which we vain mortals call the King of beings. 
 
 " I owe no one an excuse. I deserted, that was a 
 crime, but I am going to punish it ; and the law will 
 be satisfied. 
 
 " I asked leave of absence from my superiors, to 
 have the pleasure of dying at my ease. They never 
 condescended to give me an answer. This served to 
 hasten my end 
 
 " I wrote to Bord to send you some detached 
 pieces I left at Guise, which I beg you to accept. 
 You will find they contain some well-chosen litera- 
 ture. These pieces will solicit for me a place in 
 your remembrance, 
 
 ".Adieu, my dear lieutenant ! continue your esteem ' 
 for St. Lambert and Dorat. As for the rest, skip 
 from flower to flower, and acquire the sweets of all 
 knowledge, and enjoy every pleasure. 
 ' Pour moi, j 'arrive au trou 
 Qui n'£chappe ni sage ni fou, 
 Pour aller je ne scais ou.' 
 
 " If we exist after this life, and it is forbidden to 
 quit it without permission, J will endeavour to procure 
 one moment to inform you of it ; if not, I should 
 advise all those who are unhappy, which is by far 
 the greatest part of mankind, to follow my example. 
 
 " When you receive this letter, I shall have been 
 dead at least 24 hours. 
 
 " With esteem, &c. 
 
 "Bordeaux." 
 national valour. 
 
 An Irishman fights before he reasons, a Scotchman 
 reasons before he fights, an Englishman is not par- 
 ticular as to the order of precedence, but will do 
 either to accommodate his customers. A modem 
 general has said, that the best troops would be as 
 follows: an Irishman half drunk, a Scotchman half 
 starved, and an Englishman with his belly full. 
 
 The most disagreeable two-legged animal in the 
 world, is a little great man ; and the next, a little 
 great man's factotum and friend. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 19 
 
 .WET WELL ALONE. 
 
 An Irishman being on a long journey in a part 
 of the country where Mr. M'Adam's useful talents 
 had never been exercised, at length came to a mile 
 of excellent road. Over this he kept trotting his 
 horse backwards and forwards, till some spectators, 
 a little surprised at this singular -mode of travelling, 
 inquired the reason of it. " Indeed," said he, 
 " and I like to let well alone, and from what I have 
 seen of the road, I doubt whether 1 will find a bet- 
 ter bit of ground all the way." 
 
 MY LAUNDRESS. 
 
 When lovely Susan irons smocks, 
 
 No damsel e'er looks neater, 
 Her eyes are brighter than her box, 
 
 And burn me like a heater. 
 
 i-oeson's catechism for the use of the natives 
 of hampshire. 
 
 Q. What is your name ? 
 
 A. Hog or Swine. 
 
 Q. Did God make you a Itog ? 
 
 A. No. God made me man in his own image ; 
 the Right Hon. Sublime Beautiful made me a 
 Swine* 
 
 Q. How did he make you a swine ? 
 
 A. By muttering obscure and uncouth spells. 
 He is a dealer in the black art. 
 
 Q. Who feeds you ? 
 
 A. Our drivers, the only real men in this county. 
 
 Q. How many hogs are you in all ? 
 
 A. Seven or eight millions. 
 
 Q. How many drivers ? 
 
 A. Two or three hundred thousand. 
 
 Q. With what do they feed you ? 
 
 A. Generally with husks, swill, draff, malt, 
 grains, and now and then with a little barley-meal 
 and a few potatoes, and when they have too much 
 butter-milk themselves they give us some. 
 
 Q. What are the Interpi-etersf called ? 
 
 • Alluding to the "Swinish multitude," an epithet applied 
 by Mr. Burke to the common people of England. 
 
 * Judge*. 
 
 A. The Black Letter Sisterhood. - 
 
 Q. Why do you give the office to women ? 
 
 A. Because they have a fluent tongue, and a 
 knack of scolding. 
 
 Q. How are they dressed ? 
 
 A. In gowns and false hair. 
 
 Q. What are the principal orders ? 
 
 A. Three — Writers, Talkers*, and Hearers, which 
 last are also called Deciders. 
 
 Q. What is their general business ? 
 
 A. To discuss the mutual quarrels of the hogs, 
 and to punish their affronts to any or all of the 
 drivers, 
 
 Q. If two hogs quarrel, how do they apply to 
 the sisterhood. 
 
 A. Each hog goes separately to a Writer. 
 
 Q. What does the Writer? 
 
 A. She goes to a Talker. 
 
 Q. What does the Talker -. 
 
 A. She goes to a Hearer (or Decider.) - 
 
 Q. What does the Hearer .decide ? 
 
 A. What she pleases. 
 
 Q. If a hog is decided to be in the right, what 
 is the consequence ? 
 
 A. He is almost ruined. 
 
 Q. If in the wrong what ? 
 
 A. He is quite ruined. 
 
 After some facetious sneers at the clergy, who are 
 termed peace-makers, the dialogue proceeds. 
 
 Q. How are these peace-makers rewarded ? 
 
 A. With our potatoes. 
 
 Q. What with all ? 
 
 A. Ten per cent. only. 
 
 Q. Then you have still ninety left in the hundred? 
 
 A. No we have but forty left. 
 
 B. What becomes of the odd fifty ? 
 
 A. The drivers take them, partly as a small re- 
 compense for their trouble in protecting us, and 
 partly to make money of them, for the prosecution 
 of law-suits with the neighbouring farmers. 
 
 Q. You talk very sensibly for a hog ; whence 
 had you your information ? 
 
 A. From a learned' Pig. 
 
 The folloAving is an answer to the question by 
 
THE LAUGHING PH1LOSOPHEB 
 
 20 
 
 what ceremony the hog is disenchanted, and re- 
 sumes his natural shape ? 
 
 A. The hog that is going to he disenchanted, 
 grovels before the Chief Driver, who holds an iron 
 skewer over him, and gives him a smart blow on 
 the shoulder, to remind him at once of his former 
 subjection and future submission. Immediately he 
 starts up, like the Devil from Ithuriel's spear, in 
 his proper shape, and ever after i.oes about with a 
 nick- name. He then beats his hogs without mercy, 
 and when tbey implore his compassion, and beg 
 him to recollect that he was once their Felloiv 
 Swine, he denies that ever he was a hog. 
 
 This curious dialogue thus concludes — 
 
 Q. What is the general wish of the hogs at pre- 
 sent ? 
 
 A. To save their bacon. 
 
 Chorus of hogs. Amen. 
 
 EQUAL DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 A gentleman of considerable sense and know- 
 ledge of the world, being asked whether a man pos- 
 sessing genius without perseverance and stability, 
 or one of a dull but assiduous character, was the 
 more likely to prove successful in 'life, replied that 
 it was a difficult question to decide, since it was 
 impossible to throw a straw to a great distance, and 
 almost equally the case with a ton. 
 
 DILATORY INCLINATIONS. 
 
 Mr. Peel, Secretary for the Home Department, 
 when speaking in the House of Commons of the 
 Lord Chancellor, (Eldon,) said, that to apply the 
 words of the poet to that noble Lord " even his 
 failings leaned to virtue's side/" A gentleman pre- 
 sent remarked that in that case his lordship's fail- 
 ings resembled the leaning tower of Pisa, which, in 
 spite of its long inclination, had never yet gone 
 over ! 
 
 DORIS. 
 
 Doris, a nymph of riper age, 
 
 Has ev'Fy grace and art, 
 A wise observer to engage, 
 
 Or wound a. heedless heart. 
 
 Of native blush and rosy dye, 
 
 Time has her cheek bereft, 
 Which makes the prudent nymph supply 
 
 With paint th' injurious theft. 
 Her sparkling eyes she still retains, 
 
 And teeth, in good repair, 
 And her weH-furnish'd front disdains 
 
 To grace with borrow'd hair. 
 Of size she is nor short ucr tall, 
 
 And dees to fat incline 
 No more than what the French would call 
 
 Aimable enbonpoi/it . 
 Farther he: person to disclose 
 
 1 leave — let it suffice 
 She has tew faults but what she knows, 
 
 And can with skill disguise. 
 She many lovers has refys'd, 
 
 With many more comply 'd, 
 »Vhich like her clothes, when little us'd, 
 
 She always lays aside. 
 She's one who looks with great contempt 
 
 On each affected creature, 
 Whose nicety would seem exempt 
 
 From appetites of nature. 
 She thinks they- want or health or sense 
 
 Who want an inclination, 
 And therefore never takes offence 
 
 At him who pleads his passion. 
 Whom she refuses she treats still 
 
 With so much sweet behaviour, 
 That her refusal, thro* her skill, 
 
 lx)oks almost like a favour. 
 Since she this softness can express, 
 
 To those whom- she rejects, 
 She must he very for.d, you'll guess. 
 
 Of such whom she affects. 
 But here our Doris far outgoes 
 \ All that her sex have dc ne ; 
 She no rega;d for custom knows, 
 
 Which reason bids her shun. 
 By reason her own reason's meant, 
 
 Or, if you please, her will ; 
 For- when this last is discontent, 
 The first is serv'd but ill. 
 
THE LACK KING PHILOSOPHKK. 
 
 Peculiar, therefore, is her way ; 
 
 Whether by nature taught 
 1 shall not undertake to say, 
 
 Or by experience bought. 
 But who o'er night obtain'd her grace, 
 
 She can next day disown ; 
 And stare upon the strange man's face 
 
 As one she ne'er had known. 
 So well she can the truth disguise, 
 
 Such artful wonder frame, 
 The lover or distrusts his eyes, 
 
 Or thinks 'twas all a dream. 
 Some censure this as lewd and low, 
 
 Who are to bounty blind ; 
 For to forget what we bestow 
 
 Bespeaks a noble mind. 
 Doris our thanks Dor asks nor needs, 
 
 For all her favours done ; 
 From her love flows, as light proceeds, 
 
 Spontaneous from the sun. 
 On one or other still her fires 
 
 Display their genial force ; 
 And she, like Sol, alone retires, 
 
 To shine elsewhere of course. cong reve. 
 
 ON A CANAL CUT BY THE SIDE OF A RIVER AT 
 SOUTHAMPTON. 
 
 Southampton's wise sons found their river so large, 
 Though 'twould carry a ship, 'twould not carry a 
 
 barge ; 
 So they wisely determin'd to cut by its side, 
 A stinking canal where small vessels might glide. 
 Like the man who contriving a hole in hir- wall 
 To admit his two cats, the one large, t'other small, 
 When a great hole was made for the first to go 
 
 through., 
 Would a little one have for the little cat too. 
 
 IMPOKTANT.DIST1NCTION IN ORTHOGRAPHY. 
 
 A gentleman, who had not long returned from 
 France, was amusing a company with the details | 
 of the superstitious ceremony he had witnessed in 
 that country of baptising a peal of cathedral bells, 
 at which some members of the royal family had I 
 wsistejL as sponsors. " For my part," he con- ! 
 
 21 
 
 tinned, *' I should prefer this kind of sponsorship, 
 in a conscientious point of view, to any other • 
 I think I might safely engage for a bell's renouncing 
 the devil, the world, and the flesh." * I presume, 
 sir," replied one of his auditors, "from your ex- 
 pression of confidence on the subject, that you 
 spell bell without the final e.'' 
 
 ACROSTIC. 
 
 Pray tell me, says Venus, one day to the Graces, 
 (On a visit they came, and had just ta'en their 
 
 places,) 
 Let me know why of late I can ne'er see your faces. 
 Ladies, nothing I hope happen'd here to affright ye 1 
 You've had compliment cards ev'ry day to invite ye. 
 Says Cupid, who guess'd their rebellious proceeding^ 
 Understand, dear Mamma ! there's some mischief 
 
 a-breeding ; 
 There's a fair one at Lincoln, so finish'd a beauty^ 
 That your Loves and your Graces all swerve from 
 
 their duty. 
 On my life, says Dame Venus, I'll not be thus put 
 
 on ; 
 Now I think on't, last night some one call'd me Miss 
 
 Sutton. 
 
 CHARACTERS OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 In a party of theatrical critics, the merits of 
 different performers in the part of Giles, in the 
 melo-drarna of the Miller's Maid, formed the topic 
 of discussion, and it was observed that, with one 
 exception, all who had attempted it had " over- 
 stepped the modesty of nature." One of the com- 
 pany observed that this had probably arisen from a 
 confusion of names ; and that the actors alluded 
 to, in attempting Giles, had strayed into Giles Over- 
 reach.* 
 
 PRAISE. 
 
 Praise was originally a pension paid by the 
 world; but the 'moderns, finding the trouble and 
 charge too great in collecting it, have lately bought 
 out the fee-simple ; since which time the right of 
 presentation is wholly in ourselves. 
 
 ♦ In Ma&smsw'* Comedv of "A Kew Way to pfcy Old 
 Debts*" 
 
tl 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 GRAMMATICAL LEARNING. 
 
 An author left a comedy with Foote for perusal ; 
 and on the next visit asked for his judgment on it, 
 with rather an ignorant degree of assurance. " If 
 you looked a little more to the grammar of it, I 
 think," said Foote, "it would be better." — " To the 
 grammar of it, sir ! What ! would you send me to 
 school again V — "And pray, sir," replied Foote, very 
 gravely, " would that do you any harm V 
 
 CAMBRIDGE AND OXFORD. 
 
 Under George the Second, the former of these 
 universities was distinguished for its attachment to 
 whig principles and the reigning family., while the 
 latter was strongly infeeted with the leaven of Ja- 
 cobitism. On the breaking out of the rebellion in 
 Scotland in 1745, the sovereign marked his feeling 
 towards these two eminent bodies, by sending to 
 Cambridge a munificent present of books for the 
 university library ; but detached some dragoons to 
 Oxford to awe the refractory disposition suspected 
 to exist in her sons. This circumstance gave birth 
 to the following epigram from the pen of an 
 Oxonian. 
 
 Our gracious monarch view'd, with equal eye, 
 
 The wants of either university. 
 
 Troops he to Oxford sent, well knowing wiry, 
 
 That learned body wanted loyalty : 
 
 But books to Cambridge sent, as well discerning", 
 
 That that right loyal body wanted learning. 
 
 Which effusion elicited the subjoined reply from 
 a Cantab. 
 
 Our king to Oxford sent a troop of horse, 
 For Tories own no argument but force. 
 With equal care to Cambridge books he sent, 
 For Whigs allow.no force but argument. 
 
 A YOUNG AUTHOR. 
 
 Swift's idea of the terror of a young author at 
 the fiery ordeal through which he must pass on the 
 commencement of his literary career, with the 
 gradual disappearance of his fears, is highly strik- 
 ing and correct : it is in his epistle to Dr. Deiany. 
 
 As some raw youth in country bred, 
 
 To arms by thirst of honour led ; 
 
 When at a skirmish first he hears 
 
 The bullets whistling round his ears, 
 
 Will duck his head aside, will start, 
 
 And feel a trembling at his heart ; 
 
 'Till 'scaping oft' without a wound, 
 
 Lessens the terror of the sound ; 
 
 Fly bullets now as thick as hops ! 
 
 He runs into a cannon's chops ; 
 
 —An author thus who pants for fame, 
 
 Begins the world with fear and shame ; 
 
 When first in print, you see him dread 
 
 Each pop-gun levell'd at his head ; 
 
 The lead yon critic's quill contains 
 
 Is destin'd to beat out his brains ; 
 
 As if he heard loud thunders roll, 
 
 Cries, Lord have mercy on his soul ! 
 
 Concluding that another shot 
 
 Would strike him dead upon the spot ; 
 
 But, when with squibbing, slashing, popping. 
 
 He cannot see one creature dropping, 
 
 That missing fire, or missing aim, 
 
 His life is safe, 1 mean his fame, 
 
 The danger past, takes heart of grace, 
 
 And looks a critic in the face. 
 
 TOM ASHE. 
 
 Tom Ashe was a facetious, pleasant companion, 
 but the most eternal unwearied punster that ever 
 lived. He was thick and short in his person, being 
 not above five feet high at the most, and had some- 
 thing very droll in his appearance. He died about 
 the year 1719, and left his whole estate, about a 
 thousand pounds a year, to Richard Ashe, of Ash- 
 field, Esq. There is a whimsical story, and a very 
 true one, of Tom Ashe, which is well remembered 
 to this day. It happened that while he was tra- 
 velling on horseback, and at a considerable dis- 
 tance from any town, there burst from the clouds 
 such a torrent of rain as wetted him through. He 
 galloped forward, and as soon as he came to an inn, 
 he was met instantly by a drawer : " Here," said 
 he to the fellow, stretching out one of his anus, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 S3 
 
 u take off my coat immediately." l< No, sir, I 
 won't," said the drawer. " Deuce confound you !" 
 said Tom, " take off my coat this instant." " No, 
 sir," replied the drawer, " I dare not take off your 
 coat, for it is felony to strip an ash." 
 
 NATURE AND ART. 
 
 Wilkes one morning called upon a friend who 
 resided in a close and retired situation in the city, 
 but who had a small opening before the house, of a 
 few yards square, and two plants, which once looked 
 like lilacs, in large tubs, adorned his windows. 
 Men were employed in painting itie outside of the 
 house. "Brother," said .Wilkes to his friend, 
 " suffer me to plead in behalf of these two poor 
 lilacs in the tubs ; pray let them be painted too." 
 
 SATIRE UPON DRESS AND FASHION. 
 The grand monde worship a sort of idol, which 
 daily creates men by a kind of manufactory ope- 
 ration. This idol* is placed in the highest parts of 
 the house on an altar erected about three feet ; he 
 is shown in the posture of a Persian emperor, sit- 
 ting on a superficies, with his legs interwoven under 
 him. This god had a goose for his ensign ; whence 
 it is that some learned men pretend to deduce his 
 original from Jupiter Capitolinus. At his left hand, 
 beneath the altar, Hell seemed to open and catch 
 at the animals the idol was creating ; to prevent 
 which, certain of his priests hourly flung in pieces 
 of the uninformed mass, or substance, and some- 
 times whole limbs already enlivened, which that 
 horrid gulf insatiably swallowed, terrible to be- 
 hold. The goose was also held a subaltern divinity, 
 or deus minor um gentium, before whose shrine was 
 sacrificed that creature, whosehourly food is human 
 gore, and who is in so great renown abroad for 
 being the delight and favourite of the Egyptian 
 Cercopithecus. Millions of these animals are hourly 
 sacrificed every day to appease the hunger of that 
 consuming deity. The chief idol was also wor- 
 jj$pped as the inventor of the yard and needle, 
 whether as the god of seamen, or on account of 
 certain other mystical attributes, which hath not 
 sufficiently been cleared. swift. 
 
 * By this idol is meant a tailor. 
 
 SCARCE ARTICLES. 
 
 The following articles bear a very high value on 
 account of their scarcity at present in this coun- 
 
 tr 3\ 
 
 Sincerity — in patriotism. 
 
 Honour — among attornies. 
 
 Friendship — without interest. 
 
 Love — without deceit. 
 
 Charity — without ostentation. 
 
 Honesty— in parish officers. 
 
 Fair play — among gamblers. 
 
 Beauty — without pride. 
 
 An advocate — without a fee. 
 
 Chastity — in married life. 
 
 A parson — practising what he professes. 
 
 A fashionable man — without foppery . 
 
 A fashionable woman — without paint. 
 
 A sanctified look — without hypocrisy. 
 
 A prude — without incontinence. 
 
 A blustering man — without cowardice. 
 
 A subaltern officer — with money. 
 
 A Jew — without usury. 
 
 Opposition — without a sinister view. 
 
 Administration — inattentive to private interest. 
 
 WILKES AND SIR WILLIAM STAINES. 
 
 Sir William Staines, by persevering steadily in 
 the pursuit of one object, accumulated an immense 
 fortune, and rose progressively from the dignity of 
 Common-council-man to the State-coach, and the 
 Mansion-house. His first entrance into life was as 
 a common bricklayer. At oiie of the Old Bailey 
 dinners, his lordship, after a sumptuous repast on 
 turbot and venison, was eating .an immense quan- 
 tity of butter with his cheese — " Why brother," 
 said Wilkes, " you lay it on with a trowel." 
 
 PRINCELY PARTIALITY TO WIT. 
 
 Great wits have only been preferr'd 
 
 In princes' trains to be interr'd ; 
 
 And, when they cost them nothing, plac'd 
 
 Among their followers not the last ; 
 
 But, while they liv'd, were far enough 
 
 From all admittances kept off. butler. 
 
S4 
 
 THK LAUGHING Hit J.OSUCHKlt . 
 
 MEDICAL NOMENCLATURE. 
 
 Pprson one day visiting his brother-in-law , Mr, 
 Perry, who at that time lived in Lancaster-court, 
 in the Strand, found him indisposed, and under 
 the influence of medicine. On returning to the 
 house of a common friend, lie of course expected 
 to be asked after the health cf his relation. After 
 waiting with philosophic patience, without the ex- 
 pected question being proposed, he reproached 
 the company for not giving him an opportunity of 
 giving the following answer, which he had com- 
 posed on his walk : 
 ' My Lord of Lancaster, when late I came from it, 
 
 Was taking a medicine of names not a few, 
 In Greek an emetic, in Latin a vomit, 
 
 In English a puke, and in vulgar a— — 
 
 ON THE POPULAR PLAY OF PIZARRO. 
 
 As I walked through the Strand so careless and gaj-, 
 
 I met a young girl who was wheeling a barrow, 
 Choice fruit, sir, said she, and a bill of the play, 
 
 So my apples I bought, and set off for Pizarro. 
 When I got to the door, I was squeezed, and cried, 
 dear me, 
 
 I wonder they made the entrance so narrow. 
 At last I got in, and found every one near me 
 
 Was busily talking of Mr. Pizarro. 
 Lo 1 the hero appears, what a strut and a stride, 
 
 He might easily pass for a marshal to-morrow, 
 And Elvira so tall, neither virgin nor bride, 
 
 The loving companion of gallant Pizarro. 
 But Elvira, alas ! turned so dull and so prosy, 
 
 That I longed for a hornpipe by little Del Caro ; 
 Had I been 'mong the gods I had surety cried Nosy, 
 
 Come play up a ji<?, and a fig for Pizarro. 
 On his wife and his child his affection to pay, 
 
 Alonzo stood gazing, and straight as an arrow : 
 Of him- I have only this little to say, 
 
 His boots were much neater than those of Pi- 
 zarro. 
 Then the priestess and virgins, hi robes white and 
 fiowiug. 
 
 Walked solemnly on like a sow and her ferraw, 
 
 And politely informed the whole house they yrere 
 - going 
 To entreat heaven's curses on noble Pizarro. 
 Rolla made a fine speech with much logic and 
 grammar, 
 As must sure raise the envy of Counsellor^ Gar- 
 row; 
 It would sell for five pounds were it brought to the 
 hammer 
 For it raised all Peru against valiant Pizarro. 
 Four acts are tol lol, but the fifth's my delight, 
 
 Where history's traced with the pen of a Varro, 
 And Elvira in black, and Alonzo in white, 
 
 Put an end to the piece by killing Pizarro 
 I have finished my song if it had but a tune, 
 
 Nancy Dawson won't do, nor the Sweet Banks of 
 Yarrow, 
 1 vow I would sing it from morning to noon, 
 So much am I charmed with the play of Pizarro. 
 
 PORSON. 
 - NOVEL DESERTER. 
 
 A naval officer, who held a civil employment at 
 Rhode Island during the American war of independ- ■ 
 ence, and whe was cf a remarkably spare skeleton- ; 
 like figure, was stopped by a sentinel late pne night, 
 en his return from a visit, and shut up in the sentry- 
 box, the soldier declaring that he should remain 
 there until his officer came his rounds at twelve 
 
 o'clock. •« My good fellow,'' said Mr. W , " I 
 
 have told you who I am ; and I really think you ! 
 ought to take my word." — " It will not do," replied ; 
 the soldier : " I am by no means satisfied." Then, 1 
 taking from his pocket a quarter of a dollar, and pre- 
 senting it, " Will that satisfy you I" — '- Why, yes, I 
 think it will." — " And, now that I am released, pray* 
 tell me why you detained me at your post ?" — " 1 ap-'| 
 prehended you," said the soldier, " as a deserter from j 
 the church-yard." 
 
 The same officer, when a young man, and a stronger j 
 to London, stopped a gentleman to ask his way to'vi.e 
 Admiralty. "Are you not mistaken in your inquiry'?" j 
 said the gentleman : " I should think that your busi- 
 ness lies with the Victualling Office/' 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE MISER PUNISHED. 
 A miser having lost an hundred pounds, pro- 
 mised ten pounds reward to any one who should 
 bring it him. A poor man brought it to the old 
 gentleman, and demanded the ten pounds; but 
 the miser, to baffle him, alleged there were an hun- 
 dred and ten pounds in the bag when lost. The 
 poor man, however, was advised to sue for the 
 money; and when the cause came on to be tried, it 
 appearing that the seal had not been broken, nor 
 the bag ripped, the judge said to the defendant's 
 counsel, " The bag you lost had an hundred and 
 ten pounds in it, you say ?" — ' ; Yes, my lord," say? 
 he. " Then," replied the judge, " according to 
 the evidence given in court, this cannot be your 
 money, for here are only an hundred pound?; 
 therefore the plaintiff" must keep it till the true 
 owner appears." 
 
 PRINTERS' DEVILS. 
 Old Lucifer, both kind and civil, 
 To every Printer lends a devil ; 
 But balancing accounts each winter, 
 For every Devil takes a Printer. 
 THE POLITICAL SWEEPS. 
 When a rumour prevailed in England of a 
 French invasion, two chimuey-sweepers fell into 
 a conversation on the times. Adverting to the 
 expected invasion, "Jack," said one, " what is 
 it to us ; our trade has nothing to hope or fear 
 from any change in the Government; what need 
 we care ; we shall be chimney-sweepers still." — 
 "That is a mistake," replied Jack, " for when 
 the French come they will bring French chimney- 
 sweepers; with them, and we shall be out of em- 
 ploy." 
 
 HAPPINESS. 
 A captain in the navy, meeting a friend as he 
 landed at Portsmouth Point, boasted that he had 
 left his whole ship's company the happiest fellows 
 in the world. "How so?" asked his friend. 
 ** Why, I have justjlogged seventeen, and they are 
 happy it is over ; and all the rest are happy that 
 they have escaped." 
 
 THE PLOUGH-BOY. 
 
 A gentle sprinkle of rain happening, a plough- 
 boy left his work, and went home ; but his master 
 seeing him there, told him he should not have left 
 his work for so trilling an affair, and begged for 
 the future he would stay till it rained downright. 
 Sometime afterwards, upon a very rainy day, 
 the boy staid till dusk, and returned almost 
 drowned. His master asked him-why he did not 
 come before? " Why, I should," said the boy, 
 " but you zed I shoul'dn't come hoam vore it 
 rained downright; and it has not rained downright 
 yet, for it was aslaunt all day long," 
 
 ORIGINAL COPY OF A HAND-BILL. 
 I William Ringrose Bell-hanger from Scarbro 
 intend to begin hangingof Bells which he has dona 
 for several years past God willing. He hangs bells 
 from back door to fore door and from fore door 
 to back door and all over the house. 
 
 N. B. The person who advised him to this was 
 several people that I wrought for. 
 
 From your humble servt. 
 
 Wm. Ringrose. 
 
 WARM ALE. 
 
 A traveller calling at a little inn, the landlord 
 of which was very tenacious of the character of 
 his home-brewed ale, after sipping the beverage 
 begged to have it warmed; " What ! warm my 
 ale!" exclaimed Boniface, " Curse that stomach 
 that wont warm the ale, say I !"— " And," cried 
 the traveller, " curse that ale that wont warm the 
 stomach, say I." 
 
 LAWYER'S HONESTY. 
 
 A lawyer of Strasburgh being in a dying state, 
 sent for a brother lawyer to make his will, by 
 which he bequeathed his estate to the Hospital des 
 Fous (Idiots). His brother advocate expressing 
 his surprise at this bequest, " Why not bestow it 
 upon them?"— said the dyingman, " you know I 
 got my money by fools, and therefore to fools it 
 ought to return." 
 
 C 
 
26 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 TWO REASONS. 
 Two reasons are giv'n (both equally good) 
 
 Why the credit of Harry's so bad — 
 For paying he has not the means if he would. 
 Nor is he inclin'd if he had. 
 
 THE PRIEST'S BLESSING. 
 A boy about ten years old was once brought 
 before Chief-justice Bushe, to give evidence ; 
 upon which the following dialogue occurred — 
 " My little boy, do you go to church?" — "No, 
 I am a Roman." — " Well, do you go to chapel?" 
 ■ — " Yes, I play at ball against the gable." — 
 " Do you know your creed?" — " No." — " Or 
 the commandments?" — " No." — " Or the Lord's 
 Prayer?" — "No." — "Do you know your 
 priest?" — "Yes, I heard of Father Phelim." 
 — " Did you ever speak to him ?" — " Yes, once." 
 — " What did you say to him?" — " I axed him 
 to give 'me a penny for houlding his horse, and 
 he bid me ?o be damned." 
 
 NATIONAL PREJUDICE. 
 
 An Englishman and Dutchman disputing aoout 
 their different countries, the Dutchman said, 
 " Yourcountry thinks of nothing butguttling, and 
 even the names of your places have a reference 
 to it; you have your Forts-mouths, your Fly- 
 mouths, your Yar-mouths. your FaUmoulhs, your 
 D&rl-mouths, your F,x-mouths ; and you are all 
 mouths together." — " Ay, "replies the Englishman, 
 and you have your Amster-dams, and your Rotter- 
 dam — and d you altogether, say I." 
 
 THE FORCE OF HABIT. 
 Tom's fruitful spouse produced a yearly child, 
 And he felt happy whilst the bantling smil'd. 
 Some years ago he join'd the martial train. 
 And sought for laurels o'er the distant main ; 
 Yet, such the force of habit, Nell, they say, 
 Still bears her yearly child, tho' Tom's away. 
 
 MUSICAL PUFFS. 
 Some years ago a gentleman at Windsor took 
 teh place" of the organist, with a view to shew his 
 
 superiority in execution. Among other pieces, he 
 was playing one of Dr. Blow's anthems, and just 
 as he had finished the verse part and began the full 
 chorus, the organ ceased. On this he called to Dick 
 the bellow' sblower, to know what was the matter; 
 — " The matter," says Dick," I have played the 
 anthem below" — " Aye," says the other, " but I 
 have not played it above." — " No matter," quoth 
 Dick, " you might have made more haste then : 
 I know how many puffs go to one of Dr. Blow's 
 anthems as well as you do ; I have not played the 
 organ so many years for nothing." 
 
 THE EXPEDITIOUS WORKMAN. 
 
 A bricklayer, who was working at the top of a 
 nouse, happened to fall through the rafters, and 
 not being hurt, he bounced up, and cried, with a 
 triumphant tone, to his fellow-laboiirers, " I defy 
 any man to go through his work as quick as I did." 
 TO MONS. ALEXANDRE, THE VENTRILOQUIST, 
 
 ON HIS SUCCESSFUL ASSUMPTION OF A VA- 
 RIETY OF CHARACTERS IN ONE PIECE. 
 Of yore in old England it was not thought good 
 To carry two visages under one hood ; 
 What should folks say to you? who have faces 
 
 such plenty, 
 That from under one hood yon last night show'd 
 
 us twenty ! 
 Stand forth, arch deceiver ! and tell us in truth. 
 Are you handsome or ugly, in age or in youth ? 
 Man, woman, or child, a dog, or a mouse? 
 Or are you, at once, each live thing in the house ? 
 Each live thing, did I ask ? each dead implement 
 
 too ! 
 A work-shop in your person — saw, chissel, ana 
 
 screw, 
 Above all, are you one individual ? I know 
 You must be, at the least, Alexandre and Co. 
 But I think you're a troop — an assemblage — a 
 
 mob ; » 
 
 And that. I, as the sheriff, must take up the job ; 
 And, instead of rehearsing your wonders in verse, 
 Must read you the riot-act, and bid you disperse! 
 " Walter Scott." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 27 
 
 CONSOLATION. 
 " I'll follow thy fortune ," a termagant cries, 
 
 Whose extravagance caus'd ev'ry evil. 
 " That were some consolation," the husband re- 
 plies, 
 " For my fortune has gone to the devil." 
 
 DEAD MARCH. 
 On the evening before Dr. Clubbe died, his phy- 
 sician feeling his pulse with much gravity, and 
 observing that it beat more even than upon his last 
 visit; " My dear friend," said he, " if you don't 
 already know, or have not a technical expression 
 for it, I will tell you what it beats — it beats the 
 dead march." 
 
 GENEALOGY. 
 The late Sir Watkins William Wynne, talking 
 to a friend about the antiquity of his family, which 
 he carried up to Noah, was told that he was a mere 
 mushroom. " Ay," said he, " how so, pray ?" 
 " Why," replied the other, " when I was in 
 Wales, a pedigree of a particular family was 
 shewn to me; it filled up about five large skins of 
 parchment, and about the middle of it was a note 
 in the margin ; about this time the world was 
 created." 
 
 STANZAS DROPPED FROM AN ALDERMAN'S 
 
 POCKET AT A CITY-FEAST ON 
 
 EASTER-MONDAY. 
 
 Oh ! thou whose power directs the feast, 
 Where bishop, alderman, or priest, 
 
 Are met in state to dine ; 
 Here at thy temple, day by day, 
 My willing homage let me pay, 
 
 And worship at thy shrine ! 
 
 To me, O be it ever known, 
 Whene'r thy loaded tables groan, 
 
 And then if such thy will ; 
 Grant such an appetite, that I, 
 Whate'er I drink may still be dry, 
 
 May eat, yet never fill! 
 
 Place me in that delightfu* seat, 
 Where I the fattest food shall meet, 
 
 Where daintiest bi,ts are shewn ; 
 From all intruders set me free, 
 My own dear carver let me be, 
 
 And help myself alone ! 
 Enlarge my mouth ! — extend my jaws ! 
 Preserve my gums fro-n aches and flaws, 
 
 My grinders from decay ! 
 Oh ! let my swallow be so wide, 
 That thumping slices down may glide, 
 
 Nor ought obstruct the way. 
 
 To thee thy humble suppliant prays, i 
 Oh ! let him pass his nights and days, 
 
 From gout and surfeit free ; 
 Midst venison, ortolans, ragouts, 
 Turtle and turbot, soups and stews, 
 
 Boil'd, roast, and fricassee. 
 
 And when by cruel death laid low, 
 Since none can ward the fatal blow, 
 
 No power can intervene; 
 Oh ! let this bloated paunch obtain 
 A burying-place in Pudding-lane, 
 
 Embalm'd in a — Tureen. 
 
 SOLILOQUY. 
 A person in company said in a violent passion 
 (o another, " You are a liar ! a scoundrel !" 
 The other with great composure turned round to 
 the company, and said to them, " You must not 
 mind what this poor fellow says ; it is a way he 
 has ; he was only talking to himself." 
 
 PYE, THE POET LAUREAT. 
 
 When Mr. Pyewas made Poet-Laureat, bis first 
 ode was on George the Third's birth, and it was 
 full of allusions to the vocal groves and feathered 
 choir* George Stevens, the commentator, read it, 
 and immediately exclaimed. 
 
 And when the Pye was opened, 
 
 ^he birds began to sing; 
 And wasn't that a dainty dish, 
 To set before the King. 
 C2 
 
2S 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 MARQUIS TOWNSHEND. 
 
 This nobleman being designed for the army, 
 began his campaign early in life at the battle of 
 Deltingen. The regiment he belonged to began 
 the attack ; and, ashe was marching down towards 
 the enemy, rather thoughtful, a drummer's head 
 was shot off so close to him, that his brains be- 
 spattered Lord Townshend's regimentals. A ve- 
 teran officer, apprehensive that this accident 
 anight derange his young friend, went up and en- 
 couraged him by telling him, these were the mere 
 accidents of war, and the best way was not to 
 think at all in these cases. " O dear, Sir," says 
 the other (with great presence of mind), '' you 
 entirely mistake my reverie. I have been only 
 thinking what the d— — 1 could bring that little 
 drummer here, who seemed to possess such a quan- 
 tity of brains." 
 
 WINE AND WALNUTS. 
 "Wine and walnuts, I own, are a feast quite divine, 
 When your walnuts are good, and well flavoured 
 
 your wine ; 
 But the trash which you give u? is truly infernal ; 
 Your itine has no spirits, your walnuts no kernel. 
 MAN AND WIFE. 
 
 A gentleman, who was not remarkable for being 
 over fond of his wife., hearing her cough a good 
 deal one day, said to a friend, who let drop some 
 pitying expressions, " Prithee Tom, never mind 
 
 her, let her be d with her cough, I hope it will 
 
 carry her to hell in a fortnight." The lady, who 
 was in another room, overhearing this speech, 
 inmediately rushed into the parlour, and advanc- 
 ing to her husband, told him she had too much 
 of his company in this world, to wish to have it in 
 the next. 
 
 NAUTICAL EQUIVOQUE. 
 
 A sailor, while preparing potatoes for the cook's 
 use, was asked by a gentleman on board, what he 
 called those things in his country: " Call them ! 
 your honour," replied Jack, " why, in my coun- 
 try, when we want these things, we fetch them, we 
 don't call them !" 
 
 PREPARATION FOR DEATH. 
 
 When Rabelais lay on his death-bed, he could 
 not help jesting at the very last moment; for 
 having received the extreme unction, a friend 
 comingto see him, said, he hoped lie was prepared 
 for the next world ; " Yes, yes," replied Rabe- 
 lais, " I am ready for my journey now, they have 
 just greased my boots." 
 
 ,- 
 
 THE DIFFICULT TASK. 
 
 He who would general favour Win, 
 
 And not himself offend, 
 To day the task he may begin, 
 
 But Heav'n knows when he'll end, 
 
 LOSS OF MEMORY. 
 
 A country clergyman meeting a neighbour 
 who never came to church, although an old fel- 
 low of above sixty, reproved him on that ac- 
 count, aud asked, if he never read at home? 
 " No," replied the clown, " I can't read." — " I 
 dare say," said the parson, " you don't know 
 who made you?" — "Not I, in troth," cried the 
 countryman. A little boy coming by at the same 
 time, " Who made you, child ?" said the parson. 
 — " God,~sir," answered the boy. — ; ' Why, look 
 you there," quoth the honest clergyman, vl are you 
 not ashamed to hear a child of five or six years 
 old tell me who made him, when you, that are so 
 old a man, cannot ?" — " Ah !" said the country- 
 man, '< it is no wonder that he should remember ; 
 he was made but t'other day, it is a great while, 
 measter, since I war made." 
 
 HOW TO BECOME CONSEQUENTIAL. 
 
 A brow austere, a circumspective eye, 
 A frequent shrug of the os humeri, 1 ~ 
 A nod significant, a stately gait, 
 A blust'ring manner, and a tone of weight, 
 A smile sarcastic., an expressive stare, 
 Adapt all these as time and place will bear, 
 Then rest assur'd that those of little sense 
 Will set you down — A man of consequence. 
 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE LAST WORD. 
 A poor man, who had a termagant wife, after 
 along dispute, in which she was resolved to have 
 the last word, told her, if she spoke one crooked 
 word more, he would beat her brains out. *' Why, 
 then, rani's horns, you rogue," said she, " if I die 
 for it." 
 
 LEE, THE POET. 
 A conceited fellow, who fancied himself a poet, 
 asked the eccentric poet, Nat Lee, if it was not 
 easy to write like a madman, as he did ? " No," 
 answered Nat, " but it is easy to write like a fool, 
 as vou do." 
 
 EYES AND NOSE. 
 Sir William Davenant, the poet, who had no 
 nose, going along the Mews one day, a beggar- 
 woman followed him, crying, " Ah ! Gqd preserve 
 your eye-sight, sir ; the Lord preserve» 1 your eye- 
 sight." — " Why, good woman," said he, " dost 
 thou pray so much for my eye-sight?" — " Ah ! 
 dear sir," answered the woman, " if it should 
 please God that you grow dim-sighted, you have 
 no place to hang your spectacles on." 
 
 CRITICS. 
 In critics this country is rich 
 
 In friendship and love who can match 'em, 
 When writers are plagued with the itch, 
 
 They hasten most kindly to scratch 'em. 
 
 EPITAPH ON A GALLANT HIGHWAYMAN. 
 Du Val, a noted highwayman, was famous 
 for gaining the hearts of :he women. After his 
 death the following epitaph was bestowed on 
 him : — 
 
 Here lies Du Val — Reader, if male thou art, 
 Look to thy purse ; — if female, to thy heart ; 
 Much havoc has he made in both :- -for all 
 The men he made to stand — the women fall. 
 
 PARSON OUTWITTED. 
 A parson once asked an honest quaker, where 
 his religion was before George Fox s s time? 
 
 " Where thine was," said the quaker, before 
 Harry Tudor's time. " Now thou hast been free 
 with me," added the quaker, " pray let me ask 
 thee a question. Where was Jacob going when 
 he was turned often years of age ? canst thou tell 
 that?" — " No, nor you neither, I believe." 
 — " Yes, I can," replied the quaker, " he was 
 going into his eleventh year, was lie not?" 
 
 THE WORLD A PRINTING-HOUS-E. 
 
 The world'* a printing-house ; our words are 
 thoughts, 
 Our deeds are characters of several sizes; 
 Compositors the people, of whose faults 
 
 The parsons are correctors — Heav'n revises : 
 Death is the common 2>ress, from whence being 
 driven, 
 We're gather" d and bound for either hell or 
 heav'n. 
 
 PARISH FEELING. 
 
 A melting sermon being preached in a country 
 church, all wept except one man; "who being 
 asked why he did not weep with the rest ? " Oh !" 
 said he, " I belong to another parish." 
 
 CRANIOLOGY. 
 
 After the death of Porson, his head was dissect 
 ed, and, to the confusion of all eraniologists, it was 
 discovered, that he had the thickest skull of any 
 Professor in Europe. Professor Gall being called 
 upon to explain this phenomenon, and to recon- 
 cile so tenacious a memory with so thick a recep- 
 tacle for it, replied ; — " How the ideas got into 
 such a skull, is their business not mine ; I have 
 nothing to do with that ; but let them once get in — 
 that is all I want; once in, I will defy them ever 
 to get out again." 
 
 A LEFT-HANDED EXCUSE. 
 
 A servant girl, who could no* read, had, from 
 constant attendance, got the church-service by 
 rote. But a few Sundays previous to her mar 
 
30 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 riage, she was accompanied by her sweetheart, to 
 whom she did not like it to be known that she 
 could not read ; she therefore took up the prayer- 
 book, and held it before her. Her lover wished 
 to have a sight of it also, but, unfortunately for 
 her, she held it upside down. The man, astonish- 
 ed, says, " Good heaven ! why you have the book 
 wrong side upwards." — " I know it, sir," said 
 she, confusedly, " I always read so, for lam left- 
 handed." 
 
 THE WORLD A BOOK. 
 
 The world's a book, writ by th' eternal art 
 Of the great author, printed in man's heart ; 
 'Tis falsely printed, though divinely penn'd, 
 And all th' errata will appear at the end. 
 
 JUNIUS'S LETTERS. 
 
 When the late Sir Philip Francis was one day 
 at Holland-house, the lady of the mansion induc- 
 ed Mr. Rogers, the poet, to ask the knight if he 
 was really the author of Junius's Letters." The 
 Oard.' knowing the knight's austere character, 
 addressed him with modest hesitation, asking if 
 he might be permitted to propose a question. Sir 
 Philip anticipating what was to come, exclaimed 
 in a severe tone, " At your peril, Sir ;" upon 
 which Mr. Rogers observed, that " if Sir Philip 
 was really Junius, he was certainly Junius Brutus." 
 
 PLAIN TRUTH. 
 A town beggar was very importunate with a 
 rich miser, whom he accosted in the following 
 phrase : " Pray, Sir, bestow your charity ; good, 
 dear Sir, bestow your charity." — " Prithee, friend, 
 be quiet," replied the miser, " I have it not." 
 
 STRANGE, MORE, AND WRIGHT. 
 Three gentlemen being at. a" tavern, whose names 
 were Strange, More, and Wright; said the last, 
 *' There is but one rogue in company, and that is 
 Strange." — " Yes," answered Strange, " there is 
 one More," — " Aye," said More, "thatis Wright." 
 
 A SUFFICIENT REASON. 
 
 A drunken fellow, having sold all his goods 
 except his feather-bed, at last made away with 
 that too ; and his conduct being reproved by some 
 of his friends, "Why," said he, "I am very 
 well, thauk God, and why should I keep my bed." 
 
 BEAUTIFUL COLOURS. 
 
 " Your colours are beautiful," said a deeply 
 rouged, lady to a portrait-painter. — " Yes," an- 
 swered he, " your ladyship and I deal at the same 
 shop." 
 
 THE DECISION. 
 
 A dispute having long subsisted in a gentleman's 
 family, between the maid and the coachman, about 
 fetching the cream for breakfast, the gentleman 
 one morning called them both before him, that he 
 might hear what they had to say, and decide ac- 
 cordingly. The maid pleaded, that the coachman 
 was lounging about the kitchen the greater part of 
 the morning, and yet was so ill-natured, that he 
 would not fetch the cream for her ; notwithstand- 
 ing he saw she had so much to do, as not to have a 
 moment to spare. The coachman alleged, that it 
 was not his business. "Very well," said the 
 master, " but pray what do you call your busi- 
 ness?" — " To take care of the horses, and clean 
 and drive the coach," replied he. — "You say 
 right," answered the master, " and I do not ex- 
 pect you to do more than I hired you for ; but 
 this I insist on, that every morning, before break- 
 fast, you get the coach ready, and drive the maid 
 to the farmer's for milk; and I hope you will 
 allow that to be part of your business." 
 
 IRISH HONOURS. 
 An Irishman boasting of his birth and family, 
 said, that when he first came to England, he made 
 such a figure, that the bells rang through all the 
 towns he passed to London. " Aye," said agen- 
 tleman in company, " I suppose that was because 
 you came up in a waggon with a belt team." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 3i 
 
 SECURING A PLACE. 
 A gentleman possessed of a small estate in 
 Gloucestershire, was allured to town by the pro- 
 mises of a courtier, who kepi him in constant at- 
 tendance for a long while to no purpose ; at last 
 the gentleman, quite tired out, called upon his 
 pretended friend, and told him, that he had at last 
 got a place. The courtier shook him very heartily 
 by the hand, and said he was very much rejoiced 
 at the event. " But pray, Sir," said he, '« where 
 is your place?" — " In the Gloucester coach," re- 
 plied the other, " I secured it last night, and so 
 good-by to you." 
 
 CANDLE-LIGHT WARS. 
 
 A woman in the country went for a pound of 
 candles, when, to her great astonishment and mor- 
 tification, she was informed they had risen a 
 penny in the pound since her last purchase of them. 
 — " Why," says she, " what can be the cause of 
 such an exorbitant rise as a penny ?" — " I can't 
 tell," says the man, " but I believe it is principally 
 owing to the war." — " Why," cried she, " do they 
 fight by candle-light." 
 
 MUTUAL ACCOMMODATION. 
 A student in one of the universities, sent to ano- 
 ther to borrow a ceitain book. "1 never lend 
 my books out," said he, " but if the gentleman 
 chooses to come to my chambers, he may make use 
 of it as Ions:; as he pleases." A few days after, 
 he that had refused the book, sent to the other to 
 borrow a pair of bellows. " I never lend my 
 bellows out," says the other, " but if the gentleman 
 chooses to come to my chambers, he may make use of 
 them as long as he pleases.'" 
 
 EQUITABLE ADJUSTMENT. 
 A hackney-coachman, having had a busy 
 day, went into an ale-house to regale himself, and 
 sat in a box adjoining to one in which his master 
 was seated. John, not suspecting who was his 
 neighbour, began to divide his earnings in a man- 
 ner not uncommon among the brothers of the whip, 
 
 saying, a shilling for master, a shilling for myself ; 
 which he continued till he came to an odd six- 
 pence, which puzzled him a good deal, as he was 
 willing to make a fair division. The master over- 
 hearing his perplexity, said to him, *' You may as 
 well let me have that sixpence. John, because 1 
 keep the horses, you know." 
 
 THE HIGHWAYMAN OFF HIS GUARD. 
 A rider to a commercial house in London, 
 Was attacked a few miles beyond Winchester by 
 a single highwayman, who robbed him of his 
 purse and pocket-book, containing cash and notes 
 to a considerable amount. '•* Sir," said the rider, 
 " I have suffered you to take my property, and 
 you are welcome to it. It is my master's, and the 
 loss cannot do him much harm ; but asit will look 
 very cowardly in me, to have been robbed without 
 making any defence, I should wish you just to 
 fire a pistol through my coat." — " With all my 
 heart," said the highwayman, "where will you 
 have the ball ?"—-" Here," said the rider, "just 
 by the side of the button." The unthinking 
 highwayman was as good as his word ; but as 
 soon as he had fired, the rider knocked him off his 
 horse, and, with the assistance of a traveller, 
 who came up at the time, lodged the highwayman 
 in gaol. 
 
 THE LAWYER AND THE JEW. 
 
 One day, as a solicitor was passing through 
 Lincoln's-inn, with his professional bag under 
 his arm, he was accosted by a Jew, with, '-' Cloash 
 to shell, old cloash !" The lawyer somewhat net- 
 tled at this address, from a supposition that Mo- 
 ses mistook him for an inhabitant of Duke's Place, 
 snatched a bundle of papers from their damask 
 repository, and replied, " No, Sir, they are all 
 nets suits." 
 
 YORKSHIRE. 
 
 A Yorkshire boy went into a public-house, 
 where a gentleman was eating eggs. The boy 
 looked at him for some time, and then said," Will 
 you be good enough to give me a little salt, Sir ?" 
 
32 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 — " Certainly"; but why do you want salt ?" — 
 " Perhaps, Sir, you'll ask. me to eat an egg pre- 
 sently, anil I should like to be ready." — kt What 
 country are you from, ray lad?" — " Yorkshire^ 
 Sir." — " I thought so — there, take an e^g.'" — " I 
 thank you, Sir," said the boy. " Well," added 
 the gentleman, " they are all great horse-steal ers 
 in your country, are they not ?" — " Yes," rejoin 
 ed the boy, " my father, (though an honest man) 
 would no more mind stealing a horse than I would 
 drinking your glass of ale. Your health, Sir," 
 said he, and drank it up. " That will do," says 
 the gentleman, " I see you are Yorkshire." 
 MUNDEN, THE COMEDIAN. 
 
 Munden, when confined to his bed and unable 
 to put his feet to the ground, being told by a 
 friend that his dignified indisposition was the laugh 
 of the green-room, replied, " though I love to 
 laugh and make others laugh, yet I would much 
 rather they would make me a standing joke." 
 
 FELLOW-FEELING. 
 
 In prime of life, 
 
 Tom lost his wife; 
 Says Dick, to sooth his pain j 
 
 " Thy wife, I trow, 
 
 Is long, 'ere now. 
 In Abraham's bosom lain." 
 
 " Her fate forlorn, 
 
 With grief I mourn ;" 
 The shrewd dissembler cries, 
 
 " For much I fear, 
 
 By this sad tear, 
 She'll scratch out Abraham's eyes." 
 
 GENTLEMEN OF THE CLOTH. 
 A clergyman going down to his living to spend 
 the summer, met a comical old chimney-sweeper, 
 " So, John," said the doctor, " whence came 
 
 you ?" " From your house," replied the 
 
 sweep, " for this morning I have swept all your 
 chimnies." — " How many were there ?" asked the 
 doctor. — " No less than twenty," quoth John. — 
 
 " Well, and how much a chimney have you ?"— 
 " Only a shilling a-piece, Sir."—" Why, then," 
 returned the doctor, "you have earned a great 
 deal of money in a little time."—" Yes, yes, 
 Sir," said the sweep, ^throwing his bag of soot 
 over his shoulders, " we black coals get our 
 money easy enough.'''' 
 
 BISHOP AND HIS SERVANT. 
 A certain bishop had a servant, whom he order- 
 ed on a festival to go to a butcher, named David, 
 for a piece of meat, and then to come to church 
 where the bishop was to preach. The bishop, 
 in the course of his sermon, happening to turn to- 
 wards the door, as his servant came in, exclaimed, 
 " And ichat says .David ?" Upon which the other 
 roared out, " He swears if you do not pay your 
 bill, you need never send to his shop again. ," 
 THE QUAKER AND THE PARSON. 
 
 A quaker barber being sued by the parson for 
 tythes, went to him and asked why he troubled 
 him, as he had never any dealing with him in 
 his whole life; " Why," said the parson, " it is 
 for tythes." — " For tythes !" said the quaker, 
 "upon what account?" — " Why," said the par- 
 son, " for preaching in the church." — " Alas, 
 then," replied the quaker, " I have nothing to 
 pay thee; fori come not there." — " Oh, but you 
 might," said the parson, " for the doors aiealways 
 open at convenient times." The quaker imme- 
 diately entered his action against the parson for 
 forty shillings. The parson inquired for what 
 he owed him the money? "Truly, friend," 
 replied the quaker, " for trimming !" — " For 
 trimming," said the parson, " why, I was never 
 trimmed by you in my life." — "Oh! but thou 
 might'st have come and been trimmed, if thou 
 had'st pleased, for my doors are always open at 
 convenient times, as well as thine." 
 COINCIDENCE. 
 
 The great Duke of Marlborough passing the gate 
 of the Tower, was accosted by an ill-looking fel- 
 low, with " How do you do, my Lord Duke ? I 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 33 
 
 believe your grace and I have now been in every 
 jail in the kingdom ?" — " I believe, friend," re- 
 plied f.he duke, with surprise, " this is the only 
 jail I ever visited." — " Very likely," rejoined 
 the other, " but I have been iu all the rest." 
 
 HEROISM. 
 
 A soldier, on his return from the wars, was 
 asked by his friends, what exploits he had done 
 m them ? He said, " that he had cut off one of the 
 enemy's legs ;" and being told that it would have 
 been more honourable and manly to have cut 
 off his head ; w Oh," said he, " you must know 
 his head was cut off before." 
 
 FIELD-PREACHER. 
 
 A field- preacher explaining to his congrega- 
 tion the nature of hell, tofd them he had lived there 
 eleven months. " It is a great pity," said one of 
 the hearers, that you did not stay there a month 
 longer, for then you would have gained a legal 
 settlement." 
 
 THE COUNTRY CARPENTER. 
 
 A carpenter having neglected to make a gibbet, 
 which had been ordered by the executioner, on 
 the ground that he had not been paid for the 
 last he had erected, was sent for by the judge. 
 " fellow," said the latter, in a stern tone, " how 
 came you to neglect making the gibbet that was 
 ordered on my account?"—" I humbly beg your 
 pardon," said the carpenter, " had I known it had 
 been for your Lordship, it should have been done 
 immediately," 
 
 THE FAIR EQUIVOQUE. 
 
 As blooming Harriet mov'd alo-ng, 
 
 The fairest of the beauteous throng, 
 
 The beaux gaz'd on with admiration, 
 
 Avow'd by many an exclamation ! 
 
 What form ! what nuivete I what grace ! 
 
 What roses deck that Grecian face ! 
 
 "Nay," Dashwood cries, "that bloom's not 
 Harriet's; 
 
 'Twas bought at Reynold's, More's, or Mar- 
 riott's ; 
 
 And though you vow her face untainted, 
 
 I swear, by G , your beauty's painted." 
 
 A wager instantly was laid, 
 
 And Ranger sought the lovely maid ; 
 
 The pending bet he soon reveal'd, 
 
 Nor e'en the impioits oath conceal'd. 
 
 Confus'd, her cheek bore witness true, 
 
 By turns the roses came and flew, 
 
 " Your bet," she said, " is rudely odd— 
 
 But I am painted, Sir,— by G ." 
 
 TROTTERS AND GALLOPERS. 
 
 Charles Bannister, the actor, was one evening in 
 company with a young man, who, being in liquor* 
 began to moralize on the folly of his past conduct. 
 " t have been a d - ■ ■■• fool," said he ; " my late 
 father kept a tripe-shop in Clare-market, and got 
 a decent fortune by it, which he left to me ; and I, 
 like an ideot, have stripped myself almost of my 
 last shilling in horse-racing and the like." — 
 " Well," said Charles, " never mind that, he got 
 his money by trotters, and you lost it by gallopers." 
 
 NOVEL SOLECISM. 
 
 The late John Kemble, who was so minutely ob- 
 servant of that great dramatic canon, " suit the ac- 
 tion to the word," that he would study before a 
 glass the proper position of a ringer even ; seeing 
 an actor hold down his head on pronouncing, O, 
 Heaven ! and hold it up on pronouncing, O Earth! 
 said, " The fellow has committed a solecism with his 
 head." 
 
 LONDON THIE.VES. 
 
 As Yorkshire Humphrey, t'other day, 
 O'er London Bridge was stumping, 
 
 He saw, with wonder and delight, 
 The water-works a-pumping. 
 
 Numps gazing stood, and wond'ring how 
 
 This grand machine was made, 
 To feast his eyes, he thrust his head 
 
 Betwixt the ballustrade, 
 C5 
 
34 
 
 A sharper, prowling near the spot, 
 
 Observes the gaping lout, 
 And soon, with fish-hook finger, turns 
 
 His pocket inside out. 
 
 Numps feels the twitch, and turns around — 
 
 The thief, with artful leer, 
 Says, " Sir, you'll presently be robb'd, 
 
 For pickpockets are near." 
 
 Quoth Numps, " I fear not London thieves, 
 
 I'se not a simple youth ; 
 My guinea, Measter's, safe enough ! 
 
 I've put it in my mouth !" 
 " You'll pardon me !" the rogue replies, 
 
 Then modestly retires ; 
 Numps re-assumes the gaping post, 
 
 And still the works admires. 
 The artful prowler takes his stand, 
 
 With Humphrey full in view ; 
 When now an infant thief drew near, 
 
 And each the other knew. 
 Then thus the elder thief began — 
 
 " Observe that gaping lout ! 
 He has a guinea in his mouth, 
 
 And we must get it out." 
 
 " Leave that to me," young Filcher says, 
 
 " I have a scheme quite pat ; 
 Only observe how neat I'll queer 
 
 The gaping country flat." 
 
 By this time Numps, who gaz'd his fill, 
 Was trudging through the street ; 
 
 When the young ptlf'rer, tripping by, 
 Falls prostrate at his feet. 
 
 " O Lord ! O dear ! my money's lost!" 
 
 The artful urchin moans; 
 While halfpence, falling from his hand, 
 
 Roll jingling o'er the stones. 
 
 The passengers now stoop to find, 
 
 And give the boy his coin ; 
 And Humphrey, with the friendly band, 
 
 Deigns cordially to join. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 " There are your pence,"quoth Numps," my boy, 
 
 Be zure thee haulds 'em faster !" 
 4 ' My pence !"quoth Filch;" here are my pence; 
 
 But Where's my guinea, master ?" — 
 
 e ' Help, help 1'good folks ; for God's sake, help '" 
 
 Bawls out this hopeful youth — 
 " He pick'd my guinea up just now, 
 
 And has it in his mouth !" 
 
 The elder thief was lurking near, 
 
 Now close to Humphrey draws, 
 And, seizing on his gullet, plucks 
 
 The guinea from his jaws ! 
 
 Then roars out — " Masters, here's the coin ; 
 
 JL'll give the child his guinea! 
 But who'd have thought to see a thief 
 
 In this same country ninny?" 
 Humphrej r , astonish'd, thus begins- — 
 
 " Good measters ! hear me, pray !" 
 But — " Duck him, duck him !" is the cry; 
 
 At length he sneaks away. 
 
 " Ah ! now," quoth Numps, " I will believe 
 
 What often I've heard said, 
 That London thieves would steal the teeth 
 
 Out of a body's head !" 
 
 THE MAGPIE. 
 
 A boy, belonging to one of the ships of war at 
 Portsmouth, had purchased of his play-fellows a 
 magpie, which he carried to his father's house, and 
 was at the door feeding it, when a gentleman in 
 the neighbourhood, who had an impediment in his 
 speech, coming up, " T— T— T — Tom," said the 
 gentleman, " can your Mag T— T— Talk yet ?"— 
 " Ay, Sir," says the boy, " better than you, or 
 I'd wring his head off"." 
 
 SLEEPING AT CHURCH. 
 
 Dr. South, when preaching before Charles 
 II. observed that the monarch and his attendants 
 began to nod. Some of them soon after snored, on 
 which he broke offhis sermon, and called, " Lord 
 Lauderdale, let me entreat you to rouse yourself; 
 you snore so loud that you will wake the king !" 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 35 
 
 ROYAL TWINS. 
 
 " Susan !" said an Irish footman to his fellow- 
 servant, " what are the bells ringing for again ?" 
 — " In honour of the Duke of York's birthday, 
 Mr. Murphy." — " Be aisy now," rejoined the 
 Hibernian, " none of your blarney — sure, 'was 
 the Prince Regent's on Tuesday, and how can 
 it be his brother's to-dav, unless they are twins?" 
 
 THE LITERARY BREAKFAST. 
 
 | As lately a sage on fine ham was repasting, 
 (Tho' for breakfast too savoury I ween), 
 He exclaim'd to a friend, who sat silent and 
 
 fasting, 
 " What a breakfast of learning is mine !" 
 *' A breakfast of learning !" with wonder he cried, 
 
 z\nd laughed, for he thought hirn mistaken. 
 " Why, what is it else?" the sage quickly replied, 
 " When I'm making large extracts from Bacon." 
 
 FLINT SOUP. 
 
 A friar once entered a farm-house and begged 
 the use of a little pan, to make some flint broth! 
 "Flint broth!" exclaimed the farmer's wife," how 
 is that to be done ? I should like to learn such an 
 economical secret." The friar took the vessel, 
 put in some water and some clean flints: il Now," 
 says he, " I must have a piece of beef and a few 
 herbs, some salt, a little bacon, and a little flour, 
 and stir them well together." Having done all 
 this, and let the mess boil its proper time, he pro- 
 duced a very palatable broth, to the astonishment 
 of the good wife, who forgot that she had contri- 
 buted the only good ingredients 
 
 A friar's TACTICS. 
 One day, when Cardinal Richelieu had sum- 
 moned Duke Bernard de Weimar to his council, 
 a friar running his finger over amap, said, " Mon- 
 j sieur, you must first take this city, then that, and 
 I then that." The Duke Bernard listened to him 
 j for some time, and at length said, " But, Fattier, 
 you cannot take cities with your fingers." 
 
 ROYAL CONFESSION. 
 
 When Boisrobert was at the point of death, his 
 mother sent some priests to convert him. " Yes, 
 mon Dieu," said he, " X sincerely implore thy 
 pardon, and confess that I am a great sinner, but 
 thou knowest that the Abbe de Villarceau is a 
 much greater sinner than I am." 
 
 JOHN KEMBLE. 
 
 Kemble had been for many years the intimate 
 friend of the Earl of Aberdeen ; on one occa- 
 sion he called on that nobleman during his 
 morning ride, and left Mrs. Kemble in the car- 
 riage at the door. Kemble and the noble earl 
 were closely engaged on some literary subject for 
 a long time, wh'ale Mrs. K. was shivering in her 
 carriage at the door, it being very cold weather. 
 At length her patience being exhausted, she di- 
 rected the servant to inform his master that she 
 was waiting, and that she feared the weather 
 would bring on an attack of the rheumatism. The 
 fellow proceeded to the door of the earl's study, 
 and delivered his message, leaving out the final 
 letter in rheumatism. This he had repeated three- 
 several times, at different intervals, by direction 
 of his mistress, before he could obtain an answer ; 
 at length Kemble, roused from his subject by the 
 importunities of his servant, replied somewhat 
 petulantly, " Tell your mistress I shall not come j 
 and fellow, in future, say tism." 
 CLASSIC TOASTS. 
 
 Sir W. Curtis was once present at a public 
 dinner where the Dukes of York and Clarence 
 formed part of the company. The President gave 
 as a toast, " The Adelphi" (the Greek word for 
 " The Brothers.") When it came to the worthy 
 Baronet's turn to give a toast, he said, " Mr. Pre- 
 sident, as you seem inclined to give public build- 
 ings, I beg leave to propose Somerset House." 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Swift alluding, in a letter, to the frequent in 
 stances of a broken correspondence after a long 
 
36 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 absence, gives the following natural account of 
 the causes: — " At first one omits writing for a 
 little while — and then one stays a little while 
 longer to consider of excuses — and at last it grows 
 desperate, and one does not write at all. In this 
 manner' he adds, " I have served others, and 
 have been served myself." 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 Said Celia to Damon, " Can you tell me from 
 
 whence 
 I may know a coquette from a woman of sense? 
 Where the difference lies ?" — "Yes, "said Damon, 
 
 " [ can ; 
 Every man courts the one, t'other courts every 
 
 man." 
 
 goldsmith's credulity. 
 
 Dr. Goldsmith was sitting one evening at the 
 tavern where he was accustomed to take his sup- 
 per, when he called for a mutton-chop, which 
 was no sooner placed on the table, than a gentle- 
 man near him, with whom he was intimately ac- 
 quainted, showed great tokens of uneasiness, and 
 wondered how the doctor could suffer the waiter 
 to place such a stinking chop before him. 
 "• Stinking !" said Goldsmith, " in good troth I do 
 not smell it." — " I never smelled any thing so 
 unpleasant in my life," answered the gentleman ; 
 " the fellow deserves a caning for bringing you 
 meat unfit to eat." — " In good troth," said the 
 poet, relying on his judgment, "I think so too, 
 but I will be less severe in my punishment." He 
 instantly called the waiter, and insisted that he 
 should eat the chop as a punishment. The waiter 
 resisted : but the doctor threatened to knock him 
 down with his cane if he did not immediately 
 comply. When he had eaten half the chop, the 
 doctor gave him a glass of wine, thinking that it 
 would make the remainder of the sentence less 
 painful to him. When the waiter had finished 
 his repast, Goldsmith's friend burst into a loud 
 laugh. "What ails you now?" said the poet. 
 ** Indeed, my good friend," said the other, "I 
 
 could never think that a man whose knowledge 
 of letters is so extensive as yours, could be so 
 great a dupe to a stroke of humour; the chop wa9 
 as fine a one as ever I saw in my life." — " Was 
 it ?" said Dr. Goldsmith, " then I will never give 
 credit to what you say again ; and so, in good 
 troth, I think I am even with you." 
 
 QUEEN BESS. 
 A courtier one day came running to Queen 
 Elizabeth, and, with a face full of dismay, " Ma- 
 dam," said he, " I have bad news for you ; the 
 party of tailors mounted on mares, that attacked 
 the Spaniards, are all cut off." — "Courage, 
 friend!" said the queen; '* this news is indeed 
 bad ; but when we consider the nature of the 
 quadrupeds, and the description of the soldiers, it 
 is some comfort to think we have lost neither man 
 nor horse." 
 
 BOTTLES FLYING. 
 
 Hugh Boyd was dining -with a large party 
 of his countrymen,when,afierhaving drunk freely, 
 one of the company took up a decanter and flung 
 it at the head of the person that sat facing him. 
 Boyd, however, seeing the missile about to be 
 thrown, dexterously stretched forth his hand and 
 caught it, exclaiming, at the same time, " Really, 
 gentlemen, if you send the bottle about this way, 
 there will not one of us be able to stand out the 
 evening." 
 
 DR. PITCAIRN. 
 
 Dr. Pitcairn one Sunday stumbled into a pres ■ 
 byterian church, to beguile a few idle moments, 
 and seeing the parson apparently overwhelmed 
 by the importance of his subject: — " What the 
 devil makes the man greet?" said Pitcairn to a 
 fellow that stood near him. " By my faith, Sir," 
 answered the other, " you would perhaps greet 
 too, if you were in his place, and had as little to 
 say.'' — " Come along with me, friend, and let's 
 have a glass together," said Pitcairn, " You are 
 too good a fellow to be here." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 CHARITABLE FRAUD. 
 
 The Archbishop of Aix, on hearing that his 
 friend Saint Francois de Sales had been canonized, 
 pronounced him a gallant, amiable, and holiest 
 man, although he would cheat at piquet." — " But, 
 sir," said some one present, " is it possible that a 
 saint could be a sharper at play ?" — " No," re- 
 plied the Archbishop, " he said as a reason for it, 
 that he gave all his winnings to the poor." 
 
 LORD ORRERY. 
 
 Lord Orrery, the friend and biographer of 
 Swift, had such an unbounded love for the classics, 
 that he bestowed classical appellations on the 
 dumb parts of his household. His dog bore the 
 name of Caesar. Caesar, however, one day giving 
 his lordship a most unclassical bite, his lordship 
 seized a cane, and pursued him round the room 
 with great solemnity, uttering the while, this truly 
 classical menace: "Caesar! Caesar! if I could 
 catch thee, Caesar,! wouldgive thee as many wounds 
 as Brutus gave thy namesake in the capitol!" 
 
 PETER PINDAR. 
 Dr. "Walcot, better known as Peter Pindar, 
 called one day upon the publisher of his works, 
 by way of enquiring into the literary and other 
 news of the day. After some chat, the doctor 
 was asked to take a glass of wine with the seller 
 of his wit and poetry. The doctor consented to 
 accept of a little negus, when instantly was pre- 
 sented to him a cocoa-nut goblet, with the face of 
 a man carved on it. " Eh ! eh !" says the doctor, 
 "what have we here?" — " A man's skull," re- 
 plied the bookseller, " a poet's for what I know." 
 — " Nothing more likely," rejoined the doctor, 
 ii for it is universally known that all you booksellers 
 drink your wine from our skulls.'''' 
 
 NO JOKE. 
 
 A gentleman residing on his estate on the road 
 to Dorking, and within a few miles of that town, 
 finding his grounds trespassed on and robbed, set 
 
 37 
 
 up a board, to scare offenders by the notification 
 that" Steel traps and spring guns arc set in these 
 grounds ;" but finding that even this was treated 
 with contempt, and his fruit, &c. vanished as 
 before, he caused to be painted in very prominent 
 letters underneath— "No Joke, by G— d !" which 
 had the desired effect. 
 
 THE SAFE SIDE. 
 
 During the riots of 1780, most persons in London 
 in order to save their houses from being burnt or 
 pulled down, wrote on their doors," No Popery!" 
 Old Grimaldi, to avoid all mistakes, wrote on his 
 " No Religion!" 
 
 DR. SOUTH. 
 
 Dr. South visiting a gentleman one morning, 
 was asked to stay dinner, which he accepted of; 
 the gentleman stepped into the next room and 
 told his wife, and desired she would provide some 
 thing extraordinary. Hereupon she began to mur- 
 mur and scold, and made a thousand words; till, 
 at length, her husband, provoked at her beha- 
 viour, protested, that, if it was not for the stranger 
 in the next room, he would kick her out of doors. 
 Upon which the doctor, who heard all that pass- 
 ed, immediately stepped out, crying, " 1 beg, Sir, 
 you will make no stranger of me/ 1 
 
 QUIN ON TURTLE EATiNG. 
 
 Quin was asked once what he thought of turtle- 
 eating. " By G — d," said he, " it is a thousand 
 pities, that, on such an occasion, a man had not 
 a stomach as long as the cable of a first-rate 
 man-of-war, and every inch palate," 
 
 SMART RETORT. 
 
 Two gentlemen, one named Chambers, the 
 other Garret, riding by Tyburn together; the for- 
 mer said," this is a very pretty tenement, if it had 
 but a garret." — "You fool," said Garret, "don't 
 you know there must be chambers first." 
 
38 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 PETER WALTERS. 
 A gentleman, not so remarkable for his econo- 
 my as his wit and humour, was one day rallying 
 the late Peter Walters on his avarice. " For my 
 part," quoth the gentleman, " I don't know any 
 difference between a shilling and sixpence, for 
 when one is changed, it is gone, and so is the 
 other." — '* Ah," says Peter, " my old friend, you 
 may not know the difference between a shilling 
 and a sixpence now, but believe me you will when 
 you come to be worth but eighteen-pence." 
 
 THE SENATOR. 
 
 A senator, who is not esteemed the wisest man 
 in the House, has a custom of shaking his head 
 when another speaks; which giving offence to a 
 particular person, he complained of the indignity. 
 Hereupon, one who had been acquainted with the 
 first gentleman from a child, as he told the House, 
 assured them it was only the effect ofan ill-habit, 
 " for," said he, " though he often shakes his head, 
 there is nothing in it.'' 
 
 THE LAWYER AND THE FARMER. 
 
 A lawyer quits the jarring courts 
 
 For rural ease and rural sports, 
 
 Surveys his newly-bought estate, 
 
 And, like all those that wealth makes great, 
 
 Thus plied an honest farmer's ear : 
 
 t% Behold what spacious grounds are here ! 
 
 Yon park extensive mocks the eye, 
 
 Yon house with palaces might vie; 
 
 Rich by industry I have grown, 
 
 And all thou seest I call my own." 
 
 The clown, who very seldom made 
 
 A speech of length, in answer said, 
 
 " 1 fancy, Sir, you'd change your tone, 
 
 If every one possess'd his own." 
 
 KING CHARLES. 
 King Charles IT. being prevailed upon, by one 
 of his courtiers, to knight a very worthless fellow, 
 and of mean aspect, when he was going to lay the 
 
 sword upon his shoulder, our new knight drew 
 back, and hung down his head, as if out of coun- 
 tenance. "Don't be ashamed," said the king; 
 " 'tis I have the most reason to be so." 
 
 THE CANON AND VICAR. 
 
 A canon of Windsor, who was taking his even- 
 ing walk into the town, met one of the vicars at 
 the castle gate, returning home somewhat elevated 
 with generous port. " So," says the canon, 
 "from whence come you?" — "I don't know, 
 Mr. Canon," replied the vicar ; " I have been 
 spinning out this afternoon with a few friends." 
 — " Ay, and now," says the canon, " you are 
 reeling it home." 
 
 LORD B- 
 
 In Queen Ann's reign, the Lord B mar- 
 ried three wives, who were all his servants. A 
 beggar-woman meeting him one day in the street, 
 made him a very low courtesy^" Ah ! God Al- 
 mighty bless you," said she, " and send you a 
 long life; if you do but live long enough, we shall 
 all be ladies in time." 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 Jerry dying intestate, his relatives claim'd, 
 Whilsthis widow most vilely his mem'ry defam'd 
 " What !" she cry'd, " must I suffer, because the 
 
 curst knave, 
 Without leaving a will is laid snug in his grave ?" 
 " That's no wonder," said one, " for 'tis very well 
 
 known, 
 Since his marriage, poor man ! he'd no will of his 
 
 own." 
 
 COLONEL CHARTRES. 
 
 The late Colonel Chartres reflecting upon his 
 ill-life and public character, told a nobleman, if 
 such a thing as a good name could be purchased, 
 he would freely give 10,000f. for it The noble- 
 man said, " it would be the worst money he ever 
 laid out in his life." — " Why so?" said the colonel. 
 " Because," replied his lordship, "you would 
 certainly forfeit it again in less than a week," 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 39 
 
 THE TWO SISTERS. 
 
 An ill-humoured wife, abusing her husband on j 
 his mercenary disposition, told him that if she was 
 dead, he would marry che devil's eldest daughter, 
 if he could get any thing by it, " That's true," 
 replied the husband, " but the worst of it is one 
 can't marry two sisters" 
 
 TO A BAD FIDDLER. 
 
 When Orpheus (as old stories shew) 
 Went fiddling to the shades below, 
 To recompense the pleasing strain, 
 Pluto restor'd his wife again. 
 But thou, the worst of mortal scrapers 
 That ever call'd forth rustic capers, 
 And hadst for wife so vile a jade, 
 For thy own sake leave off the trade :— 
 Should Pluto hear thy tweedle-dee, 
 He the same way would punish thee. 
 
 TRUE PATRIOTISM 
 
 A few years ago one of the male convicts in Bo- 
 tany-Bay wrote a farce; which was acted with 
 great applause on the theatre, in Port Jackson. 
 Barrington, the noted pickpocket, furnished the 
 prologue, which ended with these lines : — 
 True patriots we, for be it understood, 
 We left our country for our country's good. 
 
 ALL GONE OUT. 
 Not long since a gentleman near Birmingham, 
 having occasion to see a friend, called at his house, 
 and was told he was gone out ; to save the trouble 
 of calling again, he expressed a wish to see the 
 mistress, but she also was gone out. That no 
 time might be lost, he requested to see the young 
 master, but he likewise was out. Wishing, how- 
 ever, not to go withoutaccomplishing his business, 
 on saying he would then walk in, and sit by the 
 lire till one of them returned, he was told by Pat, 
 " Tndeed, Sir, and you can't, for that is gone out 
 too .'" 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 " Whatever is, is right," says Pope - 
 
 So said a sturdy thief; 
 But when his fate requir'd a rope, 
 
 He varied his belief. 
 I ask'd if still he held it good : 
 
 " Why, ro," he sternly cried ; 
 '„' Good text? are only understood 
 
 By being well applied." 
 
 APPROPRIATE CARRIAGES. 
 
 A coachmaker, remarking the fashionable stages 
 or carriages, said, " that a sociable was all the ton 
 during the honey-moon, and a sulky after." 
 
 NEWSPAPER READERS. 
 
 Shenstone, the poet, divided the readers of a 
 newspaper into the following general classes: — 
 The ill-natured man looks to the list of bankrupts; 
 the tradesman to the price of bread ; the stock- 
 jobber to the lie of the day ; the old maid to mar- 
 riages; the prodigal son to deaths: the monopolist 
 to the hopes of a Avet harvest; and the boarding 
 school misses to every thing that relates to Gretna- 
 green ! , 
 
 the retreat: 
 
 " Let's run, let's run," a soldier»cries ; 
 His captain heard, and thus replies — 
 " What, coward ! would you turn away 
 The inoment we have gain'd the day ? 
 Beholll the foe have ceas'd to fire ; 
 Their broken ranks with speed retire." 
 " Yes, I perceive our foes retreat ; 
 
 For speed Newmarket cou'dn't match 'em ; 
 I therefore do my words repeat — 
 
 Run, or, by G — , you'll never catch 'em." 
 
 HORSE STEALING. 
 
 Two fellows meeting, one asked the other, why 
 he looked so bad ? " I have good reason for it," an- 
 swered Ihe other," poor Jack, the greatest coney 
 and best friend I had in the world, was hanged 
 
40 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 but two days ago.-" — " What bad he done ?" said 
 the first. " Alas!" replied the other, " he did no 
 more than you or I should have done on the like 
 occasion; he found a bridle on the road, and took 
 it up." — *' What!" said the other, " hang a man 
 for taking up a bridle! That's hard, indeed."— 
 " To tell' the truth of the matter," said the other, 
 " there was a horse tied to the other end of it." 
 
 EPITAPH ON A MAN AND HIS WIFE. 
 Stay, bachelor, if you have wit, 
 
 A wonder to behold : 
 Husband and wife, in one dark pit, 
 
 Lie Still, and never scold. 
 
 Tread softly tbo', for fear she wakes; — 
 
 Hark, she begins already : 
 You've hurt my head ; — my shoulder akes ; — 
 
 These sots can ne'er move steady. 
 
 Ah, friend! with happy freedom blest ! 
 
 See how my hope's miscarry'd : 
 Not death itself can give you rest, 
 
 Unless you die unmarry'd. 
 
 THE EXECUTION. 
 An under-sheriff having to attend a male- 
 factor to execution on a Friday, went to him 
 the Wednesday before, to ask the following 
 favour: " My good friend," said the sheriff, "you 
 know I have orders to see you executed next 
 Friday; now I have business of the utmost im- 
 portance at London on that day, and as you must 
 die so soon, one day's difference can make no odds, 
 and I should take it as a particular favour if you 
 would be handed on Thursday morning." The 
 prisoner replied, " I am very sorry I cannot 
 oblige you in this particular; for I have some bu- 
 siness of great importance on Friday morning; 
 but, Mr. Sheriff, to shew you that I am not an un- 
 grateful man, suppose we put off this said execu- 
 tion till Monday morning; if you like that, Mr. 
 Sheriff, I'll agree to it with all my heart." 
 EXCHANGING SERMONS. 
 
 to have annual visitations, in order to settle the 
 affairs of the church. There belonged to a society 
 of this sort, in Dorsetshire, a clergyman, who made 
 excellent sermons, but preached them badly. At 
 one of these meetings, after the gentlemen had 
 dined, and the servants were seated down together, 
 this clergyman's man asked another, " what so 
 many parsons met together for ?" — " Why," an- 
 swered he, " to swap sermons.'''' — " Aye,'''' quoth 
 the former, " then my master is always most dam- 
 nably cheated, for he never gets a good one." 
 
 EPITAPH ON MR. FOOTE. 
 Here lies one Foot y whose death may thousands 
 
 save, 
 For death has now one Foote within the grave. 
 
 COPY OF A DROLL EVIDENCE, 
 Delivered by the Rev. Mr. J. W— , rector of 
 
 Rockland, St. Peters, who ioas subpcenied to give 
 
 testimony of the character of one P — , a 
 
 schoolmaster, at New Buckingham, in Norfolk, 
 
 at the assize held at Thttford. 
 
 Counsel. Call the Rev. Mr. J. W , rector 
 
 of Rockland, St. Peters. 
 
 Clerk of Assize. Mr. J. W called. 
 
 Walpole. Here, Sir. 
 
 Cotinsel. Mr. Walpole, 1 think you live at 
 Rockland, St. Peters? 
 
 Walpole. No, Sir, I don't live there; I am 
 parson of the parish, and the living came by my 
 mother. 
 
 Counsel. Sir, I don't ask you after the prefer- 
 ment, nor how you came by it. 
 
 L. C. Justice. Mr. Walpole, pray where do 
 you live? 
 
 Walpole. May it please your Lordship, at 
 New Buckingham, just by Tom Tunmore's, at 
 the Crown 
 
 Counsel. Pray do you know one Mr. Parsons, 
 a schoolmaster, at New Buckingham ? 
 
 Walpole. Yes, Sir, I know him very well. 
 
 Counsel. Pray, Sir, what sort of a man is he? 
 It is customary for the clergy in most counties 1 how does he behave in your town?, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 41 
 
 Walpole. Sir, he is a well-built man for 
 Strength, he goes in a blue coat and buckskin pair 
 of breeches. 
 
 Counsel. Sir, I don't ask you what sort of a 
 man he is, nor what dress he goes in. 
 
 Walpole. Sir, as I am upon my oath, I thought 
 I must give an account of all I know of him. 
 
 Counsel. Yes; Sir, relating to the questions 
 asked you. I mean, how does he behave, that is, 
 does he behave well in your town ? 
 
 Walpole. Yes, Sir, very well; only he goes 
 a little hobbling, but that he cannot help. 
 
 Counsel. Sir, you do not take me right; has he 
 a clear character of an honest, sober, well be- 
 haved man in your town ? 
 
 Walpole. Yes, Sir, that he has ; it is as seldom 
 he gets drunk as any man in town ; perhaps in a 
 morninghe will call on me to goto Tom Tunmore's, 
 but we seldom drink above two or three full pots 
 in a morning, and he goes home very sober consi- 
 der iii£. 
 
 Counsel. Pray, Sir, do you call it a sober 
 iving man that drinks two or three full pots in a 
 morning ? 
 
 Walpole. He is a very moderate man in drink- 
 ing, he seldom takes more than half his share. 
 
 Counselor. Then, Sir, yon have a good partner. 
 
 Walpole. Sir, I like such men best, and so 
 does he, and we agree extremely well together, 
 and never quarrel over our cups, that's all I know 
 of him. 
 
 PARLIAMENTARY REFORM. 
 
 "When Home Tooke was rejected by the House 
 of Commons, on account of the supposed purity 
 of his clerical character, he compared his own si- 
 tuation to that of the girl at the Magdalen, who 
 was told " she must turn out and qualify." 
 
 A DREAM. 
 T dream'd, that buried with my fellow clay, 
 Close by a common beggar's side I lay, 
 And as so mean a neighbour shock'd my pride, 
 Thus, like a corpse of consequence, 1 cry'd : 
 
 "Scoundrel, begone! and henceforth touch me 
 
 not; 
 More manners learn, and at a distance rot." 
 "How! scoundrel!" in a haughtier tone, said he, 
 " Proud lump of dirt! I scorn thy words, and 
 
 thee ; 
 Here all are equal ; now thy case is mine ; 
 This is my rotting-place, and that is thine." 
 
 A STUTTERING WAG. 
 
 A person once knocked at the door of a college- 
 fellow, to enquire the apartments of a particular 
 gentleman. When the fellow made his appear- 
 ance, " Sir," said the enquirer, " will jou be so 
 
 obliging as to direct me to the rooms of Mr. ." 
 
 The fellow had the misfortune to stutter. He 
 
 began," S-S-S pl-pl-ple-ase to go to " and 
 
 then stopped short. At length, collecting all his 
 indignation to the tip of his tongue, he poured 
 out a frightful expression, adding, as he shut the 
 door, " You will find him sooner than I can direct 
 you." 
 
 BARRY AND HIS CARPENTER. 
 
 The Dublin theatre, during Mr. Barry's manage- 
 ment, failed, and he was considerably indebted to 
 his actors, musicians, &c. Among others, the 
 master-carpenter called at Barry's house, and was 
 very clamorous in demanding his money. Barrv 
 came to the head of the stairs, and asked what wa\ 
 the matter ? " Matter enough," replied the carpen 
 ter, " I want my money, and can't get it." — 
 " Don't be in a passion," said Barry. " Do me 
 the favour to walk up stairs, if you please, and we 
 will speak upon the business." — " Not I, by J — 
 Mr. Barry ;" cried the carpenter, " you owe me 
 a hundred pounds already, and if I come up >ou 
 will owe me two before I leave you." 
 
 MR. BURKITT. 
 
 Mr. William Burkitt, author of a Practical 
 Exposition of the New Testament, and other reli- 
 gious books, was a facetious man. He was edu 
 cated at Cambridge, and afterwards became mi- 
 
42 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 nister of Dedham, in Essex. Going one Sunday 
 to church from the lecture-house, he met an old 
 Cambridge friend, who was coming to give him a 
 call before sermon. After the accustomed salu- 
 tations, Burkitt told his friend, that as he had in- 
 tended him the favour of a visit, his parishioners 
 would expect the favour of a sermon. The cler- 
 gyman excused himself, by sajing he had no ser- 
 mon with him ; but on looking at Burkitt's pock- 
 et, and perceiving a corner of his sermon-book, 
 he drew it gently out, and put it in his own 
 pocket. The gentleman then said with a smile, 
 " Mr. Burkitt, I will agree to preach for you." 
 He did so, and preached BurkittVsermon. He, 
 however, appeared to great disadvantage after 
 Burkitt, for he had a voice rough and untuneful, 
 whereas Burkitt's was remarkably melodious. 
 " Ah !" said Burkitt to him archly, after sermon, 
 as he was approaching him in the vestry, " you 
 was but half a rogue; you stole my fiddle, but 
 you could not steal my fiddlestick." 
 
 ON A GLUTTON WHO HAD A REMARKABLE 
 MOUTH. 
 
 Here lies a famous belly slave, 
 "Whose mouth was wider than a grave ; 
 Traveller, tread lightly o'er his clod, 
 For should he gape you're gone by G — d ! 
 
 A very serious complaint was once lodged 
 before a justice of the peace in a northern county, 
 against a simple countryman, for having damned 
 the King. A warrant was accordingly issued, 
 and the poordelinquent dragged before the bench, 
 when the following interrogatories were put to 
 him. 
 
 Justice.- — Harkee ! you fellow ; how came you 
 wickedly and profanely to damn his most sacred 
 Majesty George theThird, of Great Britain, France, 
 and Ireland, King, Defender of the Faith, and so 
 forth ? 
 
 Countryman. — Lord, your worship, I did not 
 know that the King of Clubs was Defender of the 
 Faith, or by my troth I would not have damn'd it. 
 
 Justice.— King of Clubs ! why, you rebellious 
 rascal, what, do you add insult to treason ? Tell 
 me what you mean. 
 
 Countryman. — Mean, your worship, why you 
 mun know that were noine and noine, at whiskand 
 swabbers, clubs were trumps. I had eace and 
 queen V my own hand ; but as ill-luck would ha't. 
 our neighbour Tummus clapt his king smock upon 
 my queen, and by gadlin they gotten the odd trick, 
 so being well throttled with rage, your worship, 
 I-I-I- cry'd damn the king ! 
 
 Justice. — Oh! well if that's all, thou mayst go 
 about thy business : but see that thou never dost 
 so again. 
 
 Countryman. — God bless your Honour, I wonna 
 e'en curse a knave, for fear it should offend your 
 Worship ! 
 
 THE HEN-PECKED HUSBAND, 
 Inscribed on a pane of glass by Burns. 
 Curst be the man, the poorest wretch in life, 
 The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife, 
 Who has no will but by her permission, 
 Who has not sixpence but in her possession, 
 Who must to her his dear friends secrets tell, ' 
 Who dreaTds a curtain-lecture worse than h — 11. 
 Were such the wife had fallen to my part, 
 I'd break her spirit, or I'd break her heart. 
 
 JACK KETCH. 
 
 Jack Ketch being lately summoned to the Court 
 of Conscience for a small debt, was asked how he 
 meant to pay it ? The answer was : " Why, an 
 please your honour, as I know the- plaintiff and 
 family well, I'll work it out for him in my own 
 line .'" 
 
 FISH AND SAUCE. 
 
 A countryman on a trial respecting the right of 
 fishery, at the Lancaster assizes, was cross-ex- 
 amined by Sergeant Cockel, who, among many 
 other questions, asked the witness — " Dost thou 
 love fish?" — " Yea," said the poor fellow, " bui 
 I donna like Cockle sauce with it." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE RIDDLE. 
 
 Addressed to four Ladies. 
 
 Guess, gentle ladies, if you can, 
 
 A thing that's wondrous common, 
 What almost every well-bred man 
 
 Presents to every woman. 
 A thing with which you've often play'd 
 
 Betwixt your thumb and finger, 
 Though if too frequent use be made, 
 
 'Twill spoil you for a singer. 
 It's what weak dames and old abuse, 
 
 And often spoils the stronger ; 
 In short, 'tis rhetoric lovers use, 
 
 When they can talk no longer. 
 It is a pill or potion now, 
 
 Just as you're pleas'd to make it 
 Raises the spirits when they're low, 
 
 And tickles^ when you take it. 
 
 THE ANSWER, BY THE LADIES. 
 To guess your riddle, gentle sir, 
 
 Four dames in council sal ; 
 So various their opinions were, 
 
 That great was the debate. 
 One said, 'twas music, play'd with skill, 
 
 That caus'd all this emotion ; 
 A second said, it was a pill ; 
 
 A third, it-was a potion. 
 The fourth was quite amaz'd to hear 
 
 The ladies talk such stuff, 
 Told them the case was very clear, 
 
 And took a pinch of snuff. 
 
 REAL POLITENESS. 
 
 Louis XIV. having been told that Lord Stair 
 
 was one of the best-bred men in Europe, " I shall 
 
 soon put him to the test," said the king; and 
 
 asking Lord Stair to take an airing with him, as 
 
 43 
 
 OLD AGE NOT RELISHED BY LADIES. 
 Any imputation of old age is disagreeable to 
 the fair sex, let the circumstance of poverty or de- 
 bility be ever so great. An aged woman solicit- 
 ing alms in Islington, being asked when a wo- 
 man was too old for matrimony? replied, " That 
 question you must ask of some one who is older 
 than I am." 
 
 A grave-digger's bill. 
 
 A grave-digger who had buried a Mr. Button, 
 sent the following curious bill to his widow: — 
 " To making a Button-hole , 2s.'' 
 
 THE SAILOR'S PRAYER. 
 
 When the British ships under Lord Nelson were 
 bearing down to attack the combined fleet off 
 Trafalgar, the first-lieutenant of the Revenge, on 
 going round to see that all hands were at quarters, 
 observed one of the men devoutly kneeling at the 
 side of his gun. So unusual an attitude exciting 
 his surprise, he asked the sailor if he was afraid ? 
 " Afraid !" answered the tar, " No, I was only 
 praying' that the enemy's shot may be distributed 
 in the same proportion as prize-money — the great- 
 est part among the officers." 
 
 NATIONAL TOASTS. 
 
 When Lord Stair was ambassador 
 he made frequent entertainments 
 
 n Holland, 
 to which the 
 foreign ministers were constantly invited. The 
 French Ambassador, in his turn, as constantly in- 
 vited the English and Austrian ambassadors; and 
 on one occasion proposed a health in these terms, 
 " The Rising Sun, my master," alluding to the 
 device and motto of Louis XIV. It came then to 
 the Austrian ambassador's turn to give a toast ; 
 and he proposed the " Moon,'' in compliment to 
 soon as the door of the coach was opened, he bade*] the Empress queen. The Earl of Stair was then 
 
 him pass and go in ; the other bowed and obeyed. 
 The king said, " The world is right in the charac- 
 ter it gives of his lordship ; another person would 
 have troubled me with ceremony." 
 
 called upon, and that nobleman, whose presence 
 of mind never forsook him, drank his master, 
 King William, by the name of " Joshua, the son 
 of Nun, who made the Sun and Moon stand still." 
 
44 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 NOBODY. 
 
 Sure Nobody's a v/ic-ked devil, 
 
 The author of consummate evil ; 
 
 In breaking dishes, basins, glasses, 
 
 In stealing, hiding — he surpasses. 
 
 Behold the punch-bowl crack'd around, 
 
 For weeks the ladle was not found ; 
 
 How crack'd — 'twas Nobody that did it, 
 
 How misplac'd — 'twas Nobody hid it. 
 
 When in the school, sits Dr. Pedant, 
 
 He calls to him that is the head in't, 
 
 " Who made that noise? who let his tongue 
 
 stir?" 
 " Nobody, Sir ;" exclaims the youngster. 
 The governess some mischief spies out ; 
 And in a passion thus she cries out, — 
 " Hey day ! a pretty litter this is ? 
 Whose doing? pray ! come, tell me, Misses ? 
 Whose doing?" she repents with fury, 
 Nobody's, Madam, I assure you. 
 The lady of the house believes, 
 A guest her servant-maid receives. 
 A thief, perhaps, who shams the lover, 
 The windows' fastenings to discover; 
 She hears a foot — yes, hears it plain, 
 And calls, " Who's there?" — but calls in vain: 
 She lists — so anxious she to know, 
 And hears a stranger's voice below; 
 " Why, Jane, who is it you've got there ?," 
 " Lord, Madam. — Nobody, I swear, 
 As every body can declare." 
 " I'm sure somebody it must be," 
 " Nobody, Madam — come and see." 
 She goes, but all in vain she peeps, 
 For any where Nobody creeps. 
 She finds her gravy-soup diminished; 
 Her ribs of beef are almost finished ; 
 " Hey-day, who those provisions took," 
 " Nobody, Madam," rejoins the cook 
 " Impossible ! what do you mean ?" 
 " Why then the cat it must have been " 
 Thus Nobody is never seen 
 In Anybody's shape, but that 
 Of a domestic dos: or cat. 
 
 This Nobody, how strange I think, 
 
 Can walk and talk, can eat and drink ;— 
 
 But male or female ? why, I ween 
 
 The gender must be Epicene. 
 
 An old offender it appears, 
 
 Who's liv'd above a thousand years ; 
 
 For Polyphemus had his odd eye 
 
 Knock'd out by him, I mean Nobody. 
 
 QUIN AND THE BEAU. 
 Quin being one day in a coffee-house, saw a 
 young beau enter, quite languid with the heat 
 of the day. " Waiter]," said the coxcomb, in 
 an affected faint voice, " Waiter, fetch me a dish 
 of coffee, as weak as water, and as cool as 
 a zephyr!" Quin,. in a voice of thunder, imme 
 diately vociferated, " W T aiter, bring me a dish of 
 
 coffee, hot as h — 11, and strong as d 1 n.V 
 
 The beau starting, exclaimed, " Pray, waiter, 
 what is that gentleman's name?" Quin, in the 
 same tremendous tone, exclaimed, " Waiter, pray 
 what is that lady's name." 
 
 DEBTOR AND CREDITOR. 
 
 The tradesmen of a man of fashion having 
 dunned him for a long time, he desired his servant 
 one morning to admit the tailor, who had not 
 been so constant in his attendance as the rest. 
 When be made his appearance, " My friend," 
 said he to him, " I think you are- a very honest 
 fellow r , and I have a great regard for you ; there- 
 fore, I take this opportunity to tell you, that I'll 
 
 be d d if ever I pay you a farthing ! Now 
 
 go home, mind your business, and don't lose your 
 time by calling here. As for the others, they are 
 a set of vagabonds and rascals, for whom J have 
 no affection, and they may come as' often as they 
 choose." 
 
 DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE AND THE DUSTMAN. 
 • As the late beautiful Duchess of .Devonshire was 
 one day stepping out of her carriage, a dustman, 
 who was accidentally standing by, and was about 
 to regale himself with his accustomed whiff of to- 
 bacco, caught a glanceof her countenance, and in- 
 
tHE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 45 
 
 stantlyexclairned, " Love and bless you, my lady, 
 let me light my pipe in your eyes !" The duch- 
 ess was so delighted with this compliment, that 
 she frequently afterwards checked the strain of 
 adulation, which was so constantly offered to her 
 charms, by saying, " Oh! after the dustman's 
 compliment, all others are insipid." 
 
 INGENIOUS EVASION. 
 
 A prisoner being brought up to Bow-street, the 
 J following dialogue passed between him and the 
 sitting magistrate: "How do you live?" — 
 I " Pretty well, sir ; generally a joint and a pudding 
 I at dinner?" — " I mean, sir, how do you get your 
 ] bread ?" — " I beg your worship's pardon ; some- 
 times at the baker's and sometimes at the chand- 
 , ler's shop." — " You may be as witty as you 
 please, sir; but I mean simply to ask you, how 
 do you do?" — "Tolerably well, I thank your 
 worship ; I hope your worship is well." 
 
 MR. THELWALL AND MR. ERSKINE. 
 
 When Mr. Thelwall was on his trial at the Old 
 Bailey for high-treason, during the evidence for 
 the prosecution, he wrote the following note, and 
 sent it to his counsel, Mr. Erskine : " I am deter- 
 mined to plead my cause myself." Mr. Erskine 
 •wrote under it, " If you do, you'll be hanged ;" 
 to which Thelwall immediately returned this 
 reply, " I'll be hang'd, then, if I do." 
 
 GEORGE BARKER AND THE TOOTH-DRAWER. 
 
 The famous George Barker was laid up one day, 
 | His wife being then in the family-way ; 
 J For always the tooth-aches of husbands begin 
 
 Whenever their wives are about lying-in ; 
 
 He roar'd and he bellow'd, so great was the pain, 
 
 Supp'd brandy, bit ginger, but all was in vain. 
 
 At last Mr. Jalap, th' apothecary, came, 
 To take out the tooth, which the rest did inflame ; 
 Sir, open your mouth, which he open'd so wide, 
 Th;it Jalap peep'd down, and " I see it" hecried; 
 | His head was held fast, and the pincers cramm'din, 
 j Which Barker receiv'd with a horrible grin. I 
 
 Tremendous and Ioutr were the gentleman^s cries, 
 While out came a tooth, to the patient's surprise. 
 " Ouns ! sir, you have drawn the best tooth that 
 
 I had, 
 Instead of the one that's so grievously bad ;" 
 " That's my loss,' ' cried Jalap, " I've now double 
 
 labour, 
 For needs must I take out its troublesome neigh- 
 bour." 
 
 George wou'd have replied, but t'other in, popp'd 
 His pincers, and thus was his mouth quickly 
 
 stopp'd, 
 Then spite of odd gestures, and even wry face, 
 He pulTd, and he twisted, the tooth to displace $ 
 The doctor at length brought the job to an end, 
 With pains to himself, but much more to his friend. 
 Poor Barker held up both his hands to his head, 
 " O death and the devil, what pain's this," lies-aid; 
 While Jalap the gentleman gravely assur'd. 
 " 'Twas nothing to what he might chance t' have 
 
 endured; 
 Pray look at the rotten old stump I'd to draw, 
 And then thank your stars that J didn't break your 
 
 jaw.''' 
 
 SPIRIT OF A GAMBLER. 
 
 A bon-vivant of fashion, brought to his death- 
 bed by an immoderate use of wine, after having 
 been seriously taken leave of by his physician, 
 and ingeniously told that he could not survive 
 many hours, and would die by eight o'clock next 
 morning, exerted all the small remains of his 
 strength to call the doctor back, which having ac- 
 complished with difficulty, he said, with the true 
 spirit of a gambler, " Doctor, I'll betyoua bottle 
 I live till nine." 
 
 fashion's sake. 
 
 Lord Mansfield being willing to save a man 
 who stole a watch, desired the jury to value it at 
 ten-pence; upon which the prosecutor cried out, 
 '" Ten-pence, my lord ! why the very fashion of it 
 cost me five pounds." — " Oh," said his lordship^ 
 " we must not hang a man for fashion's sake." 
 
46 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 PROMPT ANSWER. 
 
 Chateauneuf, keeper of the seals of Louis XIII. 
 when a. boy of ouly nine years old, was asked 
 many questions by a bishop, and gave very prompt 
 answers to them all. At length the prelate said, 
 *' I will give you an orange if you will tell me 
 where God is?" — " My lord," replied the boy, 
 " I will give you two oranges if you will tell me 
 where he is not." 
 
 DR. YOUNG. 
 
 One day as Dr. Young was walking in his 
 garden at Welwyn, in company with two ladies, 
 (one of whom he afterwards married,) the servant 
 came to tell him that a gentleman wished to speak 
 with him. " Tell him," said the doctor, " I am 
 too happily engaged to change my situation." 
 The ladies insisted he should go, but, as persua- 
 sion had no effect, one took him by the right arm, 
 the other by the left, and led him to the garden- 
 gate ; when, finding resistance in vain, he bowed, 
 and spoke the following lines: — 
 " Thus Adam look'd, when from the garden driv'n, 
 
 And thus disputed orders sent from heav'n ; 
 
 Like him I go, but yet to go am loth ; 
 
 Like him I go, for angels drove us both ; 
 
 Hard was his fate, but mine still more unkit.d ; 
 
 His Eve went with him, but mine 6tays bellied." 
 
 THE BIRCH. 
 
 Ye worthies, in trust for the school and the church, 
 Pray hear me descant on the virtues of Birch* 
 Though the Oak be the prince and the pride of 
 
 the grove, 
 An emblem of pow'r, and the favourite of Jove ; 
 Though Phoebus with Laurel his temples have 
 
 bound, 
 And with chaplets of Poplar Alcides be crown'd ; 
 Tho" Pallas the Olive has graced with her choice, 
 And mother Cybexe in Pines may rejoice; 
 Though Kaccuus delights in the Ivy and Vine, 
 And Venus her garlands with Myrtle entwine; 
 
 Yet the Muses declare, after diligent search, 
 No tree can be found to compare with the Birch. 
 The Birch, they aver, is the true tree of know- 
 ledge, 
 Revered by each school, and remember'd at col- 
 lege. 
 Though Virgil's fam'd tree may producers it* 
 
 fruit, 
 A crop of vain dreams, and strange whims from 
 
 each shoot ; 
 Yet the Birch on each bough, on the top of each 
 
 switch, 
 Bears the essence of grammar, the eight parts of 
 
 spepch. 
 'Mongst the leaves isconceal'd more than mem'ry 
 
 can mention, 
 All cases, all genders, all forms of declension. 
 Nine branches when cropp'd by the hand of the 
 
 Nine, 
 Each duly arrang'd in a parallel line, 
 Tied up in nine folds of a mystical string, 
 And soak'd for nine hours in cold Helicon's 
 
 spring- 
 Is a sceptre compos'd for a pedagogue's hand, 
 Like the Fasces of Rome, a true badge of command. 
 
 The sceptre thus finish'd, like Moses's rod, 
 From flints can draw tears, and give life to a clod. 
 Should darkness Egyptian, or ignorance spread 
 Its clouds o'er the mind, or envelope the head, 
 This rod thrice apply'd puts the darkness to flight, 
 Disperses the clouds, and restores us to light ; 
 Like the Virga divina, 'twill find out the vein 
 Where lurks the rich metal — the gold of the brain 
 Should Genius, a captive, by Sloth be confin'd, 
 Or the witchcraft of pleasure prevail o'er the 
 
 mind, 
 Apply but this magical wand— with a stroke, 
 The spell is dissolv'd, the enchantment is broke. 
 Like Hermes's rod, these few switches inspire 
 Rhetorical thunder, and Poetry's fire. 
 And if Morpheus our temples in Lethe should 
 
 steep, 
 These switches untie all the fetters of sleep. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Here dwells strong Conviction, of Logic the glory, 
 
 When us'd with precision a posteriori^ 
 
 It promotes circulation, and thrills through each 
 
 vein, 
 The faculties quickens, and purges the brain. 
 "Whatever disorders prevail in the blood, 
 The Birch can correct them, like guaiacum wood. 
 So iuscious its juice is, so sweet are its twigs, 
 That at Sheffield we call them the Walkley-bank 
 
 figs. 
 As the fam'd rod of Circe to brutes would change 
 
 men, 
 So the twigs of the Birch can unbrute them again. 
 Like the rod of the Sybil, that branch of pure 
 
 gold, 
 
 These twigs can the gate of Egysium unfold ; 
 
 That Elysium of learning,where pleasures abound, 
 
 These fruits that still flourish on classical ground. 
 
 Then if such be its virtues, we'll bow to the tree, 
 
 And Birch, like the Muses, immortal shall be. 
 
 LUCKY LOSS. 
 
 A clergyman being one day engaged in examin- 
 ing his parishioners, and finding them extremely 
 ignorant, spoke of the punishment that awaited 
 the wicked in a future world ; observing, that 
 they " would be cast into a place of utter dark- 
 ness,, where there would be weeping, and wailing, 
 and gnashing of teeth.' 1 — " Let them gnash that 
 have teeth,'' cried an old woman from a corner 
 of the church ; " for my part, I have had none 
 these thirty years." 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 This monarch mounting a horse that was un- 
 ruly, said, " The deil tak' my saul, sirrah, an ye 
 be na quiet, I'll send ye to the five hundred kings 
 in the House of Commons: — They'll soon tame 
 you." 
 
 COURAGE. 
 
 An officer in Admiral Lord St. Vincent's fleet, 
 askuig one of the captains, who was gallantly 
 
 47 
 
 bearing down upon the Spanish fleet, whether he 
 had reckoned the number of the enemy ? *' No," 
 replied the captain, " it will be time enough to 
 do that, when we have made them strike." 
 
 PURCHASING A HUSBAND. 
 
 A country girl, desirous of matrimony, received 
 from her mistress a present of a five-pound bank- 
 note for her marriage-portion. Her mistress wish- 
 ed to see the object of Susan's favour ; and a very 
 diminutive fellow, swarthy as a Moor, and ugly 
 as an ape, made his appearance. " Ah, Susan," 
 said her mistress, " what a strange choice you 
 have made !" — " La, ma'am," said Susan, " in 
 such hard times as these, when almost all the tall 
 fellows are gone for soldiers, what more of a 
 man than this can you expect for a five-pound 
 note ?" 
 
 A COMPARISON. 
 
 Itiswithnarrow-souled people, as with narrow- 
 necked bottles — the less they have in them, the 
 more noise they make in pouring it out. 
 
 THE RETORT. 
 Two girls of fashion entered an assembly-room, 
 at the time when a fat citizen's wife was-quitting 
 it. " Ah," said one of them, in an audible voice, 
 " there's beef a-la-mode going out." — " Yes," 
 answered the object of their ridicule, " and game 
 going in." 
 
 MATRIMONIAL REGULATIONS. 
 
 A man being brought up by his wife, who had 
 sworn the peace against him, after being inform- 
 ed by the sitting magistrate of the charge laid 
 against him, he asked permission to say summat 
 in his excnlpitation. 
 
 " Well," said the worthy magistrate, " you are 
 at liberty to say any thing you please in your de- 
 fence." 
 
 " Why, then, please your worship, I caun show 
 as how my wife took the law into her hands betore 
 I ba isted her at all." 
 
48 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Magistrate. — "Did she strike you first?" 
 Husband. — " No, your worship, but if you'll 
 please to hear my (ale, you shall know all about 
 it; first, if you'll please to hear me, you must 
 know that I is of a very hot temper, and she's 
 plaguy hot well as I ; we'll, so you know, says I to 
 Jier yan morning, Bessy, my lass, we'll split our 
 disturbances, fane of us shall be maister yan year, 
 and t'other of next year, in regular succension; 
 well, please your worship, she agreed to this regu- 
 larment, and she beent maistei all flast year; the 
 time you know, that her time expired was last 
 Friday four months. Well, your worship, o/Fri- 
 day four month's I told you that I was ganning to 
 be't maister; well, "do you know, your worship, 
 she took t'law into her own hands, and said she'd 
 be felled if she would'nt remain maister for t'next 
 year ; so I has put up with the degradation till 
 last Friday — wcrlnt it that day, Bessy ?" 
 Wife.—'' Till last Friday." 
 Husband. — " Weil, and then as how 1 thought 
 t'law wad authorize me to baist her,- as she had 
 Ja'en t'law into her hands. (Much laughter.) 
 
 Magistrate.—" Woman, what have you to say 
 to this ingenuous defence ?" 
 
 Wife. — " Please, your worship, I know J'se 
 guilty of the alledgement he has lain again me; 
 I'se sorry for what I've done! 1 hope as that 
 you'll forgive me this time, and I'll try him 
 (pointing to her husband) till he misbehaves him- 
 selfagain." 
 
 The magistrate then advised her in future to let 
 Jier husband be the master, and, after making mu- 
 tual promises to kiss and be friends, they retired. 
 
 JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 A dog ± y.ng open-mouthed at a Serjeant upon 
 a march, he ran the spear of his halbert into his 
 throat and killed him. The owner was quite in- 
 dignant that his dog was killed, and asked the 
 Serjeant why he could not as well have struck at 
 oici with the blunt end of his halbert? " So I 
 -would," said he, " if he had i unat me with his tail." 
 
 FORTITUDE OF A SAILOR. 
 
 A veteran, at the battle of Trafalgar, who was 
 actively employed at one of the guns, having his 
 leg shot off below the knee, observed to an oiheer, 
 " That's but a shilling touch; an inch higher and 
 I should have had my eighteen-pence for it ;" al« 
 ludingto the scale of pensions allowed for wounds. 
 The same man, as they were lifting him on a bro- 
 ther tar's shoulders, said to one of his friends, 
 " Bob, take a look for ray leg, and give me the 
 silver buckle out of my shoe ; I'll do as much foi 
 you, please God, some other time." 
 
 A DOTING HUSBAND. 
 
 At the time when Frederick Moul was engaged 
 in translating Lebanius, a servant came to tell 
 him, that his wife, who had long been in a declin- 
 ing state, was very ill, and wished to speak to 
 him. " Stop a minute, stop a minute," said he, 
 " 1 have but two sentences to finish, and then I 
 will be with her directly." Another messenger 
 came to announce, that she was at the hist gsp. 
 " I have but two words to write," answered he, 
 and " then I'll fly to her." A moment after word 
 was brought to him, that she had expired. 
 " Alas ! I am very sorry for it," exclaimed the 
 tranquil husband, " she was the best wife in the 
 world !" Having uttered this brief funeral oia 
 tion . he went on with his work. 
 
 MATRIMONIAL AFFECTION. 
 
 In a village in Picardy, a farmer's wife, aftei 
 long sickness, fell into a lethargy. Her husband 
 was willing, good man, to believe her out of pain ; 
 and so, according to the custom of that country, 
 she was wrapped in a sheet, and carried out 
 to be buried. But, as ill-luck would have it, the 
 bearers carried her so near a hedge, that the thorns 
 pierced the sheet, a'nd waked the woman from her 
 trance. Some years after, she died in reality; 
 and, as the funeral passed along, the husband 
 w ould every now and then call out " Not too near 
 the hedge, not too near the hedge, neighbours. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 45 
 
 TARDY ADVICE. 
 
 A nobleman advising his son to keep in- 
 ferior people at a distance; a tradesman, who 
 overheard the admonition, replied — " lam sorry, 
 my lord, you did not give the young gentleman 
 this advice before hegot so deeply into my books." 
 
 HONESTY. 
 I A knavish attorney asked a worthy gentleman 
 j to define honesty, " WhaLis that to you," replied 
 j the latter, " meddle with those things that concern 
 1 you." 
 
 SEASONABLE RECOLLECTION. 
 
 Mr. Sheridan once told Mrs. M. A. Taylor, that 
 she looked as blooming as the spring, but recol- 
 lecting that the spring was not very promising, 
 he added, " I would to God the spring would look 
 like you." 
 
 JOHN TAYLOR. 
 
 This bard interrupted the servile etiquette 
 of kneeling to the king. " I myself," said 
 the water poet, "gave a book to King James 
 once, in the great chamber at Whitehall, as his 
 majesty came from the chapel. The Duke of 
 Richmond said merrily to me : ' Taylor, where did 
 you learn the manners to give the king a book and 
 not kneel ?' — "My lord," said I, " if it please 
 your grace, I do give now ; but when I beg any 
 thing, then I will kneel." 
 
 PRUDENT DELAY. 
 
 A plasterer and his boy being employed to 
 whitewash a house by the day, were so tedious that 
 the. owner one day asked the lad, in his master's 
 absence, when he thought they would have done. 
 The boy bluntly replied, " that his master was 
 I , looking out for another job ; and if he found one 
 i they should make an end that week." 
 
 THE CITIZEN. 
 
 A constant frequenter of city feasts having 
 j grown enormously fat, it was proposed to write on 
 I his back, widened at the expense of the corporation. 
 
 RAMSGATE FAR BEYOND MARGATE. 
 
 A young lady, on a visit to a friend near the 
 sea-coast of Kent, was asked her opinion of the 
 comparative degree of merit between Ramsgate 
 and Margate; " Oh!" she replied, "I think 
 Ramsgate far beyond Margate." — " Do you," re- 
 plied a person present, " why, if you go round 
 by the cliffs, it is not above five miles and a half." 
 
 DRY TOAST. 
 
 At a recent city dinner, the chairman proposed 
 a health, but neglected to pas3 the bottle ; upon 
 which a facetious citizen exclaimed, " Mr. Presi- 
 dent, I will thank you for some wine, for a dry- 
 toast always gives me the heart-bum.^ 
 
 A NEW MODE OF SAVING MONEY FROM 
 ROBBERS. 
 
 Once on a time, 'tis said, that Hounslow-heath 
 Was by a gang of robbers sore infested, 
 Wno with the sword of justice boldly jested, 
 
 Till Mister Kirby's necklace stopp'd their breath. 
 
 Three doughty officers of volunteers, 
 
 Knights of the thimble (fame reports) and sheers, 
 
 Stopping at Hounslow in a chaise and pair, 
 Ask'd fiercely if the Heath was safe from thieves: 
 " Yes, sir," replied the ostler, " I believes; 
 
 Besides, what needs such warlike gemmen 
 *are r" 
 
 The ostler had a. friend that lurk'd at hand, 
 A tribute-gatherer on the road — no worse} 
 
 Who, viewing slily this redoubted band, 
 
 Swore each should pay the forced loan of his 
 purse, 
 
 Or put, to speak more like a politician, 
 
 Their money in a state of requisition ! 
 
 Away then rode he to wait for his prey ; 
 The heroes paid their score, and off went they. 
 But, ere they half the heath had cross'd, 
 They found the chevalier upon his post : 
 D 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 50 
 
 He stopped the chaise — " Geminen," says he, " I 
 hear 
 
 This road is horribly by rogues beset; 
 And, though such valiant men despise all fear, 
 
 Perhaps you'll be in danger if you're met." 
 
 At this their powder'd locks began to bristle ; 
 •* What shall we do ?"— they cried, "oh, tell 
 
 us what !" 
 " Why, gemmen," says the rogue, and shew'd 
 a pistol — 
 *'■ Best leave your cash with me, I'll tell you that." 
 "What! all our money? Nay, for goodness 
 
 hold." 
 "Yes, all — quick, quick!" replied the rogue, 
 
 " your gold ! 
 Makehaste !— your, watches too must be unfobb'd; 
 Or d ■ my buttons, sirs, but you'll be robb'd ."' 
 
 THE MISER. 
 
 A miser, who had carefully deposited his darl- 
 ing treasure under a hedge, one day found that 
 the hoard was gone. His cries and lamentations 
 attracted several persons^ and an unfeeling wag 
 remarked, ic it was very surprising the old gentle- 
 man should lose his money, as it was put into the 
 bank." 
 
 APPROPRIATE TEXTS. 
 Some of our reverend gentlemen, who are deno- 
 minated popular preachers, display great ingenuity 
 in their choice of suitable texts. At an anniver- 
 sary sermon before the Chelsea pensioners, a dis- 
 course was a few days since delivered from the 
 following apposite text : — " Remember thy Crea- 
 tor in the days -of thy youth, before the evil days 
 corne, and the days in which thou shaltsay, I have 
 no pleasure in them." A gentleman, who preached 
 a sermon before lite society for recovering persons 
 apparently drowned; selected the following : — 
 " Trouble not yourselves about him, for he is not 
 dead." For a wedding sermon preached a short 
 time since, at a country town in Shropshire, a re- 
 verend gentleman took part of the story of Jep- 
 thalTs daughter: — " And she went upon the moun- 
 
 tains and bewailed her virginity." And a reve- 
 rend dean, who published a sermon for the benefit 
 of the poor clergy in a provincial diocese, proper- 
 ly enough .selected the following: — " Set on the 
 great pot and seeth pottage for the sous of the 
 prophets." 
 
 NAVAL PUN. 
 
 A gentleman enquiring of a naval officer why 
 sailors generally take off their shirts when going 
 into action, was answered, " that they were un- 
 willing to have any check to fighting." 
 
 PROFESSIONAL DUTIES MUST BE PERFORMED. 
 
 An attorney presenting a copy of a writ to an 
 auctioneer apologised for his unfriendly visit, as 
 he was merely performing an unpleasant duty of 
 his profession. " Certainly not," said the auc- 
 tioneer, " you must attend to the duties of your 
 profession and so must I to mine ;" and instantly 
 knocked him doven. 
 
 THE CROWN. 
 A country sculptor was once ordered to engrave 
 on a tombstone the following words : 
 " A virtuous woman is a crown to her husband." 
 But the stone being small he engraved on it, 
 " A virtuous woman is 5s. to her husband." 
 
 A MAGISTRATE NO SAILOR. 
 
 A sailor who had been making a riot, was 
 taken before a justice, who ordered him to fiud 
 bail. " I have no bail," said Jack. " Then I'll 
 commit you," said the justice. " You wilH" 
 said the sailor, " then the Lord send jou the rope 
 that stops the wind when the ship's at anchor." — 
 " What do you mean by that ?" said the justice, 
 " Why," said Jack, " it's the hanging rope at the 
 yard-arm." 
 
 ON CHARACTERS. 
 When death puts out our flame the snuff will tell, 
 If we were wax or tallow by the smell. - 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 51 
 
 ADDISON AND STEELE. 
 A gentleman dining with another, praised very 
 much the meat, and asked who was the butcher? 
 k * His name is Addison ." — " Addison !" echoed 
 the guest, " pray is he any relation to the poet ?" 
 — " In all probability he is, for he is seldom 
 without his steel (Steele J by his side." 
 
 SHUTER, THE COMEDIAN. 
 
 A friend overtaking Shuter one day in the street, 
 said to him, " Why, Ned, are you not ashamed to 
 walk the streets with twenty holes in your stock- 
 ings? why don't you get them mended?" — "No, 
 my friend," said Ned, " I am above it; and if 
 you have the pride of a gentleman, you will act 
 like me, and walk with twenty holes rather than 
 have one darn." — " Ifow," replied the other, 
 " How do you make that out?" — "Why," re- 
 plied Ned, " a bole is the accident of the day but 
 a darn is premeditated poverty." 
 
 ON THE LAW. 
 
 Unhappy Chremes, neighbour to a peer, 
 Kept naif his sheep, and fatted half his deer ; 
 Each day his gates thrown down, his fences 
 
 broke, 
 And injur'd still the more, the more he spoke, 
 At last resolv'd his potent foe to awe, 
 And guard his right by statute, and by law ! 
 A suit in Chancery the wretch begun, 
 Nine happy terms through bill and ans 
 
 run, 
 Obtain'd his cause, had costs, and was undone 
 MILITARY DISCIPLINE. 
 
 A swaggering commissioned officer, who, unfortu- 
 nately for his pride, was no other than the son of an 
 honest mender of soles, chanced to let his cane fall 
 severely on the shoulders of a poor private, 
 " Why don't you move, you scoundrel, with ala- 
 crity !" cried the officer. " Bless your honour," 
 replied the man," how is it possible; the shoes 
 your father made me pinch me so !" It is almost 
 unnecessary to add the drill was speedily dismissed. 
 
 swerf 
 one. j 
 
 SHAKESPEARE* COOKERY, 
 
 Two gentlemen were disputing at a coffee-house 
 upon the best mode of cooking a beef-steak, and 
 enumerating the different processes for bringing 
 it to table in the highest perfection. Mr. We- 
 witzer observed, that of all the methods of cook- 
 ing a beef-steak, he thought Shakespeare's re- 
 cipe the shortest and the best. Upon being asked 
 for an explanation. " Why, gentlemen," said 
 Wewitzer, " it is this : 
 
 " If when 'twere done, 'twere well done, then 
 
 'twere well 
 " It were done quickly ." 
 
 LIKE A PUPPY. 
 
 A gentleman observed to a lady, that since a 
 recent illness, a mutual friend of theirs spoke very 
 much like a. puppy, " likely enough," replied the 
 lady, " for 1 hear, that by order of the doctor he 
 ha9 lately taken to bark." 
 
 NEW RAPE OF THE LOCK. 
 
 Last night as o'er the page of Love's despair, 
 
 My Delia bent deliciously to grieve, 
 I stood a treacherous loiterer by her chair, 
 
 And drew the fatal scissors from my sleeve. 
 
 She heard the steel her beauteous lock divide, 
 And whilst my heart with transport panted big, 
 
 She cast a fury frown on me, and cried, 
 
 " You stupid puppy, — you have spoil'd my 
 wig." 
 
 THE KISS. 
 
 The author of the comedy called the Kiss, sent 
 a copy of the piece as soon as published to a young 
 lady, informing her that he had been wishing for 
 many months for the present opportunity of giving 
 her a kiss." 
 
 A COMMANDMENT KEPT. 
 
 A young officer not over fond of fighting, wait- 
 ed on the commander on the eve of a battle, to re- 
 quest leave of absence to visit his father and 
 D2 
 
52 
 
 TriE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 mother, both of whom were extremely ill. 
 *' Yes," said the general, " honour your father 
 and your mother, that your days may be long." 
 
 pope's veracity. 
 
 Pope Alexander Vlth. used to say, when re 
 minded of promises he never intended to perform, 
 " It is true 1 did make a promise, but I did not 
 take an oath to keep it." 
 
 ON AN UGLY OLD WOMAN. 
 
 Whilst in the dark on thy soft hand I hung, 
 And heard the tempting Syren in thy tongue; 
 What flames, what darts, what anguish I endur'd ! 
 But when the candle enler'd, I was cur'd. 
 
 ROYAL REGULATION. 
 
 When George the Second was once told by some 
 of his confidential friends, that every thing was 
 complained of, and that the people were extreme- 
 ly dissatisfied at the tardiness of making the public 
 payments, he, in great wrath, sent for the Duke of 
 Newcastle, his prime-minister, and told him he 
 would no longer suffer such infamous delays, but 
 was determined to inspect and regulate the ac 
 counts himself; and for this purpose he command- 
 ed that the proper papers should be immediately 
 sent to St. James's. " They shall be sent to your 
 majesty to-morrow ;" replied the duke. When 
 the king rose in the morning, and looked out of 
 his window, he saw two waggon-loads of papers, 
 each tied with red tape, unloading in the area. 
 Enquiring what they were, he was told they came 
 from the Duke of Newcastle ; to whom he sent to 
 know what it meant. " They are the papers for 
 examination," said the duke; "twelve more 
 ■waggons-load for your majesty's inspection shall 
 -be sent in the course of the day." — " For. my in- 
 spection!" replied the enraged monarch; "for 
 my inspection ! the devil's chief clerk may inspect 
 them, but I would as soon walk barefooted to Je- 
 rusalem," 
 
 PRUDENT ADVICE. 
 
 Among the tombs in Westminster-abbey is one 
 to the memory of a nabob who is said to have ac- 
 quired a large fortune in the east by dishonourable 
 means. The monument describes the resurrection; 
 the defunct is represented as rising from the grave, 
 with astonishment in his face, and opening a cur- 
 tain to see what is the matter. Some wag wrote 
 under the figure : • 
 
 Lie still if you're wise ; 
 You'll be damn'd if you rise. 
 
 ON A MISER AND A SPENDTHRIFT. 
 
 Rich Gripe does all his thoughts and cunning bend, 
 T' increase that wealth he wants a soul to spend ; 
 Poor Shifter does his whole contrivance set 
 To spend that wealth he wants the sense to get ; 
 How happy would to each appear his fate, 
 Had Gripe his humour, or he Gripe's estate, 
 Kind Fate and Fortune, blend 'em if you can ! 
 And, of two wretches, make one happy man. 
 
 STAUNCH PIETY. 
 
 General Kirk, who had served many years at 
 Tangiers, was pressed by James the Second to be- 
 come a proselyte to the Romish religion. Kirk 
 expressed great concern that it was not in hi* 
 power to comply with his majesty's desire, because 
 he was really pre-engaged. The kingsmiled, and 
 asked him what he meant ? " Why, truly," an- 
 swered Kirk, " when I was abroad, I promised 
 the Emperor, of Morocco, that if ever I changed 
 my religion I would turn Mahometan ; I never 
 did break my word in my life, and I beg leave to 
 say I never will." 
 
 A PARSON'S DREAD. 
 
 In a storm at sea, the chaplain asked one of the 
 crew, if he thought there was any danger. " O 
 yes," replied the sailor; " if it blows as hard as 
 it does now, we shall all be in heaven before twelve 
 o'clock at night." The chaplain terrified at the 
 expression, cried out* " The Lord forbid." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 53 
 
 A SEA-HORSE. 
 
 The Captain of a West-Indiaman having bought 
 a horse, said to the jocky, " Well, now the horse 
 is mine, pray tell me candidly whether he has 
 any faults, and what they are." — " What do you 
 mean to do with him?" said the other. " Why, 
 to take him to sea," answered the captain. 
 " Then I will be candid," replied the jockey, 
 " he may go very well at sea ; but on land he 
 cannot go at all, or I would not have sold him." 
 
 GRATITUDE. 
 
 Sir Robert Walpole, during his long adminis- 
 tration, was always averse to motions (though 
 many were made) against the publishers of par- 
 liamentary debates," because," said he, good na- 
 turedly, " they make better speeches for us than 
 we do for ourselves." 
 
 THE WELSHMAN AND HIS HOST. 
 
 A Welshman coming late into an inn, 
 Asked of the maid, what meat there was within ? 
 Cow-heels, she answered, and a breast of mu.ton ; 
 But, quoth the Welshman, since I am no glutton, 
 Either of these shall serve ; to night the breast, 
 The heels at morning; then light meat is best ; 
 At night, he took the breast, and did not pay, 
 At morning, took his heels and run away. 
 
 THE INGENIOUS LAWYER. 
 
 A counsellor was one day asked by a judge why 
 he was always employed in knavish causes. 
 " Why, my lord," said- the counsellor, " I have 
 been so much in the habit of losing good causes, 
 that I think I had better undertake bad ones." 
 
 LITERARY EXTRAVAGANCE. 
 
 A writer in one of the reviews, was boasting, 
 that he was in the habit of distributing literary re- 
 putation. " Yes," replied his friend, " and you 
 have done it so profusely that you have left none 
 for yourself* 
 
 UNEXPECTED MEETING. 
 
 A young author was reading a tragedy to a gen- 
 tleman, who soon discovered that he was a great 
 plagiarist. The poet perceiving his auditor vor- T 
 often pull ofF his hat at the end of a line, asked 
 him the reason. " I cannot pass an old acquaint- 
 ance," replied the critic," without that civility." 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 It is a maxim in the schools, 
 That women always doat on fools ; 
 If so, dear Jack, I'm sure your wife 
 Must love you as she does her life. 
 
 WHITE-WASHING GENIUS. 
 
 A wretched artist was talking pompously about 
 decorating ihe ceiling of his saloon. " 1 am 
 white-washing it," said he, " and in a short time 
 I shall begin painting." — " I think you had 
 better," replied one of his audience, " paint it 
 first;, and then white-wash it." 
 
 NEGATIVE SUCCESS OF A PLAY- 
 
 A .person being present at a conversation in 
 which a very dull play was talked of, attempted 
 a defence of it by saying, " it was not hissed." — 
 " True," said another, " I grant you that ; but uo 
 one can hiss and gape at the same time." 
 
 TRIVIAL' WAGER. 
 
 <c I will forfeit my head if -you are not wrong." 
 exclaimed a warm and dull orator, to the presi- 
 dent Montesquieu in an argument. " I accept 
 it," replied the philosopher; "any trifle among 
 friends has a value." 
 
 BITER BIT. 
 
 Mr. Andrew Cherry, the performer, having re- 
 ceived an offer for an engagement from a manager, 
 who had not behaved altogether well to him, sent 
 him word, " that he had been bit by him once, 
 and he was resolved that he should not make two 
 bites of A. Cherry.*' 
 
54 
 
 i'HE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ANTICIPATION. 
 
 A nabob, in a severe fit of the gout, told his phy- 
 sician he suffered the pains of the damned. The 
 doctor coolly answered, ' k What, already" 
 
 MATRIMONIAL CONCORD. 
 
 Who says that Giles and Joan at discord be ? 
 TV observing neighbours no such mood can see. 
 Indeed, poor Giles repents he married ever ; 
 But that his Joan doth too. And Giles would never 
 By his free will be in Joan's company ; 
 No more would Joan he should. Giles rises early, 
 And having got him out of doors is glad ; 
 The like is Joan. But turning home is sad ; 
 And so is Joan. Oft-times, when Giles doth see 
 Harsh sights at home, Giles wisheth blind were he; 
 All this doth Joan. Or that his long-yarn'd life 
 Were quite outspun ; the like wish hath his wife. 
 The children that he keeps, Giles swears are none 
 Of his begetting; and so swears his Joan. 
 In all affections she concurreth still. 
 If now, with man and wife, to will and nill 
 The self-same things, a note of concord be, 
 I know no couple better can agree* 
 
 Ben Jonsox. 
 
 A FIRST APPEARANCE. 
 
 The late Duke of Norfolk was much addicted 
 to the bottle. On a masquerade night, he asked 
 Foote what new character he should go in. " Go 
 sober," said Foote. 
 
 CONVENIENT NAP. 
 Two Oxford scholars slept in the same room at 
 college. " Jack," said one, early in the morn- 
 ing, ' f are you asleep ?" — " Why ?" replied the 
 other, " Because if you are not, I will borrow 
 half-a-crown ofyou." — " Is that all ? Then I am." 
 
 FALSE PROPHET. 
 
 When lord-chief-justice Holt sent one of the 
 French prophets to prison, Mr. Lacy, one of their 
 followers came to "his lordship's house, and de- 
 sired to speak with him. The servants told him 
 
 their lord was not well, and could see no company 
 that day. " But tell him," said Lacy, " I mu.«t 
 see him, for I come to him from the Lord God !" 
 which being told the chief-justice, he ordered him 
 to be called in, and asked him his business. " 1 
 come," said he, " from the Lord, who has sent me 
 to thee, and would have thee grant a noli prosequi 
 for John Atkins, who is his servant, and whom 
 thou hast cast into prison." — " Thou art a false 
 prophet," answered Holt, " and a lying knave ; 
 if the Lord had sent thee, it would have been to 
 the attorney-general, for he knows that it is not 
 in my power to grant a noli prosequi." 
 
 FINE HAIR. 
 The lovely hair that Gal la wears 
 
 Is her's — Who could have thought it ? 
 She swears 'tis her's ; and true she swears, 
 
 For I know where she bought it, 
 
 SYCOPHANT SCUM. 
 
 A courtier one day coming out of the House of 
 Lords, accosted a nobleman with, *' How does 
 your pot boil, my lord, in these troublesome 
 times ?" To which the other replied," I never go 
 into my kitchen ; but I dare say the scum is 
 uppermost." 
 
 PURCELL'S PUNS. 
 
 Daniel Purceli, the famous punster, and a friend 
 of his going to a tavern, found the door shut. They 
 kuocked at it, when one of the drawers looked 
 through a little wicket, and asked what they 
 would please to have ? " Why open your door," 
 gaid Daniel, " and draw us a pint of wine." The 
 drawer said, " his master would not allow of it 
 that day, for it was a fast-day. — ' D— — n your 
 master," replied Purceli, " for a precise coxcomb, 
 is he not contented to fast himself, but he must 
 make his doors fast too ?" 
 
 The same gentleman calling for some pipes in 
 a tavern, complained that they were too short; 
 the drawer said they had no other, and those were 
 but just come in. '* Ay," said Daniel, " I see 
 your master has not bougnt them very long ." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 The same gentleman was desired one night in 
 company, to make a pun extempore. " Upon 
 what subject ?" said Daniel, " The king" answer- 
 ed the other. " O! Sir," said he," the king is 
 no subject." 
 
 IRISH LAW. 
 
 An Irish lawyer had a client of his own coun- 
 try, who was a sailor. During his absence at 
 sea, his wife had married again, and he was re- 
 solved to prosecute her; coining to advise with 
 this, counsellor, he was told that he must have wit- 
 nesses to prove that he was'alive when his wife 
 married again. " Arrah, by my shoul, but that 
 will be impossible," said the other; "for my 
 shipmates are all gone to sea again upon a long 
 voyage, and will not return this twelvemonth." — 
 " Oh! then," answered the lawyer, " there can 
 be nothing done in it: and what a pity it is that 
 such a brave cause should be lost now, only be- 
 cause you cannot prove yourseif to be alive." 
 
 BETTING AND PRAYING. 
 
 Twogentleman disputingaboutreligion in a cof- 
 fee-house, one of them said, " 1 wonder, sir, you 
 should talk of religion, when I'll hold yon five 
 guineas you can't say the Lord's Prayer." — 
 " Dune," said the other. The money being de 
 posited, the gentleman began with I believein God, 
 and so went cleverly through the Creed. " Well," 
 said the other, " I own I have lost; I did not 
 think he could have done.it." 
 
 PILLARS AND BUTTRESSES. 
 
 In the beginning of Queen Anne's reign, three 
 or four rakes reeling home from the Foun- 
 tain Tavern, in the Strand, on a Sunday morning, 
 cried out, " We are the pillars of the church." — 
 4i No," said a wag, th:it happened to be in their 
 company, " you can be but buttresses; for you 
 never come inside of it." 
 
 TWO SIDES OF THE QUESTION. 
 
 When Oliver first coined his inonev, an old ca- 
 
 55 
 
 valier, looking upon one of the new pieces, read 
 this inscription on one side, " God with us," on 
 the other, " The Commonwealth of England."— 
 " I see," said he, " God and the commonwealth 
 are on different sides." 
 
 WELSH PRIDE. 
 
 A Welshman boasting of his family, said, his fa- 
 ther's effigy was set up in Westminster Abbey. 
 Being asked where, he said, " In the same monu- 
 ment with 'Squire Tliynne's ; for he was his 
 coachman." 
 
 Sampson's strength surpassed. 
 
 A person was saying, not at all to the purpose, 
 that Sampson was a very strong man. ." Ay," 
 said another, " but you are much stronger, for 
 you make nothing of lugging him in by the head 
 and shoulders." 
 
 THE MINISTRY. 
 
 An oppositionist happening to be at a dinuer 
 at the lord mayor's, after two or three healths, 
 the ministry was toasted ; but when it came 
 to his turn to drink, he diverted it for some 
 time, by telling a story to the person who sat next 
 him. The chief magistrate of the city, not seeing 
 his toast go round, called out, " Gentlemen, where 
 sticks (he ministry ?" — •" At nothing, by G — d," 
 said the oppositionist, and drank off his glass. 
 
 MUTUAL DEFICIENCY. 
 
 A barrister who was lame of one leg, pleading 
 before a late judge, who had little or no nose, the 
 judge told him, he was afraid he had but a lame 
 cause of it. " Oh, my lord," said the barrister, 
 "have but a little patience, and I'll warrant I 
 prove every thing as plain as the nose in your 
 face." 
 
 FLATTERING RESEMBLANCE. 
 
 A prince laughing at one of his courtiers, whom 
 he had employed in several embassies, told him he 
 looked like an owl. " I know not," answered- 
 
56 
 
 the courtier-," what Hook like, but this I know, 
 that I have had the honour several times to repre- 
 sent your Majesty's person." 
 
 PETITION ANSWERED. 
 
 When Sir Cloudesley Shovel set out on his last 
 expedition, a form of prayer was composed by 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury for the success of 
 the fleet, in whieh his grace made use of this ex- 
 pression, "That he begged God would \>e a rock 
 of defence to the fleet." Sir Cloudesley was cast 
 away in that expedition on the rocks called 
 the Bishop and his Clerks, on which circumstance 
 the following lines were written : 
 
 The priest at Lambeth pray'd the dire event, 
 Else had we wanted now this monument, 
 That God unto our fleet would be a rock j 
 Nor did kind heav'n the wise petition mock ; 
 To what the Metropolitan said then, 
 The Bishop and his Clerks replied, Amen. 
 
 MAGISTERIAL LEARNING. 
 
 A mayor of Yarmouth being by his office a jus- 
 tice of the peace, and one who was willing to 
 dispense the laws wisely, though he could hardly 
 read, procured the statute-book, where finding a 
 Jaw against firing a beacon, or causing any beacon 
 to be fired after nine at night ; the sapient mayor 
 read it, frying bacon, or causing any bacon to be 
 fried. Accordingly he went out the next night on 
 the scent, and being directed by his nose to a car- 
 rier's house, he found the man and his wife both 
 frying bacon, the husband holding the pan, while 
 the wife turned it ; being thus caught in the fact, 
 and having nothing to say for themselves, his wor- 
 ship committed them both to gaol to abide the 
 consequence of the offence. 
 
 AN OLD PROVERB. 
 
 It being proved, on a trial at Guildhall, that a 
 man's name was really Inch, who pretended that 
 it was Linch," I see," observed the judge," the 
 old saying is verified in this man, who being al- 
 lowed an Inch has take** an L, 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE POOR SCHOLAR. 
 
 A beggar asking alms under the name of a poor 
 scholar, a gentleman, to whom he applied, asked 
 him a question in Latin. The fellow shaking his 
 head, said, he did not understand him. - " Why," 
 said the gentleman, " did not you say you were a 
 poor scholar!" — " Yes," replied the other, " a 
 poor one indeed, sir, for I do not understand one 
 word of Latin." 
 
 CONVENIENT LOSS. 
 It was said of one who remembered every thing 
 that he lent, but nothing that he borrowed, that 
 he had lost half his memory. 
 
 GOOD LIVING. 
 
 An Englishman and a Welshman disputing in 
 whose country was the best living ; the Welchman 
 said," There is such noble housekeeping in Wales 
 that I have known above a dozen cooks employ- 
 ed at one wedding dinnner."— " Ay," answered 
 the Englishman, "that was because every man 
 toasted his own cheese." 
 
 JERVAIS, THE PAINTER. 
 
 Sir Godfrey Kneller being one day fold by his 
 servant that Mr. Jervais had come that day into 
 the same town with a coach and four. " Ay," said 
 Sir Godfrey " if his horses draw no better than 
 himself, they'll never carry him to town again." 
 
 WORSTED AND SILK. 
 
 A gentleman once asked Nanny Rochford, why 
 the fYhigs,\a their mourning for Queen Anne, all 
 wore silk stockings? "Because," said she, 
 " the Tories wear worsted." 
 
 THE MODEST BEGGAR. 
 
 Tom Thynne, who was celebrated for his good 
 housekeeping and hospitality, was standing one 
 day at his gate in the country, when a beggar I 
 came up to him, and begged his worship would 
 give him n mug of his small beer. " Why, how 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 57 
 
 now," said he, ** What times are these, when beg- 
 gars must be choosers! 1 say, bring this fellow a 
 mug of strong beer." 
 
 PROOF OF AUTHORITY. 
 
 A gentleman speaking to his servant, said, " I 
 believe I command more than any man ; for before 
 my servant will obey me in any thing, I must 
 command him ten times over." 
 
 A coward's WOUNDS. 
 
 A soldier was boasting before Julius Caesar of 
 the wounds he had received in his face ; Caesar 
 knowing him to be a coward, told him he had best 
 take care the next time he ran away, how he look- 
 ed back. 
 
 BAD COMPANY. 
 
 A profligate young nobleman being in company 
 v/ith some sober people, desired leave to toast 
 the devil ; the gentleman who sat next to him 
 said, " he had no objection to any of his lordship's 
 friends." 
 
 DISCRIMINATIVE EPITHETS. 
 
 A Scotchman was very angry with an English 
 gentleman, who he said had abused him, and 
 called him false Scot. " Indeed," said the Eng- 
 lishman, " I said no such thing, but that you were 
 a true Scot." 
 
 DANGEROUS SYMPTOMS. 
 
 The deputies of Rochelle attending to speak 
 with Henry the Fourth of France, met with a phy- 
 sician who had renounced the Protestant religion, 
 and embraced the popish communion, whom they 
 began to revile most grievously. The king hear- 
 ing of it, told the deputies, he advised them to 
 change their religion too. " For it is a dangerous 
 symptom," said he, " that your religion is not 
 long-lived, when a physician has given it over." 
 
 PARLIAMENTARY BUSINESS. 
 
 A countryman passing along the Strand, saw a 
 
 coach overturned, and asking what the matter 
 was. he was told that three or four members of 
 parliament were overturned in that coach. 
 " Oh," says he, " there let them be, my father 
 always advised me not to meddle with state af- 
 fairs," 
 
 ROAD TO HEAVEN. 
 
 A charitable divine, for the benefit of the 
 country where he resided, commenced a large 
 causeway, and as he was one day overlooking the 
 work, a certain nobleman passed by, "Well, 
 doctor," said he, " notwithstanding your pains 
 and charity, I don't take this to be the highway 
 to heaven." — " Very true, my lord," replied the 
 doctor, " for if it had, I should have wondered to 
 meet your lordship here." 
 
 PAIR OF SPECTACLES. 
 
 Two brothers were to be executed for some 
 enormous crime, the eldest was turned offfirs^ 
 without speaking; the other, mounting the ladder, 
 began to harangue the crowd, " Good people," 
 said he, " my brother hangs before my face, and 
 you see what a lamentable spectacle he makes ; in 
 a few moments I shall be turned off too, ai.d then 
 you will see a pair of spectacles." 
 
 INSOLVENCY. 
 
 A person enquiring what became of a friend ? 
 " Oh, dear," said one of the companj," poor 
 fellow, he died insolvent, and was buried by the 
 parish." — "Died insolvent!" cries another, 
 " that's a lie, for he died in England, I an sure, 
 I was at his burying." 
 
 PARTNERSHIP. 
 
 A countryman having bought a barn in partner- 
 ship with a neighbour, neglected to make the 
 least use of it, whilst the other had plentifully 
 stored his with corn and hay. In a little time 
 the latter came to him and expostulated with him 
 about laying out bis money so fruitlessly. " Pray, 
 D5 
 
58 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 neighbour," says he, " never trouble your head, 
 you may do what you will with your part of the 
 barn, but I will set mine on fire." 
 
 THE BOAR'S HEAD TAVERN. 
 
 As I honour all established usages of my bre- 
 thren of the quill, I thought it but proper to con- 
 tribute my mite of homage to the memory of 
 Shakspeare,our illustrious bard. I was for some 
 time, however, sorely puzzled in what way I should 
 discharge this duty. I found myself anticipated 
 in every attempt at a new reading. Every doubt- 
 ful line had been explained a dozen different ways, 
 and perplexed beyond the reach of elucidation; 
 and, as to fine passages, they had been amply 
 praised by previous admirers ; nay, so completely 
 had the bard of late been overlarded with pane- 
 gyric by a great German critic, that it was diffi- 
 cult now to find even a fault that had not been 
 argued into a beauty. 
 
 In this perplexity, I was one morning turning 
 over his pages, when I casually opened upon the 
 comic scenes of Henry IV., and was, in a moment, 
 completely lost in the madcap revelry of the Boar's 
 Head Tavern. So vividly and naturally are these 
 scenes of humour depicted, and with such force 
 and consistency are the characters sustained, that 
 they become mingled up in the mind with the facts 
 and personages of real life. To few readers does 
 it occur, that these are all ideal creations of a poet's 
 brain, and that, in sober truth, no such knot of 
 merry rdysters ever enlivened jthe dull neighbour- 
 hood of Eastcheap. 
 
 For my part, I love to give myself up to the 
 illusions of poetry. A hero of fiction, that never 
 existed, is just as valuable to me as a hero of his- 
 tory that existed a thousand years since; and, if I 
 may be excused Mich an insensibility to the com- 
 mon ties of human nature, I would not give up 
 fat Jack for half the great men of ancient chroni- 
 cle. What have the heroes of jore done for me, 
 or men like me ? They have conquered countries, 
 of which I do not enjoy an acre i or they have 
 gained laurels of which I do not inherit a leaf ; 
 
 or they have furnished examples of hair-brained L 
 prowess, which 1 have neither the opportunity nor ; 
 the inclination to follow. But old Jack Falstaff! j 
 kind Jack Falstaff! sweet Jack Falstaff has en- I 
 larged the boundaries of human enjoyment; he L 
 has added vast regions of wit and good humour, 
 in which the poorest man may revel ; and has be- L 
 queated a never-failing inheritance of jolly laugh- k 
 ter, to make mankind merrier to the latest poste- | 
 rity. 
 
 A thought suddenly struck me; " I will make 
 a pilgrimage to Eastcheap," said I, closing the i; 
 book, " and see if the old Boar's Head Tavern still 
 exists. Who knows but I may light upon some \ 
 legendary traces of Dame Quickly and her guests; 
 at any rate, there will be a kindred pleasure in 
 treading the halls once vocal with their mirth, to 
 that the toper enjoys in smelling the empty cask . 
 once filled with generous wine." 
 
 The resolution was no sooner formed than put 
 in execution. I forbear to treat of the variousad- 
 ventures and wonders I encountered in my travels ; ! 
 of the haunted regions of Cock-lane ; of the faded 
 glories of Little Britain and the parts adjacent; 
 what perils I ran at Cateaton-streetand Old Jew- 
 ry ; of the renowned Guildhall and its two stunted ! 
 giants, the pride and wonder of the city, and the :, 
 terror of all unlucky urchins ; and how I visited j 
 London Stone, and struck my staff upon it, in imi- 
 tation of that arch-rebel, Jack Cade. Let it suffice i 
 to say, that I at length arrived in merry Eastcheap, 
 that ancient region of wit and wassail, where the H 
 very names of the streets relished of good cheer, 
 as Pudding-lane bears testimony even at the pre- ' 
 sent day. For Eastcheap, says old Stow, " was 
 always famousfor its convivial doings. Thecookcs I- 
 cried hot ribbes of beef rosted, pies well baked, , 
 and other vietuels ; there was clattering of pewter 
 pots, harpe, pipe, and sawtrie." Alas ! how sadly 
 is the scene changed sincethe roaring davs of Fal- 
 staff and old Stow ! the madcap royster has given j 
 place to the plodding tradesman ; the clattering \ 
 of pots, and the sound of " harpe and sawtrie," to 
 the din of carts and the accursed dinging of the 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 59 
 
 j dustman's bell ; and no song is heard, save, haply, 
 1 the strain of some syren from Billingsgate, chaunt- 
 , ing the eulogy of deceased mackarel. 
 
 I sought in vain for the ancient dwelling of 
 
 Part»e Quickly. The only relic of it is a boar's 
 j head, carved in relief, in stone, which formerly 
 ! served as the sign ; but, at present, is built into the 
 j parting line of two houses, which stand on the site 
 
 of the renowned old tavern. 
 
 Washington Irving. 
 
 THE ACCOMMODATING BARBER. 
 Said a fop to a hoy, at a barber's one day, 
 
 To make a display of his wit, 
 " My lad, did you e'er shave a monkey, T pray ? 
 For you seem for nought else to be fit." 
 I " I never did yet," said the boy, u I confess; 
 Shave a monkey, indeed, no not I; 
 It is out of my line ; but, sir, nevertheless, 
 If you please to sit down I will try." 
 
 MAKING SHIFTS. 
 
 A young lady married a very wild spark, who 
 soon ran through a fortune, and was reduced to 
 some straights/ One day she said to her husband, 
 "My dear, I want some shifts sadly." — " D — me, 
 madam," replied he," how can that be, when we 
 make so many every day." 
 
 THE SEVEN BISHOPS. 
 
 * When the Prince of Orange came over at the 
 time of the Revolution, five of the ?even bishops 
 that were sent to the Tower declared for his high- 
 ness, and the two others would not come into 
 measures; upon which Mr. Dryden said, " That 
 the seven golden candlesticks were sent to be as- 
 sayed in the Tower, aud five of them proved to be 
 prince's metal." 
 
 ON THE MARRIAGE OF MISS LITTLE. 
 
 A Lady remarkably short in stature, 
 
 Thrice happy Tom — I think him so; 
 
 For mark the poet's song — 
 " Man wants but little here below, 
 
 Nor wants that little long." 
 
 TOWN TALh 
 
 King Charles II. being in company with Lord 
 Rochester and others of the nobility, Kiiligrew, 
 the jester, came in- " Now," said the king, " we 
 shall hear of our faults." — '* No, faith," said Kii- 
 ligrew, " I don't care to trouble my head with 
 that which all the town talks of." 
 
 JEFFER1ES AND THE WITNESS. 
 
 When Lord Jefteries, before he was a judge, 
 was one day pleading at the bar, he called Out to 
 a witness against his client, " Hark ! you fellow 
 in the leathern doublet, what have you for swear- 
 ing:" To w r hich the witness replied, " Faith, sir, 
 if you have no more for lying, than I have for 
 swearing, you might e'en wear a leathern doublet 
 too." 
 
 CONSCIENCE. 
 
 Judge Jefferies one day told an old fellow with 
 a long beard, that he supposed he had a conscience 
 as long as iiis beard. " Does your lordship," re- 
 plied the old man," measure coti3ciences by beards? 
 If so, your lordship has none at all." 
 
 TO THE AUTHOR OF AN EPITAPH ON DR. MEAD. 
 
 Mead's not dead then, you say, only sleeping a 
 
 little ; 
 Why, egad ! sir, you've hit it off there to a tittle ; 
 Yet, friend, his awaking I very much doubt, 
 Pluto knows who he's got, and will ne'er let him 
 
 out. 
 
 CLERICAL WISDOM. 
 A nobleman one day asked a bishop, why lie 
 conferred orders on so many blockheads ? " Oh, 
 my lord," said he, " it is better the ground should 
 be ploughed by asses than lie quite unfilled." 
 
 DOWNHILL JOURNEY 
 
 A gentleman lying on his death-bed, called his 
 coachman, who had been an old servant, and said, 
 " Ah, Tom, lam going a long and rugged jour- 
 ney, worse than ever you drove me," — "Oh, dear 
 sir," replied the fellow," let not that discourage 
 you, it is all down hill." 
 
60 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 HORSE AND ASS 
 
 A justice of the peace seeing a parson on a 
 stately horse, between London and Hampstead, 
 -" Doctor," said he, " you don't follow the ex- 
 ample of your great Master, who was humbly 
 content to ride, upon an ass." — " Why really, 
 sir," replied the parson, " the king has made so 
 many asses justices, that an honest clergyman can 
 hardly find one to ride," 
 
 HOPES AND FEARS. 
 
 On his death-bed poor Simon lies, 
 
 His spouse is in despair, 
 With frequent sobs, and mutual cries, 
 
 They both express their care. 
 A diff'rent cause, says parson Sly, 
 
 The same effect may give ; 
 Poor Simon fears that he shall die, 
 
 His wife— that he may live. 
 
 USURY. 
 
 A village parson in his sermon one day, vehe- 
 mently inveighed against usury, and said, that 
 lending money upon interest was as great a sin as 
 wilful murder. Soon after this he had occasion 
 to borrow twenty pounds himself, and coming to 
 one of his parishioners with that intent, the other 
 asked him, "if he would have him guilty of a 
 crime he spoke so much against, and lend out 
 money upon use ?" — " No," said the parson, " I 
 would have you lend it gratis." — " Ay," replied 
 the other, " but in my opinion, if lending money 
 upon use be as bad as wilful murder, leading it 
 gratis can be little better than felo-de-se." 
 
 FOOTE's EARLY PERFORMANCES. 
 
 In the early part of Foote's career, he played 
 the part of Hamlet at Bath, for his own benefit. 
 He went through the part tolerably well in the 
 comical way, until be came to the last act and 
 in the scene where he quarrels with Laertes— 
 
 '-What is the reason that you use me thus ? " 
 I lov'd you ever, but 'tis no matter ; 
 Let Hercules himself do what he may, 
 The cat will mew, the dog will have his day." 
 Slimulated by a desire to excel, he entered so 
 much into the quarrel, as to throw him out of the 
 words, and he spoke it thus — " I lov'd you ever — 
 but it is no matter — let Hercules himself do what 
 he may — the dog will mew — no that is the cat — 
 the cat will, no the clog will mew — no that's 
 wrong — the cat will bark — no that's the dog — the 
 dog will mew — no that's the cat — the cat will — no 
 the dog — the cat — the dog — -Pshaw! Pho ! its 
 something about mewing and barking, but as I 
 hope to be saved, ladies and gentlemen, f know 
 nothing more about it." 
 
 INEXPERIENCE. 
 
 A certain citizen, who had suddenly risen into 
 wealth, from a very low condition of life, standing 
 up in the pit of the opera one evening, with his 
 hat on, a lady whispered to another, " we must 
 forgive that man, he has been so little used to 
 the luxury of a hat, that he does not know when 
 to pull it off." 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A LADY'S CAT. 
 
 And is Miss Tabby from the world retir'd ? 
 And are her lives, all her nine lives expir'd ? 
 What sounds so moving, as. her own can tell 
 How Tabby dy'd, how full of play she fell ! 
 Begin, ye tuneful nine, a mournful strife, 
 And ev'ry Tuise shall celebrate a life. 
 
 THE HOLY FISHERMAN. 
 
 A certain cardinal had uniformly a net placed 
 upon his table at dinner, in token of humility, 
 and allusive to the trade of his father, who had 
 been a fisherman. As soon as the cardinal ar- 
 rived at the Pontificate, this ceremony was dis- 
 continued; on being asked the reason, "his 
 holiness replied, " that the fish was now caught." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 61 
 
 THE BETTER JUDGE. 
 
 In an engagement at sea a sailor hoisted on his 
 hack one of his comrades, who had been pro- 
 nounced dead by the doctor, to heave him over- 
 board. The supposed dead man, however, spoke, 
 and asked where he was bearing him. " To 
 Davy Jones's locker," said the sailor. " I am 
 not dead, messmate," replied the other. "You 
 are a lying rascal for your pains," replied the 
 sailor, " the doctor said you were dead ! How, 
 can you know better than the doctor ?" 
 
 LAUDABLE DECEPTION. 
 
 Just before the appearance of the latter half of 
 Johnson's Poets, a gentleman said to him, " So, 
 doctor, a gentleman at the bar writes Young's life 
 for you." — " Yes, sir," said Johnson, " it is true, 
 and I thought he would have done it very well ; 
 but the rogue has deceived me sadly, sir ; he has 
 done it a good deal better than I thought he was 
 capable of doing it." 
 
 1NNUMERABILIA. 
 Can you count the silver lights, 
 That deck the skies, and cheer the nights ; 
 Or (he leaves that strew the vales, 
 When groves are stript by winter gales ; 
 Or the drops that in the morn 
 Hang with transparent pearl the thorn ; 
 Or bridegroom's joys, or miser's cares, 
 Or gamester's oaths, or hermit's prayers 
 Or envy's pangs, or love's alarms, 
 Or Marlbro's acts, or Molly's charms? 
 
 PARL14MENTARY QUALIFICATIONS. 
 "When the friends of the youngest Thelluson pro- 
 posed making him a member of parliament, he 
 said, " he did not understand exactly what it was 
 to be in parliament, or what they meant by con- 
 stituents in the country; but, if there was any 
 necessity to go backwards and forwards for their 
 orders, he could trot down as fast as any 'member 
 of parliament in the kingdom. 
 
 BARRY, THE PAINTER. 
 
 Although this artist could paint portraits, yet 
 he had a great antipathy to the employment. The 
 Duke of Norfolk going to his house, with a desire 
 of engaging him to paint his portrait, met a man 
 coming down the stairs with two pails of white- 
 wash. The duke, taking him for a bricklayer's 
 labourer, asked him if Mr. Barry was within? 
 " I am Mr. Barry," replied the other, bluntly. 
 His grace, recovering from his surprise, explained 
 the object of his visit. " JSot I," said the artist, 
 " go to that fellow in Cavendish-square, (meaning 
 Roraney) he'll paint your face for you." 
 
 PHILOSOPHY 
 A German professor had collected a valuable 
 cabinet of curiosities, which he highly prized, 
 one morning a friend came to tell him a very un- 
 pleasant circumstance, that he had seen a man get 
 by a ladder into a window of the Professor's house. 
 "Into which window?" cried the philosopher. 
 " I am sorry to say," replied his friend, " it was 
 your daughter's.' 1 — " O man," said the other, 
 *' you almost frightened me ! I thought it had 
 been into my cabinet." 
 
 DEAN SWIFT'S CURATE. 
 I march'd three miles thro' scorching sand, 
 With zeal in heart, and notes in hand; 
 I rode four more to greet St. Mary ; 
 Using four legs, when two were weary. 
 To three fair virgins I did tie men, 
 In the close bands of pleasing Hymen; 
 I dipt two babes in holy water, 
 And purify 'd their mothers after. 
 Within an hour and eke an half, 
 I preach'd three congregations deaf, 
 Which, thund'ring out with lungs long-winded, 
 I chopt so fast, that few there minded. 
 My emblem the laborious sun, 1 
 
 Saw all these mighty labours done, v 
 
 Before one race of his was run. } 
 
 M\ this perform'd by Robert Hewitt ; 
 What mortal else cou'd e'er go through it? 
 
6-2 
 
 THE LAUGHING 
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 
 Ail actor, who was performing Careless in the 
 School for Scandal, saying to Charles, in the pic- 
 ture scene, " What shall we do for a hammer ?" 
 A carpenter in the gallery, who had one in his 
 apron-string, threw it on the stage, saying, "Now, 
 go on, my lad, there's a hammer for yon." 
 
 USELESS ECONOMY. 
 
 A gentleman went to dine one day with an emi- 
 nent physician, who was remarkable for his at- 
 tachment to money. As soon as the doctor arri ved , 
 he went to his desk to deposit the fees he had re- 
 ceived in the morning. " Pray,'' said his friend, 
 ** what are you about ?" — " I am laying up trea- 
 sure in heaven," replied the doctor. " The more 
 fool you," rejoined the inquirer," for you'll never 
 go there to enjoy it." 
 
 AN ELEGANT COMPLIMENT. 
 
 Garrick once asked Rich, the manager of the 
 theatre, how much he thought Covent-garden 
 would hold. " I could tell you to a shilling," 
 replied the manager, F* if you would play Richard 
 in it." 
 
 THE AVARO. 
 
 Thus to the master of a house, 
 
 "Which, like a church, would starve a mouse ; 
 
 Which never gues;t had entertain'd, 
 
 Nor meat, nor wine, its floors had stain'd ; 
 
 I said ; — " Well, sir, 'tis vastly neat ; 
 
 But where d' you drink, and where d' you eat? 
 
 If one may judge, by rooms so fine. 
 
 It costs you more in mops than wine." 
 
 INVITATION DECLINED. 
 
 A thief being about to be hanged, the ordinary 
 bade him be of go<>d cheer, " for this night," said 
 he, ** thou shalt sop with the Lord in Paradise." 
 " I am much obliged to you/' replied the other, 
 " but I ha-J rather be excused, for I am no supper- 
 man." 
 
 PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 AN AGREEMENT. 
 
 Colonel Chartres agreed to purchase the timber 
 of a large estate in the north, from a young heir, 
 and pay the whole money as soon as he had cut 
 down the last tree, which agreement was accepted 
 of. His labourers were immediately set to work, 
 and they cut away with uncommon expedition till 
 they came to the last tree, where they halted, and 
 left it standing, as well as the purchase- money 
 unpaid, until the death of the colonel. 
 
 MUTUAL PITY. 
 
 Tom ever jovial, ever gay, 
 
 To appetite a slave,. 
 Still whores and drinks his life away, 
 
 And laughs to see me grave. 
 
 'Tis thus that we two disagree, 
 
 So dift'rent is our whim; 
 The fellow fondly laughs at me, 
 
 While I could cry for him. 
 
 DEAN SWIFT. 
 
 Dean Swift's barber one day told him that he 
 had taken a public-house. "And what's your 
 sign?" said the dean. " Oh, the pole and bason, 
 and if your worship would just write me a few 
 lines to put upon it, by way of motto, I have no 
 doubt but it would draw me plenty of custom- 
 ers." The dean took out his pencil and wrote the 
 following couplet. 
 
 " Rove not from pole to pole, but step in here, 
 Where nought excels the shaving, butthe beer." 
 
 ONE EVIL BETTER THAN TWO. ' 
 
 A merchant having sustained a considerable loss, 
 desired his son not to mention it to any body. 
 The youth promised silence, but at the same time 
 requested to know what advantage could attend 
 it. " If ypu divulge this loss," said the father, 
 " we shall have two evils to support instead of 
 one — our own grief, and the joy of our neighbours." 
 
Ttfli LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 63 
 
 BOUNDLESS AMBITION. 
 The late Hely Hutchinson was so ambitious 
 that the Marquis of Townshend said of him, 'J If 
 England and Ireland were given to him, he would 
 solicit the Idle of Man for a potatoe garden.*' 
 
 ON A HASTY MARRIAGE. 
 Marry'd ! 'tis well ! a mighty blessing! 
 But poor's the joy no coin possessing. 
 In ancient times, when folks did wed. 
 'Twas to be one at " board and bed ;" 
 But harrl his case, who can't afford 
 His charmer either bed or board. 
 ACCOMMODATION. 
 
 During the French Revolution, a British ad- 
 miral was one day told by a gentleman, " that he. 
 would find the French fight in a different way 
 now, as they would fight for their liberties." — " I 
 am glad to hear it," said the gallant officer, " for 
 they have hitherto given us a d — d deal of trouble 
 running after them." 
 
 THE WICKEDNESS OF MAN. 
 Malherbe, speaking of the wickedness of man- 
 kind, said, " Why when there were only three or 
 four persons in the world, one of them killed his 
 brother." 
 
 DULL COMPANY. 
 Some one saying to a gentleman who had been 
 minister at several courts, what a happy man he 
 must have been to have conversed with so many 
 crowned heads. " Faith," replied he, " I never 
 could find that out ; they were the dullest com- 
 pany I ever kept." 
 
 VARIETY OF PIES. 
 Swift was once asked by a lady what he would 
 have for dinner ? " Will you have an apple-pie, 
 sir ? — will you have a gooseberry-pie, sir ? — will 
 you have a cherry-pie, sir ? — will you have a cur- 
 rant-pie, sir ? — will you have a pluin-pie, sir ? — 
 will you have a pigeon-pie, sir?" — " Any pie, 
 madam," answered Swift, " but a mag-pip" 
 
 POVERTY 
 
 Villiers, the witty and extravagant Duke of 
 Buckingham, was saying one day to a friend, " J 
 am afraid I shall die a beggar at last, which is the 
 most terrible thing in the world." — '* Upon my 
 word, my lord," said his friend, " there is another 
 thing more terrible, which you have reason to ap- 
 prehend, and that is, that you will live a beggar at 
 the rate you go on." 
 
 THE DROPSICAL MAN. 
 
 A jolly, brave toper, who could not forbear, 
 Though his life was in danger, old port and stale 
 
 beer, 
 Gave the doctor the hearing — but still would 
 
 drink on, 
 'Till the dropsy had swell'd him as big as a ton ; 
 The more he took physic, the worse still he grew, 
 And tapping was now the last thing he could do. 
 Affairs at this crisis, and doctors come down, 
 He began to consider — so sent for his son. 
 Tom, see by what courses I've shorten'd my life, 
 I'm leaving the world ere I'm forty and five; 
 More than probable 'tis, that in twenty-four hours, 
 This manor, this house, and estate will be yours ; 
 My early excesses may teach you this truth. 
 That 'tis working for death to drink hard in one's 
 
 youth* 
 Says Tom (who's a lad of generous spirit, 
 And not like young rakes, who're in haste to in- 
 
 her it) 
 Sir, don't be dishearten'd ; although it be true, } 
 The operation is painful, and hazardous too, f 
 'Tis no more than what many a man has gone£ 
 
 through. ) 
 
 And then, as for years, you may yet be called 
 
 young, 
 Your life after this may be happy and long. 
 Don't flatter me, Tom, was the father's reply, 
 With a jest in his mouth and a tear in his eye: 
 Too well, by experience, my vessels thou know'st, 
 No sooner are tnpp'd, but they give up the ghost. 
 
64 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 COMPLAINTS ON BOTH SIDES. 
 
 A lieutenant-colonel of one of the Irish regi- 
 ments in the French service, being dispatched to 
 the king, with a complaint relating to some irre- 
 gularities that had happened in the regiment, his 
 majesty told him, that the Irish troops gare him 
 more uneasiness than all his forces besides. {t Sir," 
 said the officer, " all you majesty's enemies make 
 the same complaint." 
 
 THE SAILOR'S STARS. 
 
 A merchant-ship was so violently tossed in a 
 storm, that all despaired of safety, and betook 
 themselves to prayer, except one mariner, who 
 was continually exclaiming, " Oh, that 1 could 
 see two stars, or but one of the two!" At length 
 a person asked him, " what two stars, or what 
 one star he meant?" He replied, " Oh ! that I 
 could see the Star in Cheapside, or the Star in 
 Coleman-street, I don't care which." 
 
 BATH REMEDIES. 
 
 Two ladies just returning from Bath, were tell- 
 ing a gentleman how they liked the place ; the 
 first had been ill, and found great benefit from the 
 waters. " But, pray, what did you go for?" said 
 he to the second. " Mere wantonness," replied 
 she. " And pray, madam," said he, if did it cure 
 you." 
 
 ON A STATUE OF APOLLO CROWNING MERIT. 
 
 Merit, if thou'rt blest with riches, 
 For God's s-ike buy a pair of breeches, 
 And give them to ihy naked brother, 
 For one good turn deserves another. 
 
 ENGLISH AND IRISH. 
 
 An English gentleman asked Sir Richard Steele, 
 who was an Irishman, what was the reason that 
 his countrymen were so remarkable for blunder- 
 ing ? " Faith," said the knight, " there is some- 
 thing in the air of Ireland ; and, I dare say, if an 
 Englishman wa3 bcrn there he would do the same." 
 
 CHANCERY. 
 A young gentleman, who had stolen a ward, 
 being in suit for her fortune before a late lord- 
 chancellor, and the counsel insisting much on the 
 equity of decreeing her a fortune for their main- 
 tenance, his lordship turned briskly upon him 
 with this sentence, " That, since the suitor had 
 stolen the flesh, he should get bread to it how he 
 could." 
 
 THE CONSCIENTIOUS HERO. 
 
 In 1740, Frederick of Prussia set out for Si- 
 lesia with 30,000 men. It was proposed to adorn 
 his standard with the motto Pro Deo et Patria — 
 ' k For God and my Country." Frederick erased 
 the name of God, observing, " That it was improper 
 to introduce the name of the Deity in the quarrels 
 of men, and that he was going to war for a Pro~ 
 vince and not for Religion." 
 
 ON A BAD SINGER. 
 
 When screech-owls screech, their note portends 
 To foolish mortals death of friends ; 
 But when Corvina strains her throat, 
 E'en screech-owls sicken at the note. 
 
 garrick's satire. 
 
 Garrick was on a visit^at Hagley, when news 
 came that a company of players were going to 
 perform at Birmingham. Lord Lyttleton said to 
 Garrick, "They will hear you are in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and will ask yon to write an address to 
 the Birmingham audience." — " Suppose, then," 
 said Garrick, without the least hesitaiton, '* 
 begin thus — 
 
 Ye sons of iron, copper, brass, and steel 
 Who have not heads to think, nor hearts to feel — " 
 
 " O," cried his lordship, " if you begin thus, 
 they will hiss the players off the stage, and pull 
 the house down." — " My lord," said Garrick, 
 
 what is the use of an address, if it does not 
 come home to the business and bosoms of the au- 
 dience?" 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE OLD PLAN. 
 
 A gentleman calling on Foote, in an elegant 
 new phaeton, desired Foote would come to the 
 door, just to look at it. " It is a pretty thing," 
 said he, " and I have it upon a new plan." — 
 " Before I set my eyes on it," said Foote, " I am 
 afraid you have it upon the old plan — never to 
 pay for il.*' 
 
 quin's bait. 
 
 Says epicure Quin, should the devil in hell 
 
 In fishing for men take delight, 
 And hi* hook bait with ven'son, I love it so well, 
 
 Indeed I am sure I should bite. 
 
 GEORGE III. AND MR. DAY. 
 
 "When Judge Day returned from India, the! 
 prime-minister- represented to his late majesty 
 that knighthood was an honour to which the 
 judge was entitled. " Poh, poh," said his ma* 
 i^esty, " I cannot turn day into night ; it is impos- 
 sible." At the next levee, which was about 
 Christmas, his majesty was again entreated to 
 knight Mr. Day. The king inquired if he was 
 married, and was answered in the affirmative. 
 *' Well, well," said the monarch, " then let him 
 he introduced, and I will work a couple of mi- 
 racles, I will not only turn Day into Knisjht, but 
 I will also make Lady Day at Christmas." 
 
 PHILOSOPHER OUTWITTED. 
 
 A learned doctor being very busy in his study, 
 a little girl came to ask him for some fire. 
 " But," says the doctor, *' you have nothing to 
 take it in." — As he was going to fetch something 
 for that purpose, the little girl stooped down at 
 the fire-place, and taking some cold ashes on one 
 hand she put live embers on them with the other. 
 The astonished doctor threw down his books, say- 
 ing, " with all my learning, I should never have 
 found out that expedient." 
 
 COURTLY HINT. 
 One day, at the levee of Louis XIV. that mo- 
 narch asked a nobleman present, " How many 
 
 children have you ?" — " Four, sire." Shortly 
 after, the king asked the same question. " Four, 
 sire," replied the nobleman. The same question 
 was several times repeated by the king in the 
 course of conversation, and the same answer was 
 given. At length the king asking once more, — 
 " How many children have you ?" the nobleman 
 replied, " Six, sire." — " What," cried the king, 
 with surprise, 4i six ! you told me four, just now." 
 — " Sire," replied the courtier, " I thought your 
 majesty would be tired of hearing the same thing 
 so often." 
 
 HODGE AND THE DOCTOR. 
 
 With a big bottle-nose, and an acre of chin, 
 His whole physiognomy ugly as sin, 
 With a hnige grizzle wig, and triangular hat, 
 And a snuff- besmear'd hand kerchief tied over thaf, 
 Doctor Bos, riding out on his old Jiozinante, 
 In hair very rich, but in flesh very scanty, 
 Was a little alarm'd out of fear for his bones, 
 Seeing Hodge cross the way with a barrow of 
 
 stones. 
 Hip ! friend, cried the doctor, with no little force, 
 Do set down your barrow, you'll frighten my 
 
 horse. 
 Hodge quickly replied, like an ErskineorGarrow, 
 You're a great deal more likely to frighten ray 
 
 barrow. 
 
 PRACTICAL EQUIVOQUE 
 
 A young lady having purchased an assortment 
 of music in a warehouse, on returning to her car- 
 riage recollected a piece she had forgotten. 
 14 Sir," she said, re-entering the shop, " there is 
 one thing I have omitted." — " What is that, ma- 
 dam ?" inquired the young music-seller. " It is, 
 sir," said the lady," One kind kiss before we part," 
 on which the youth vaulted over the table, and 
 saluted the fair stranger. 
 
 BALANCE OF BEAUTY.. 
 A man of fashion, who was remarkably ill- 
 looking, but very vain, kept a valet, whose coun- 
 
6G 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 tenance was not much more amiable than his own. 
 One day, the servant, while dressing his master, 
 offended him, and he exclaimed, " What an ugly 
 dog!" The fellow, who observed his master at 
 the same time very attentive at his glass, said, 
 " Which of us do you mean, sir ?"§ 
 
 THE BITER BIT. 
 
 Mr. Curran one day enquiring his master's age 
 from an horse-jockey's servant, he found it almost 
 '^possible to extract an answer. " Come, come, 
 friend, has he not lost his teeth ?" — " Do you 
 think," retorted the fellow, " that I know his 
 age as he does his horses, by the mark of his 
 month." The laugh was against Curran, but he 
 instantly recovered — " You were very right not 
 to try, friend ; for you know your master's a great 
 biter 
 
 A HANGING JUDGE. 
 
 Counsellor Grady, on a trial in Ireland, said 
 " he recollected to have heard of a relentless 
 judge who was never known to have shed a tear 
 but once, and that was during the representation 
 of the Beggar's Opera, when Macheath got a re- 
 prieve." The same judge once asked Curran, 
 at a dinner table, whether the dish near him was 
 hung beef, because if it was he should try it ; 
 Curran replied, " If you frt/it, my lord, it is sure 
 to be hung." 
 
 IMPROMPTU 
 On Dr. Lettsom's manner of signing his pre- 
 scriptions, " I. Lettsom.'' 
 
 When patients sad to me apply, 
 
 I physics, bleeds, and sweats 'em ; 
 If after all they choose to die, 
 What's that to me ? — I Lets' em. 
 
 A FEELING REPLY. 
 
 Milton was asked by a friend, whether he would 
 instruct his daughters in the different languages; 
 to which he replied, " No, sir, one tongue is suffi- 
 cient for a woman." 
 
 DEATH AND THE DOCTOR. 
 
 As Doctor musing sat, 
 
 Death saw, and came without delay : 
 Enters the room, begins the chat, 
 
 With " Doctor, why so thoughtful, pray ?*' 
 
 The doctor started from his place, 
 But soon they more familiar grew ; 
 
 And then he told his piteous case, 
 How trade was low, and friends were few. 
 
 " Away with fear," the phantom said, 
 As soon as he had heard his tale ; 
 
 ' 5 Take my advice, and mend your trade; 
 We both are losers if you fail. 
 
 " Go write ; your wit in satire show, 
 No matter whether smart or true ; 
 
 Call — — names, the greatest foe 
 To dullness, folly, pride, and yon. 
 
 " Then copies spread, where lies the trick, 
 Among your friends be sure you send 'em ; 
 
 For all who read will soon grow sick, 
 And when you're call'd upon attend 'em. 
 
 " Thus trade increasing by degrees, 
 Doctor, we both shall have our ends ; 
 
 For you are sure to have your fees, 
 And I am sure to have your friends." 
 
 A FAULT IN CANDLES. 
 
 A gentleman ordering a box of candles, said he 
 hoped they would be better than the last. The 
 chandler said he was very sorry to hear them com- 
 plained of. " Why," said the other," they are 
 very well till about half burnt down, but after 
 that they would burn no longer." 
 
 COMPANIONS IN EXIT. 
 
 A gentleman hearing of the death of another, 
 " I thought," said he, to a person in company, 
 " you told me that Tom Wilson's fever was gone 
 off?" — " O yes," replied the other, " but I forgot 
 to mention that he was gone off along with it." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 67 
 
 HAKD AT THE BOTTOM. 
 A traveller riding down a steep hill, and fearing 
 the foot of it was unsound, called out to a man 
 who was ditching, and asked him " if it was hard 
 at the bottom." — " Aye," answered the country- 
 man, *« it is hard enough at the bottom, I warrant 
 you." The traveller, however, had not rode half- 
 a-dozen yards, before the horse sunk up to the 
 saddle-skirts. " Why ! you villain," said he, 
 calling out to the ditcher, V did not you tell me 
 it was hard at the bottom ?"— " Aye," replied the 
 fellow, " but you are not half-way to the bottom 
 yet." 
 
 ON A BOWL OF PUNCH. 
 Whene'er a bowl of punch we make 
 Four striking opposites we take ; 
 The strong, the small, the sharp, the sweet, 
 Together mix'd most kindly meet ; 
 And when they happily unite, 
 The bowl " ispregnant with delight c ", 
 
 In conversation thus we find, 
 That four men differently inclin'd ; 
 With talents each distinct, and each 
 Mark'd by peculiar powers of speech ; 
 With tempers too, as much the same, 
 As milk and verjuice, frost and llame : 
 Their parts, by properly sustaining, 
 May all prove highly entertaining. 
 
 LIBERALITY. 
 
 A gentleman much against the custom of giving 
 to servants, wherehe dined, resolved to play them 
 a trick on his next visit. He collected about a 
 dozen farthings, and as they stood in two rows, 
 forming an avenue, when he left the house, he dis- 
 tributed one to -each alternately right and left; 
 hy the time he had given the last, the butler, 
 with whom he had begun, perceived his donation, 
 and respectfully advancing, began to stammer out 
 
 an apologv. " I believe, sir, you have made 
 
 a slight mistake you have " — " Oh, no," 
 
 said the gentleman, " I never give Jess." 
 
 QUALIFICATIONS FOR A. KINSMAN. 
 
 Sir Nicholas Bapon being once in the capacity 
 of a judge on the point of passing sentence upon 
 a fellow just found guilty of a robbery, the cul- 
 prit alleged he had the honour of being one of 
 his lordship's relations. " How do you prove 
 that?" said Sir Nicholas. "My lord," replied 
 the man, " your name is Bacon and my name is 
 Hog, and hog and bacon have in all ages been 
 reckoned akin." — " That is true," answered the 
 judge; " but hog is never bacon till it has been 
 hung, and therefore, until you are hung, you can 
 be no relation of mine." 
 
 CHINA AND CROCKERY. 
 
 A lady of rank one day remarked to a large 
 company of visitors, that the three classes of the 
 community, nobility, gentry, and commonalty, 
 might very well be compared to the tea-drinking 
 utensils, china, delft, and crockery. A few minutes 
 elapsed, when one of the company expressed a 
 wish to see the lady's little girl, who was in the 
 nursery. On this the footman was dispatched with 
 orders to the nursery-maid, to whom he called out 
 from the bottom of the stairs, in an audible voice, 
 '* hollo crockery, bring down little china.' 1 '' 
 
 A HINT IN SEASON. 
 When an attempt was made, some years ago, to 
 prove Lord Harborough an idiot, the counsel on 
 both sides produced the same instance — one of his 
 wit, the other of his folly. His servants were 
 once puzzled to unpack a large box, and his lord- 
 ship advised them to do with it as they did tvith an 
 oyster, to put it into the fire, and it would gape. 
 
 MODESTY. 
 
 An Irishwoman once called upon an apothecary 
 with a sick infant, when the apothecary gave her 
 somepowder, of which be ordered as much as would 
 lie on a sixpence to be given every morning; the 
 woman replied, " perhaps your honour will lend 
 me a sixpence the while, as I hav'n't got one at 
 all." 
 
68 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 DELICATE REPROOF. 
 Macklin, sitting one night at the back of the 
 front boxes, with a friend, a lobby-lounger stood 
 tip immediately before him, and his person being 
 rather large, prevented a sight of the stage. 
 Macklin took fire at this, but managing his pas- 
 sion with more temper than usual, patted the in- 
 truder on the shoulder with his cane, and gently 
 requested him, " when any thing entertaining oc- 
 curred upon the stage, to let him and his friend 
 be apprized of it ; for you see, my dear sir," said 
 the veteran, " that at present we must totally de- 
 pend upon your kindness." 
 
 PARLIAMENTARY SLEEPERS. 
 Sheridan, one evening, in the midst of a long 
 debate in the House of Commons, took an^oppor- 
 tunity, on perceiving a member rise who was re- 
 markable for prosing, to retreat for the purpose 
 of taking some refreshment. On his return he 
 saw several members who had fallen into a nap; 
 and one among them, remarkable for his corpu- 
 lency, was snoring in an elevation of tone that 
 might be very distinctly heard, on which the dra- 
 matic wit, entering in a hurry, exclaimed in the 
 words of Shakespeare — 
 
 " What's the business, 
 
 That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley ?" 
 
 PARADOX. 
 
 Four people sat down, in one evening to play, 
 They play'd all that eve, and parted next day ; 
 Cou'd you think, when you're told, as thus they 
 
 all set, 
 No other play'd with them, nor was there one bet, 
 Yet, when they rose up, each gain'd a guinea, 
 Tho' none of them lost the amount of a penny. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 Four merry fiddlers play'd all night, 
 
 To many a dancing ninny ; 
 And the next morning went away, 
 
 And each receiv'd a guinea. 
 
 ON PUNCH. 
 
 Hence, restless care, and low design r 
 Hence, foreign compliments and wine f 
 Let generous Britons, brave and free, 
 Still boast their punch and honesty. 
 Life is a bumper, filled by fate, 
 And we the guests who share the treat ; 
 Where strong, insipid, sharp, and sweet, 
 Each other duly temp'ring meet; 
 Awhile with joy the scene is crown'd, 
 Awhile the catch and toast go round; 
 And when the full carouse is o^Ty 
 Death puffs the light, and shuts the door. 
 Say, then, physicians of each kind, 
 Who cure the body, or the mind ; 
 What harm, in drinking, can there be$ 
 Since punch and life so well agree? 
 
 CLASSIC TASTE. 
 
 Swift dining one day at a friend's, where the 
 hockwas given round in very small glasses ; "Come 
 Mr. Dean," said the host, *' I'll pledge you in a 
 glass of hie, hose, hoc." — " No, sir," replied Swift, 
 " I beg leave to decline it ; so, John," turning to 
 the servant, " bring me a hujus glass." 
 
 <JOUT AND RHEUMATISM 
 
 A Frenchman, being afflicted with the gout, 
 was asked what difference there was between that 
 and the rheumatism? "One very great diffe 
 rence," replied Monsieur, "* Suppose you take 
 one vice, you put your finger in, you turn de 
 screw, till you bear him no longer — dat is the 
 rheumatis — den, spose you give him one turn more, 
 dat is de gout." 
 
 ON SIX SORTS OF* PEOPLE, WHO KEEP FASTS. 
 
 The miser fasts because he will not eat, 
 The poor man fasts, because he has no meat ; 
 The rich man fasts, with greedy mind to spare 
 The glutton fasts, to eat the greater share; 
 The hypocrite, he fasts, to seem more holy, 
 The righteous man, to punish sin and folly. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE LUDRICOUS MAN. 
 
 A circumstance occurred some time ago at a 
 circuit court of justiciary in Scotland, in the 
 presence of a judge whose peculiarities of temper 
 and manner were more than compensated by his 
 many excellent and amiable qualities. Their 
 lordships and suite had just met, and were pro- 
 ceeding to investigate rather an interesting case, 
 when their deliberations were interrupted by a 
 continued knocking at the outer court-door. 
 Again and again the shrill-tongued macer ejacu- 
 lated, "Silence! silense there!" to little or no 
 purpose ; but when thejudge exclaimed, " What's 
 the meaning of all that noise? Macer — officers, 
 what are you about, that you don't put an end to 
 that constant shuffle-shuffling?" — Officer. " It's 
 a man, my lord." — "A man! what man, sir? 
 Who, where is he, and what does he want ?'' 
 *' He's at the outside, please your lordship, and 
 wants to get in." — " Well, keep him out, keep 
 him out I say, sir !" — The officer bowed or nodded 
 assent, and the business of the court proceeded. 
 By and bye, however, an individual possessing the 
 right of entree walked into the hall ofjustice, and 
 *" the man," watching his opportunity, slipped in 
 at the same time. By a levity and restlesness, 
 however, by no means uncommon, he had not been 
 well in till he wished to ggt out again — applying, 
 perhaps, to a court of Jaw~what Chaucer presump- 
 tuously says of the blessed state of matrimony — 
 " Marriage is like a rabble rout— ■» 
 Those that are out would fain be in, 
 And those that are in would fain be out." 
 With this he began to jostle every body near him, 
 a proceeding which not only created a new huh- 
 bub, but drew forth a fresh rebuke. — Judge. 
 " What's all this now ? Even if my ears were as 
 sharp as those of Dionysius,and the room in which 
 I sit as well contrived as the celebrated vault in 
 which he kept his prisoners, it would be impos- 
 sible for me to hear one word that the witness is 
 §aying." — Officer. "It's the man, my lord."— 
 " What ! the same man ?"— " The verra same." — 
 
 69 
 
 " Well, what does he want now?" — " He wants 
 to get out, please your lordship." — " Wants to get 
 out! Then keep him in; keep him in I say, sir.'* 
 — The obedient officer did as he was directed; but 
 the persevering man was not to be so easily driven 
 from his purpose. Watching an opportunity, 
 therefore, and elbowing his way to an open win- 
 dow, he mounted on what is called the sole, and 
 appeared, contrary to all rule, to be meditating his 
 escape in that direction ; but the vigilant officer 
 again caught the tartar, and again interfering, a 
 fresh tumult ensued. His lordship appeared 
 an g |- 3S ( as well he might), and a third time ex- 
 claimed, " What's the matter now ? is there to be 
 no end to this ?" — Officer. " It's the man, my 
 lord." — " What! the same man again? Shew 
 me the fellow, and I'll man him." — The officer 
 here pointed to a respectable-enough looking indi- 
 vidual, who, as he said, " had cruppen up on the 
 window-sole, and wanted to get down again." — 
 Judge. " Up on the window-sole ! Well, keep 
 him up ; keep him up I say, sir, if it should be to 
 the day of judgment !*' (perhaps his lordship 
 meant the hour of judgment.) — It is almost need- 
 less to add, that these successive interruptions 
 threw the audience into a roar of laughter, and 
 that the incorrigible man, while held in durance 
 on the window-sole, had tar more eyes turned 
 upon him than either the prisoners or witnesses at 
 the bar. 
 
 SIMILES. TO MOLLY. 
 
 My passion is as mustard strong ; 
 I sit all sober sad ; 
 
 Drunk as a piper all day long, 
 Or like a March-hare mad* 
 
 Round as a hoop the bumpers flow, 
 I drink, yet'ean't forget her ; 
 
 For, tho' as drunk as David's sow, 
 I love her still the better. 
 
 Pert as a pear-monger, I'd be, 
 
 If Molly were but kind ; 
 Cool as a cucumber could see 
 
 The res', of woman-kind. 
 
70 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Like a stuck pig, I gaping stare, 
 And eye her o'er and o'er ; 
 
 Lean as a rake, with sighs and care, 
 Sleak as a mouse before. 
 
 Plump as a partridge was I known, 
 And soft as silk. cay skin ; 
 
 My cheeks as fat as b-itter grown ; 
 But as a groat, now thin ! 
 
 I, melancholy as a eat, 
 
 Am kept awake to weep ; 
 But she, insensible of that, 
 Sound as a top can sleep. 
 
 Hard is her heart, as flint or stone, 
 She laughs to see me pale ; 
 
 And, merry as a grig, is grown, 
 And brisk as bottled ale. 
 
 The God- of love, at her approach, 
 
 Is busy as a bee ! 
 Hearts sound as any bell, or roach, 
 
 Are smit, and sigh like me. 
 
 Ay me ! as thick as hops, or hail, 
 The fine men crowd about her ; 
 
 But soon as dead as a door-nail, 
 Shall I be, if without her. 
 
 Strait as my leg, her s»hape appears; 
 
 Oh! were we join'd together! 
 My heart would be scot-free from caxes a 
 
 And lighter than a feather. 
 
 As fine as five-pence is her mien, 
 No drum was ever tighter ; 
 
 Her glance is as a razor keen, 
 And not the sun is brighter 
 
 As soft as pap her kisses are; 
 
 Methinks 1 taste them yet; 
 Brown as a berry is her hair, 
 
 Her eyes as black as jet. 
 
 As smooth as glass, as white as curds, 
 
 Her pretty band invites; 
 Sharp as a needle are her words ; 
 
 Her wit like pepper bites. 
 
 Brisk as a body-louse she trip*, 
 
 Clean as a penny diest ; 
 Sweet as a rose her breath and lips, 
 
 Round as a globe her breast. 
 
 Full as an egg, was I with glee, 
 
 And happy as a king ! 
 Good Lord ! how all men envy'd me 
 
 She lov'd like any thing. 
 
 But false as hell, she, like the wind, 
 Chang'd, as her sex must do ; 
 
 Tho' seeming as the turtle kind, 
 And like the gospel, true. 
 
 If I and Molly could agree, 
 
 Let who would take Peru ; 
 Great as an Emp'ror should I be, 
 
 And richer than a Jew. 
 
 Till you grow tender as a chick, 
 
 I'm dull as any post; 
 Let us like burrs together stick, 
 
 And warm as any toast. 
 
 You'll find me truer than a die, 
 
 A-nd wish me better speed ; 
 Flat as a flounder, when I lie, 
 
 And, as a herring, dead. 
 
 Sure as a gun she'll drop a tear, 
 And sigh, perjhaps, and wish, 
 
 When I am rotter? as a pear, 
 And mute as any fish. 
 
 LORD CLONMEL. 
 
 The late Lord Clonmel, who never thought of 
 demanding more than a shilling for an affidavit, 
 used to be well satisfied, provided it was a good 
 one. In his time the Birmingham shillings were 
 current, and he used the following extraordinary 
 precautions to avoid being imposed, upon by taking 
 a bad one — " You shall true answer make to such 
 questions as shall be demanded of you touching 
 this affidavit, so help you God ! Is this a good 
 shi'ling ? — Are the contents of this affidavit true ? 
 Is this your name and hand-writing?" 
 
TH& LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 71 
 
 IRISH REASONING. 
 
 Aii Irish pedlar asked an itinerant poulterer 
 the price of a pair of fowls. " Six shillings, 
 sir."—" In my dear country, my darling, you 
 might buy them for sixpence apace."—-" Why 
 don't you remain in your own dear country, 
 then ?" — " Case we have no sixpences, my jewel," 
 said Pat. 
 
 GOLD V. GOULD. 
 
 An old gentleman of tire name of Gould having 
 married a very young wife, wrote a poetical 
 epistle to a friend, to inform him of it, and con- 
 cluded it thus — 
 
 " So you see, my dear Sir, though I'm eighty years 
 old, 
 
 A girl of eighteen is in love with old Gould." 
 To which his friend replied, 
 
 " A girl of eighteen may love Gould it is true, 
 
 But believe me, dear sir, it is Gold without U." 
 
 THE ACTORS. 
 
 A shabby fellow ehane'd one day to meet 
 The British Roscius in the street, 
 
 (Garrick, of whom our nation justly brags.) 
 The fellow hugg'd him with a kind embrace — 
 
 Good sir, I do not recollect your face, 
 Quoth Garrick.— No ! replied the man of rags ; 
 
 The boards of Drury you and 1 have trod 
 Full many a time together, I am sure. — 
 
 When ? with an oath, cried Garrick — for by G — 
 I never saw that face of yours before ! 
 What characters, I pray, 
 Did you and I together play? 
 Lord ! quoth the fellow, think not that I mock- 
 When you play'd Hamlet, sir — I play'd the cock. 
 
 A DISCOVERY. 
 A gentleman praising the personal charms of a 
 very plain woman before Foote, the latter whis- 
 pered him, " And why don't you lay claim to such 
 an accomplished beauty ?'' — " What right have I 
 to her ?" said the other. " Every right, by the law 
 of nations, as the first discoverer." 
 
 STRIKING A BALANCE. 
 
 A chimney-sweeper's boy went into a baker's 
 shop for a twopenny-loaf, and conceiving t to be 
 diminutive in size, remarked to the baker that he 
 did not believe it was weight. " Never mind that," 
 said the man of dough ; " you will have the less to 
 carry." — " True," replied the lad, and throwing 
 three-half-pence on the counter, left the shop. 
 The baker called after him that he had not left 
 money enough. " Never mind that," said young 
 Sooty ; " you will have the less to count." 
 
 UNPLEASANT COMPLIMENT. 
 
 Mr. Pitt being in company with the late Duch- 
 ess of Gordon, who spoke the Scotch dialect in the 
 broadest manner, she told him that some of her 
 family had gone to France, and was asked by him 
 why she was not of the party. She said, in an- 
 swer, " that it was very awkward to be in a coun- 
 try and not know the language." — " Why," said 
 Mr. Pitt, " your grace has not found any such in- 
 convenience in England." 
 
 DOUBLE REMEDY. 
 
 W r hen the late Judge Grose was presiding during 
 the assizes at Bury St. Edmund's, a dog, which 
 happened to have followed some one into court, 
 gave tongue rather loudly, at the same time with 
 one of the barristers. Immediately there was a 
 cry of "Turn that dog out!" but his lordship said, 
 " Turn out the man he belongs to, and we shall 
 soon get rid of the dog." 
 
 TO-MORROW. 
 
 To-morrow you will live, you always cry ; 
 In what far country does to-morrow lie 
 That 'tis so mighty long e'er it arrive ? 
 Beyond the Indies, does this morrow live ? 
 'Tis so far-fetched, this morrow, that I fear 
 'Twill be both very old and very dear. 
 To-morrow I will live, the fool does say, 
 To-day's too late, the wise liv'd yesterday. 
 
72 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ECONOMY 
 
 Garrick was supping with Foote at a tavern, 
 when the latter dropped a guinea, with which he 
 was going to pay the waiter, and it rolled out of 
 sight. ** Where the deuce," said Foote, " can it 
 be gone to ?" — " Gone to the devil, I suppose," 
 cried Garrick. " Well, well, David," observed 
 Foote, " you're always what I said you were, 
 contriving to make a guinea go farther than any 
 other man." 
 
 HOLY RELICS. 
 
 Horace Walpole thus describes some relics ex- 
 hibited " in a small hovel of Capucius," at Radi- 
 cofani, which were brought from Jerusalem by the 
 king ; " among other things of great sanctity, there 
 is a set of gnashing teeth^the grinders very entire; 
 a bit of the worm that never dies, preserved in 
 spirits ; a crow of St. Peter's cock, very useful 
 against Easter ; the crisping and curling, frizzling 
 and frowning of Mary Magdalen's hair, which 
 she cut off on growing devout. The good man that 
 showed us all these commodities, was got into such 
 a train of calling them the blessed this, and the 
 blessed that, that at last he showed us the blessed 
 fig-tree, that Christ cursed. 
 
 ON A YOUNG LADY WITH GREY HAIRS. 
 
 Marked by extremes, Susannah's beauty bears 
 Life's opposites — youth's blossom and grey hairs — 
 Meet signs for one, in whom, combined, are seen 
 Wisdom's ripe fruit, and roses of fifteen 
 
 IMPROMPTU, 
 
 On Lord Rockingham? s becoming minister during 
 our disputes with America, when a declaratory 
 hill was brought into the House of Commons, 
 which was judged to be too tame a measure by 
 the adverse party. — 
 *■' You had better declare, which you may, without 
 
 shocking 'em, 
 That the nation's asleep, and the Minister Rock- 
 
 ins '««." . 
 
 A FAMILIAR TALE. 
 
 Bubb Doddington was very lethargic. Falling 
 asleep one day after dinner with Sir Richard 
 Temple and Lord Cobham the general, the latter 
 reproached Doddington with his drowsiness. 
 Doddington denied having been asleep; and to 
 prove he had not, offered to repeat all Lord Cob- 
 ham had been saying. Cobham challenged him 
 to do so. Doddington repeated a story ; and 
 Lord Cobham owned he had been telling it. 
 " Well," said Doddington, " and yet I did not 
 hear a word of it: but I went to sleep because 
 I knew that about this time of day you would 
 tell that story." 
 
 A printer's widow. 
 
 This daily publishing the weeds of woe, 
 Announces to my eye, as pica plain, 
 
 A dear romantic duodecimo, 
 
 Unbound, and going into sheets again, 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF GIBBETS. 
 Two highwaymen were crossing Hounslow- 
 heath, when one of them observed a gibbet. 
 " Curse those gibbets," said he, *' if it were not 
 for them, ours would be the best trade in the 
 world." — " You are a fool," cried the other, 
 " there's nothing better for us than gibbets; for 
 were it not for them, every person would turn high- 
 wayman, and we should be ruined." 
 
 PUNNING FLATTERY. 
 One day when Sir Isaac Heard was with George 
 III. it was announced that his majesty's horse was 
 ready for hunting. "Sir Isaac," said the king, 
 " are you a judge of horses?" — u In my younger 
 days, please your majesty," was the reply, " I [ 
 was a great deal among them." — " What do you • 
 think of this, then ?" said the king, who was by 
 this time preparing to mount his favourite; and 
 without waiting for an answer, added, " We call 
 him Perfection.''' — " A most appropriate name," . 
 replied the courtly herald, bowing as his majesty I . 
 reached the saddle, " for he bears the best o/cA«-!,i 
 racters. ,> ,\ 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 73 
 
 AN ANATOMICAL EPITAPH ON AN INVALID. 
 
 Here lies a head that often aeh'd ; 
 
 Here lie two hands that always shak'd ; 
 
 Here lies a brain of old conceit ; 
 
 Here lies a heart that often beat; 
 
 Here lie two eyes that daily wept, 
 
 And in the night but seldom slept; 
 
 Here lies a tongue that whining talk'd ; 
 
 Here lie two feet that feebly walk'd ; 
 
 Here lie the midriff and the breast, 
 
 With loads of indigestion prest ; 
 
 Here lies the liver, full of bile, 
 
 That ne'er secreted proper chyle; 
 
 Here lie the bowels, human tripes, 
 , Tortur'd with wind, and twisting gripes ; 
 
 Here lies the livid dab, the spleen. 
 
 The source of life's srrd tragic scene ; 
 
 That left-side weight, that clogs the blood, 
 
 And stagnates nature's circling flood ; 
 
 Here lie the nerves, so often twitch'd 
 ' With painful cramps and poignant stitch ; 
 
 Here lies the back, oft rackt with pains, 
 
 Corroding kidneys, loins, and reins ; 
 
 Here lies the skin by scurvy fed, 
 
 With pimples and eruptions red 
 
 Here lies the man, from top to toe, 
 
 That fabric fram'd for pain and woe. 
 
 IRISH TELESCOPE. 
 
 An Irishman was one day observing to a friend 
 thathe had amost excellent telescope. " Do yon 
 see yon church," said he, "about half a mile off?" 
 — '* It's scarcely discernible ; but when I look at 
 it through my telescope, it brings it so close that 
 I can hear the organ playing." 
 
 POWER OF MIMICRY. 
 When Foote was acting in Dublin, he intro- 
 i dticed into one of his pieces ihe character of 
 j Faulkner, the printer, whose manners and dress 
 I he so closely imitated, that the poor fellow could 
 I not appear in public, without meeting with scoffs 
 j and jeers from the very boys in the streets. Eo- 
 I raged at the ridicule thus brought upon him, Faulk- 
 
 ner one evening treated to the gallery all the 
 devils of the printing-office, that they might hiss 
 Foote off the stage. Faulkner placed himself in 
 the pit, to enjoy the actor's degradation, but when 
 the objectionable scene came on, the unfortunate 
 printer was excessively chagrined to find, that so 
 far from a groan or a hiss being heard, his gallery- 
 friends partook of the laugh. The next morninghe 
 inveighed against tlreiri for having neglected his in- 
 junctions, and on demandingsome reason for their 
 treachery, " Arrah, master," said the spokesman, 
 "do we not know you ? — sure 'twas y our own swate 
 self that was on the stage ; and shower light upon 
 us, if we go to the play-house to hiss our worthy 
 master." 
 
 BEAUTY AND WIT. 
 ^v'iikcs once observed to Lord Tow nshend : — 
 " You, my lord, are the handsomest man in the 
 kingdom, and I the plainest; but I would give 
 your lordship half-an-hour's start, and yet come 
 up with you in the affections of any woman we 
 both wished to win; because, all those attentions 
 which you would omit, on the score of your fine 
 exterii)r, I should be obliged to pay, owing to the 
 deficiencies of mine. 
 
 A LONG PAUSE. 
 An old gentleman riding over Putney-bridge, 
 turned round to his servant, and said, " Do you 
 like eggs, John?" — "Yes, sir." Here the con- 
 versation ended. The same gentleman, riding 
 over the same bridge that day twelvemonth, again 
 turned round and said, "how?" — "Poached, 
 sir," was the answer. 
 
 THE LAST PROOF. 
 
 An officer being wounded by a musket-ball at 
 the siege of La Rochelle, the surgeon who first 
 dressc! the wound declared that it was very dan- 
 gerous, for he could see the brain. " Can you, 
 indeed ?" said he, " do me the favour then to take 
 oi;t a little of it," and send it in a linen rag to the 
 Cardinal de Richelieu, who has told me a hundred 
 times a day that I have none." 
 
74- 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF GiiORGE III. 
 
 By sunrise on Sunday morning, Wylie was brush- 
 ins: the early dew in the little park at Windsor, to 
 taste the freshness of the morning; gale, or, as he 
 himself better expressed it, to take a snuff of caller 
 air. On stepping over a style, he saw cfose before 
 him a stout and tall elderly man, in a plain blue 
 coat, with scarlet cuffs and collar, which at first he 
 took for a livery. There was something, how- 
 ever, in the air of the wearer, which convinced 
 him that he could not be a servant ; and an ivory- 
 headed cane virled with gold, which lie carried in 
 a sort of negligent poking manner, led him to con- 
 clude that he was either an old officer, or one of 
 the poor knights of Windsor; for he had added to 
 his learning, in the course of the preceding even- 
 ing, a knowledge of the existence of this appen- 
 dage to the noble Order of the Garter. " This," 
 said the embryo courtier to himself, " is just the 
 verra thing that I hae been seeking. I'll mak up 
 to this decent carl ; for nae doubt he's well ac- 
 quaint with a' about the k'ing;" and he stepped 
 alertly forward. But before he had advanced 
 many paces, the old gentleman turned round, and 
 seeing a stranger, stopped j and looking at him 
 for two or three seconds, said to himself, loud 
 enough, however, to be heard, " Strange man, — 
 don't know him, — don't know him," and then he 
 paused till our hero had come up. 
 
 " Gude-day, sir," said Wylie, as he approach- 
 ed ; " ye're early a-fit on the Sabbath morning 
 but I'm thinking his majesty, honest man, sets you 
 a' here an example of sobriety and early rising." 
 " Scotsman, eh !" said the old gentleman 
 "fine morning, — fine morning, sir, — weather 
 warmer here than with you ? AVhat part of Scot- 
 land do you come from ? How do you like Wind- 
 sor ? Come to see the king, eh?" .And loudly 
 be made the echoes ring with his laughter. 
 
 The senator was a little at aloss which question 
 to answer first ; but delighted with the hearty 
 freedom of the salutation, jocularly said " It's no 
 easy to answer so many questions all at once ; 
 
 but if ye'll no object to the method, I would say 
 that ye guess right, sir, and that I come from the 
 shire of Ayr." 
 
 " Ah, shire of Ayr ! a fine country that — good 
 farming there — no smuggling now among you, 
 eh ? — No excisemen shooting lords now ? — Bad 
 game, bad game. Poor Lord Eglinton had a true 
 taste for agriculture; the country, I have heard, 
 owes him much. — Still improving? Nothing like 
 it — the war needs men— corn is our dragon's teeth 
 — potatoes do as well in Ireland, eh ?" 
 
 The humour of this sally tickled our hero as 
 well as the author of it, and they both laughed 
 themselves into greater intimacy. " Well ; but 
 Sir," sajd Andrew, " as I am only a^stranger here, 
 I would like to ask you a question or two about 
 the king, just as to what sort of a man he really 
 is ; for we can place no sorf of dependence on 
 newspapers or history-books, in matters anent 
 rulers and men of government."; — ie What ! like 
 Sir Robert Walpole, not believe history ? Scots- 
 men very cautious." But the old gentleman add- 
 ed in a graver accent, " The king is not so good 
 as some say to him he is \ nor is he so bad as 
 others say of him. But I know that he has con- 
 scientiously endeavoured to do his duty ; and the 
 best men can do no more, be their trusts high or 
 low." 
 
 " That, I believe, we a' in general think; even 
 the blacknebs never dispute his honesty, though 
 they undervalue his talents. But what I wish to 
 know and understand, is no wi' regard to his 
 kingly faculties, but as to his familiar ways and 
 behaviour, the things in which he is like the gene- 
 rality of the world." 
 
 " Ha !" said the stranger, briskly, relapsing 
 into his wonted freedom, " very particular, very 
 particular, indeed. What reason, friend, have you 
 to be so particular ? — Must have some ; people 
 never so without a reason." 
 
 " Surely, sir, its a very natural curiosity for a 
 subject to inquire what sort of a man the sove- 
 reign is, whom he has sworn to honour and obey, 
 and to bear true allegiance to with hand and heart.'* 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 11 Trup, true, true;" exclaimed the old gentle- 
 man, *' just remark.— Come on business to Eng- 
 land ? — What business?" 
 
 " My chief business, in truth, sir, at present 
 here is, to see and learn something about the 
 King. I have no other turn in hand at this time." 
 
 " Turn, turn," cried the stranger, perplexed. — 
 " What turn? Would place the king on your 
 lathe, eh?" 
 
 Our hero did not well know what to make of 
 his quick and versatile companion ; and while the 
 old gentleman was laughing at the jocular turn 
 which he had himself given to the Scotticism, he 
 said, " I'm thinking, friend, ye're commanded not 
 to speak with strangers anent his majesty's con- 
 duct, for ye blink the question, as they *ay in 
 Parliament." — " Parliament ? — Been there ? — 
 How do you like it?— Much cry and little wool 
 among them, eh?"— i ' Ye say Gude's truth, sir; 
 and I wish they would make their speeches as 
 short and pithy as the king's. I'm told his ma- 
 jesty has a very gracious and pleasant delivery," 
 replied our hero, pawkily ; and the stranger, not 
 heeding his drift, said with simplicity, " It was 
 so thought when he was young ; but he is now an 
 old man, and not what I have known him." — " I 
 suppose," replied our hero, i( that you have been 
 long in his service." — " Yes, I am one of his 
 oldest servants. — Ever since I could help myself," 
 was the answer, with a sly smile, " I may say I 
 have been his servant." — " And I dinna doubt," 
 replied the senator, " that you have, had an easy 
 post." — *' I have certainly obeyed his will," cried 
 the stranger, in a lively laughing tone; but chang- 
 ing into a graver he added, " But what may be 
 my reward, at least in this world, it is for you 
 and others to judge." — " I'm mista'en, then, if it 
 should na be liberal," replied Andrew ; " for ye 
 8eem a man of discretion, and doubtless merit the 
 post ye have so long possessed. Maybe some day 
 in Parliament, I may call this conversation to mind 
 for your behoof. The king canna gang far wraug 
 sae lang as he keeps counsel with such douce and 
 prudent-like men, even though ye hae a bit tlight 
 
 75 
 
 of the fancy. — What's your name ?" The old 
 gentleman looked sharply; but in a moment his 
 countenance resumed its wonted open cheerfulness, 
 and he said, " So you are in Parliament, eh ? — I 
 have a seat there too. — Don't often go. however. 
 Perhaps may see you there. — Good-bye, good- 
 bye." 
 
 " Ye'll excuse my freedom, sir," said Andrew, 
 somewhat rebuked by the air and manner in which 
 his new acquaintance separated from him; " but 
 if you are not better engaged, I would be glad if 
 we could breakfast together." — " Can't, can't," 
 cried the old gentleman, shortly, as he walked 
 away ; but turning half round after he had walked 
 two or three paces, he added, " obliged to break- 
 fast with the king — he won't without me;" and 
 a loud and mirthful laugh gave notice to all the 
 surrounding echoes that a light and pleased spirit 
 claimed their blithest responses. 
 
 THE INCURIOUS BENCHER. 
 
 At Jenny Mann's, where heroes meet, 
 And lay their laurels at her feet ; 
 The modern Pallas, at whose shrine 
 They bow, and by whose .aid they dine, 
 Colonel Brocade, among the rest, 
 Was every day a welcome guest. 
 One night, as carelessly he stood, 
 
 Clearing his reins before the fire, 
 (So every true-born Briton should) 
 
 Like that he chaf'd, and fum'd, with ire. 
 " Jenny," said he, " 'tis very hard 
 That no man's honour can be spar'd ; 
 If I but sup with Lady Duchess, 
 Or play a game at ombre, such is 
 The malice of the world, 'tis said, 
 Although his Grace lay drunk in bed, 
 'Twas I that caus'd his aching head. 
 If Madam Doodle would be witty, 
 And I am summoned to the city, 
 To play at blind-man's-buff*, or so, 
 What won't such hellish malice do I 
 If I but catch her in a corner 
 Humph — 'tis your servant, Colonel Horner) 
 
76 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 But rot the sneering fops, if e'er 
 
 T prove it, it shall cost them dear 
 
 I swear by this dead-doing blade. 
 
 Dreadful examples shall be made: 
 
 What — can't they drink bohea and cream, 
 
 But (damn them) I must be their theme ? 
 
 Other men's business let alone, 
 
 Why should not coxcombs mind their own ?" 
 
 As thus he rav'd with all his might, 
 (How insecure front fortune's spight, 
 Alas! is every mortal wight!) 
 To shew his ancient spleen to Mars, 
 Fierce Vulcan caught him by the a— 
 Stuck, his- skirts J insatiate varlet ! 
 And fed with pleasure on the scarlet. 
 Hard by, and in the corner, sat 
 A bencher grave, with look sedate, 
 Smoking his pipe, warm as a toast,' 
 And reading over last week's Post; 
 He saw the foe the fort invade, 
 And soon smelt out the breach he made 
 Bu r not a word — a little sly 
 He iook'd, 'tis true, and from each eye 
 A side-long glance sometimes he sent, 
 To bring him news, and watch th' event. 
 Al length; upon that tender part 
 Where honour lodges (as of old 
 Authentic Hudibras has told) 
 The blustering colonel felt a smart. 
 Sore griev'd for his affronted bum, 
 Frisk'd, skip'd, and bounc'd about the room. 
 Then turning short, " Zounds, sir !" he cries — 
 " Deuce take him, had the fool no eyes? 
 What! let a man be hurn't alive!" 
 " I am not, sir, inquisitive," 
 (Replied Sir Gravity) " to know 
 Whate'er your honour's pleas'd to do 5 
 If you will burn your tail to tinder, 
 Pray what have I to do lo hinder ? 
 Other men's business let alone, 
 Why should not coxcombs mind their own ?' 
 
 Then, knocking out his pipe with care, 
 Laid down his penny at the bar; 
 And, wrapping round his freeze suriout, 
 Took up his crab-tree, and walk'd out. 
 
 DIFFICULT DILEMMA. 
 
 A surgeon in Shropshire was called up in the 
 night by a labouring man, to attend his wife who 
 was in childbed ; but Slaving often attended under 
 similar circumstances, without: obtaining any re- 
 muneration, he asked the -man who was to pay 
 him. The countryman answered that he possess- 
 ed five pounds, which, kill or cure, should be his 
 reward. The doctor paid every attention to the 
 poor woman, who, notwithstanding, died. Soon 
 after her death, he met the widower at Ludlow, 
 and observed that he had an account against him. 
 The man appeared greatly surprised, and inquired 
 for what? On being informed, he replied, " I 
 don't think [ owe you any thing; did you cure 
 my wife ?" — " No, certainly, it was not in the 
 power of medicine to cure her." — " Did you kill, 
 her, then?" said the countryman. " No, I did. 
 not," was the reply. " Why then," said the coun- 
 tryman, ** as you did not either kill or cure, 
 you are not entitled to the reward." 
 
 FEMALE SPIRIT. 
 
 A young couple about to be married, bad pro- 
 ceeded as far as the church-door, when the gen- 
 tleman stopped his intended bride, and thus ad- 
 dressed her : — " My dear Eliza, during our court- 
 ship I have told you most of my mind, but I have 
 not told you the whole: when we are married, I 
 shall insist upon three things," — " What are 
 they ?." asked the lady. ' ; In the first place," 
 said the bridegroom, " I shall sleep alone, I shall 
 eat alone, and find fault when there is no occa- 
 sion ; can you submit to these conditions ?"— " O 
 yes, sir, very easily," was the reply ; "• for if you 
 sleep alone, I shall not — if you eat alone, I shall 
 eat first — and, as to your finding fault without oc- 
 casion, that I think may be prevented, for I will 
 take care you shall never want occasion." 
 
 ORATORY. 
 
 At the time when Sir Richard Steele wa§ pre- 
 paring his great room for public orations, he was 
 rather backward in his payments to the workmen, 
 and coming one day to see what progress they 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 77 
 
 made, he oidered the carpenter to get into the ros- 
 trum, and make a speech, that he might observe 
 how it could be heard. The fellow told Sir Rich- 
 ard that he knew not what to say-, for he was no 
 orator. " Oh," cried the knight, " no matter for 
 that, speak any thing that comes uppermost.'' — : 
 ** Why then, Sir Richard," said the feilow, " here 
 have we been working for you honour these six 
 months, and cannot get one penny of money. Pray, 
 sir, when do you design to pay us ?" — "Very 
 well, very well," said Sir Richard, " pray come 
 down ; I have heard quite enough ; I cannot but 
 own you -speak very distinctly, though I don\ 
 much admire your subject.'' 
 
 BRIBERY. 
 A" yoor man once a judge besought, 
 
 To judge aright his cause 
 And with a pot of oil salutes 
 
 This judger of the laws. 
 " My friend," quoth he, " thy cause is good ;" 
 
 He, glad away did trudge ; 
 Anon, his wealthy foe did come, 
 
 Before the partial judge. 
 
 A hog, well fed, this churl presents, 
 
 And craves a strain of law ; 
 The hog reeeiv'd, the poor man's right 
 
 Wao'judg'd not worth a straw* 
 
 Therewith he cried, " O partial judge, 
 
 Thy doom lias me undone ; 
 When oil I gave, my cause was good, 
 
 But now to ruin run." 
 
 " Poor man," quoth he, " I thee forgot," 
 
 And see, thy cause of foil ; 
 A hog came since into my house, 
 
 And broke thy pot of oil." 
 
 A HIGH WIND. 
 
 Charles Bannister, coming into a coffee-house 
 one stormy night, said he never saw such a wind ! 
 " Saw a wind !" replied a friend, " what was it 
 like?" — "Like," answered Charles, "like to 
 have blown my hat off." 
 
 RETALIATION. 
 
 In Charles the Second's days it was the custom, 
 when a gentleman drank a lady's health, as a 
 toast, by way of doing her honor, to throw some 
 part of his dress into the fire, an example which 
 his companions were bound to follow, by consum- 
 ing the same article of their apparel, whatever it 
 might be. One of his friends perceiving at a ta- 
 vern dinner, that Sir Charles Sedley had on a very 
 rich lace cravat, when he named his toast com- 
 mitted his cravat to the flames, and Sir Charles 
 and the rest were obliged to do the same. Tiie 
 poet bore his loss with great composure, ob- 
 serving it was a good joke, but that he would 
 have as good a one some other time. He there- 
 fore watched his opportunity, when the same 
 party was assembled on a subsequent occasion, 
 and drinking off a bumper to the health of Nell 
 Gwynne, he called the waiter, and ordering a 
 tooth-drawer into the room, whom he had pre- 
 viously brought to the tavern for the purpose, 
 made him draw a decayed tooth which had long 
 plagued him. The rules of good-fellowship, then 
 in force, clearly required that every one of the 
 company should have a tooth drawn also, but 
 they naturally expressed a hope that Sedley would 
 not be so unmerciful as to enforce the law. Deaf, 
 however, to all their remonstrances, persuasions, 
 and entreaties, he saw them one after another in 
 the hand of the operator, and writhing with pain, 
 while he exclaimed," patience, gentlemen, pa- 
 tience ; you know you promised that I should 
 have my frolic too." 
 
 THE CONSULTATION. 
 
 Three doctors met in consultation, 
 Proceed with great deliberation ; 
 The case was desperate all agreed, 
 But what of that? — they must be fee'd ; 
 They write, then, as 'twas fit they should 
 But for their own, not patient's good : 
 Consulting wisely, don't mistake, sir, 
 Not what to give, but what to take, sir 
 
78 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE CIFT HORSE. 
 
 A nobleman having presented King, Charles II. 
 with a fine horse, his majesty bid Killigrew, the 
 jester, who was present, tell him what was its age ; 
 upon which Killigrew examined the animal's tail. 
 '' What are you doing?" said the king, " that is 
 not the place to find out his age." — " Oh, sir," 
 said Killigrew, " your majesty knows one should 
 never look a gift horse in the mouth." 
 
 SHEEP-STEALING. 
 
 In a trial at the Old Bailey, for sheep- stealing, 
 the prosecutor, a butcher, gave a long account of 
 his tracing the sheep from place to place ; that he 
 firsc went to Acton, then to Ealing, " and then, 
 my lord," said he, " I went to Uxbridge, where 
 I found the sheep, and then I went to handle 'em, 
 and feel 'em, to judge of their identity." — "Han- 
 dle 'em and feel 'em!" exclaimed the judge, 
 " pray where are they ? I thought I had known 
 the county of Middlesex extremely well, but I 
 confess I never heard of such places as Handle- 
 'em and Feel-'em before." 
 
 THE ASTRONOMER'S ROOM. 
 
 One day I called, and, Philo out, 
 I op'd the door, and look'd about; 
 When all his goods being full in view 
 I took this inventory true : — 
 
 Item — A bed without a curtain 
 A broken jar to empty dirt in ; , 
 A candlestick, a greasy night-cap, 
 A spitting-pot to catch what might hap ; 
 Two stockings daufd with numerous stitches, 
 A piece of shirt, a pair of breeches ; 
 A three-legg'd stool, a four-legg'd table, 
 Were filled with books unfit for rabble ; 
 Sines, tangents, secants, radius, co-sines, 
 Subtangents, segments, and all those signs j 
 Enough to shew the man who made 'em, 
 Was full as mad as he who read 'em; 
 An almanack of six years standing, 
 A cup with i.nk, and one with sand in ; 
 
 One corner held his books and chest, 
 
 And round the floor was strew'd the restj 
 
 That all things might be like himself, 
 
 He'd neither closet, drawer, or shelf; 
 
 Here piss-pot, sauce-pot, broken platter, 
 
 Appear'd like heterogeneous matter; 
 
 In ancient days the walls were white, 
 
 But, who 'gainst dcimps and snails can fight ? 
 
 They're now in wreathy ringlets bound, 
 
 Some square, some oval, and some round ; 
 
 The antiquarian there may find 
 
 Each hieroglyphic to his mind ; 
 
 Such faces there may fancy trace, 
 
 As never yet knew time or place ; 
 
 And he who studies maps or plans, 
 
 Has all the work done to his hands ; 
 
 In short, the room, the goods, and author, 
 
 Appear'd to be one made for t' other. 
 
 JOHN HORNE TOOKE ON THE LAW. 
 
 " Law," said Mr. Tooke, " ought not to be a 
 luxury for the rich, but a remedy to be easily, 
 cheaply, and speedily obtained by the poor." A 
 person once observing to him the excellence of the 
 English laws being so impartial, that our courts of 
 justice are open to all persons without distinction. 
 " And so," said Tooke, " is the London tavern to 
 such as can afford to pay for their entertainment." 
 
 DUKE OF CUMBERLAND AT DETTINGEN. 
 
 Previous to the engagement at Dettingen, a 
 private soldier procured the canteens of some of 
 his comrades, on pretence of fetching water ; but, 
 he did not return till after the battle. A day or 
 two afterwards, the Duke of Cumberland arrived 
 at the camp, and the soldier's conduct being re- 
 ported to him, he demanded why he had left the 
 field, previous to the battle. — " What," said the 
 ma«i, " Do you think I was such a fool as to stand 
 there to be shot at? — Why was not your high- | 
 ness there ?" — " I," cried the duke, " I was on j 
 my march thither." — f * I know you were," re- 
 plied the fellow, ** but you might have made a 
 little more haste, if you had chosen if." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 79 
 
 PERSONALITIES. 
 
 When Quin and Garrick performed at the same 
 theatre, and in the same play, the night being very 
 stormy, each ordered a chair. To the mortifica- 
 tion of Quin, Mr. Garrick's chair came up first. 
 iw Let me get into the chair," crie<f the surjy ve- 
 teran, *f let me get iuto the chair, and put little 
 Davy into the Ian horn." — " By all means," said 
 Garrick ; " I shall ever be happy to give Mr. 
 Quin light in any thing," 
 
 BODILY INFIRMITIES. 
 
 Theo. Cibber, in company with three other bon 
 vivants, one day made an excursion. Theo. had a 
 false set of teeth ; a second, a glass eye ; a third, 
 a cork leg ; but the fourth had nothing particular, 
 except a remarkable way of shaking his head. 
 They travelled in a post-coach ; and while at the 
 first stage, after each had made merry wilh his 
 neighbour's infirmity, they agreed that at every 
 baiting-place they would all affect the same singu- 
 larity. When they came to breakfast, they were 
 all to squint? and as the countrymen stood gaping 
 round when they first alighted, " Od rot it," cried 
 one, " how that man squints !" — " Why, dom 
 thee," said a second, " here be another squinting 
 fellow !" The third was thought to be a better 
 squinter than the other two, and the fourth better 
 than all the rest. At dinner, they appeared to 
 have cork legs, and their stumping about made 
 more diversion than (hey had done at breakfast. 
 At tea they were all deaf; but at supper each 
 man re-assumed his character, the better to play 
 his part in a farce they had concerted. When 
 they were ready to go to bed, Cibber called out 
 to the waiter, " Here, you fellow, take out my 
 teeth." — "Teeth, sir!" said the man. "Ay, 
 teeth, sir. Unscrew that wire, and they'll all 
 come out together." After some hesitation, the 
 man did as he was ordered. This was no sooner 
 performed than a second called out, " Here, man, 
 take out my eye I" — " Lord, sir, "said the waiter, 
 
 jour eye 
 
 Yes, my eve. Come here, 
 
 you 
 
 stupid dog; pull up that eye-lid, and it will come 
 
 out as easy as possible." This done, the third 
 cried out, " Here, you rascal, take off my leg !" 
 This he did with less reluctance, being before ap- 
 prised that it was cork, and also conceived that 
 it would be his last job. He was, however, mis- 
 taken. The fourth watched his opportunity, and 
 while the waiter was surveying the eye, teeth, 
 and (eg, lying on the table, cried out, in a hollow 
 voice, " Come here, sir, take off my head !" 
 Turning round, and seeing the man's head shaking 
 like that of a mandarine upon a chimney-piece, 
 he darted out of the room, and after tumbling 
 headlong down-stairs, he ran about the house, 
 swearing that the gentlemen above-stairs were 
 certainly all devils. 
 
 THE OLD CHEESE. 
 
 Young Slouch the farmer had a jolly wife, 
 That knew all the conveniences of life, 
 Whose diligence and cleanliness supplied 
 The wit which Nature had to him denied : 
 Hut then she had a tongue that would be heard 
 And make a better man than Slouch afeard. 
 This made censorious persons of the town 
 Say, Slouch could hardly call his soul his own: 
 For, if he went abroad too much, she'd use 
 To give him slippers, and lock up his shoes. 
 Talking he lov.'d, and ne'er was more afflicted 
 Than when he was disturbed, or contradicted: 
 Yet still into his story she would break 
 With " 'Tis not so — pray give me leave to speak." 
 His friends thought this was a tyrannic rule, 
 Not differing much from calling him a fool ; 
 Told him, he must exert himself, and be, 
 In fact, the master of his family. 
 
 He said, " That the next Tuesday noon would 
 shew 
 Whether he were the lord at home or no;. 
 When their good company he would intreat 
 To well-hrew'd ale, and clean, if homsly, meat." 
 With aching heart home to his wife he goes, 
 And on his knees does his rash act disclose, 
 And prays dear Sukey, that, one day at least, 
 He might appear as master of the feast. 
 
HIV. LAUGHENG 
 
 c, " that you may 
 
 80 
 
 " I'll grant your wis!)," cries sh 
 
 see 
 'Twere wisdom to be govern'd still by me." 
 The guests upon the day appointed came, 
 Each blo»vsy farmer with his simpering dame. 
 i( Hoi Sue !" cries Slouch, '.' why dost not thou 
 
 appear! 
 Are these thy manners when aunt Snap is here ;" 
 "'I pardon ask," says Sue, " I'd not offend 
 Any my dear invites, much less his friend." 
 
 " Slouch by his kinsman Gruffy had been taught 
 To entertain his friends with finding fault, 
 And make the main ingredient of his treat 
 His saying, " there was nothing fit to eat : 
 The hoil'd pork stinks, the beef's not roast enough, 
 The bacon's rusty, and the hens are tough ; 
 The veal's all rags, the butter's turn'd to oil ; 
 And thus I bu;, good meat for sluts to spoil. 
 'Tis we are the first Slouches ever sate 
 Down to a pudding without plumbs or fat. 
 "What teeth or stomach's strong enough to feed 
 Upon a goose my grannum kept to breed ? 
 Why must old pigeons, and they stale, be drest, 
 W 7 hen there's so many squab ones in the nest? 
 This beer is sour, 'tis musty, thick, and stale, 
 And worse than any thing except the ale." 
 
 Sue all this while many excuses made: J 
 
 Some things she ovvn'd, at other times she laid > 
 The fault on chance, but oftener on the maid. ) 
 Then cheese was brought. Says Slouch, "This 
 e'en shall roll, 
 I'm sure 'tis hard enough to make a bowl ; 
 This is skim- milk, and therefore it snail go ; 
 And this, because 'tis Suffolk, follow too." 
 But now Sue's patience did begin to waste; 
 Nor longer could dissimulation last. 
 " Pray lee me rise," says Sue; " my dear, I'll find 
 A cheese perhaps may be to lovy's mind." 
 _Then in an entry, standing close, where he 
 Alone, and none of all his friends might seej 
 And brandishing a cudgel he had felt, 
 And far enough on this occasion smelt; 
 " I'll try, my joy !" she cried, " if 1 can please 
 My dearest with a taste of his old cheese!" 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Slouch turn'd hjs head, saw his wife's vigorous 
 hand 
 
 Wielding her oaken sapling of command, 
 Knew well the twang; " Is't the old cheese, T| 
 " my dear? I 
 
 No need, no need of cheese," cries Slouch, V 
 44 I'll swear, 1 
 
 " I think I've din'd as well as my Lord-Mayor." J 
 
 CELEBRITY AND NOTORIETY. 
 
 Tompion, the most celebrated watch-maker ot 
 his day, was accosted, in Moorfields, by a brother 
 of the trade, who, after the usual salutations and 
 inquiries about business, said, " I believe, Mr. 
 Tompion, you and I are the two most distinguished 
 men of our profession in existence." — " Indeed," 
 exclaimed Tompion, who knew nothing of the in- 
 dividual's abilities. " Yes," was the reply," you 
 are, of all watchmakers, the best, and I am the 
 worst." 
 
 DR. MONSEY AND HIS BANK-NOTES. 
 Dr. Monsey, a celebrated physician, was al- 
 ways strangely infatuated with a fear of the pub, 
 {lie funds, and was frequently anxious, in his 
 absence from his apartments, for a place of safety 
 in which to deposit his cash and notes. Going on 
 a journey, during the hot weather in July, he 
 chose the fire-place of his sitting-room for his 
 treasury, and placed bank-notes and cash to a 
 considerable amount in one corner, under the 
 cinders and shavings. On his return, after a 
 month's absence, he found his housekeeper pre- 
 paring to treat some friends with a cup of t<?a ; 
 and, by way of shewing respect to her guests, the 
 parlour fire-place was chosen to make the kettle 
 boil ; the fire had net long been lighted, when her 
 master arrived. 
 
 When the doctor entered the room the company 
 had scarcely begun tea. He ran across the room 
 like a madman, saying, " Hang it, you have ruined 
 me for ever: you have burned all my bank- 
 notes!" — First went the contents of the slop- 
 bason, then the tea-pot ; then he rushed to the 
 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 pump in the kitchen, and broughtapail of water, 
 which he threw partly over the fire and partly 
 over the company, who, in the utmost consierna- 
 tion, got out of his way as speedily as possible. 
 His housekeeper cried out, " For God's sake, sir, 
 forbear, you wiH spoil the steel stove and fire- 
 irons." — " D n the irons," replied the doctor, 
 
 " you have ruined me, you have burned my bank- 
 notes." — " Lord, sir," said the half-drowned wo- 
 man, " who'd think of putting bank-notes in a 
 Bath stove, where the fire is ready laid?" — 
 " And," resumed lie, " who'd think of making a 
 fire in the summer time, where there has not been 
 one for these several months?''' He then pulled 
 out the coals and cinders, and at one corner found 
 the remains of his bank-notes, and one "quarter 
 of them entire, so as to be legible. Next day, 
 Dr. Mousey went to Lord Godolphin's, the high- 
 treasurer, and told him the story. His lordship 
 said," that he would go with him to the Bank the. 
 next chn , and get the cash for him through his in- 
 fluence. He accordingly ordered his carriage, 
 and agreed to meet the doctor at the room in the 
 Bank, where some of the directors dailj* attend. 
 The doctor being obliged to go to the Horse- 
 guards, on business, took water at Whitehall for 
 the Bank. In going down the river, he pulled 
 out his pocket-book, to see if the remains of his 
 no'es were safe; when a sudden puff of wind 
 blew (hem out of his pocket-book into the river. 
 " Put back, you scoundrel," said the doctor, 
 " my bank-notes are overboard !" 
 
 He was instantly obeyed, and the doctor took 
 his hat and dipped it into the river, inclosing the 
 notes and a hat full of water. In this state he put 
 it under his arm, and desired to be set on shore 
 immediately. On landing, he walked to the 
 Bank, and was shewn into the room where Lord 
 Godolphin had just before arrived. " What have 
 you under your arm?" said Lord Godolphin; 
 " the damned notes," replied the doctor, throw- 
 ing his hat, with the contents, on the table, with 
 such a force as to scatter the water into the faces 
 of all who were standing near it." " There," 
 
 81 
 
 said the doctor, *' take the remainder of your 
 notes, for neither fire nor water will consume 
 them !" 
 
 ECONOMY. 
 
 Frank, who will any friend supply. 
 
 Lent me ten guineas, f * Come," said I, 
 
 " Give me a pen — it is but fair, 
 
 You take my note." Quoth he, " Hold there; 
 
 Jack, to the cash I've bid adieu, 
 
 No need to waste my paper too,!" 
 
 SUMMARY JUSTICE. 
 
 A French nobleman, who had been satirised by 
 Voltaire, meeting the poet soon after, gave him a 
 hearty drubbing. The poet immediately flew to 
 the Duke of Orleans, told him how he had been 
 used, and begged he would do him justice. 
 " Sir," replied the duke, with a significant smile, 
 " it has been done you already." 
 
 A FOOL'S WIT. 
 
 A silly country squire asked a merry-andrew 
 why he played the fool ? " For the same reason 
 that you do," answered he; ''''for want— you for 
 want of wit, and I for want of money." 
 
 BEAR AND STAKE. 
 
 Mr. Wilkes going to Dolly's Chop-house in Pa- 
 ternoster-row, with a friend, accidentally seated 
 himself near a rich and purse-proud citizen, who 
 almost stunned him with roaring for his steak, as 
 he called it. Mr. Wilkes, in the mean time, 
 asking him some common question, received a very 
 brutal answer; the steak coming at that in- 
 stant, Mr. Wilkes turned to his friend, saying, 
 k ' See the difference between the City and the 
 Bear-garden; in the latter the bear is brought to 
 the stake, but here the steak is brought to the hear." 
 
 POT VALOllR. 
 
 Who in his cups will only fight, is ike 
 
 The clock that must be oil'd well, ere it strike. 
 
82 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ROMEO COATES. 
 
 This amateur of fashion having finished the cha- 
 racter of Romeo, was encored by some of the gal- 
 lery wags ; whereupon the gentleman got up, 
 made his bow, and obligingly repeated the dying 
 speech. A person in the pit remarked, that " Mr 
 Coates was a good Christian, for he was always 
 ready to die." 
 
 A FRIENDLY ADVOCATE. 
 
 The fat Stephen Kemble was one day met by a 
 friend, who told him he had just been with a per- 
 son who spoke very contemptuously of his acting. 
 " In short," added he, " he said you were not fit 
 to carry guts to a bear."—" Well," said Stephen, 
 " and did not you take my part ?" — " O, yes, I 
 said you were." 
 
 THE THIEF. 
 
 I tell, with equal truth and grief, 
 That little Kate's an arrant thief « 
 Before the urchin well could go, 
 She stole the whiteness of the snow : 
 And more, that whiteness to adorn, 
 She stole the blushes of the morn ; 
 Stole all the softness JEiher pours 
 On primrose buds, in vernal show'rs. 
 
 There's no repeating all her wiles, 
 She stole the graces' winning smiles ; 
 'Twas quickly seen she robb'd the sky, 
 To plant a star in either eye ; 
 She pilfer'd Orient pearl for teeth, 
 And stole the cow's ambrosial breath ; 
 The cherry steep'd in morning dew, 
 Gave moisture to her lips and hue. 
 
 These were her infant toils, a store 
 To which, in time, she added more; 
 At twelve she stole from Cyprus' queen 
 Her air, and love-commanding mien ; 
 Stole Juno's dignity, and stole 
 From Pallas, sense to charm the soul; 
 
 She sung, — nmazM the Syrens heard, 
 And to assert their voice, appear'd ; 
 She play'd — the muses, from their hill, 
 Wonder'd who thus had stole their skill; 
 Apollo's wit was next her prey, 
 And then the beams that light the day : 
 While Jove, her pilf'ring thefts to crown, 
 Pronourc'ci these beauties all her own; 
 Pardon'd her crimes, and prais'd her art, 
 And t'other day she stole — my heart. 
 
 Cupid ! if lovers are thy care, 
 Revenge the vot'ry on the fair; 
 Do justice on her stolen charms, 
 And let her prison be — my arms. 
 
 CONCEALED AND ASPIRING LOVE. 
 In some persons love may be said to rage like 
 Hecla. We all know how a poor tailor died for 
 loveof Queen Elizabeth ; another unhappy wight, 
 bewitched with the love of royalty, conceived, in 
 the year 1788, a violent passion for another Eliza- 
 beth, now princess of Romberg, and got into the 
 palace to pay his respects to her royal-highness. 
 His name was Spang, his father a Dane, himself 
 an Englishman and a hair-dresser ! But, such is the 
 fate of this sort of love, the friseur was unluckily 
 pronounced insane. And again, in the preceding 
 year, 1787, one Stone, a heavy-looking man, about 
 thirty-three years of age, unfortunately fell in love 
 with the princess-royal of England, afterwards 
 the dowager-queen of Wurtemberg. He said the 
 princess stole his heart from him by looking up at 
 him in the two-shilling gallery at the theatre; but j 
 Doctor Monro, who knew less about love than lu- J 
 nacy, decided the business, and poor" Stone was ! 
 sent to Bedlam. Thus we see that even royalty 
 is no bar to the indulgence of the tender passion ; 
 for " love has twenty pair of eyes." Who dare 
 venture to state, after this, that, on the other hand, 
 many young maidens have not died for love of j 
 some or all of liie royal dukes ? Some ladies, like ! 
 the gentle Viola, never tell their love, but let the 
 cankering worm hasten them to the grave. And 
 here, in the other sex, we are reminded of Mr. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 83 
 
 Hutton, of Birmingham, who wrote his life and 
 confessions : be was a male Viola, for he let con- 
 cealment, like a worm, &c. but he shall speak for 
 himself ; " Perhaps there is not a human being in 
 existence but sooner or later feels, in some degree, 
 the passion of love. I was struck with a girl, 
 watched her wherever I could, and peeped through 
 the chink of the windows at night. She.Jay near 
 my heart eleven years; but I never spoke to her 
 in my whole life, nor was she ever apprised of mj 
 passion." 
 
 THE UGLY FAMILY. 
 
 A gentleman who once sat next to Lord North 
 at the theatre, but with whose person he was un- 
 acquainted, enquired, after some preliminary 
 conversation, the name of the lady sitting on the 
 opposite side of the house, adding, that she was 
 the ugliest woman he ever beheld. " That," re- 
 plied his lordship, ".is my sister, sir!" Con- 
 founded at the error he had committed, the inter- 
 rogator, stammering, exclaimed, " 1 do not mean 
 that lady, but the one seated next to her." — 
 " Oh," replied Lord North, smiling, " That, sir, 
 is my wife, Lady North, and we are esteemed the 
 ugliest couple in England." 
 
 THE PICTURE OF SLANDER. 
 
 What mortal but slander, that serpent, hath stung, 
 
 Whose teeth are sharp arrows, a razor her tongue ? 
 
 The poison of asps her vivid lip loads, 
 
 The rattle of snakes with the spittle of toads ; 
 
 Her throat is an open sepulchre, her legs 
 
 Sit hatching of vipers, and cockatrice eggs; 
 
 Her sting is a scorpion's; like hyena, she'll cry ; 
 
 With the ear of an adder, a basilisk's eye ; 
 
 The mouth of a monkey, the hug of a bear, 
 
 The head of a parrot, the chat of a hare ; 
 
 The wing of a magpie, the snout of a hog, 
 
 The feet of a mole, and the tail of a dog ; 
 
 Her claw is a tyger's, her forehead is brass, 
 
 With the hiss of a goose, and the bray of an ass. 
 
 MISSIONARY PURITY. 
 A beautiful naked young female savage coming 
 on board a missionary ship, the missionaries had 
 unavoidably an excellent opportunity of survey- 
 ing her person ; " a temptation," says the writer 
 of a missionary journal, " which no one, without 
 great restraints from God's grace, could have re- 
 sisted." 
 
 EFFECTS OF ROUGE. 
 
 Walpole says, " the beautiful Lady Coventry 
 
 killed herself with painting, she bedaubed herself 
 
 with white so as to stop the perspiration. Lady 
 
 Wortley Montagu was more prudent, she often 
 
 went into the hot-bath, to scrape off the paint, 
 
 which was almost as thick as plaster on a wall." 
 
 TASTE FOR DRINKING. 
 
 " The Russ loves brandy, Dutchmen beer, 
 
 The Indian, rum most mighty, 
 The Welchman sweet Metheglin quaffs, 
 
 The Irish, aquavita? ; 
 The French extol the Orleans grape, 
 The Spaniards tipple Sherry; — 
 The English none of these escape, 
 For they with all make merry." 
 
 WIVES ON TRIAL. 
 The island of Sky has been ravaged by a feud 
 between the two mighty powers of Macdonald 
 and Macleod. Macdonald having married a 
 Macleod, upon some discontent dismissed her, 
 perhaps because she brought him no children. 
 Before the reign of James the Fifth, a highland 
 laird made a trial of his wife for a certain time, 
 and, if she did not please him, he was then at li- 
 berty to send her away. This, however, must 
 always have offended, and Macleod, resenting tho 
 Mnjuvy, whatever were its circumstances, declared 
 that the wedding had been solemnized without a 
 bonfire, but that the separation should b» better 
 illuminated ; and, raising a little arujy, set fire to 
 the territories of Macdonald, who Ffeturned the 
 visit and prevailed. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A NOTABLE SCOLD AND 
 A SHREW. 
 
 We lived one and twenty year, 
 
 As man and wife together; 
 I could no longer keep her here, 
 
 She's gone — I know not whither. 
 Could I but guess, I do protest, 
 
 I speak it not to flatter ; 
 Of all the women in the world 
 
 I never would come at her. 
 Her body is bestowed well, 
 
 A handsome grave doth hide her ; 
 And sure her soul is not in hell,— 
 
 The devil would ne'er abide her. 
 I rather think she soar'd aloft, . 
 
 For in the last great thunder, 
 Methought I heard her very voice, 
 
 Rending the clouds in sunder. 
 
 VIRGINS AND WIDOWS. 
 Varro asserts, that virgins marry with grief- 
 widows with pleasure. 
 
 AMOROUS BRIBERY. 
 
 In the year 1792, a lady of fortune, in Denmark- 
 street, Dublin, having conceived a strong affec- 
 tion for a gentleman at the Irish bar, and not 
 meeting with a reciprocal return, became unhap 
 pily deranged in her intellects, from the excess of 
 her love and disappointment. Some curious cir- 
 cumstances relative to this affair transpired a p ter 
 wards. The lady, unable to make any impres- 
 sion by the ordinary efforts of female practice, 
 sent a confidential inard -servant, with bank-note 
 after bank-note, to the gentleman, till 1,1 00 J. had 
 been expended in this species of love-letters. 
 The gentleman possessed too nice a sense of 
 honour to be concerned in so base a communica- 
 tion. The fact was, that the fille de chambre de- 
 ceived her mistress, and had gone so far as to de- 
 liver forged letters, thanking her for her favours, 
 
 and expressing an ardent wish to make a return, 
 &c. The servant decamped, and was traced to 
 have taken shipping at Dover for Holland ; there, 
 it is supposed, to enjoy her ill-acquired property. 
 The unfortunate young lady since that period was 
 confined in Swift's Lunatic Hospital ; and, in the 
 paroxysms of her grief, gave proofs of that wild 
 and disordered affection, which must strongly 
 bring to mind the merits, the sufferings, and the 
 virtue of Shakespeare's Ophelia. Afterwards the 
 lady happily recovered 
 
 COURT OF CHANCERY. 
 In sore affliction, tried by God's commands, 
 Of patience, Job the great example stands ; 
 But in those days, a trial more severe 
 Had been Job's lot, if God had sent him here. 
 
 CIVIL-LIST. 
 
 A nobleman who sported a ferocious pair of false 
 whiskers, meeting Mr. Curran in Dublin, the latter 
 said, " When do you mean toplaceyour whiskeis 
 on the peace-establishment?" — " When you place 
 your tongue on the civil list" was the reply. 
 
 GOOD-FRIDAY. 
 
 A barrister being concerned in a cause which 
 he wanted to postpone for a few days, asked Lord 
 Mansfield when he would bring it on ? " On 1< ri- 
 day next," said his lordship. " Will you please to 
 consider, my lord, next Friday is Good- Friday ?" 
 — " I don't care for that ; the better day the better 
 deed"." — " Well, my lord, you will of course do as 
 you please ; but if you do sit on that day, 1 be- 
 lieve you'll be the first judge who did business on 
 a Good-Friday since Pontius Pilate's time." 
 
 CERTAIN BENEFIT. 
 
 The Ducness of Marlborough once pressing the 
 duke to take medicine, with her usual warmth, 
 said, " ril be hanged if it does not prove service- 
 able." Dr. Garth, who was present, exclaimed, 
 " Do take it then, my lord duke, for it must be 
 of use one way or the other." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 &5 
 
 NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 
 A fire happening at a public-house, one of the 
 crowd was requesting the engineer to play against 
 the wainscot; but being told it was in no danger, 
 *' I am sorry for that," said he, " because I have 
 a long score upon it, which I shall never be able 
 to pay." 
 
 eve's curiosity. 
 When Eve would try, but to her cost, 
 
 Th' experiment of evil, 
 That she with gods might wisdom boast, 
 And cunning with the devil — 
 
 Too soon the knowledge she obtain'd ; 
 
 Too late she curst the prize: 
 Oh ! had she but a fool remain'd, 
 
 We should have all been wise. 
 
 the irishman's death. 
 
 A poor Irishman, who was on his death-bed, 
 and who did not seem quite reconciled to the long 
 journey he was j;oing to take, was kindly consol- 
 ed by a good-natured friend with the common 
 place reflection, that we must all die once. 
 " Why, my dear, now," answered the sick man, 
 " that is the very thing that vexes me; if I could 
 die half-a-dozen times I should not mind it." 
 
 A SIMPLE RETORT. 
 
 A lawyer of short stature appearingas evidence 
 in one of the courts, was asked by a gigantic 
 counsellor, what profession he was of ? and having 
 replied that he was an attorney ; " You a law- 
 yer," said the counsellor, " why I can put you in 
 my pocket." — " Very likely you may," "was the 
 reply," but if you do, you will have more law in 
 your pocket than in your /j«ad." 
 
 WINDOW TAX* 
 
 " I wish," said Rigby to Charles Fox, " that 
 you would stand out of my light, or that you had 
 a window in that great belly of your's." — " What," 
 said Charles, " that you might lay an additional 
 tax upon it, I suppose." 
 
 ERRATUM CORRECTED. 
 
 The celebrated Scarron wrote a copy of verses, 
 to which he prefixed a dedication in these words, 
 "A Guillemette, chienne de ma sasur." — "To 
 Guillemette, my sister's bitch." Some time after, 
 having quarrelled with his sister, he collected his 
 poems for re-publication, and inserted among the 
 errata," For chienne de ma scrur — read ma chienne 
 desoeur — For my sister's bitch, read my b — ch of 
 asister." 
 
 ON THE INTENDED DEMOLITION OF FRIAR 
 
 BACON'S STUDY, IN OXFORD. 
 Roger, if with thy magic glasses, 
 Running, thou seest below what passes. 
 As when on earth thou didst decry 
 With them the wonders of the sky — 
 Look down on yon devoted walls! 
 Oh ! save them e'er thy study fails! 
 Or to thy vot'ries quick impart 
 The secret of thy mystic art! 
 Teach us, ere learning's quite forsaken, 
 To honour thee, and — save our Bacon. 
 
 EQUAL PRIVILEGES. 
 
 A naval officer relating his feats to a marshal, 
 said, " that in a sea-fight he had killed 300 men 
 with his own hand." — "And I," said the marshal, 
 " descended through a chimney in Switzerland to 
 visit a pretty girl." — " How could that be ?" said 
 the captain, " since there are no chimnies in that 
 country ?" — ■* What, sir," said the marshal, " I 
 have aHowed you to kill 300 men in a fight, and 
 surely you may permit me to descend a chimney 
 iq Switzerland." 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY. 
 
 44 To be disposed of, for the benefit of the poor 
 widow, a blind man's walk in a charitable neigh- 
 bourhood, the comings-in between "twenty-five 
 and twenty-six shillings a wee"k, with a dog well 
 drilled, and a staft" in good repair. A handsome 
 premium will be expected. For further particu- 
 lars, inquire at No. 40, Chiswell-street." 
 
86 
 
 THE LAUGHLNC PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 NO RULE WITHOUT AN EXCEPTION. TABLE WIT. 
 
 When Marshal Tallard was riding with the A nobleman once in a large company, and ex- 
 Duke of Marlborough in his carriage, after the patiating about himself, made the following re- 
 victory of Blenheim,'' My lord duke," said the j mark : — " When I happen, to say a foolish thing, 
 marshal, " you have beaten to-day the best troops I always burst out laughing" — " I envy you 
 
 in the world." — " I hope," replied the duke 
 '* you except those who have had the honour of 
 beating them." 
 
 TO A GREAT BEAUTY. 
 
 In wedlock a species of lottery lies, 
 
 Where in blanks and in prizes we deal ; 
 But how comes it that you, such a capital prize, 
 
 Should so long have remain'd in the wheel ? 
 If ever, by Fortune's benignant decree, 
 
 To me such a ticket shoujd roll, 
 A sixteenth, good Heavens ! is sufficient for me, 
 
 For what could I do with the whole? 
 
 TOLITENESS OF A MAYOR. 
 
 At the time when Queen Elisabeth was making 
 one of her progresses through the kingdom, a 
 mayor of Coventry, attended by a large cavalcade, 
 went out to meet her majesty, and usher her into 
 the city with due formality. On their return they 
 passed through a wide brook, when Mr. Mayor's 
 horse several times attempted to drink, and each 
 time his worship checked him ; which the queen 
 observing, called out to him, " Mr. Mayer, let 
 3 T our horse drink, Mr. Mayor," but the magistrate, 
 bowing very low, modestly answered, " Nay, nay, 
 may it please your majesty's horse to drink first." 
 
 CAUTIOUS HUMANITY.* 
 A tanner one day invited a supervisor to dine 
 with him, and after pushing the bottle about 
 briskly, the supervisor took his leave; but in pass- 
 ing across the tan-yard, he fell into a vat, and 
 called out for the tanner's assistance to get out, 
 but to no purpose ; '* For," said the tanner, " if 
 I draw any hides without giving the twelve hours' 
 notice, I shall be exchequered and ruined, but 
 I'll go and inform the exciseman.'* 
 
 your happiness, my lord, then," said one of tht 
 party, " for you must certainly live the merriest 
 life of any man in Europe." 
 
 A COUNTRY QUARTER SESSIONS. 
 
 Three or four parsons full of October ; 
 Three or four squiresbetween drunk and sober; 
 Three or four lawyers ; three or four liars; 
 Three or four constables; three or four criers ; 
 Three or four parishes bringing appeals ; 
 Three or four writings and three or four seals ; 
 Three or four bastards and three or four wh — res ; 
 Tag, rag, and bobtail three or four scores ; 
 Three or four statutes misunderstood ; 
 Three or four paupers all praying for food ; 
 Three or four roads that never were mended ; 
 Three or four scolds, and the sessions are ended. 
 
 FOX-HUNTING OR HARE-HUNTING. 
 Mr. Hare, formerly envoy to Poland, had 
 apartments in the same house with Mr. Fox, and, 
 like his friend Charles, had frequent dealings with 
 the monied Israelites. One morning as he was 
 looking out of the window, he observed several 
 of the tribe assembled at the door for admittance. 
 " Pray, gentlemen." said he, " are you Fox- 
 hunting, or Hare-hunting this morning ?" 
 
 DR. REID. 
 
 Dr. Reid,well known by his medical reports 
 in the Monthly Magazine, was requested by a 
 lady of eminence to call at her house. " Be sure 
 you reoollect the address," said she, as she 
 quitted the room, " No. 1, Chesterfield-street." — 
 " Madam," said the doctor, " I am too great an 
 admirer of politeness not to remember Chesterfield, 
 and I fear toe selfish ever to forget number one." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 87 
 
 AN ARCH REPLY, 
 
 A little boy having been much praised for his 
 quickness of reply, a gentleman present observed, 
 that when children were keen in their youth, they 
 were generally stupid and dull when they advanc- 
 ed in year?, and vice versa. " What a very sensible 
 boy, sir, must you have been !" returned the child. 
 
 THE TIPPLING BLACKSMITH. 
 
 Tom Sledge, the blacksmith, by his frequent whets 
 And spending much, contracted many debts ; 
 In this distress he, like some other fools, 
 Pull'd down his forge and sold off all his tools; 
 Nothing was left that would fetch any price, 
 But after all was sold, he kept his vice. 
 
 TOAD-EATING. 
 
 A viceroy of Ireland asked one of his guests at 
 a public dinner, why there were no toads in Ire- 
 land ; to which he replied," Because, please your 
 excellency, there are so many toad-eaters.'" 
 
 FOUL BREATH. 
 
 A gentleman having a remarkably bad breath, 
 was met by a nobleman, who asked him where he 
 had been. " I have been taking the air this morn- 
 ing," said he, '.' which was rather disagreeable 
 too, as I had a d — d north-wind full in my face all 
 the time." — " Come, come," replied his lordship, 
 "don't you complain; by G-— d, the north-Kind 
 had the worst of it." 
 
 IMPUDENCE. 
 
 Mr. Garrow examining a very young lady, who 
 was a witness in a case of assault, asked her, if 
 the person who was assaulted did not give the de- 
 fendant very ill. language, and utter other words 
 so bad that he, the learned counsel, had not im- 
 pudence enough to repeat them ; she replied in the 
 affirmative. " Will you, madam, be kind enough, 
 then," said he, " to tell the court what these words 
 were ?" — " Why* sir," replied she, "if you have 
 not impudence enough to speak them, how can you 
 suppose that I have." 
 
 A WAGER. 
 
 The bucks had din'd, and deep in council sat; 
 Their wine was brilliant, but their wit grew flat. 
 Up starts his lordship, to the window flies ; 
 And lo ! "a race ! a race !" in rapture cries. 
 " Where ?" quoth Sir John. " Why see two drops 
 
 of rain 
 Start from the summit of the crystal pane. 
 A thousand pounds, which drop with nimblest 
 
 force 
 Performs its current down the slipp'ry course !" 
 The bets were fix'd ; in dire suspense they wait 
 For vict'ry pendant on the nod of Fate. 
 Now down the sash, unconscious of the prize, 
 The bubbles roll, like pearls from Chloe's eyes. 
 
 But, ah ! the glitt'ring joys of life are short! 
 How oft two jostling steeds have spoil'd the sport ! 
 Lo ! thus attraction, by coercive laws, 
 Th' approaching drops into one bubble draws. 
 
 Each curs'd his fate, that thus their project 
 cross'd; 
 How hard their lot who neither won nor lest! 
 ROYAL PUDIC1TY. 
 
 Louis the Eighth, in the midst of his conquests, 
 was seized with a disorder, for which his physi- 
 cians could prescribe no othei remedy than that 
 of breaking the seventh commandment, his queen 
 being then of necessity at Paris, to govern during 
 his absence. He opposed this wicked project; 
 yet, while he was asleep, his courtiers introduced 
 into his chamber a lady of exquisite beauty, w ho, 
 on his awaking, confessed what she was sent for. 
 " No, my child," said the king, " I had rather 
 die than commit a deadly sin ;" and then ordering 
 the girl to be married off, and making his will, die 
 he did. 
 
 DANGER OF UPRIGHTNESS. 
 
 A judge going the western circuit, had a great 
 stone thrown at his head ; but, from the circum- 
 stance of his stooping very much, it passed over 
 him. " You see," said he to his friends, " that 
 had I been an upright judge, I might have been 
 killed." 
 
$8 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 KING EDWARD IV. AND THE TANNER OF 
 T AM WORTH. 
 
 In summer lime, when leaves grow greene, 
 
 And blossoms bedeck the tree, 
 King Edward wolde a hunting ryde 5 
 
 Some pastime for to see. 
 
 With hawke and hounde he made him bowne; 
 
 "With home, and eke with bowe; 
 To Drayton Basset he took his waye, 
 
 "With all his lordes a rowe. 
 
 And he had ridden o'er dale and dowue 
 
 By eight of clock in the day, 
 When he was ware of a bold tanner, 
 
 Came riding along (he waye. 
 
 A fayre russet coat the tanner had ou 
 
 Fast button'd under his chin, 
 And under him a good cow-hide, 
 
 And a mare of four shilling. 
 
 Nowe stand you still, my good lordes all, 
 
 Under the greene wood spraye ? 
 And I will wende to yonder fellowe, 
 
 To weet what he will saye. 
 
 "God speede, God speede thee," said our king, 
 " Thou art welcome, syr," sayd hee, 
 
 " The readyest waye to Drayton Basset 
 I praye thee to shewe to mee." 
 
 ** To Drayton Basset wonld'st thou goe. 
 Fro" the place where thou dost stand ? 
 
 The next payer of gallowes thou comest unto, 
 Tume in upon thy right hand." 
 
 "That is an unreadye way," sayd our king, 
 
 *' Thou doest but jest I see: 
 Now shewe me out the nearest waye, 
 
 And I pray thee wend with mee." 
 
 " Away with a vengeance!" quoth the tannen 
 
 " I hold? thee out of thy witt; 
 All day have I rydden on Brocke my mare, 
 
 And I am fasting yett." 
 
 " Go with me down to Drayton Basset, 
 
 No dainties we will spare; 
 All daye slialt thou eate and drinke of the best, 
 
 And I will paye thy fare." 
 " Gramercye for nothing," the tanner replyde, 
 
 " Thou payest no fare of mine : 
 I trowe I've more nobles in my purse, 
 
 Than thou hast pence in thine." 
 " God give thee joy of them," sayd the king, 
 
 " And send them well to priefe." 
 The tanner wolde faine have been away, 
 
 For he weende he had been a thiefe. 
 " What art thou," he sayde, " thou fine fellowe, 
 
 Of thee I am in great feare, 
 For the cloathcs thou wearest upon thy backe 
 
 Might beseeme a lord to weare." 
 
 " I never stole them," quoth cur king, 
 
 " I tell you, sir, by the roode." 
 " Then thou playest as many an unthrift doth 
 
 And standestin midds of thy goode." 
 " What tidinges heare you," sayd the kynge, 
 
 " As you ryde far and neare ?" 
 " I hear no tidings,-sir, by the masse, 
 
 But that cow-hides are deare." 
 
 " Cowe hides ! cowe-hides ! what things are 
 those ? 
 
 I marvell what they be ?" 
 " What art thou a foole ?" the tanner rep'y'd j 
 
 " I carry one under me." 
 " What craftsman art thou," sayd the king, 
 
 "I pray thee tell me trowe." 
 H I am a barker, sir by trade ; 
 
 Now tell me what art thou ?" 
 
 " I am a poore courtier, sir," quoth he, 
 
 " That am forth of service worne ; 
 And faine I would thy prentise bee, 
 
 Thy cunninge for to learne." 
 " Marrye, heaven forfend !" the tanner replyde, 
 
 " That thou my prentise were: 
 Thou woldst spend more good than I shold winn, 
 
 By fortye shilling a yere.' 5 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 89 
 
 *' Yet one thing wold J,'' sayd our king, 
 '* If thou wilt not secme Strange,; 
 
 Tlioughe my horse be better than thy mare, 
 Yet with thee 1 faine av old phaege.'.' 
 
 •* Why if with me thou faine w ilt change, 
 
 As change full well maye wee, 
 By the faith of my bodye, thou proud fellowe, 
 
 1 will have some boot of thee." 
 
 " That were against reason," sayd the king, 
 
 " I sweare, so mote I thee ; 
 My horse is better than thy mare, 
 
 And that thou well mayst see." 
 
 " Yea, sir, but Brocke is gentle and mild, 
 
 And softly she will fare; 
 Thy horse is unrulye and wild I wiss; 
 
 Aye skipping here and theare." 
 
 " What boote wilt thou have?" our king reply') 
 
 " Now tell me in this stound." 
 " Noe pence, nor halfpence, by my faye, 
 
 But a noble in gold so round.'' 
 
 " Here's twenty greats of white moneye, 
 
 Sith thou wilt have it of mee." 
 " I would have sworne now," quoth the tanner, 
 
 " Thou hadst not had one pennie. 
 
 " But since we two have made a change, 
 
 A change we must abide, 
 Although thou hast gotten Brocke my mare, 
 
 Thou gettest not my cowe-hide." 
 
 " I will not have it," sayd the king, 
 
 " I sweare, so mote I thee ; 
 Thy foi'le cow-hide I would not beare, 
 
 If thou woldst give it to mee." 
 The tanner he tooke his good cowe-hide, 
 
 That of the cow was hilt ; 
 And threwe it upon the king's saddelle, 
 
 That was soe fay rely e gilte. 
 
 " Now helpe me up, thou fine fellowe, 
 
 'Tis time that I were gone ; 
 When I come home to Gyllain, my wife, 
 
 She'll say I am a gentilmon." 
 
 The kinge he took him by the legge ; 
 
 The tanner a f let fall. 
 
 " Nowe marrye, goad fellowe," sayd die ki;ig, 
 
 (i Thy courtesye is but small." 
 
 VN hen the tanner he was in the kinge's saddelle, 
 
 And Lis f >ote in the stirrup was- ; 
 He marvelled greatly in his minde, 
 
 Whether it were golde or brass. 
 But when his steede saw the cow's-taile wagge, 
 
 And eke the blacke covve-horne ; 
 He stamped, and stared, and away he ranae, 
 
 As the devil had him borne. 
 The tanner he pull'd, the tanner he sweat, 
 
 And held by the pummel fast ; 
 At length the tanner came tumbling downe ; 
 
 His neck he had well-oye brast. 
 
 " Take thy horse again with avengear.ee," he sayd, 
 
 " With me he shall not byde." 
 " My horse wold have borne thee well enoughe, 
 
 But he knewe not of thy cowe-hitlv. 
 
 Yet if againe thou faine woldst change, 
 
 As change full well maye wee, 
 By the faith of my bodye, thou jolly tanner, 
 
 I will have some boote of thee." 
 
 " What boote wilt thou," the tanner replyd, 
 
 " Now tell me in this stounde ?" 
 " Noe pence nor half-pence, sir, by my faye, 
 
 But 1 will have twentye pound." 
 
 ' ; Here's twenty groates out of my purse; 
 
 And twentye I have of thine; 
 And I have one more, which we will spend 
 
 Together at the wine." 
 
 The kinge set a bugle horn to his mouthe, 
 And blewe bothe loude and shrille ; 
 
 And soone came lords, and soone came knights, 
 Fast riding over the hille. 
 
 " Nowe, out alas !" the tanner he cryde, 
 
 " That ever I sawe this daye ! 
 Thou art a strong thiefe, yon comes thy fellowea 
 
 Will beare my cowe-hide away," 
 
90 
 
 THE LAUGHING P 
 
 " They are no thieves," the king replyde, 
 
 " I sweare, so mote I thee ; 
 But they are the lords of the north countrey, 
 
 Here come to hunt with raee." 
 
 And soone before our king they came, 
 
 And knelt downe on the grounde ; 
 Then might the tanner have beene awaye, 
 
 He had lever than twenty pounde. 
 
 " A coller, a coller, here," sayd the king, 
 
 A collar he loud did crye ; 
 Then woulde he lever than twentye pounde 
 
 He had not been so nighe. 
 " A coller, a coller," the tanner he savd, 
 
 " I trowe it will breede sorrowe ; 
 After a coller, comes a halter, 
 
 And I shall be hanged to morrowe." 
 
 " Away with thy feare, thou jolly tanner, 
 For the sport thou hast shewn to me, 
 
 I wote no halter thou shalt weare, 
 But thou si>alt have a knight's fee. 
 
 " For Plumpton parke I will give thee, 
 
 With tenements faire beside : 
 'Tis worth three hundred markes by the yeare, 
 
 To maintain thy good cow-hide." 
 
 " Gramercye, Tny liege," the tanner replyde, 
 " For the favour thou hast me showne ; 
 
 If ever thou comest to merry Tamworth, 
 Neates leather shall clout thy shoen." 
 
 A FAIR OFFER. 
 
 A gentleman who employs a great number of 
 hands in a manufactory in the west of England, 
 in order to encourage his work-people in a due 
 attendance at church on a late fast-day, told them 
 that if they went to church, they would receive 
 their wages for that day in the same manner as if 
 they had been at work ; upon which a deputation 
 wasapppointed toacquaint their employer, " that, 
 if he would pay them for over-hours, they would 
 attend likewise at the Methodist chapel in the 
 evening.'* 
 
 J PHIL 
 
 LOSOPHER. 
 
 SWIFT AND THE LAWYER 
 
 An attorney, in Dean Swift's company, once 
 asked him, " Supposing, doctor, that the parsons 
 and the devil should litigate a cause, which party 
 do you think would gain it." — " The devil, no 
 doubt," replied the dean ; "as he would have all 
 the lawyers on his side." 
 
 COUNTING CUCKOLDS. 
 
 " How many cuckolds do you think there are 
 in this street," says an artisan to his neighbour, 
 " without counting you?" — " Without counting 
 me!" says his friend: " I like your familiarity." 
 " Well," replied the artisan, " how many do you 
 reckon including yourselfr" 
 
 ROOT AND BRANCH. 
 
 Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, was accustom- 
 ed to make an annual feast, to which she invited 
 all her relations. At one of these family-meetings 
 she drank their health, adding, " What a glorious 
 sight it is to see such a number of branches flou- 
 rishing from one root !" but observing one of her 
 guests laugh, she insisted on knowing what occa- 
 sioned his mirth, and promised to forgive him, 
 be it what it- would. '-* Why, then, madam," 
 said he, " I was thinking how much more all the 
 branches would flourish, if the root were 
 under ground." 
 
 FISHING FOR A DINNER. 
 
 As Mr. Cunningham, the pastoral poet, was 
 fishing on a Sunday near Durham, a reverend as 
 well as corpulent clergyman chanced to pass that 
 way, and knowing Mr. Cunningham, reproached 
 him for breaking the sabbath, and told him that he 
 was doubly reprehensible, as his good sense should 
 have taught him better. The poet turned round 
 and replied, " Your external appearance, reve- 
 rend sir, says, that if your dinner was at the bot- 
 tom of the river with mine, you would angle for it, 
 though it were a fast-day, and your Saviour stood 
 by to rebuke you." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE OTHER FIG. 
 
 T remember that some years ago, when I knew 
 too little of the world, and thought too much and 
 too sensitively of its slightest and least opinion of 
 me, I supped w ith an author of much eminence as 
 a wit and a poet, in the company also of men of 
 wit and poetry ; and much mad mirth, and wit, 
 and high exciting talk we had, too mad and too 
 high for me, who could only laugh or wonder in 
 silence at so many brilliant imaginations, and 
 watch for the striking out of those brisk fiery 
 sparks of their wit, 
 
 So nimble and so full of subtle flame, 
 As if that every one from whom they came 
 Had meant to put bis whole wit in a jest, 
 And had resolv'd to live a fool the rest 
 Of his dull life. 
 
 " I was all ear to hear," and took in "jests 
 which would create a laugh under the ribs of 
 death ;" and thoughts, and high imaginations, 
 which might " lift a man to the third heaven of 
 invention," and thither I was for once lifted. But 
 there are souls of that weak wing, that so much 
 the higher that they soar above the proper level of 
 their flight, so much the lower shall they fall be- 
 low the level of their proper resting-ground ; and 
 as, under the excitement of wine, some men will 
 betray all their hidden foibles, and the flaws and 
 weak parts in their characters, so under the ex- 
 citement of too much wit, I betrayed one frailty 
 in mine. It was after supper thata basket of most 
 mouth-melting figs was put on the friendly board, 
 out of which, among other fingers, T was then 
 modest and moderate enough to deduct only one 
 of its jammed and compressed lumps of lnscious- 
 ness; but, in a short time after this, music and 
 Mozart, which are synonymous, were proposed, 
 and all the company left the supper-room for the 
 music-parlour, with the exceptiom, for two loi- 
 tering moments, of the hospitable host and myself: 
 it was in that short time that I fell from the hea- 
 ven of my high exaltation, and proved myself of 
 
 91 
 
 the " earth earthly." The basket of figs $,till 
 stood before me; they were sweet as the lips of 
 Beauty, and tempting as the apples of Eden ; and 
 1 was born of Eve, and inherited her " prigging 
 tooth." It is no matter where temptation comes 
 from, whether from Turkey or Paradise ; if the 
 man Adaui to be tempted is ripe for ruin, any 
 wind may shake him off the tree of steadfastness. 
 Everyman has his moment of weakness: 1 had 
 two, and in these I fell. 
 
 " I really must take the other Jig,'" said I, 
 taking it before the words were out. I had no 
 sooner possession of it, than I blushed with the 
 consciousness that I had committed a sin against 
 self-restraint; and this confusion was increased by 
 observing that the eyes of mine host had followed 
 the act, as if they would inquire into it, and ascer- 
 tain the true meaning of it, and perhaps set it 
 down over against the credit side of m}' character. 
 [ was too much afraid that I had the weakness of 
 covctousness in my composition, and that I had 
 betrayed it to a man who, though lenient and 
 charitable, and inclined to think well of the 
 slightly faulty, would nevertheless weigh it in the 
 balance of estimation, and value and think of it 
 and me accordingly. I deserved to blush for 
 it, and I did to the bottom of the stairs, as I de- 
 scended with him, chewing the sweet fruit of mine 
 otfence, and the bitter consequence of it — an un- 
 easy thought of shame. But out of the greatest 
 evil we may deduce good ; and from the know- 
 ledge of our weakness we may derive strength. 
 One thing only comforted me in my acute disgrace* 
 I had the courage to resist making an equivocatory 
 apology for the act, which 1 was for a moment 
 tempted to make ;_for the Devil, who has his good 
 things at his tongue's end, as well as much better 
 beings, suggested, in a whisper, and with a nudge 
 at my elbow, that I took it merely to have occa- 
 sion for rewarding one of the wits with " a fig 
 for his joke," mentioning him by name as patly 
 as if he had it in his books, though I doubted his 
 having it there at all ; and if he had, I'll be his 
 surety that all the rest of the page where it was 
 
92 
 
 THE LA.UGH1NG PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 written was blank, from offences. I thanked him 
 for the suggestion. "But, no," I whispered to 
 him, " there is more comeliness iu a naked fault 
 than in the best attired lie in the world ; so I'll 
 even let it stand naked as its mother Eve, who was 
 the first weak creature that took the other Jig." 
 And here the Devil chuckled; for he recollected 
 the good fortune that fell into the first trap he 
 baited with sin, and was not disappointed that he 
 had sec one in vain for me. 
 
 I have never forgotten this little incident of my 
 incidental life; it has served to check me, when 
 I have coveted, that which I did not want. And 
 now, when I learn that some one, always famous 
 for his covetousness, has at last been detected in 
 some flagrant dereliction from honesty, I do not 
 wonder at it; for I attribute it to a lung unre- 
 strained habit of taking the other fig. 
 
 When I am told that a great gourmand of my 
 acquaintance has a<e.il over his dessert table, lam 
 not surprised, for I have myself noticed that he 
 always would eat the other Jig. 
 
 When I hear that a man, once celebrated for 
 the expensivene&s of his living, and luxuriousness 
 of his table, now wants a common plain dinner, I 
 say, " It is a pity, but he always would have the 
 other Jig on the table." 
 
 Wheu I see a sensible man daily and nightly 
 staggering through the streets in drunken forge t- 
 fulness of himself and of the divine property of 
 his being, and degrading the god like uprightness 
 of man to the grovelling attitude of the brute, I 
 sigh and say, "This fellow, too, cannot refrain 
 from the other Jig." 
 
 When I look oh the miserable miser, who, pos- 
 sessed of gold and land, yet lives without money 
 or house, using not the one as it should alone be 
 Used, and enjoying not the other as it should be 
 enjoyed, in all comfort and convenience; and 
 when I see that, though having more than he will 
 use ; he covets more, that he may still have more 
 than he can use, I ecorn him as a robber of the 
 poor, not to make himself richer than they, but 
 
 poorer, and more thankless and comfortless, and 
 say, " This poor rich wretch must grasp at the 
 other Jig." ' 
 
 When I hear of some wealthy veteran trader 
 witii the four quarters of th^ wide world, ventur- 
 ing forth again from his ark of safety, and home 
 of his eld age, on his promised last voyage, and 
 never returning to it, but perishing through the 
 peril of the way, 1 cannot but pity the man who 
 could not lay up in the safer harbour of home, 
 because he still craved after the other fig. 
 
 W 7 hen I behold some swaggering, heavy-pursed 
 gamester enter one of those temples, where For- 
 tune snatches the golden offerings from the altars 
 of her blind fools, to fling them at the feet of her 
 knaves that see, and look at him issuing from 
 thence without a " beggarly denier" to bless him 
 with a dinner, 1 cannot help pitying him, that he 
 should risk the fortune he had, for the other jig, 
 which jie has not. 
 
 When I see some mighty conqueror of men, 
 having many thrones under his dominion, and 
 many sceptres in his hand, struggling for other 
 thrones and sceptres, and one after one losing 
 those he held and commanded, in his rapacious 
 eagerness to snatch at and mount to those he would 
 have, I cannot pity him if he loses so many figs to 
 possess the other Jig. 
 
 When I behold a rich merchant made poor by 
 the extravagance and boldness of his tiade specu- 
 lations, when, if he could have been content with 
 the wealih he had, he might have lived sumptu- 
 ously, and died rich, I cannot help thinking it a 
 pity that he could not be content without the other 
 fig. 
 
 When 1 hear that a rich man has done a paltry 
 action for the sake of some petty penny-getting 
 gain, I scorn him v that he should so much covet the 
 other Jig. 
 
 When I see a man already high in rank, and 
 more ennobled by descent than desert, cringing 
 and stooping to a little dispenser's heels for some 
 new honour, which is but a new disgrace where 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 93 
 
 it is undeserved, it is difficult not to despise Iiim 
 though cve:i so honoured, who will so degrade 
 himself for the sake of the other fig. 
 
 When I behold an old man panting and chas- 
 ing after that pretty, fluttering, light-winged but- 
 terfly, beauty, and perhaps panting and toiling 
 after her in vain, or, if he comes up with her, gets 
 nothing of her but her scorn, I cannot but laugh 
 to see the eld i»an make himself so ridiculous for 
 the s;ike of the other jig. 
 
 And, to conclude, when I see the detected 
 thief dragged in fetters to the dungeons of du- 
 rance, 1 think to myself, " Ay, this is one of the 
 probable consequences of a wilful indulgence in 
 the other fig. 
 
 THE DEVIL OUTWITTED. A TALE. 
 
 A Vicar liv'd on this side Trent, 
 
 Religious, learn'd, benevolent. 
 
 Pure was his life, in deed, word, thought, 
 
 A comment on the truths he taught: 
 
 His parish large, his income small, 
 
 Yet seldom wanted wherewithal ; 
 
 For against every merry tide 
 
 Madam would carefully provide. 
 
 A painful pastor; but his sheep, 
 
 Alas! within no bounds would keep ; 
 
 A scabby flock, that every day 
 
 Ran riot, and would go astray. 
 
 He thump'd his cushion, fretted, vext, 
 
 Thumb'd o'er again each useful text ; 
 
 Rebuk'd, exhorted, ail in vain, 
 
 His parish was the more profane : 
 
 The scrubs would have their wicked will, 
 
 And cunning Satan triumph'd still. 
 
 At last, when each expedient fail'd, 
 
 And serious measures nought avail'd, 
 
 It came into his head to try 
 
 The force of wit and raillery. 
 
 The good man was by nature gay, 
 
 Could gibe and joke, as well as pray ; 
 
 Not like some hide-bound folk, who chace ) 
 
 Each merry smile from their dull face, C 
 
 And think pride zeal, ill-nature grace. y 
 
 At christenings and each jovial feast, 
 He singled out the sinful beast: 
 Let ail his pointed arrows fly, ^ 
 
 Told this and that, look'd very sly, > 
 And left my masters to apply. ) 
 
 His tales were humorous, often true, 
 And now and then set off to view 
 With lucky fictions and sheer wit, 
 That pierc'd, where truth could never hi{ ; 
 The laugh was always on his side, 
 While passive fools by turns deride; 
 And, giggling thus at one another, 
 Each jeering lout reform'd his brother ; 
 Till the whole parish was with ease 
 Sham'd into virtue by degrees: 
 Then be advis'd, and try a tale, 
 When Chrysostom and Ausiin fail. 
 
 ELWES THE MISER. 
 
 One very dark night, Mr. Elwes, hurryitrgalong 
 the street, ran with such violence against the pole 
 of a sedan-chair, thnt he cut both his legs very 
 deeply. Colonel Tiaims, at whose house he was, 
 insisted on an apothecary being sent for, with 
 which Mr. Elwes reluctantly complied. The 
 apothecary, on his arrival, began to expatiate on 
 the dangerous consequences of breaking the skin, 
 the peculiar bad appearance of the wounds, and 
 the good fortuneof his being sent for. "Very pro- 
 bably," said old Elwes, "but, in my opinion, my 
 legs are not much hurt; now you think they are — 
 so I will make this agreement ; 1 will take one 
 leg, and you shall take the other ; you shall do 
 what you please to yours, and I shall do nothing 
 to mine ; and I'll wager you your bill that my 
 leg gets well the first." lie used to boast that he 
 beat the apothecary by a fortnight. 
 
 CLERICAL SHEEP-SHEARING. 
 
 A reverend divine heing accused of negligence 
 in his calling, and styled " an unfaithful shep- 
 herd," from scarcely ever visiting his flock, de- 
 fended himself by saying, he was always with 
 them at " shearing time.'' 
 
94 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHl.LOSOPHF.il. 
 
 THE SINGLE-SPEECH PARROT. 
 
 There is an eastern story of a person who taught 
 his parrot to repeat only the words," What doubt 
 is there of that ?" He carried it to the market 
 for sale, fixing the price at 100 rupees. A mogul 
 asked the parrot, " Are you worth 100 rupees ?" 
 The parrot answered, " What doubt is there of 
 that?" The mogul was delighted, and bought 
 the bird. He soon found out that this was all it 
 could say. Ashamed now of his bargain, he said 
 to himself, " I was a fool to buy this bird.'* The 
 parrot exclaimed as usual, " What doubt is there 
 of that ?" 
 
 THE ONLY CONQUEST. 
 
 A facetious abbe, having engaged a box at the 
 Opera-house, at Paris, was turned out of his pos- 
 session by a niareschal, as remarkable for his un- 
 gentlemanlike behaviour, as for his cowardice and 
 meanness. The abbe, for this unjustifiable breach 
 of good-manners, brought his action in a court of 
 honour, and solicited permission to be his own 
 advocate, which was granted. When the day of 
 trial arrived, he pleaded to the following effect : 
 " 'Tis not of Monsieur SufFrein, who acted so 
 nobly in the East Indies — it is not of the Duke de 
 Grebillon, who took Minorca — it is not of the 
 Comte de Grasse, who so bravely fought Lord 
 Itodney, that I complain ; but it is of Mareschal 
 
 ■ , who took my box at the opera-house, and 
 
 never took any thing else." This stroke of satire 
 so sensibly convinced the court, that he had al- 
 ready inflicted sufficient punishment, that they re- 
 fused to grant him a verdict. 
 
 EPITAPH ON CAPTAIN JAMES. 
 
 Tread softly, mortals, o'er the bones 
 
 Of the world's wonder, Captain Jones! 
 
 Who told his glorious deeds to many, 
 
 But never was believ'd by any. 
 Posterity, let this suffice, 
 He swore all's true, yet 1 ere he lies. 
 
 EXEMPLARY LIBERALITY 
 
 Marshal Villars, upon (he death of the Duke de 
 Vendome, in the reign of Louis the XlVth, was 
 made Governor of Provence in his room; and 
 when he went to take possession of his new go- 
 vernment, the deputies of the province made hi in. 
 the Usual present of a purse full of touis (Vors, but 
 the person who had the honour to present it, said 
 to him, " Here, ray lord, is such another purse as 
 that we gave to the Duke de Vendome, when, 
 like you, he came to be our governor; but the 
 prince, after accepting of it as a testimony of our 
 regard, very generously returned it," — " Ah," 
 said Marshal Viilars, putting the purse into his 
 pocket, '* M. Vendome was a most surprising 
 man ; he has not left his fellow behind." 
 
 IRISH DREAMING. 
 
 An English officer being quartered in a small 
 town in Ireland, he and his lady were regularly 
 besieged as they got into their carriage, by an old 
 beggar-woman, who kept her post at the door, as- 
 sailing them daily with fresh importunities. Their 
 charity and patience became exhausted ; not so 
 the petitioner's perseverance. One morning, our 
 oratrix began — " Oh, ray lady ! success to your 
 ladyship, and success to your honour's honour, 
 thisraorniug, of all the days in the year; for sure 
 did I not dream last night that her ladyship gave 
 me a pound of tea, and your honour gave rae a 
 pound of tobacco." — " But, my good woman," 
 said the general, " don't you know that dreams 
 go by the rule of contrary ?" — " Do they so ?" re- 
 joined the old woman, " then it must maan, that 
 your honour will give me the tea, and her lady- 
 ship the tobacco." 
 
 x A GREAT COMPOSER. 
 
 Dormouse esteems it wond'rous odd, 
 That people, when he preaches, nod, 
 
 As if he was a very proser. 
 Take comfort, Dormouse! — Though they -blame 
 Your oratory, you may claim 
 
 The merit of a rare composer. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 95 
 
 paiu ; 
 
 A MIRACLE ENHANCED. 
 
 A painter intending to describe the miracle of 
 the fishes listening to the preaching of St. Anthony 
 of Padua, painted the lobsters stretching out of the 
 water red ; having probably never seen them in 
 their native state. Being questioned on this, and 
 asked how he could justify his representing the 
 lobsters as boiled, he extricated himself by observ- 
 ing, " that the miracle was the greater.'" 
 
 THE STAGE-COACH. 
 
 Resolv'd to visit a far distant friend, 
 A porter to the Bull-and-gate, I send, 
 And bid the slave at all events engage 
 Some place or other in the Chester stage ; 
 The slave returns — its done as soon as said — 
 Your honour's sure when once the money's paid 
 My brother whip, impatient of delay, 
 Puts to at three, and swears he cannot stay 
 (Four dismal hours ere the break of day.) 
 Rous'd from sound sleep, thrice call'd at length I 
 
 rise, 
 Yawning, stretch outmy arms, half clos'd my eyes, 
 By steps and lanthorn, enter the machine, 
 And take my place, now cordially ! between 
 Two aged matrons of excessive bulk, 
 To mend the matter too, of meaner folk; 
 While in like mode, jamm'd in on t'other side 
 A bully captain, and a fair one, ride ; 
 
 Foolish as fair, and in whose lap a boy 
 
 — Our plague eternal, and her only joy : 
 At last, the glorious number to complete, 
 Steps in my landlord for that bodkin seat ; 
 When soon by ev'ry hillock, rut, and stone, 
 Into each other's face by turns we're thrown 5 
 This grannam scolds, that coughs, and Captain 
 
 swears, 
 The fair one screams, and has a thousand fears ; 
 While our plump landlord, trained in other lore, 
 I Slumbers at ease, nor yet asham'd to snore ; 
 I And master Dicky, in his mother's lap, 
 j Squalling brings up at once three meals of pap ; 
 I Sweet company ! next time I do protest, sir, 
 I I'll walk to Dublin, ere I'll ride to Chester. 
 
 A GOOD CHARACTER. 
 
 Lord Mansfield had discharged a coachman 
 whom he suspected of having embezzled his corn ; 
 a short time afterwards he received a letter from a 
 merchant in the city, requesting a character of 
 the dismissed servant: his lordship accordingly 
 wrote an answer, that he was a very sober 
 man, and an excellent coachman, but that he be- 
 lieved he had cheated him. Some time after this, 
 going to Caen-wood, his lordship met his old 
 coachman, who accosted him, expressing himself 
 glad to see him in such good health, and thanked 
 him for the character he had given him, in conse- 
 quence of which he had got an excellent place. — 
 " Your lordship," he said, "has been pleased to 
 say I was a sober man, and a good coachman, but 
 that you believed I had cheated you; my master 
 observed, that if I answered the two first descrip- 
 tions, the last he thought little of, for he did 
 not think the devil himself could cheat your lord- 
 ship.'' 
 
 SCARCE ARTICLES IN A REPUBLIC. 
 
 George the First of England having frequently 
 experienced the rapacity of the Dutch at Helvoet- 
 sluys, was, in one of his journeys, determined to 
 avoid it by not stopping there. It was a fine 
 summer's day ; and while the servants were 
 changing the horses, and stowing his baggage in 
 the coach, he stopped at the door of the principal 
 inn, and asked for three fresh eggs ; which having 
 eaten, he enquired what he had to pay for them. 
 "Two hundred florins," was the reply. " How!" 
 cried the astonished monarch, " why so? eggs are 
 not scarce at Helvoetsluys." — " No," replied the 
 landlord, " but kings are." 
 
 TO A PARISH-CLERK. 
 
 Sternhold and Hopkins had great qualms, 
 When they translated David's psalms, 
 
 To make the heart full glad ; 
 But had it been poor David's fate 
 To hear thee sing and them translate, 
 
 By Jove 'twould have made him mad. 
 
96 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 PROOFS OF INSANITY. 
 
 fn a cause respecting a will, evidence was 
 given to prove the testatrix (an apothecary's wife) 
 a lunatic; and, amongst many other things, it 
 was deposed that she had swept a quantity of 
 pots, phials, lotions, potions, &c. into the streets, 
 as rubbish. " I doubt," said the learned judge. 
 " whether sweeping physic into the street be any 
 proof of insanity." — " True, my lord," replied 
 the counsel ; " but sweeping the pots away cer- 
 tainly was." 
 
 LORD THDRLOW'S RELIGION. 
 
 Mr. Tierhey once observed of Lord Thurlow, 
 who^was much given to swearing and parsimony, 
 that he was a rigid disciplinarian in his religion, 
 for that in his house it was passion-week in the 
 parlour, and lent in the kitchen, all the year round. 
 
 FIREWORKS. 
 
 An eminent director of fireworks being in com- 
 pany with some ladies, was highly commending 
 the epitaph in the abbey on Mr. Purceii's monu- 
 ment — 
 " He is gone to that place where only his own 
 Harmony can be exceeded." 
 " Lord, sir," said one of the ladies, " the same 
 epitaph might serve for you, by altering a single 
 word — 
 " He is gone to that place where only his own 
 fire-works can be exceeded." 
 
 SLOTH THE CAUSE OF ENNUI. 
 
 Of those who time so ill support, 
 
 The calculation's wrong ; 
 Else, why is life accounted short, 
 
 While days appear so long? 
 
 By action 'tis we life enjoy ; 
 
 In idleness we're dead ; 
 The soul's a fire will self destroy, 
 
 If not with fuel fed. 
 
 Voltaire. 
 
 RIGID ECONOMY. 
 
 The steward of the Duke of Guise representing 
 to him the necessity there was of more economy 
 in his household, gave hiiB a list of many persons 
 whose attendance was superfluous. The duke, 
 after reading it, said — " It is very true that I can 
 do without all these people, but have you asked 
 them if they can do without me }" 
 
 UNIVERSITIES. 
 
 No wonder that Oxford and Cambridge profound, 
 In learning and science so greatly abound; 
 Since some carry thither a little each day, 
 And we meet with so few, who bring any away. 
 
 HOBSON'S CHOICE. 
 
 On a lady's entering the assembly-room at 
 York, Sterne asked her name : he was told it was 
 a Mrs, Hohson ; on which he said, " he had often 
 heard of liobson's choice, but he never saw it 
 before." 
 
 SKIN AND GRIEF. 
 
 Thy nags (the leanest things alive), 
 So very hard thou lov'st to drive; 
 I heard thy anxious coachman say, 
 It cost thee more in whips than hay. 
 
 INCOME-TAX. 
 
 Home Tooke is said to have given in his return 
 under the property-tax, as having an income of 
 only sixty pounds a year. Being, in conse 
 quence, summoned before the commissioners, who 
 found fault with his return, and desired him to 
 expiain how he could live in the style he did, 
 with so small an income; he replied, *' that he 
 had much more reason to be dissatisfied with the 
 smallness of his income than they had; that, as to 
 their enquiry, there were three ways in which 
 people contrived to live above their income, 
 namely, by brgging, borrowing, and stealing, and 
 he left it to their sagacity, which of these methods 
 he employed. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 97 
 
 HOW TO SOW UP A SAND-BAG, AT A CITY- 
 FEAST, 
 
 That is to say, one who will absorb like a bag 
 of sand, or sawdust, all the wine you can pour into 
 him. Always have in your party half-a-dozen 
 seasoned old topers, whose heads are liquor-proof. 
 Plant them at equal distances round your table ; 
 and when your huge barrel bellied Common Coun- 
 cil-men are seated, and have loaded their first 
 plates; then your chosen marksmen are to begin 
 their attack, and challenge those fellows alter- 
 nately with bumpers of port and sherry. Let all 
 the hams be as salt as pickle, and all the meat- 
 pies, and other made-dishes, as hot as pepper can 
 make them ; and, as your goests get thirsty and 
 call for drink, let them be plied alternately with 
 strong Dorchester beer, brown stout, rough cyder, 
 and perry ; still keeping up the fire of port and 
 sherry from your Rijie Corps. Before the cloth is 
 removed, let each be induced to swallow a large 
 bumper of brandy, just to settle his stomach and 
 aid digestion. The instant the table is cleared, at 
 them again with bumper-rounds of claret; give 
 them no breathing time, if you do they will drink 
 till morning; and then, before the sixth bumper- 
 toast is gone round, their maws will ferment, they 
 will gape like sick pigs, and, uuable to speak, or 
 s'.and, will either tumble under the table, or stag- 
 ger away ; and then you will have time to enjoy 
 your.select friends, and acquire gout, to relish a 
 supper of game." 
 
 MARRIAGES IN HEAVEN. 
 
 Said Celia to a reverend dean, 
 
 " What reason can be given, 
 Since marriage is a holy thing,. 
 
 That they have none in heaven ?" 
 
 " They have," said he, u no women there." 
 
 She quick return'd the jest; 
 " Women there are, but I'm afraid 
 
 They cannot find a priest." 
 
 REPUBLICANISM 
 
 After the death of Charles the First, the Court 
 of King's Bench was called the Court of Public 
 Bench, and some republicans were so cautious of 
 acknowledging monarchy any where, that in re- 
 peating the Lord's Prayer, instead of saying, 
 " Thy kingdom come," they changed it to " Thy 
 Common-wealth come." 
 
 A PATIENT COMPANION. 
 A gentleman who once introduced his brother 
 to Johnson, was very earnest to recommend him 
 to the doctor's attention ; which he did by saying, 
 " Doctor, when we have sat together some time, 
 you'll find my brother very entertaining." — 
 " Sir," said Johnson, " I can wait. ,, 
 
 A FRIENDLY WISH. 
 
 Two Irishmen one day meeting, " I am very ill, 
 Pat," said one, rubbing his head. "Then," re- 
 plied the other, '* I hope you may keep so — for 
 fear of being worse." 
 
 PARLIAMENTARY BULLS. 
 
 On account of the great number of suicides, a 
 member moved for leave to bring in a bill to make 
 it a capital offence. 
 
 When Sir John Scott, now Lord Eldon, brought 
 in his bill for restricting the liberty of the press, a 
 member moved as an addition, that all anonymous 
 works should have the name of the author priuted 
 on the title-page. N 
 
 PICTURE-ROOM. 
 
 An Irish gentleman having a small picture- 
 room, se\eral persons desired to see it at the same 
 time. *' Faith, gentlemen," said he, " if you all 
 go in, it will not hold you." 
 
 ON THE PHRASE " KILLING TIME. 
 
 There's scarce a point wherein mankind agree 
 So well as in their boast of killing me. 
 I boast of nothing , but, when I've a mind, 
 I think I can be even with mankind. 
 E 
 
98 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE OATH OF DUNMOW. 
 
 To reward chastity of mind, as well as body, an 
 institution was established, giving to the happy 
 possessors of conjugal virtue a flit-eli of bacon. 
 In 1510, Thomas Lefuller, of Coggeshall, Essex, 
 came to the priory of Dunraow, and required to 
 have some of the bacon. He was, according to 
 the form of the charter, sworn before the prior of 
 the house and the convent, and before a multitude 
 of neighbours ; when he received a gammon of 
 bacon. The oath of Dunmow was this— 
 
 " Ye shall swear, by the custom of our confession, 
 
 That you never made any nuptial transgression 
 
 Since you were married to your wife. 
 
 Or householde travels, or contentious strife : 
 
 Or otherways at bed or boarde, 
 
 Offended each other in deede or v.orde ; 
 
 Or, since the parish-clerk said ' Amen,' 
 
 Wished yourselves unmarried agen ; 
 
 Or, in a twelvemonth and a day, 
 
 Repented not in thought any way ; 
 
 But, continued true and in desire 
 
 As when you join'd hands in the holy quire. 
 
 If to these conditions, Avithout all fear, 
 
 Of your own accord you will freely swear ; 
 
 A gammon of bacon you shall receive, 
 
 And here it home with love and good leave; 
 
 For this is our custom in Dunmow, well known, 
 
 Tho' the sport be our's, the bacon's your own," 
 
 OBEDIENCE Of WIVES. 
 In the Unitarian prayer-book, used by the 
 American states of New England, the word obey is 
 left out of the matrimonial service. Saint Paul, 
 however, says, " Let the wife be subject to her 
 own husband in every thing." 
 
 CONFESSION OF TALLEYRAND, OF HIS EX- 
 PLOITS FROM THE AGE OF SEVENTEEN 
 
 TO TWENTY-ONE. 
 During five year;;, six husbands, from jea- 
 lousy on my account,, blew out their brains; 
 and eighteen lovers perished in duels for ladies 
 
 who were my mistresses. Ten wives, deserted by 
 me, retired in despair to convents. Twelve un- 
 married ladies, from doubt of my fidelity or con- 
 stancy, either broke their heart?, or poisoned 
 themselves in desperation. All these were per- 
 sons of hcut ton; and, in their number, I do not 
 therefore include the hundreds of the bourgeoisie, 
 or of chambermaids, who, forsaken by me, sought 
 consolation from an halter, or in the riter Seine. 
 I have, besides, during the same short period, 
 made twenty-four husbands happy fathers, and 
 forty maids solitary and miserable mothers ! 
 CHINESE MAXIM. 
 
 The tongue of women is their sword, and they 
 never suffer it to grow rusty. 
 
 ON MARRIAGE. 
 God was the first that marriage did ordain, 
 By making one, two ; and two, one again." 
 
 SINGULAR MARRIAGE. 
 A young fellow, called handsome Tracy, was 
 walking in the Park, with some of his acquaint- 
 ance, and overtook three girls; one was very- 
 pretty; they followed them, but the girls rau 
 away, and the company grew r tired of pursuing 
 them, all but Tracy. He followed her to White- 
 hall-gate, where he gave a porter a crown to dog 
 them : the porter hunted them — he the porter. 
 The girls ran all round Westminster, and back to 
 the Haymarket, where the porter came up with 
 them. He told the pretty one she must go with 
 him, and kept her talking till Tracy arrived, 
 quite out of breath, and exceedingly in love. He 
 | insisted on knowing where she lived, which she 
 refused to tell him ; and, after much disputing, 
 went to the house of one of her companions, av& 
 Tracy with them. He there made her discover 
 her family, a butter woman, in Craven-street, and 
 engaged her to meet him next morning in the 
 Park; but before night he wrote her four love- 
 letters, and, in the last, offered two hundred 
 pounds a-year to her, and a hundred a-year to 
 Signora la Madre, Griselda made a confidante 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 99 
 
 of a stay-maker's wife, who told her that the 
 swain was certainly in love enough lo marry her, 
 if she could determine to be virtuous and refuse 
 his offers. " Aye," says she," but if I should, and 
 should lose him by it." However, the measures 
 of the cabinet-council wre decided for virtue; 
 and when she met Tracy next morning ic the 
 Park, she was convoyed by her sister and brother- 
 in-law, and 3tuck close to the letter of her repu- 
 tation. At last, as an instance of prodigious com- 
 pliance, she told him, that if he would accept 
 such a dinner as a butter-woman's daughter coald 
 give him, he should be welcome. Away they 
 Walked to Craven-street; the mother borrowed 
 some silver to buy a leg of mutton, and they kept 
 the eager lover drinking till twelve at night, when 
 a chosen committee waited on the faithful pair to 
 the minister of May-fair. The doctor was in bed, 
 and swore he would not get up to marry the king, 
 but that he had a brother, over the way, who per- 
 haps would, and who did. The mother borrowed 
 a pair of sheets, and they consummated at her 
 house; and the next day they went to their own 
 palace. In two or three days the scene grew 
 gloomy; and the husband, coming home one night, 
 swore he could bear it no longer. " Bear ! bear 
 what?" — " Why, to be teazed by all my acquaint- 
 ance, for marrying a butter-woman's daughter. 
 I am determined to go to France, and will leave 
 you a handsome allowance." — " Leave me ! why 
 you don't fancy you shall leave me ? I will go 
 with you." — " What! you love me then ?" — " No 
 matter, whether I love you or not, but you shan't 
 go without me." And they are gone! If you 
 know any body that proposes marrying and tra- 
 velling, I think they cannot do it in a more com- 
 modious manner. 
 
 THE THOUGHT; OR, A SONG OF SIMILES. 
 
 I've thought; the fair Narcissa cries, 
 What is it like, Sir? — " Like your eyes — 
 'Tis like a chair — 'tis like a key — 
 'Tis like a purge — 'tis like a flea^ 
 
 'Tis like a beggar— like the sun — 
 'Tis like the Dutch — 'tis like the moon— - 
 'Tis like a kilderkin of ale — 
 'Tis like a Doctor — like a whale" — 
 Why are ray eyes, Sir, like a Sword ? 
 For that's the Thought, upon my woid. 
 ' *' Ah ! witness every pang I feel, 
 The deaths they give, the likeness tell'. 
 A sword is like a chair you'll find, 
 Because, 'tis most an end behind. 
 'Tis like a key, for 't will undo one; 
 'Tis like a purge, for 't will run thro' one; 
 'Tis like a flea, and reason good, 
 'Tis often drawing human blood." 
 Why like a beggar? — -' You shall hear; 
 'Tis often carried 'fore the May'r; 
 'Tis like the sun, because its gilt; 
 Besides, it travels in a belt. 
 'Tis like the Dutch, we plainly see,- 
 Because that state, whenever we 
 A push for our own int'rest make, 
 Does instantly our sides forsake." 
 Tiie moon? — " Why, when aii 's said and done, 
 A sword is very like the moon ; 
 For if his Majesty (God bless him) 
 When County Sheriff comes t v address him, 
 Is pjeas'd his favours to bestow 
 On him, before him kneeling low, 
 This o'er his shoulders glitters bright. 
 And gives the glory to the Knight (night); 
 'Tis like a kilderkin, no doubt, 
 For its not long in drawing out. 
 'Tis like a Doctor, for who will 
 Dispute a Doctor's pow'r to kill?" 
 But why a sword is like a whale 
 Is no such easy thing to tell ; 
 " But since all swords are swords, d' ye see, 
 Why, let it then a backsword be, 
 Which, if well us'd, will seldom tail 
 To raise up somewhat like a whale." 
 
 LEGACY TO A WIFE. 
 Whereas, it was ray misfortune to be made very 
 uneasy by Elizabeth, my wife, for many years. 
 
100 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 from our marriage, by her turbulent behaviour; 
 for she was not content with despising my admo- 
 nitions, but she contrived every method to make me 
 unhappy; she was so perverse in her nature, that 
 she would not be reclaimed, but seemed only to be 
 born to be a plague to me; the strength of Samp- 
 son, the knowledge of Homer, the prudence of 
 Augustus, the cunning of Pyrrhus, the patience of 
 Job, the subtlety of Hannibal, and the watchful- 
 ness of Hermogenes, could not have been sufficient 
 to subdue her; for no skill or force in the world 
 would make her good ; and, as we have lived 
 several years separate, and apart from each other 
 eight years, and she having perverted her son to 
 leave and totally abandon me; therefore I give 
 her one shilling only. 
 
 MUTUAL LONGING. 
 
 A pregnant lady, dining with a bishop, took a 
 sudden longing to an elegant stiver tureen, then 
 on the table. When she returned, her indispo- 
 sition alarmed her husband ; at length she ex 
 plained the cause of it, and even prevailed on him 
 to go to the bishop, and acquaint him with it. 
 The bishop was too gallant to refuse a lady in her 
 situation any thing, and sent it. She was de- 
 lighted ; she thanked the good bishop for it. At 
 length her accouchement took place, and she went 
 abroad. The bishop then sent a polite letter, 
 congratulating her on getting abroad; requested 
 she would return the tureen, as he now, in his 
 turn, began to long for it; but that, upon any 
 future occasion, if she should again Jong for it, it 
 was at her service upon such terms. 
 
 Lilly's wife, 
 
 Lilly, the almanack-maker, in the history of his 
 life, makes thefollowing item of his wife: — " Feb. 
 16, 1651, my second wife died, for whose death I 
 shed no tears. I had =£500 with her, as her por- 
 tion ; but she, and her poor relations, spent me a 
 thousand pounds. Gloria Patji, ei Filio^et Spi- 
 ritui Sancto ; sicul erat in prvicipio, et nunc et 
 semper et in scecula seeculorum." 
 
 GAMMER GURTON'S NEEDLE. DRI NKING SONG, 
 
 I cannot eat but little meat, 
 
 My stomach is not good ; 
 But sure, I think that I can drink 
 
 With him that wears a hood, 
 Th6' I go bare, take ye no care, 
 
 I nothing am a cold, 
 I stuff my skin, so full within 
 
 Of jolly good ale and ola. 
 Back and side go bare, go bare, 
 
 Both foot and hand go cold ; 
 But belly, God send thee good ale enough, 
 
 Whether it be new or old. 
 
 I love no roast but a nut-brown toast. 
 
 And a crab laid in the fire, 1 
 A little bread shall do me stead, 
 
 Much bread I nought desire. 
 No frost, no snow, no wind, I trow, 
 
 Can hurt me if I wold, 
 I am so wrapped, and thoroughly lapp'd, 
 
 Of jolly good ale and old. 
 Back and side, &c t 
 
 And Tib, my wife, that as her life 
 
 Loveth well good ale to seek, 
 Full oft drinks she, till ye mav see 
 
 The tears run down her cheek; 
 Then doth she troul to me the bowl, 
 
 Even as a malkworm should, 
 And saith, " Sweetheart, I took my part 
 
 Of this jolly good ale and old." 
 Back and side, &c. 
 
 Now let them drink till they nod and wink, 
 
 Ev'n as good fellows should do ; 
 They shail not miss to have the bliss 
 
 Good ale doth bring men to. 
 And all poor souls that have scoured bowls, 
 
 Or have them lustily troul'd. 
 God save the lives of them and their wives, 
 
 Whether they be young or old. 
 Back and side, &c. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 101 
 
 REPARATION OF CONJUGAL INFIDELITY. 
 
 The following extraordinary entry appears in 
 the parish-register of Bermondsey, in 1604: 
 August. 
 
 The forme of a solemne vowe, made betwixt a 
 man and his wife, the man having beene long ab- 
 sent, through which the woman beinge married to 
 another man, tooke her again as followeth. 
 The Man's Speech. 
 
 Elizabeth, my beloved wife, I am right sorie 
 that I have so longe absented my sealfe from thee, 
 whereby thou shouldest be occasioned to take an- 
 other man to thy husband ; therefore, I do nowe 
 vowe and promise, in the sight of God, and of this 
 companie, to take thee againe as mine owne ; and 
 will not onlie forgive thee, but also dwell with 
 thee, and do all other duties unto thee as I pro- 
 mised at ogt marriage. 
 
 The Woman's Speech. 
 
 Ralphe, my beloved husband, I am right sorie 
 that I have, in thy absence, taken another man to 
 be my hushand ; but here, before God and this 
 companie, I do renounce and forsake him, and do 
 promise to keep my sealfe onlie unto thee during 
 life, and to perform all duties which I first pro- 
 mised unto thee in our marriage, 
 The Prayer. 
 
 Almightie God, we beseech thee to pardon our 
 offences, aud give us grace ever hereafter to live 
 together in thy feare, and to perform the holy 
 duties of marriage, one to another, accordinge as 
 we are taught in thy holie word ; for thy dear 
 Son's sake, Jesus. Amen. 
 
 The entry concludes thus — 
 
 The first'day of August, 1604, Ralphe Good- 
 childe, of the parish of Barkinge, in Thames- 
 street, and Elizabeth, his wife, weare agreed to 
 live together, and thereupon gave their hands one 
 to another, making, either of tiiem, a solemn vow 
 j so to doe, in the presence of 
 
 William Stere, Parson, 
 Edward Coker, aud 
 RicnARD Eire, Clerk. 
 
 This difficult case of conscience must be left to 
 the casuists. The poor substitute-husband, some- 
 how, does not appear in the business ; his renun- 
 ciation of the 1' dy was to be expected, if he ac- 
 quiesced in the transfer. 
 
 ON A COVETOUS OLD PARSON. 
 
 Cries Spintext in spleen, " This public donation, 
 Methinks, savours much of vain ostenu.'i i ; 
 God bless me, five pounds, why the sum is im- 
 mense, 
 And for pity, mere pity ! 'tis shew and pretence ; 
 When I do an alms, fame's trumpet ne'er blows 
 What my right hand is doing, my left never 
 
 knows ; 
 All my gifts I bestow in so private a way, 
 That when, how, or where, no mortal can say; 
 Spintext, it is true, has such art to conceal 'em, ^ 
 That his parish ne'er sees, nur the poor ever/ 
 feel 'em, \ 
 
 And thus he makes sure that none shall reveal i 
 • 'em. ) 
 
 THE ABSENT MAN. 
 
 Menalcas comes down in a morning, opens his 
 door to go out, but shuts it again, because he 
 perceives that he has his night-cap on ; and exa- 
 mining himself further, finds that he is but half- 
 shaved, that he has stuck his sword on his right 
 side, that his stockings are about his heels, aud 
 that his shirt is over his breeches. When he is 
 dressed, he goes to court, comes into the drawing- 
 room, and walking bolt upright under a branch 
 of candlesticks, his wig is caught up by one of 
 them, and hangs dangling in the air. All the 
 courtiers fall a laughing, but Menalcas laughs 
 louder than any of them, and looks about for the 
 person that is the jest of the company. Coming 
 down'to the court gate lie finds a coach, which 
 taking for his own he whips into it; and the 
 coachman drives off, not doubting but he carries 
 his master. As soon as he stops, Menalcas throws 
 himself out of the coach, crosses the court, ascends, 
 the staircase, and runs through all the chambers 
 
102 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 with the greatest familiarity, reposes himself on a 
 couch, and fancies himself at home. The master 
 of the house at last comes in, Menalcas rises to 
 receive him, and desires him to sit down; he 
 talks, muses, and then talks again. The gentle- 
 man of the house is tired and amazed ; Menalcas 
 is no less so, but is every moment in hopes that his 
 impertinent guest will at last end his tedious visit. 
 Night comes on, when Menalcas is hardly un- 
 deceived. 
 
 When he is playing at backgammon, he calls 
 for a full glass of wine and water; it is his turn to 
 throw ; he has the box in one hand, and his glass 
 in the other, and being extremely dry, and un- 
 willing to lose time, he swallows down both the 
 dice, and at the same time throws his wine into 
 the tables. He writes a letter and flings the sand 
 into the ink-bottle; he writes a second, and mis- 
 takes the superscription; a nobleman receives 
 one of them, and upon opening it reads as fol- 
 lows : "I would have you, honest Jack, imme- 
 diately upon the receipt of this, take in hay 
 enough to serve me the winter." His farmer re- 
 ceives the other, and is amazed to see in it, " My 
 Lord, I received your Grace's commands with an 
 entire submission to " If he is at an enter- 
 tainment, you may see the pieces of bread con- 
 tinually multiplying round his plate; it-is true 
 the rest of the company want it, as well as their 
 knives and forks, which Menalcas does not let 
 them keep long. Sometimes in a morning he puts 
 his whole family in a hurry, and at last goes out 
 without being able to stay for his coach or dinner, 
 and for that day you may see him in every part of 
 the town, except the very place where he had 
 appointed to be upon a business of importance. 
 You wpuld often take him for every thing that he 
 is not ; for a fellow quite stupid, for he hears 
 nothing; for a fool, for he talks to himself, and 
 has a hundred grimaces and motions with his 
 head, which are altogether involuntary ; for a 
 proud man, for he looks full upon you, and takes 
 no notice of your saluting him ; the truth of it is, 
 his eyes are open, but he makes no use of them, 
 
 and neither sees you, nor any man, nor any thing 
 else; Jie came once from his count; y-house, and 
 his own footmen undertook to rob him, and suc- 
 ceeded ; they held a flambeau to his throat, and 
 bad him deliver his purse ; he did so, and coming 
 home told his friends he had been robbed ; they 
 desired to know the particulars, " Ask my ser- 
 vants," said Menalcas, " for they were with me." 
 
 Brdyere. 
 
 THE SUITOR. 
 
 Lucas, with ragged coat, attends 
 My lord's levee ; and, as he bends. 
 The gaping wounds expose to view 
 All else beneath as ragged too. 
 But hark the peer : "• My friends, to-day 
 By great affairs I'm call'd away; 
 Attend to-morrow at this hour, 
 Your suits shall claim my utmost pow'r." 
 The crowd, retiring, thanks exprest, 
 Save Lucas, who, behind the rest, 
 Desponding loiter'd, cries my lord, 
 " Why, Lucas, do you doubt my word :" 
 No, sir, 'tis too well understood — : 
 To-morrow !"— -Here his garb he view'd. 
 Alas ! my lord ! can I be mute ? 
 To-morrow 1 shall have no suit." 
 
 A HARD MASTER. 
 
 A theatrical manager, one evening when his 
 baud was playing an overture, went up to the 
 horn players, and asked why they were Hot play- 
 ing. They said they had twenty bars rest. 
 " ilesti" says he, 4 * 1*11 have no rest in ray com- 
 pany ; I pay you for playing not for resting." 
 
 APPROPRIATE PRESENTS. 
 
 On the City of London presenting Admiral 
 Keppel with the freedom in a box of heart of oak, 
 and Lord Rodney in a gold box: - 
 Each admiral's defective part, 
 
 Satiric cits, you've told : 
 The wealthy Keppel wanted hearts 
 The gallant Rodney, gold. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE COMPOSITION OF WINE. 
 
 An Asiatic chief being asked his opinion of a 
 pipe of Madeira wine, presented to him by an 
 officer of the company's service, said, " he thought 
 it a juice extracted .from women's tongues, and 
 lion's hearts ; for after he had drunk enough of it, 
 he could talk for ever, and fight the devil." 
 
 BOX-LOBDY LOUNGERS. 
 
 On hearing two worthless cowards challenge 
 each other in Drury-lane theatre, a gentleman 
 present wrote the following stanzas : — 
 
 In Drury's lobby, Tom and Dick 
 
 Pull'd each the other's nose ; 
 Yet, if Dick or Tom was right, 
 
 Pray who the devil knows ? 
 
 Ci I am a gentleman !" cried Dick, 
 " And so," quoth Tom, " am I !" 
 
 Each strove to hide his trembling heart, 
 While each roar'd out — " You lie !'* 
 
 Dick said, " I'm cousin to Lord Cog." 
 Tom swore, "he roli'd in riches ;" 
 
 Dick knit his black Patrician brows, 
 And Tom pull'd up his breeches. 
 
 Now if this palsied pair should meet, 
 
 Impell'd by common sneers, 
 I? either, or if both were shot, 
 
 Pray who the devil cares ? 
 
 AFFECTATION. 
 
 As bad as the world is, I find by very strict ob- 
 servation upon virtue and vice, that if men ap- 
 peared no worse than they really are^ I should 
 have less work than at present 1 am obliged to 
 undertake for their reformation. *They have ge- 
 nerally taken up a kind of inverted ambition, 
 and affect evrn faults and imperfections of which 
 they are innocent. The first of this order of men 
 are the Valetudinarians, who are never in health ; 
 but complain of want of stomach or rest every day 
 until noon, and then devour all which cojnes be- 
 
 103 
 
 fore them. Lady Dainty-is convinced, that it is 
 necessary for a gentlewoman to be out of order; 
 and to ^preserve that character, she dines every 
 day in her closet at twelve, that she may become 
 her table at two, and be unable to eat in public. 
 About five years ago, I remember it was the 
 fashion to be short-sighted. A man would not 
 own an acquaintance until he had first examined 
 him with his glass. At a lady's entrance into the 
 playhouse, you might see tubes immediately le- 
 velled at her from every quarter of the pit and 
 side-boxes. However, that mode of infirmity is 
 out, and the age has recovered its sight ; but the 
 blind seem to be succeeded by the lame, and a 
 janty limp is the present beauty, I think I have 
 formerly observed, a cane is part of the dress of 
 a prig, and always worn upon a button, for fear 
 he should be thought to have an occasion for it, 
 or be esteemed really, and not genteelly a cripple. 
 I have considered but could never find out the 
 bottom of this vanity. I indeed have heard of a 
 Gascon general, who, by the lucky grazing of a 
 bullet on the roll of his stocking, took occasion 
 to halt all his life after. But as for our peaceable 
 cripples, I know no foundation for their beha- 
 viour, without it may be supposed that in this 
 warlike "age, some think a cane the next honour 
 to a wooden leg. This sort of affectation I have 
 known run from one limb or member to another. 
 Before the Limpers came in, I remember a; race 
 of Lispers, fine persons, who took an aversion to 
 particular letters in our language; some never 
 uttered the letter H; and others had as mortal an 
 aversion to S. Others have had their fashionable 
 defect in their ears, and would make you repeat 
 all you said twice over. I know an ancient 
 friend of mine, whose table is every day sur- 
 rounded with flatterers, that makes use of this, 
 sometimes as a piece of grandeur, and at others 
 as au art, to make them repeat their commenda- 
 tions. Such affectations have been indeed in the 
 world in ancient times; but they fell into them 
 out of politic ends. Alexander the Great had a 
 wry neck, .which made it the fashion in his court 
 
104 
 
 to carry their heads on one side when (hey came 
 into the presence. One who thought to outshine 
 the whole court, carried his head so over-com- 
 plaitantly, that this martial prince gave him so 
 great a box on the ear, as set all the heads of the 
 court upright. 
 
 This humour takes place in our minds as well 
 as bodies. I know at this time a young gentle- 
 man, who talks atheistically all day in coffee- 
 houses, and in his degrees of understanding sets 
 up for a freethinker; though it can be proved 
 upon him, he says his prayers every morning and 
 evening. 
 
 Of the like turn are all your marriage-haters, 
 who rail at the noose, at the words, " for ever 
 and aye," and at the same time are secretly 
 pining for some young thing or other that makes 
 their heaits ache by her refusal. The next to 
 these, are such as pretend to govern their wives, 
 and boast how ill they use them ; when, at the 
 same time, go to their houses, and you shall see 
 them step as if they feared making a noise, and 
 are as fond as an alderman. I do not know, but 
 sometimes these pretences may arise from a desire 
 to conceal a contrary defect than they set up for. 
 I remember, when I was a young fellow, we had 
 a companion of a very fearful complexion, who, 
 when we sat in to drink, would desire us to take 
 his sword from him when he grew fuddled, for it 
 was his misfortune to be quarrelsome. 
 
 As the desire of fame in men of true wit and 
 gallantry shews itself in proper instances, the 
 same desire in men who have the ambitiun with- 
 out proper faculties, runs wild, and discovers 
 itself in a thousand extravagances, by which they 
 w r ould signalize themselves from others, and gain a 
 let of admirers. When I was a middle-aged man, 
 there were many societies of ambitious your r men 
 in England, who, in their pursuits after fame, 
 were every night employed in roasting porters, 
 smoking cobblers, knocking down watchmeii, 
 overturning constables, breaking windows, 
 blackening sign-poits, and the like immortal en- 
 terprizes. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ADVICE TO LOVERS. 
 Pool Hal eaught his death, standing undera spout, 
 Expectingtill midnight when Nan would come out; 
 But fatal his patience, as cri.el the dame, 
 And curs'd was the weather that quench'd the 
 
 man's flame. 
 Whoe'er thou art that read'st these moral rhymes, 
 Make love at home, and go to bed betimes. 
 
 COPY OF A LETTER OF APPLICATION FROM A 
 SHOEMAKER'S WIFE, TO A CUSTOMER OF 
 
 HER DECEASED HUSBAND. 
 Madam, — My husband is dead, but that is no- 
 thing at all ; for Thomas Wild, our journeyman, 
 will keep doing for me the same as he did before, 
 and he can work a great deal better than he did, 
 poor man, at the last, as I have experience of, 
 because of his age and ailment; so I hope for 
 your ladyship's custom. From your humble ser- 
 vant, Anx R — s." 
 
 THE BISHOP AND THE PEASANT. 
 A German clown, at work in his field, seeing 
 his bishop pass by, attended by a train becoming 
 a peer, he could not forbear laughing, and that so 
 loud, that the reverend gentleman asked the rea- 
 son of it. The clown answered ; — " I laugh when 
 I think of St. Peter and St. Paul, and see you in 
 such an equipage." — " How is that *'' said the bi- 
 shop. — " Do you ask how ?" said the fellow. 
 " They were ill-advised to walk alone on foot 
 throughout the world, when they were the heads 
 of the Christian church, and lieutenants of Jesus 
 Christ, the king of kings ; and thou, who art only 
 our bishep, go so well mounted, as to have such a 
 train of Hectors, that thou resemblest more a peer 
 of the realm, than a pastor of the church." To 
 this his rever^ce replied, " But, my friend, thou 
 dost not consider that I am both a count and a 
 baron, as well as thy bishop." The rustic laughed 
 more than before; and the bishop asking him the 
 reason of it, he answered, " Sir, when the count 
 aud the baron, which you say you are, shall be in 
 hell, where will the bishop be?" 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 105 
 
 TYTHE IN KIND, OR THE SOW'S REVENGE. 
 
 Not far from London liv'd a boor, 
 Who fed three dozen hogs, or more ; 
 Alike remote from care and strife, 
 Hecrack'd his joke, and lov'd his wife. 
 Madge, like all women, fond of sway, 
 Was pleas'd whene'er she had her way 
 And (wives will think 1 deal in fiction) 
 But seldom met with contradiction: 
 Then, stubborn as the swine she fed, 
 She neither would he driv'n nor led ; 
 And Goodman Hodge, who knew her whim, 
 Was kind, nor row'd against the stream. 
 
 Subdu'd by Nature's primal law, 
 Young sows are ever in the straw; 
 Each week (*o genial fate decreed) 
 Produc'd a new and numerous breed. 
 Whene'er they came, sedate and kind, 
 The vicar was not far behind ; 
 Of pigs the worth and prime he knew, 
 And, parson like, would have his due. 
 He watch'd the hour with anxious ken $ 
 His heart grew warm at number ten ; 
 The younger pigs he vowed the sweeter, 
 And scarce allowed them time to litter. 
 
 One morn, with smile and bow polite, 
 From Hodge he claim'd his custom'd right; 
 But first enquired, in accents mild, 
 How far'd the darling wife and child : 
 How apples, pears, and turnips grew, 
 And if the aK* were old or new., 
 Hodge, who from custom took the hint, 
 Knew 'twas in vain a priest to stint; 
 And, whilst his rev'rence took his swig, 
 Hodge stepp'd aside, and brought the pig. 
 
 " Humph!" cried the parson, " let us see 
 This offering to the church and me ; 
 I fear, my friend, 'twill never do ; 
 Methinks 'tis Iran and sickly too. 
 Time out of mind 't has been confess'd, 
 Parsons should ever claim the best." 
 This said, he eye'd it o'er and o'er ; 
 Stamp'd, set his wig,~and all but swore,. 
 
 " Such pig for me ; why, man alive, 
 Ne'er from this moment hope to thrive ; 
 Think you for this I preach and pray ? 
 Hence ! bring me better tythes, I say." 
 
 Hodge heard, and, tho' by nature warm, 
 Replied, " kind sir, I meant no harm ; 
 Since what I proffer you refuse, 
 The stye is open, pick and chuse." 
 
 Pleas'd with the offer, in he «oes — ■ 
 His heart with exultation glows; 
 He rollshis eye, his lips he licks, 
 And scarce can tell on which to fix; 
 At length he cries, " Heaven save the king ! 
 Tiiis rogue in black is just the thing! 
 Hence shall I gain a rich regale !" 
 Nor more, but seiz'd it by the tail. 
 Loud squeak'd the pig; the sow was near — 
 The piercing sound assail'd her ear; 
 Eager to save her darling young, 
 Fierce on the bending priest she sprung? 
 Full in the mire his reverence cast, 
 Then seiz'd his breech and held him fast 
 
 The parson roar'd, surpris'd to find 
 A foe so desperate close behind ; 
 On Hodge, on Madge, he calls for aid, 
 But both were deaf to all he said. 
 The scene a numerous circle draws, 
 Who hail the sow with loud applause; 
 Pleas'd they beheld his rev'rence writhe, 
 And swore 'twas fairly tythe for'tythe. 
 " Tythe!" cried the parson, " Tythe, d'ye jay. 
 See here — one half is rent away !" 
 
 The case, 'tis true, was most forlorn ; 
 His gown, his wig, his breech was torn ; 
 And, what the mildest priest might ruffle, 
 The pig was lost amidst the scuffle. 
 " Give, give me which you please," he cried ; 
 " Nay, pick and choose," still Hodge replied. 
 " Choose ! honest friend ; alas ! but how ? 
 Heaven shield me from your murdering sow. 
 When tythes invite, in spite of foes, 
 I dare take Satan by the nose ! 
 Like Theseus, o'er the Styx I'd venture; 
 But who that dreadful stye would enter ? 
 F5 
 
106 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Yet, whilst there's hope the prize to win, 
 By Heav'n to leave it were a sin." 
 This said, he arms his breast with rage, 
 And half resolves the foe V engage. 
 Spite of the parson's angry mood, 
 The fearless sow collected stood ; 
 And seem'd to wait the proffer'd war, 
 "With " touch them scoundrel, if you dare !" 
 
 His last resource the parson tries; 
 Hems, strokes his chin, and gravely cries — 
 " Ye swains, support your injur'd priest 
 Secure the pig, and share the feast." 
 Staunch lo his friend was every swain ; 
 Strange tho' it seem, the bribe was vain ; 
 And Hodge, who saw them each refuse, 
 Exclaim'd in triumph, " Pick and choose !'* 
 
 The parson's heart grew warm with ire ; 
 Yet pride forbade him to retire. 
 What numbers can his spleen declare, 
 Denied, for onc^, his darling fare ! 
 How shall he meet the dreadful frown 
 Of madam in the grograra gown ; 
 Who, eager for her promis'd treat, 
 Already turns the useless spit? 
 " Wretch 1" he exclaims, with voice profound, 
 Can no remorse thy conscience wound ? 
 May all the woes th' ungodly dread, 
 Fall thick on thy devoted head ! 
 May'st thou in every wish be eross'd j 
 May all thy hoarded wealth be lost ! 
 May'st thou on weeds and offals dine, 
 Nor ale, nor pudding, e'er be thine !" 
 
 Hodge, who with laughter held his sides, 
 The parson's wrath in sport derides : 
 " No time in idle preaching lose ; 
 The stye is open — pick and choose ;" 
 Loud plaudits rose from every tongue ; 
 Heaven's concave with the clamours rung 
 Impatient of the last huzza, 
 The tytheless parson sneak'd away. 
 
 COURT AND CITY FOOLS. 
 The last of the licenced fools belonging to the 
 sjurt was Killigrcw, jester to Charles the Second. 
 
 The lord-mayor of London had his fool too ! 
 hence the expression"' the lord-mayor's fool, who 
 likes every thing that is good.' At the beginning 
 of the last century, one of these city drolls 
 'jumped into a custard,' 
 the citizens 
 
 custard,', for the entertainment of 
 
 A WIFE S SORROW. 
 
 At the marriage of Louis the Sixteenth with 
 Antoinette, in 1770, a dreadful accident occurred, 
 by which a thousand people lost their lives. 
 Among them was one Legros, a lady's hair- 
 dresser, of much fame. The wife of Legros went 
 to the field of the slain about three o'clock in the 
 morning, when some one began telling her .the 
 fate of her husband in as tender a manner as pos- 
 sible. " 'Tis very well," said she, '* but I must 
 feel in his pockets for the keys of the house, or 
 else I cannot get in;" and, so saying, this dis- 
 consolate widow went quietly home to her bed. 
 
 CLERICAL LEARNING. 
 
 In 1443, Dr. Thomas Gascoigne was chancellor 
 of Oxford. He seems to have deeply felt the 
 profligacy with which ecclesiastical affairs were 
 then conducted; for he thus expresses himself: — 
 " I knew a certain illiterate ideot, the son of a 
 mad knight; who, for being the companion, or 
 rather the fool, of the sons of a great family of 
 the blood-royal, was made arch-deacon of Oxford 
 before he was eighteen years old, and got soon 
 after two rich rectories and twelve prebends ! I 
 asked him, one day, what he thought of learning ? 
 ' I despise it;' said he. ' I have better livings 
 than you great doctors, and believe as much as 
 any of you.' — ' What do you believe ?' said I. — 
 ' I believe,' said he, ' that there are three Gods 
 in one person. I believe all that God believes.' " 
 
 REASON WHY WOMEN HAVE NO BEARDS. 
 
 Nature, regardful of the babbling race, 
 Planted no beard upon a woman's face; 
 Not Pack wood's razors, though the very beit, I 
 Could shave a chin that never is at rest. n 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 107 
 
 THE HOLY SHEPHERD. 
 
 The late M. de Glermont Tonnere, the proud 
 bishop of Noyon, when preaching in his cathe- 
 dral, was once heard thus to commence his ser- 
 mon : Listen, thou christian mob, (canaille,) to the 
 word of the Lord. At another time, when disturbed 
 by the whispers of the inattentive, while he was 
 celebrating mass, he turned towards the assembly, 
 crying out, Really, gentlemen, judging by the noise 
 with which you fill the church, one would conclude 
 that it was a lackey, and not a prelate of rank, who 
 officiated. It was this bishop, who, when seized 
 with a dangerous illness, sent for his confessor, 
 and made known to him his fears of hell. This 
 courtly priest replied, " You are very good, my 
 lord,; thus gratuitously to terrify yourself; but 
 God will think of it twice before he damns a per- 
 son of your high birth." 
 
 THE OLD COQUETTE. — IMITATED FROM 
 HORACE. 
 
 A truce with your infamous labours, old Bet ; 
 
 Good God ! turn'd of fifty, and still a coquette! 
 
 Your dear, precious soul, rather study to save, 
 
 Than think of new victories — think of your grave; 
 
 Nor intrude on the girls with your Gothic flirta- 
 tions. 
 
 Still spreading a cloud o'er their gay constel- 
 lations. 
 
 'Tis Chloe's to sport in the pale of fifteen ; 
 
 But from her years to yours count the season be- 
 tween. 
 
 Your daughter more decently rattles away, 
 
 In a crowd of gallants, at tiie ball or the play ; 
 
 'Tis a youth of her age her soft bosom has fir'd ; 
 
 And she sports like a kid or Bacchante inspir'd. 
 
 Not the rich folding train, nor the plumy balloon, 
 
 Becomes an old woman whom lovers disown; 
 
 All music is discord attun'd to thy tongue; 
 i Thee nor roses, perfumes, nor cosmetics, wash 
 I young ; 
 
 . Not wine, purple wine, that enliveus the gay, 
 I Can avail an old woman so wrinkled and grey. 
 
 THE SILENT HUSBAND 
 
 Madame GeofFrin had a husband, who was per- 
 mitted to sit down at his own table to dinner, at 
 the end of the table, upon condition that he never 
 attempted to join in the conversation. A fo- 
 reigner, who was assiduous in his visits to Ma- 
 dame GeofiVin, one day, not seeing him as usual 
 at table, enquired after him: — " What have you 
 done with the poor man whom I always used to 
 see here, and who never spoke a word ."' — " Oh, 
 that was my husband ; he is dead !" 
 
 THE PRIESTLY JONAH. 
 
 It blew a hard storm, and, in utmost confusion, 
 The sailors all hurried to get absolution; 
 Which done, and the weight of the sins they'd con- 
 fess' d, 
 Transferr'd, as they thought, from themselves to 
 
 the priest, 
 To lighten the ship, and conclude their devotion, 
 They toss'd the poor parson souse into the ocean. 
 
 OTAHEITAN CONVERSION. 
 
 Among the savages of the South-Sea Islands, 
 Jorgensen, in his Account of the State of Chris- 
 tianity in Otaheite, speaks of Otoo, king of 
 Uliteeah, who came on board, and, putting on a 
 most sanctified face, said, " Master Christ very 
 good, very fine fellow, me love him like my own 
 brother, give me one glass of brandy." His ma- 
 jesty's desires, however, increased glass after 
 glass, till at lengtii he became noisy, and swore 
 he would recant all he had said, if they did not 
 give him more brandy. He was refused ; and 
 then, breaking out into the most horrid impreca- 
 tions, jumped overboard, swearing and swimming 
 to the shore. 
 
 ON A CLUB OF SOTS. 
 
 The jolly members of a toping club, 
 Like pipestaves, are but hoop'd into a tub; 
 And in a close confederacy link, 
 For nothing else, but only to hold drink. < 
 
108 
 
 THE LAUGHIN.Q PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF BEING IN DEBT. 
 Sam Foote clearly demonstrated the advantages 
 of not paying our debts. This, says he, however, 
 presupposes a person to be a man of fortune, 
 otherwise he would not gain credit. It is the art 
 of living without money. It saves the trouble and 
 expense of keeping accounts; and it also makes 
 other people work, in order to give ourselves 
 repose. It prevents the eares and embarrassments 
 of riches. It checks avarice, and encourages 
 generosity; as people are most commonly more 
 liberal of others' goods than of their own ; while 
 it possesses that genuine spark of primitive Chris- 
 tianity which would inculcate a constant commu- 
 nion of all property. In short, it draws on us 
 the inquiries and attentions of the world while 
 we live, and makes us sincerely regretted when 
 we die. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF HOLLAND. 
 A country that draws fifty feet of water, 
 In which men live, as in the hold of nature ; 
 And when the sea does in upon them break, 
 And drown a province, do but spring a lake; 
 That always ply the pump, and never think 
 They can be safe, but at the rate they stiqk ; 
 That live, as if they had been run aground, 
 And, when they die, are cast away and drown'd ; 
 That dwell in ships, like swarms of rats, and prey 
 Upon the goods all nations' fleets convey ? 
 And, when their merchants are blowu up and 
 
 crack 'd, 
 Whole towns are cast away in storms, and 
 
 wreck'd ; 
 That feed, like cannibals, on other fishes, 
 And serve their cousin-germans up in dishes; 
 A land, that rides at anchor, and is moor'd; 
 In which they do not live, but go aboard. 
 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 Lloyd very neatly says of Henry the Fifth, that 
 he had something of Caesar in him, which Alex- 
 ander the Great had not — that he would not be 
 drunk ; and something of Alexander the Great 
 ihat Caesar bad not — that he would not be flattered! 
 
 ON TRANSUBSTANTIATION. BY A SPANISH 
 POET. 
 
 If this we see be bread, how can it last, 
 So constantly consumed, yet always here? 
 If this be God, then how can it appear 
 Bread to the eye, and seem bread to the~ta9te ? 
 If bread, why is it worshipp'd by the baker? 
 If God, can such a space a God comprise? 
 If bread, how is it, it confounds the wise? 
 If God, how is it that we eat our Maker ? 
 If bread, what good can such a morsel do } 
 If God, how is it we divide it so ? 
 If bread, such saving virtue could it give ? 
 If God, how can I see and touch it thus ? 
 If bread, how could it come from heav'n to us ? 
 If God, how can I look at it and live ? 
 
 DIGNITY OF AN ELECTOR. 
 
 The title of elector is useful beyond its foreign 
 meaning. An Englishman travelling through 
 Germany, having presented himself at the gate of 
 a German city, was desired, in the usual manner, 
 to describe himself. " I am," said he, " an elec- 
 tor of Middlesex." The Germans, who hold the 
 dignity of elector as next in rank to that of king, 
 and knew little or nothing of the English titles 
 and rank, immediately opened their gates, and 
 the guard turned out, and did him military ho- 
 nours ! 
 
 A SWINDLING MUSICIAN. 
 
 His time was short, his touch was neat, 
 
 Our gold he freely fingered, 
 Alert alike with hands and feet, 
 
 His movements have not linger'd. 
 
 But where's the wonder of the. case, 
 
 A moment's thought detects it, 
 His practice has been thorough bass, 
 
 A chord will be his exit. 
 
 Yet while we blame his ha9ty flight, 
 
 Our censure may be rash, 
 A traveller is surely right 
 
 To change his notes for cash. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 109 
 
 PRIDE OF ANCESTRY. 
 
 An empty man of a great family is a creature 
 that is scarcely conversable. You read his ances- 
 try in his smile, in his air, in his eyebrow. He 
 has indeed nothing but his nobility to give em- 
 ployment to his thoughts. Rank and precedency 
 are the important points which he is always dis- 
 cussing within himself. A gentleman of this turn 
 began a speech in one of King Charles's parlia- 
 ments: " Sir, I had the honour to be born at a 
 time——" Upon which a rough honest gentleman 
 took him up short. — I would fain know what 
 that gentleman means. Is there any one in this 
 house that has not had the honour to be born as 
 well as himself ? — The good sense which reigns in 
 our nation has pretty well destroyed this starched 
 behaviour among men who have seen the world, 
 and know that every gentleman will be treated 
 upon a footing of equality. But there are many 
 who have had their education among women, de- 
 pendents or tlatterers, that lose all the respect 
 which would otherwise be paid by them, by being 
 too assiduous in procuring it. 
 
 My Lord Froth has been so educated in punc- 
 tilio, that he governs himself by a ceremonial in 
 all the ordinary occurrences of life. He measures 
 out his bow to the degree of the person he con- 
 verses with. I have seen him in every inclination 
 of the body, from a familiar nod to the low stoop 
 in the salutation sign. I remember, five of us, 
 who were acquainted with one another, met to- 
 gether one morning at his lodgings, when a wag 
 of the company was saying, it would be worth 
 while to observe how he would distinguish us at his 
 first entrance. Accordingly he no sooner came 
 into the room, but casting his eye about, My lord 
 such a one, says he, your most humble servant. 
 Sir Richard, vour humble servant. Your servant, 
 Mr. Ironside. Mr. Ducker, how do you do? 
 Hah! Frank, are you there? 
 
 I had some years ago an aunt of my own, by 
 name Mrs. Martha Ironside, who would never 
 marry beneath herself and is supposed to have 
 
 died a mail in the fourthscore year of her age. 
 She was the chronicle of our family, and passed 
 away the greatest part of the last forty years of 
 her life in recounting the antiquity, marriages, 
 exploits, and alliances of the Ironsides. Mrs. 
 Martha conversed generally with a knot of old 
 virgins, who were likewise of good families, and 
 had been very cruel all the beginning of the last 
 century c They were every one of them as proud 
 as Lucifer, butsaid their prayers twice a-day, and 
 in all other respects were the best women in the 
 world. If they saw a fine petticoat at church, 
 they immediately took to pieces the pedigree of 
 her that wore it, and would lift up their eyes to 
 heaven at the confidence of the saucy minx, when 
 they fouud she was an honest tradesman's daugh- 
 ter. It is impossible to describe the pious indig- 
 nation that would rise in them at the sight of a 
 man who lived plentifully on an estate of his own 
 getting. They were transported with zeal be- 
 yond measure, if they heard of a young woman's 
 matching into a great family upon account only 
 of her beauty, her merit, or her money. In short, 
 there was not a female within ten miles of them 
 that was in possession of a gold watch, a pearl 
 necklace, or a piece of Mechlin lace, but they ex- 
 amined her title to it. My aunt Martha used to 
 chide me very frequently for not sufficiently valu- 
 ing myself. She would not eat a bit all dinner- 
 time, if at an invitation she found she had been 
 seated below herself; and would frown upon me 
 for an hour together if she saw me give place to 
 any man under a baronet. As I was once talk- 
 ing to her of a wealthy citizen whom she had re- 
 fused in her youth, she declared to me with great 
 warmth, that she preferred a man of quality in his 
 shirt to the richest man upon the 'Change in a 
 coach and six. She pretended that our family was 
 nearly related, by the mother's side, to halfadozen 
 peers ; but as none of them knew any thing of the 
 matter, we always kept it as a secret among our- 
 selves. A little before her death she was reciting 
 to me the history of my forefathers; but dwelling 
 a little longer than ordinary upon the actions of 
 
no 
 
 Sir Gilbert Ironside, who had a horse shot under 
 him at Edgehill fight, I gave an unfortunate pish, 
 and asked, what was all this to me ? upon which 
 she retired to her closet, and fell a scribbling for 
 three hours together, in which time, as I after- 
 wards found, she struck me out of her will, and 
 left all she had to my sister Margaret, a wheedling 
 baggage, that used to be asking questions about 
 her great-grandfather from morning to night. She 
 now lies buried among the family of the Iionsides 
 with a stone over her, acquainting the reader, 
 that she died at the age of eighty years, a spinster, 
 and that she was descended of the ancient family 
 of the Ironsides — After which follows the genea- 
 logy, drawn up by her own hand. 
 
 THE TEST OF PATIENCE; OR, THE HOGS IN 
 THE PARSON'S CELLAR. 
 
 A parson who had a remarkable foible, 
 
 In minding the bottle more than the bible ; 
 
 "Was deem'd by his neighbours to be less per- 
 
 plex'd 
 In handling a tankard, than handling a text. 
 
 Perch'd up in his pulpit, one Sunday he cried— 
 " Make patience, my dearly beloved, your guide ; 
 And, in all your troubles, mischances, and crosses, 
 Remember the patience of Job in his losses. 5 ' 
 
 How this parson had got a stout cask of strong 
 
 beer ; 
 A present, no doubt— but no matter from where; 
 Suffice.it to say that he reckon'd it good, 
 And valu'd the liquor as much as his blood. 
 
 While he the church-service in haste mutter'd o'er, 
 The hogs found their way thro' his old cellar-door; 
 And by the sweet scent of the beer-barrel led, 
 Had knocked out the spigot or cock from its head. 
 
 Out spouted the liquor abroad on the ground, ~~ 
 And the unbidden guests quaff'd it merrily round, 
 Nor from their diversion or merriment reas'd, 
 Till every hog there was a true drunken bea^t. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 ] And now, the grave lectureand prayers at an end, 
 I He brings along with him a neighbouring friend ; 
 To be a partaker of Sunday's good cheer, 
 And taste his delightful October-brew'd beer. 
 
 The dinner was ready and all things laid snug — 
 « Here, wife," says the parson, " go fetch up a 
 
 mug." 
 But a mug of what liquor he'd scarce time to tell 
 
 her, 
 When — " Lord, husband !" she cried, " there's 
 
 the hogs in the cellar. 
 
 "To be sure they've got in whilst we were at 
 
 prny'ers." 
 " To be sure you're a fool; so, get you down 
 
 stairs, 
 And bring what I bid you — Go, see what's the 
 
 matter, 
 For now I myself hear a grunting and clatter." 
 
 She went ; and returning with sorrowful face, 
 In suitable phrases related the case; 
 He rav'd like a madman ; and, snatching a broom, 
 First belabour'd his hogs, then his wife round the 
 room. 
 
 " Was ever poor mortal so pesterd as I! 
 
 With a base slut who keeps all my house like a 
 
 stye ; 
 How came you to have your d d hogs in the 
 
 kkeben ? 
 Is that a fit place to keep cattle, you in." 
 
 '? Lord, husband !" said she, " what a coil you 
 
 keep here, 
 About a poor beggarly barrel of beer; 
 You should, in your troubles, mischances, and 
 
 crosses, 
 Remember the patience of Job in his losses." 
 
 " A plague upon Job," cried the priest in a rage ; 
 " That beer, I rare say, was near three years of |r 
 
 age; 
 But you are a poor stupid fool, like his wife 
 Why, Job never had such a cask in his life I'* 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Ill 
 
 CONVIVIALITY. 
 
 Charles Bannister was one evening presiding at 
 a convivial party, when a friend said to him, 
 " you will rain your constitution by sitting up at 
 night in this manner." — " Oh," replied Bannister, 
 " you do not know the nature of ray constitution ; 
 I sit up at night to watch it, and keep it in repair 
 while you are asleep." 
 
 EORGE III. AND THE WHIGS. 
 
 "When the Whigs came into power, they turned 
 out every body, even Lord Sandwich, the master 
 of the stag-hounds. The king met his lordship in 
 his ride soon after. " How do you do ?" cried 
 hie [Majesty, " so they have turned you off; it was 
 not cny fault, upon my honour, lor it was as much 
 as I could do-to keep my own place." 
 
 GOLDEN HARVEST. 
 A nobleman about to marry a fortune, being 
 asked how long the honey-moon would last, re- 
 plied, " Don't tell me of the humy-moon, it is 
 harvesl-moon with me." 
 
 PAYMENT AT SIGHT. 
 " Pay me my money !" Robin cried 
 To Richard, whom lie quickly spied, 
 And by the collar seiz'd the blade. 
 Swearing he'd be that moment paid. 
 Ease Richard instant made reply 
 (And struck poor Robin in the eye,) 
 " There's my own mark in black and white, 
 A note of Hand, and paid at sight /" 
 
 MORTIFICATIONS OF AN AUTHOR. 
 
 When a writer has with long toil produced a 
 w oik intended to burst upon mankind with un- 
 expected lustre, and withdraw the attention of 
 the learned world from every other controversy 
 or inquiry, he is seldom contented to wait long 
 without i.ue enjoyment of his new praises, With 
 an imagination full of his own importance, he 
 walks out like a monarch in disguise, to learn 
 t^e various opinions of- his readers. Prepared to 
 
 feast upon admiration, composed to encounter 
 censures without emotion, and determined not 
 to suffer his quiet to be injured by a sensibility 
 too exquisite of praise or blame, but to laugh 
 wtth equal contempt at vain objections and inju- 
 dicious commendations, he enters the places of 
 mingled conversation, sits down to his tea in an 
 obscure corner, and while he appears to examine 
 a file of antiquated journals, catches the conver- 
 sation of the whole room. He listens but hears 
 no mention of his book, and therefore supposes 
 that he has disappointed his curiosity by delay; 
 and that as men of learning would naturally 
 begin their conversation with such a wonderful 
 novelty, they had cigressed to other subjects be- 
 fore his arrival. The company disperses, and 
 their places are supplied by others equally igno- 
 rant, or equally careless. The same expectation 
 hurries him to another place, fiom which the 
 same disappointment drives him soon away. His 
 impatience then grows violent and tumultuous ; 
 he ranges over the town with restless curiosity, 
 and hears in one quarter of a cricket-match, in 
 another of a pickpocket; is told by some of an 
 unexpected bankruptcy, by others of a turtle- 
 feast ; is sometimes provoked by importunate 
 inquiries after the white bear, and sometimes 
 with praises of the dancing-dog; he is afterwards 
 entreated to give his judgment upon a wager 
 about the height of the monument ; invited to see 
 a foot-race in the adjacent villages ; desired to 
 read a ludicrous advertisement; or consulted 
 about the most effectual method of making in- 
 quiry after a favourite cat. The whole world is 
 busied in affairs which he thinks below the notice 
 of reasonable creatures, and which are neverthe- 
 less sufficient to withdraw all regard from his 
 labours and his merits. 
 
 TRUE PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 A footman who had been found guilty cf murder- 
 ing his fellow-servant, was engaged in writing 
 his confession, "I murd— -" he stopped, and 
 asktd, " How do yeu spell murdered?" 
 
112 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 DEATP BY ORDER, 
 
 When Alderman Gil! died, his wife ordered the 
 undertaker to inform the Court of Aldermen of 
 the event, when he wrote to this effect, " I am de- 
 sired to inform the Court of Aldermen, Mr. Al- 
 derman Gill died last night by order of Mrs. Gill." 
 
 THE PATIENT'S FAREWELL. 
 
 My master ! from your wine forbear, 
 Says Gwynn, with gestures odd ; 
 
 And shun all commerce with the fair, 
 Or else you'll die, by G- d. 
 
 If death be in my fair one's smile, 
 
 And poison in my bin; 
 To live can ne'er be worth my while, 
 
 Adieu! good Dr. Gwynn. 
 
 BEN JONSON. 
 
 Ben Jonson owing a vintner some money, 
 staid away from his house; the vintner meeting 
 him by chance, asked him for his money, and also 
 told him if he would come to his house, and an- 
 swer him four questions, he would forgive him the 
 debt, Ben Jonson very gladly agreed, and went 
 at the time appointed, called for a bottle of claret, 
 aud drank to the vintner, praising the wine 
 greatly ; " This is not our business," said the vint- 
 ner ; '* Mr. Jonson, answer me my four questions, 
 or pay me my money, or go to gaol."—-' Pray," 
 said Ben, " propose them." — " Then," said the 
 vintner, " tell me, First, What pleases God ? — 
 Secondly, What pleases the Devil ? — Thirdly, What 
 pleases the World ?— And lastly, What best pleases 
 me?"— " Well, then," replied Ben, 
 14 God is best pleased when man forsakes his sin; 
 
 The Devil's best pleased when man delights 
 therein ; 
 
 The world's best pleas'd when you do 3raw 
 good wine; 
 
 And you'll be pleased when I do pay for mine." 
 
 The. vintner was satisfied, gave Ben a receipt 
 in full, and a bottle of claret into the bargain. 
 
 ROYAL VIRTUES. 
 
 George III. was coining home one day from the 
 San Fiorenzo, at Weymouth, when the wind and 
 tide met, and the people on shore were apprehen- 
 sive that the barge would be swamped. The next 
 morning some officers waited on the king, to con- 
 gratulate him on his escape, saying," that he must 
 have been in great fear." — " Oh," replied the 
 king, " I thank you ; but let what will be said of 
 the family, there are no cowards among us, what- 
 ever fools there may be." 
 
 LASTING BEAUTY. 
 
 Lord Ailesbury and Lady Strafford preserved 
 their beauty so long, that Horace Walpole cailed 
 them Huckaback beauties, that never wear out. 
 
 TYTHE BY INSTALMENTS, 
 
 A farmer once gave notice to the clergyman of 
 Lis parish, who took tithe in kind, that he was 
 going to draw a field of turnips on a certain day. 
 The clergyman, accordingly, sent his team and 
 servant at the time appointed, when the farmer 
 drew ten turnips, and desired the servant to take 
 one of them, saying, " he would not draw any 
 more that day, brit would let him know when he 
 did." 
 
 A LADY OF FASHION, 
 
 She sometimes laughs, but never loud ; 
 She's handsome too, but somewhat proud ; 
 At court she bears away the belle 
 She dresses fine and figures well ; 
 With decency she's gay and airy ; 
 Who can this be but Lady Mary ? 
 
 THE PENSIONER'S EQUIVOQUE. 
 
 A stranger visiting Greenwich-hospital, saw a 
 pensioner in a yellow coat, which isthe punishment 
 for disorderly behaviour. Surprised at the singu- 
 larity of the man's appearance, he asked him 
 what it meant ? " O, sir," replied the fellow, 
 " we who wear yellow coats are the music, and it 
 is I who play the jirst fiddle." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 113 
 
 A CLUB OF AUTHORS. 
 
 The first person of this society is Dr. Nonentity, 
 a metaphysician. Most people think him a pro- 
 found scholar; but, as he seldom speaks, I can- 
 not be positive in that particular; he generally 
 spreads himself before the fire, sucks his pipe, 
 talks little, drinks much, and is reckoned very 
 good company. I am told he writes indexes to 
 perfection; he makes essays on the origin of 
 evil, philosophical inquiries upon any subject, 
 and draw* up an answer to any book, upon 
 twenty- four hours warning. You may distin- 
 guish him from the rest of the company by his 
 long grey wig, and the blue handkerchief round 
 his neck. 
 
 The next to him, in merit and esteem, is Tim 
 Syllabub, a droll creature; he sometimes shines 
 as a star of the first magnitude among the choice 
 spirits of the age; he is reckoned equally excel- 
 lent at a rebus, a riddle, a lewd song, and a 
 hymn for the tabernacle. You will know him 
 by his shabby finery, his powdered wig, dirty 
 shirt, and broken silk-stockings. 
 
 After him, succeeds Mr. Tibbs, a very useful 
 hand ; he writes receipts for the bite of a mad 
 dog, and throws off an eastern tale to perfection; 
 he understands the business of an author as well 
 as any man, for no bookseller alive can cheat 
 him; you may distinguish him by the peculiar 
 clumsiness of his figure, and the coarseness of his 
 coat. However, though it be coarse, (as he some- 
 times tells the company,) he has paid for it. 
 
 Lawyer Squint is the politician of the society ; 
 he makes speeches for parliament, writes ad- 
 dresses to his fellow-subjects, and letters to noble 
 commanders; he gives the history of every new 
 play, and finds seasonable thoughts upon every 
 occasion. 
 
 A NEW PRISON. 
 
 This world is a prison in ev'ry respect, 
 Whose walls are the heavens in common; 
 The gaoler is sin, and the prisoners men, 
 And the fetters are nothing but women. 
 
 LOSING A CHANCE. 
 
 Lord Ligonier was killed by the newspapers, 
 and wauting'o prosecute them, his lawyer told him 
 it was impossible — a tradesman might prosecute, 
 as such a report might affect his credit. " Well 
 then," said the old man, " I may prosecute too, 
 for I can prove I have been hurt by this report ; 
 I was going to marry a great fortune,, who thought 
 I was but seventy-four ; the newspapers have said 
 I am eighty, and she will not have me." 
 VANITY 
 
 Lady Townshend told Horace Walpole that she 
 should go to see the coronation of George III., as 
 she had never seen one. " Why," said Walpole, 
 " you walked at the last ?" — " Yes, child," said 
 she, " but I saw nothing of it, I only looked to 
 see who looked at me." 
 
 THE UNLUCKY DRAMATIST. 
 
 A Scotchman presented a tragedy to Mr. Gar- 
 rick, who, after some time, returned it, saying, 
 " that he did not think tragedy was the gentle- 
 man's forte.'''' — f * Then, sir," said the other, taking 
 a manuscript from his pocket, " here's a comedy, 
 and let me tell ye, it's the first comedy that was 
 ever wrote by any of my country." This, how- 
 ever, Mr. Garrick likewise returned, observing, 
 " When I said that tragedy was not your forte, I 
 did not mean that comedy was." 
 
 WARBURTON AND QUIN. 
 
 Bishop Warburton was once haranguing at Bath 
 in behalf of prerogative, when Quin said, " Pray, 
 my lord, spare me; you are not acquainted with 
 ray principles, I am a republican ; and perhaps I 
 even think that the execution of Charles I. might 
 be justified." — " Aye," said Warburton, " by 
 what law ?" Quin replied, " by all the laws he had 
 left them.'''' The bishop told Quin to remember 
 that all the regicides came to violent ends ;" I 
 would not advise your lordship," said Quin, rt to 
 make use of that inference, for if I am not znistukerty 
 the same was the case with the twelve apostles" 
 
114 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 JOURNAL OF A CITIZEN. 
 
 Monday, Eight o'clock. I put on ray clothes, 
 and walked into the parlour. 
 
 Nine o'clock ditto. , Tied my knee-string?, and 
 washed my hands. 
 
 Hours ten, eleven, and twelve. Smoked three 
 pipes of Virginia. Read the Supplement and 
 Daily Courant. Things go on i!l in the north. 
 Mr. Nisby's opinion thereupon. 
 
 One o'clock in the afternoon. -Chid Ralph for 
 mislaying my tobacco-box. 
 
 Two o'clock. Saf down to dinner. Mem. 
 Too many plums, and no suet. 
 
 From three to four. Took my afternoon's 
 nap. 
 
 From four to six. Walked into the fields. 
 
 Wind, S.S.E. 
 
 From six to ten. At the club. Mr. Nisby's 
 opinion about peace. 
 
 Ten o'clock. Went to bed, slept sound. 
 
 Tuesday, being holiday, Eight o'clock. Rose 
 as usual. 
 
 Nine o'clock. Washed hands and face, shaved, 
 put on my double-soled shoes. 
 
 Ten, eleven, twelve. Took a walk to Islington. 
 
 One. Took a pot of Mother Cob's mild. 
 
 Between two and three. Returned, dined, on a 
 knuckle of veal and bacon. Mem. Sprouts 
 wanting. 
 
 Three. Nap as usual. 
 
 From four to six. Coffee-house. Read the 
 news. A dish of twist. Grand Vizier strangled. 
 
 From six to ten. At the club. Mr. Nisby's 
 account of the Great Turk. 
 
 Ten. Dream of the Grand Vizier. Broken 
 sleep. 
 
 Wednesday, Eight o'clock. Tongue of my 
 shoe-buckle broke. Hands, but not face. 
 
 Nine. Paid off the butcher's bill. Mem. To 
 be allowed for the last leg of mutton. 
 
 Ten, eleven. At the coffee-house. More work 
 in the north. Stranger in a black wig asked me 
 how stocks went. 
 
 From twelve to one. Walked in the fields. 
 Wind to the south., 
 
 From one to two. Smoked a pipe and a half. 
 
 Two! Dined as usual. Stomach good. 
 
 Three. Nap broke by the falling of a pewter 
 dish. Mam. Cook-maid in love and grown care- 
 less. 
 
 From four to six. At the coffee-house. Advice 
 from Smyrna, that the Grand Vizier was first of 
 all strangled, and afterwards beheaded. 
 
 Six o'clock in the evening. Was half an hour in 
 the club before any body else came. Mr. Nisby 
 of opinion that the Grand Vizier was not strangled 
 the sixth instant. 
 
 Ten at night. Went to bed. Slept without 
 waking till nine next morning. 
 
 Thursday, Nine o'clock. Staid within till two 
 o'clock for Sir Timothy ; who did not bring me 
 my annuity according to his promise. 
 
 Two in the afternoon. Sat down to dinner. 
 Loss of appetite. Small-beer sour. Beef over- 
 corned. 
 
 Three. Could not take my nap. 
 
 Four and five. Gave Ralph a box on the ear. 
 Turned off my cook-maid. Sent a messenger to 
 Sir Timothy. Mem. I did not go to the club to- 
 night. Went to bed at nine o'clock. 
 
 Friday. Passed the morning in meditation 
 upon Sir Timothy, who was with me a quarter 
 before twelve. 
 
 Twelve o'clock. Bought a new head to my cane, 
 and a tongue to my buckle. Drank a glass of 
 pur! to recover appetite. 
 
 Two and three. Dined, and slept well. 
 
 From four to six. Went to the coffee-house. 
 Met Mr. Nisby there. Smoked several pipes. 
 Mr. Nisby of opinion that laced CGfiee is bad for 
 the head. 
 
 Six o'clock. At the club as steward. Sat late. 
 
 Twelve o'clock. Went to bed, dream'd that I 
 drank small-beer with the Grand Vizier. 
 
 Saturday. Waked at eleven, walked En the 
 fields, wind N. E. 
 
 Twelve. Caught in a shower. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 \\5 
 
 One in the afternoon Returned home, and dried 
 myself. 
 
 Two. Mr. Nisby dined with me. First course, 
 marrow-bones ; second, ox-cheek, with a bottle 
 of Brooks and He'.lier. 
 
 Three o'clock, Overslept myself. 
 
 Six. Went to the club. Like to have fallen 
 into a gutter. Grand Vizier certainly dead. 
 
 REQUISITES FOR A MINISTER. 
 
 A wag, in 1753, gave the following genuine re- 
 ceipt, as the grand catholicon : 
 
 To form a minister, th' ingredients 
 
 Are, a head fruitful of expedients, 
 
 Each suited to the present minute, 
 
 (No harm if nothing else be in it !) 
 
 The mind, tho' much perplex'd and harass'd, 
 
 The count'nance must be unembarrass'd ; 
 
 High .promises for all occasions ; 
 
 A set of treasons, plots, invasions; 
 
 Bullies to ward off each disaster; 
 
 Much impudence to brave his master; 
 
 The talents of a treaty maker ; 
 
 The sole disposal of th' exchequer; 
 
 Of right or wrong no real feeling; 
 
 "Yet in the names of both much dealing. 
 
 In short, this man must be a mixture 
 
 Of broker, sycophant, and trickster. 
 
 STEALING A MARCH. 
 
 Lord Waldcgrave, when on his death-bed, asked 
 his physicians what day of the week it was ; they 
 told bim Thursday. " Sure," said he, "it is Fri- 
 day." — kk No, my lord, indeed it is Thursday." — 
 " Well," said he, " see what a rogue this distem- 
 per makes one ; I want to steal nothing but a 
 day." 
 
 A REASONABLE ANSWER. 
 
 A poor man in Bedlam having been ill used by 
 his apprentice, because he would not tell him why 
 he was confined there, at last said, " Because 
 God has deprived me of a blessing you never en- 
 joyed." 
 
 DISSECTION OF A L-F.A'J'S HEAD- 
 
 I was invited, me thought, to the dissection of a 
 beau's head, and of a coquette's heart,- which were 
 both of' them laid on a table before us. An ima- 
 ginary operator opened the first with a great deal 
 of nicety, which, upon a cursory and superficial 
 view, appeared like the head of another man ; 
 but upon applying our glasses to it, we made a 
 very odd discovery, namely, that what we looked 
 upon as brains were not such in reality, but a 
 heap of strange materials wound up in that shape 
 and texture, and packed together with wonderful 
 art in the several cavities of the skull. For, as 
 Homer tells us, that the blood of the godjs is not 
 real blood, but only something like it; so we 
 found that the brain of a beau is not a real braijL 
 but only something like it. 
 
 The pineal gland, which many of our modern 
 philosophers suppose to be the seat of the soul, 
 smelt very strong of essence and orange-flower 
 water, and was encompassed with a kind of horny 
 substance, cut into a thousand little faces or mir- 
 rors which were imperceptible to the naked eye; 
 insomuch, that the soul, if there had been any 
 here, must have been always taken up in contem- 
 plating her own beauties. 
 
 We observed a large antrum or cavity in the 
 sinciput, that was filled with ribbands, lace, and 
 embroidery, wrought together in a most curious 
 piece of network, the parts of which were like- 
 wise imperceptible to the naked eye. Another of 
 these atatruras or cavities was stuffed with invisible 
 billet-doux, love-letters, pricked-dances, and 
 other trumpery of the same nature. In another 
 we found a kind of powder, which set the whole 
 company a-sneezing, and by the scent discovered 
 itself to be right Spanish. The several other ceils 
 were stored with commodities of the same kind, 
 of which it would be tedious to give the reader an 
 exact inventory. 
 
 There was a large cavity on each side of the 
 head, which I must not omit. That on the right 
 side was filled with fictions, flatteries, and false- 
 
116 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 hoods, vows, promises, and protestations ; that on 
 the left with oaths and imprecations. There 
 issued out a duct from each of these cells, which 
 ran into the root of the tongue, where both joined 
 together, and passed forward in one common duct 
 to the tip of it. We discovered several little 
 roads or canals running from the ear into the 
 brain, and took particular care to trace them out 
 through their several passages. One of them ex- 
 tended itself to a bundle of sonnets and little 
 musical instruments. Others ended in several 
 bladders, which were filled either with wind or 
 froth. But the large canal entered into a great 
 cavity of the skull, from whence there went an- 
 other canal into the tongue. This great cavity 
 was filled with a kind of spongy substance, which 
 ^ie French anatomists call Galimatias, and the 
 English Nonsense. 
 
 The skins of the forehead were extremely tough 
 and thick, and, what very much surprised us, had 
 not in them any single blood-vessel that we were 
 able to discover, either with or without our glasses ; 
 from whence we concluded, that the party when 
 alive must have been entirely deprived of the 
 faculty of blushing. 
 
 The os cribriforme was exceedingly stuffed, and 
 in some places damaged with snufF. We could 
 not but take notice in particular of that small 
 muscle which is not often discovered in dissections, 
 and draws the nose upwards, when it expresses 
 the contempt which the owner of it has, upon 
 seeing any thing he does not like, or hearing any 
 thing he does not understand, I need not tell my 
 learned reader, this is that muscle which performs 
 the motion so often mentioued by the Latin poets, 
 when they talk of a man's cocking his nose, or 
 playing the rhinoceros. 
 
 We did not find any thing very remarkable in 
 the eye, save only that the musculi amatorii, or, 
 aswe may translate it into Engljsh, the ogling mus- 
 cles, were very much w*>rn and decayed with use; 
 whereas, on the contrary, the elevator, or the 
 muscle which turns the eye towards heaven, did 
 not appear to have been used at all. 
 
 I have only mentioned in this dissection such 
 new discoveries as we are able to make, and 
 have not taken any notice of those parts which 
 are to be met with in common heads. As for the 
 skull, the face, and indeed the whole outward 
 shape and figure of the head, we could not dis- 
 cover any difference from what we observe in 
 the heads of other men. We were informed that 
 the person to whom this head belonged, had 
 passed for a man above five and thirty years; 
 during which time he eat and drank like other 
 people, dressed well, talked loud, laughed fre- 
 quently, and, on particular occasions, had acquit- 
 ted himself tolerably at a ball or an assembly ; 
 to which one of the company added, that a cer- 
 tain knot of ladies took him for a wit. He was 
 cut off in the flower of his age by the blow of a 
 paring shovel, having been surprised by an emi- 
 nent citizen, as he was tendering some civilities 
 to his wife. 
 
 THE ILLUSTRIOUS ARCHITECT. 
 
 Old Bess, Countess of Hardwicke, built Chats- 
 worth House; and her family pretended that it 
 had been prophesied to her that she would never 
 die as long as she was building; and that at last 
 she died in a hard frost, when the labourers could 
 not work. She was married four times. Horace 
 Walpole, on his visit to Chatsvvorth, is said to 
 have written the following epitaph for her: 
 
 Four times the nuptial bed she warm'd, 
 
 And every time so well perform'd. 
 
 That when death spoil'd her husband's billing, 
 
 He left the widow every shilling. 
 
 Fond was the darne, but not dejected ; 
 
 Five stately mansions she erected ; 
 
 With more than royal pomp to vary 
 
 The prison of her captive Mary.* 
 
 When Hardwicke? s towers shall bow their head, 
 
 Nor mass be more in Worksop said ; 
 
 When Bolsover's fair fame shall tend, 
 
 Like Olcates, to its mouldering end; 
 
 When Chcttsworth. tastes no Ca'udish bounties, 
 
 Let fame forget this costly Countess. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 117 
 
 TREBLE BIRTH. 
 
 A man of some small fortune bad a wife, 
 Sans doule, to be the comfort of his life, 
 
 And pretty well they bore the joke together ; 
 With little jarring lived the pair one year, 
 Sometimes the matrimonial sky was clear, 
 
 At times 'twas dark and dull and hazy weather. 
 
 Now came the time when mistress, in the straw, 
 Did for the world's support her screams pre- 
 pare ; 
 
 And Slop appear'd with fair obstetric- paw, 
 To introduce his pupil to our air; 
 
 Whilst in a neighbouring room the husband sat, 
 
 Musing on this thing now, and now on that. 
 
 Now sighing at the sorrows of hi* wife, 
 Praying to Heaven that he could take the pain, 
 But recollecting that such prayers were vain, 
 
 He made no more an offer of his life. 
 
 Alone as thus he mused in solemn study, 
 Ideas sometimes clear and sometimes muddy, 
 
 In Betty rush'd with comfortable news: 
 " Sir, Sir, I wish ye joy, I wish ye joy ! 
 Madam is brought to bed of a fine boy, 
 
 As fine as ever stood in shoes!" 
 
 " I'm glad on't, Betty," cried the master, 
 " I pray there may be no disaster! 
 
 All's with your mistress well, I hope?" 
 Quoth she, " All's well, as heart can well desire, 
 With Madam and the fine young squire, 
 
 So likewise says old Doctor Slop." 
 
 j Off Betty hurried, fast as she could scaur, 
 Fast and as hard as any hors^ 
 That trotteth fourteen miles an hour; 
 A pretty tolerable course. 
 
 Soon happy Betty came again, 
 Blowing with all her might and main ; 
 Just like a grampus or a whale, 
 I In sounds too that would Calais reach from Dover ; 
 j "Sir, Sir! more happy tidings ; 'tis not over — 
 And Madam's brisker than a nightingale. 
 
 A fine young lady to the world is come, 
 
 Squalling away just as I left the room ! 
 
 Sir, this is better than a good estate!" 
 
 " Humph," quoth the man, and scratch'd his pate. 
 
 Now gravely looking up — now looking down ; 
 Not with a smile, but somewhat like a frown, 
 " Good God," says he, " why was I not a cock, 
 Who never feels of burd'ning brats the shock; 
 Who, Turk like, struts 'mid his madams, picking, 
 Whilst to the hen belongs the care 
 To carry them to eat, or take the air, 
 Or bed beneath her wing the chicken ?' 
 
 Just as this sweet soliloquy was ended, 
 He found affairs not greatly mended 
 For in bounc'd Bet, her rump with rapture jig- 
 ging; 
 6 * Another daughter, Sir — a charming child." — 
 " Another!" cried the man, with wonder wild ; 
 " Zounds! Betty, ask your mistress, if she's pig- 
 ging" 
 
 JUDGE JEFFeW's SPEECH TO THE MAYOR AND 
 ALDERMEN OF BRISTOL.. 
 
 I have brought a brush in my pocket to rub off 
 your dirt; I tell you, I have brought a stout 
 besom, with which 1 will sweep every man's 
 door, both within and without, for in good truth 
 you want rubbing; the dirt of your ditch is in 
 your nostrils. Where am I? in Bristol, a city in 
 which it seems you claim the privilege of hang- 
 ing, drawing, and quartering; a privilege you 
 ought to enjoy at least once a month. I have a 
 calendar of your city in my .hands, and hope 
 before I have done to hang one half of you at 
 least. 
 
 SYMPATHETIC ANALOG IE. 
 
 Two cantabs were one day descending a stair- 
 case, when the foremost chanced to stumble against 
 a pail that'had accidentally been left at the botrom, 
 upon which his companion quaintly observed, that 
 he had kicked the bucket, " Oh, no !" said he, 
 " I only turned pale." 
 
118 THE LAUGHING 
 
 ^LONDON IN SUMMER, 
 
 This large city is now a huge oven, and the few 
 who still walk the streets look baked. The streets 
 are like the highways of the desert for silence and 
 sand, — the stage-coaches (for no others are abroad) 
 move in whirlwinds of dust, — and it is only when 
 the sun goes down from the brazen sky, that you 
 find London is still peopled. 
 
 The heat has grown intense, and it has certainly 
 deadened the spirit of public amusements : all the 
 gatherings of the wealthy into ball-rooms, and the 
 other refuges of industrious idleness, are melting 
 down — the theatres are stricken with loneliness — 
 and all the superfluity of the London populace^ 
 great and little, is already flowing out upou the 
 sea-shore, from Thanet to Torbay. Thisour " lau- 
 datores tcmporis aclV revile, as among the signs 
 of a degenerate time. But what is the use of fry- 
 ing and boiling the human materials in cities, when 
 it can live and be happy even on the withered downs 
 and slimy shores of Margate. Our forefathers, 
 with all their wisdom, were fools. Those opulent 
 persons lingered through the year in their count- 
 ing-houses, saw the summer only through the Sun- 
 day's dust at Islington, fed on the steams of man- 
 kind, concocted in a thousand wealthy and detest- 
 able lanes, till those venerable stews and fricassees 
 of men were gathered to the grave. " Vive lapos- 
 tcrite.'''' There is more enjoyment now scattered 
 over the life of a London shop-keeper, than, fifty 
 years ago, fell to the lot of his prince. Hook upon 
 this out-pouring of the multitude, this rush of the 
 metropolitan colluvies; — this unctuous deluge roll- 
 ing through the flood-gates Aldermanbury, Buck- 
 lersbury, and all the other snug and airless depo- 
 sitories and hybernacles of life in the city of cities; 
 this scrambling, galloping, walking, tilbu.rying, 
 and steaming down to the sea-side, as among the 
 first proofs, if not the vevy first, of the prosperity, 
 goodjuimour, and good government of the naticn. 
 What if ancient men inflate their gout with oysters 
 fresh from the bed, and city clerks make themselves 
 ridiculous in quadrilles ; what if the fashionables 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 of Moorfields grow romantic to the roar of moon- 
 light kettle-drums on the pier at Margate ; or em- 
 bryo tailors, arm in arm with the rising hopes of 
 haberdashery, discuss pantaloons and the battle *f 
 Waterloo on the Steyne ? Who is the worse for 
 all this ? If the life of man is to be spent in eter 
 nal stitching, let them be grasped by the hand of 
 law, the unworthy minister of Heaven in this in- 
 stance, and summarily consigned to their counters. 
 But if all statutes, from Deuteronomy to Black- 
 stone, are silent on the subject, let them be happy 
 in their own way, flatter the inn-keepers, pick up 
 pebble? on the sea-shore, spend their hebdomadal 
 gains. in raffling for razor-paste, powder-puffs, 
 and pili-boxes; — and when the municipal treasury 
 sounds hollow, when the races are over, and every 
 soul is saturated with sea-smells and Olympic dust, 
 let theai return,and through the winter " babbie 
 of green fields." There is no jest in all this. 
 What would become of London, crammed with its 
 million of heavy feeders, and those reinforced by 
 irruptions from all the red, green, bine, brown, 
 and black population of the earth, with all their 
 oleaginous, murky, yellow-feverish, cho!era-mor- 
 bus bloods, inflamed by made wine, drugged por- 
 ter, and the absorption of three hundred thousand 
 annual bullocks, and three millions of sheep; 
 vaulted in under an impenetrable sky of smoke 
 and ashes, fronVa hundred thousand manufactories 
 of all horrible -and death-dealing steams, stenches, 
 and evaporations, without those escapes and vents 
 for the multitude ? 
 
 MODERN SAMPSON 
 
 Jack, eating rotten cheese, did say, 
 " Like Sampson, I my thousands slay ; 
 " I vow," quoth Roger, " so you do. 
 And with the self-same weapon too." 
 
 ON AN EXCELLENT MUSICIAN PLAYING TO 
 AWKWARD DANCERS. 
 
 How ill the motion with the music suit?, 
 
 Thus fiddled Orpheus, and thus dane'd the Itrutes ! 
 
T H E L A. U CJ H- 1 N G F H ! LOS O P H E f { . 
 
 no 
 
 BALAAM'S ASS. 
 
 Bishop Atterbury happened to say, upon a cer- 
 tain bill in discussion iu the House of Lords, that 
 *' he had prophesied last winter, this hill would 
 be attempted in the present sessioo, and he was 
 sorry to find that he had proved a true prophet." 
 Lord Coningsby, who spoke after the bishop, de- 
 sired the house to remark, " that one of the flight 
 Reverends had set himself forth as a prophet; 
 but, for his part, he did not know what prophet 
 to liken him to, unless to that furious prophet, 
 Balaam, who was reproved by his own ass." 
 The bishop, in reply, exposed this rude attack, 
 concluding thus, " Since the noble lord hath dis- 
 covered in our manners such a similitude, I am 
 well content to be compared to the prophet Ba- 
 laam ; but, my Jords, I am at a loss to make out 
 the other part of the parallel ; I am sure that I 
 have been reproved by nobody but his lordship." | 
 
 GOOD EFFECT. 
 
 of them. I could bring many instances, and those 
 very ancient ; but, my lords, I shall go no further 
 back than the latter end of Queen Elizabeth's 
 reign, at which time the Earl of Essex was run 
 down by Sir Walter Raleigh ; Lord Bacon ran 
 down Sir Walter Raleigh, and your lordships 
 know what became of Lord Bacon ; the Duke of 
 Buckingham ran down Lord Bacon, and your 
 lordships know what became of the Duke of Buck- 
 ingham; Sir Harry Vane ran down the Earl of 
 Strafford, and your lordships know what became 
 of Sir Harry Vane; Chancellor Hyde ran down 
 Sir Harry Vane, and your lordships know what 
 became of the Chancellor ; Sir Thomas Osborne 
 ran down Chancellor Hyde, and what will be- 
 come of the Earl of Danby, your lordship* can 
 best tell ; but let me see the man that dares run 
 down the Earl of Danby, and we shall soon see 
 what will become of him." 
 
 A CANINE M. P. 
 
 Lord North, once speaking in the house, was 
 
 Dick's wife was sick, and past the~doctors' skill, [suddenly interrupted in the midst of the most im- 
 portant part of it, by a dog, who, having taken 
 shelter and concealed himself under the tabic of the 
 house, made his escape and ran directly across the 
 floor, setting up, at the same time, a violent howl. 
 It occasioned a burst of laughter, and might have 
 disconcerted an ordinary man. Lord North, how- 
 ever, having waited till the roar which it produc- 
 ed had subsided, and preserving all his gravity, 
 addressed the chair, " Sir," said he to the speak- 
 er, " I have been interrupted by a new member, 
 but, as he has concluded his argument, I will now 
 resume mine." 
 
 LORD ELDON'S FORENSIC ELOQUENCE, 
 
 Home Tooke was once heard to declare, that, 
 were he to be tried again, he would plead guilty 
 ratiier than endure hearing the then solicitor-ge- 
 neral's (since the Lord Chancellor Eldon) long 
 speeches, one of which lasted eleven hours ! Such 
 an effect had this oratorical prolixity upon the 
 nice ears of the author of the Diversions of Pnrley. 
 
 Who differ'd how to cure th' invet'rate ill 
 Purging the one prescrib'd ; no, quoth the other, 
 That will do neither good nor harm, dear brother : 
 Bleeding's the only thing — 'twas quick replied, 
 That's certain death. But since we differ wide, 
 ; Tis fit the husband choose by whom t'abide. 
 " 1'se no great skill," cried Richard, " by the 
 
 rood ! 
 But I'se think bleeding's like to do most good." 
 
 MAIDEN SPEECH. 
 
 Earl Caernarvon, in the reign of Charles the 
 Second, made a maiden speech in the House of 
 Lords. The occasion was this: — The Duke of 
 Buckingham had ridiculed his silence; when, 
 being flushed with wine, he spoke as follows upon 
 the prosecution of the Lord Treasurer Danby. 
 " My lords, I understand but little of Latin, but 
 a good deal of English, and not a little of the Eng- 
 lish history; from which I have learned the mis- 
 chiefs of such prosecutions as these, and the ill Fate 
 
120 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 IRISH SORROW. 
 
 A captain of grenadiers having some time ago 
 died in the West-Indies, his remains were follow, 
 ed to the grave by an Irish servant, and buried 
 with military honours. Upon the discharge of 
 the last round, poor'Paf, who had hitherto ob- 
 served an awful and melancholy silence, loudly 
 exclaimed, " Ah? Master, Jewel, that's the last 
 shot your honour will ever hear !" 
 
 PITT'S MINISTRY. 
 
 On the assertion of Mr. Hawkins Browne, that 
 Mr. Pitt found England of wood and left it of 
 marble. 
 
 From wood to marble, Hawkins cried, 
 
 Great Pitt transform'd us, ere he died ! 
 
 Indeed! exclaimed a country gaper ; 
 
 Sure he must mean to marble paper. 
 
 IDIOTISM. 
 A country clergyman, by his dull monotonous 
 discourse, set all the congregation asleep, except 
 an idiot, who sat with open mouth listening. The 
 parson, enraged, and thumping the pulpit, ex- 
 claimed, " What ! all asleep but this poor idiot." 
 — " Aye," quoth the natural, " and if I had not 
 been a poor idiot, 1 would have been asleep too." 
 
 NAUTICAL REASONING. 
 
 A sailor, being about to sail for India, a citizen 
 asked him where his father died ? " In ship- 
 wreck," was the answer. " And where did your 
 grandfather die?" — " As lie was fishing, a storm 
 arose, and the bark foundering, all on board 
 perished." — " And your great grandfather?" — 
 " He also perished on board a ship which struck 
 on a rock." — " Then," said the citizen, " if I 
 were you I would never go to sea." — " And 
 pray, Mr. Philosopher," inquired the seaman, 
 " where did your father die?" — " In his bed." — 
 "And your grandfather ?"—" In his bed." — 
 " And your great-grandfather ?" — " He, and all 
 my ancestorsdied quietly in their beds." — " Then, 
 if I were vou, I would never go to bed." 
 
 EQUIVOCATION. A TALE. 
 
 An abbot rich (whose taste was good 
 
 Alike in science and in food) 
 
 His bishop had resolv'd to treat ; 
 
 The bishop came, the bishop eat; 
 
 'Twas silence, 'till their stomachs fail'd j 
 
 And now at heretics they rail'd ; 
 
 What heresy (the prelate said) 
 
 Is in that church where priests may wed ! 
 
 Do not we take the church for life ? 
 
 But those divorce her for a wife, 
 
 Like laymen keep her in their houses, 
 
 And own the children of their spouses. 
 
 Vile practices ! the abbot cry'd, 
 
 For pious use we're set aside ! 
 
 Shall we take wives? marriage at best 
 
 Is but carnality profest. 
 
 Now as the bishop took his glass, 
 
 He spy'd our Abbot's buxom lass 
 
 Who cross'd the room, he inark'd her eye 
 
 That glow'd with love ; his pulse beat high. 
 
 Fye, father, fye, (the prelate cries) 
 
 A maid so young! for shame, be wise. 
 
 These indiscretions lend a handle 
 
 To lewd lay tongues, to give us scandal ; 
 
 For your vows sake, this rule I give t'ye, 
 
 Let all your maids be turn'd of fifty. 
 
 The priest replied, I have not swerv'd 
 But your chaste precept well observ'd ; 
 That lass full twenty-five has told 
 I've yet another who's as old ; 
 Into one sum their ages cast; 
 So both my maids have fifty past. 
 
 The prelate smil'd, but durst not blame; 
 For why ? his lordship did the same. 
 
 Let those who reprimand their brothers, 
 First mend the faults they find in others. 
 
 RICH AND POOR. 
 
 Sir Walter Raleigh says, that the difference be- 
 tween a rich man and a poor man is this — the 
 former eats when he pleases, and the latter when he 
 can get it. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 THE EDINBURGH STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 If smack to London thou wouldst wish to go, 
 Then, gentle reader, go not in a smack. 
 
 Because accommodation's but so-so, 
 
 And if the winds not fair, she can but tack ; 
 
 And if (as sometimes does) it comes a blow, 
 
 Long sickness makes thee wish that thou wert 
 back ; 
 
 So, taking all things into view, I deem 
 
 Thy best and wisest plan's to go by steam. 
 
 Four guineas and a half the cabin fare ; 
 
 And when thy parting friends sigh oat farewell, 
 The wish is granted. Seated on thy chair, 
 
 When sounds the breakfast or the dinner bell. 
 With roasted, boiled, and baked, I know not 
 where 
 
 Thou could'st fare better, save in a hotel; 
 But men of moderate incomes it don't suit 
 To pay maids, waiters, and somewhat to boot. 
 I Her mighty engine-wheels with splash and splutter, 
 
 And power of hundred horses, churn the ocean; 
 ("lis pity that such churning makes no butter,) 
 
 On, on, she sweeps with vibratory motion, 
 | Much faster than a pleasure-boat or cutter; 
 
 And yet, for all her speed, I have a notion 
 She would not walk the waters, in high gales, 
 So well as vessels fitted with good sails. 
 Hark to the summons, dinner's on the table ! 
 
 Hark to the clattering of the knives and forks, 
 The rising uproar of the ocean Babel ; 
 
 The only silent one is he that works, 
 Shutting his mouth as quick as he is able ; 
 
 While ever and anon, the starting corks, 
 Fir'd in your face by furious ginger-beer, 
 Cause sudden starts of momentary fear ! 
 But hapless he, the wight, whose lot is cast, 
 
 Before a mighty round of corned beef, 
 He, luckless wretch, must help himself the last 
 
 His time of eating too be very brief, 
 | And half the dishes from the board be past 
 | Ere general taste yet sated, gives relief; 
 j Warned by his fate, choose thou position where 
 Potatoes only claim thy humble care. 
 
 121 
 
 Another scene succeeds : a sudden qualm 
 
 Comes o'er each bosom, with the rising squallj 
 
 Sea-sickness comes, for which there is no balm, 
 Not even Balm of Gilead, curing all 
 
 Our other ills — alike in storm and calm, 
 It baffles human aid, and you may call 
 
 For aught that medicine has art and part in, 
 
 You'll find His all my eye and Betti) Martin 
 
 Then beauty's head declines ; her pensive eye 
 Looks sadly o'er the dark and heaving billow, 
 
 And through her tresses, as the rude wind sigh, 
 She leans above the wave-like drooping willow, 
 
 " And dull were he that heedless pass'd her by," 
 Nor handed her a chair, and brought a 
 pillow ! 
 
 'Tis strange, a meal prevented from digesting, 
 
 Should make a woman look so interesting. 
 
 She seems so helpless, and so innocent, 
 Still as a lake beneath the summer even; 
 
 A bright and beautiful embodyment, 
 
 Of calm and peace, and all we dream of heaven; 
 
 A sight to shake an anchorite or saint, 
 'Gainst beauty'ssmiles successful who has striv'n? 
 
 A pretty woman, like a sight of wonder, 
 
 Makes men turn up their eyes like ducks in 
 thunder. 
 
 The bark is at Blackwall, and so adieu ! 
 
 My song and subject cease together there. 
 Oh ! wonder-working steam, what thou mayst do, 
 Where is the prophet spirit to declare? 
 By thee we make broadcloth — hatch chickens too, 
 
 We roam the seas — we yet may traverse air 
 Nay, do not laugh, if I should fondly dream, 
 We yet may manufacture verse by steam. 
 
 THE IRISH FOOTMAN'S HINT. 
 An Irish footman having carried a basket of 
 game from his master to a friend, waited a consi- 
 derable time for the customary fee, but not find- 
 ing it likely to appear, scratched his head, and 
 said — Sir, if my master should say, "Paddy, 
 what did the gentleman give you?" what would 
 your honour have me to tell him? 
 6 
 
122 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 «NEAS AND WILLIAM THE THIRD. 
 Jacob Tonson, Dryden's bookseller, was a 
 ■whig, while the poet was a Jacobite. When 
 Dryden had nearly completed his translation of 
 Virgil, it was the bookseller's wish, and seve- 
 ral of Dryden's friends, that the book should be 
 dedicated to King William: this, however, the 
 poet strenuously refused. The bookseller, how- 
 ever, who had as much veneration for William as 
 Dryden had for James, finding he could not have 
 the dedication he wished, contrived, on retouch- 
 ing the plates, to have iEneas delineated with a 
 hooked nose, that he might resemble his favourite 
 prince. This ingenious device of Tonson'g occa- 
 sioned the following epigram to be inserted in the 
 next edition of Dryden's Virgil: — 
 
 Old Jacob, by deep judgment swav'd, 
 
 To please the wise beholders, 
 Has plac'd old Nassau's hook-nos'd bead 
 
 On poor ./Eneas' shoulders. 
 
 To make the parallel hold tack, 
 
 Methinks there's little lacking, 
 One took his father pick-a-back, 
 
 And t'other sent him packing. 
 
 DANCING-CARD EXTRAORDINARY. 
 As dancing is the poetry of motion — those who 
 wish to sail through the mazes of harmony — or to 
 i l trip it on the light fantastic toe," will find an 
 able guide in John Wilde, who was formed by na- 
 ture for a dancing-master. — N.B. Those who have 
 been taught to dance with a couple of left legs, 
 had better apply in time, as he effectually cures 
 all bad habits of the kind. 
 
 A STANDARD RULE. 
 
 An officer and a lawyer talking of a disastrous 
 battle, the former was lamenting the number of 
 brave soldiers who fell on the occasion, when the 
 lawyer observed, " That those who live by the 
 sword must expect to die by the sword." — " By 
 a similar rule," answered the officer, " tho?e who 
 live by the law must expect to die by the law." 
 
 TRAVELLING EXPENCES. 
 
 A foolish young fellow boasting in company of 
 his "travelling abroad, was asked by one present 
 how he made his way. " By my wits," replied 
 the other. " Indeed !" says, he, " then you must 
 have travelled very cheaply." 
 
 ON MR. DAY, WHO RAN AWAY FROM HIS 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Here Dat and Night conspir'd a sudden flignt, 
 For Day, they say, has run away by night. 
 Day's past and gone. Why, landlord, where's 
 
 your rent ? 
 Did you not see that Day was almost spent? 
 Day pawn'd and sold, and put offwhat he might, 
 Tho' it be ne'er so dark, Day will be light. 
 You had one Day a tenant ; and would fain 
 Your eyes could see that Day but once again, 
 No, landlord, no ; now you may truly say, 
 (And to your cost too) you have lost the Day. 
 Day is departed in a mist, I fear ; 
 For Day is broke, and yet does not appear. 
 From time to time he prorais'd still to pay; 
 You should have rose before the break of D\Y. 
 But if you had,- you'd have got nothing by't, 
 For Day was cunning, and broke over-night. 
 Day, like a candle, is gone out, but where 
 None knows, unless to t'other hemisphere. 
 Then to the tavern let us haste away — 
 Come, chear up — hang't — 'tis but a broken Day. 
 And he that trusted Day for any. sum 
 Will have his money, if that Day tcill come. 
 But how now, landlord ! what'sthe matter, pray ? 
 What ! you can't sleep, you long so much for Day, 
 Have you a mind, sir, to arrest a Day ? 
 There's no such bailiff, now, a? Joshua. 
 Cheer up then, man ! what tho' you've lo?t a sum, 
 Do you not know that pay-DAY yet will come ? 
 I will engage, do you but leave your sorrow, 
 My life for your's, Day comes again to-morrow, 
 And for your rent- never torment your soul, 
 You'll quickly see Day peeping through a hole, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 123 
 
 THE LIGHT GUINEA. 
 
 A gentleman, travelling on a journey, having a 
 
 light guinea which he could not pass, gave it to his 
 
 Irish servant, and desired him to pass it upon the 
 
 road. At night he asked him if he had passed the 
 
 guinea. " Yes, sir," replied Teague, " but 1 
 
 ; was forced to be very sly ; the people refused it at 
 
 : breakfast and at dinner, so at a turnpike, where 
 
 I I had fourpence to pay, I whipped it in between 
 
 i two halfpence, and the man put it into his pocket 
 
 and never saw it." 
 
 NEW REGIMEN. 
 
 A rich valetudinarian called in a physician for 
 a slight disorder. The physician felt his pulse, 
 I and enquired," Do you eat well?" — Yes," said 
 ; the patient. kt Do you sleep well ?" — " I do." 
 | — " Then," said the Esculapius, " I shall give 
 | something to take away all that." 
 
 ON A RUINED HORSE-RACER. 
 
 John ran so long, and ran so fast. 
 No wonder he lan out at last : 
 He ran in debt; and then to pay, 
 He distanced all — and ran away. 
 
 A COMPLIMENT ILL-RECE1 VEPi 
 
 A person who dined in company with Dr. John- 
 son, endeavoured to make his court to him by 
 laughing immoderately at every thing he said. The 
 doctor bore it for some time with philosophical 
 indifference; but the impertinent ha, ha, ha! be- 
 coming intolerable, " Pray, sir," said (he doctor, 
 * k what is the matter ? I hope I have not said any 
 thing that you can comprehend." 
 
 BIDDING AT AN AUCTION. 
 
 A gentleman having accidentally walked into 
 an auction, heard the orator asking," Will no one 
 bid more? Oh, pray gentlemen, bid more." — 
 " Very well," cried the hearer, with a grave face, 
 " I'll bid more." — " Thank you, sir — go on — 
 What do you bid?—" Why I'll bid you — good 
 night," and walked off 
 
 THE CHOICE OF A WIFE BY CHEESE. 
 
 There lived in York, an age ago, 
 A man whose name was Pimlico : 
 He lov*d three sisters passing well, 
 But which the best he could not telJ. 
 These sisters three, divinely fair, 
 Shew'd Pimlico their tenderest care: 
 For each was elegantly bred, 
 AncTall were much inclin'd to wed ; 
 And all made Pimlico their choice, 
 And prais'd him with their sweetest voice. 
 Young Pirn, the gallant and the gay, 
 Like ass divided 'tween the hay, 
 At last resolv'd to gain his ease, 
 And choose his wife by eating cheese. 
 He wrote his card, he seal'd it up, 
 And said with them that night he'd sup ; 
 Desir'd that there might only be 
 Good Cheshire cheese, and but them three } 
 He was resolv'd to crown his life, 
 And by that means to fix his wile. 
 The girls were pleas'd at his conceit; 
 Each drcst herself divinely neat; 
 With faces full of peace and plenty-, 
 Blooming with roses, under twenty. 
 For surely Nancy, Betsy, Sally, 
 Were sweet as lilies of the valley ; 
 But singly, surely buxom Bet 
 Was like new hay and mignionet; 
 But each surpass'd a poet's fancy, 
 For that, of truth, was said of Nancy 2 
 And as for Sal, she was a donna, 
 As fair as those of old Crotona, 
 Who to Apelles lent their faces 
 To make up madam Helen's graces. 
 To those the gay divided Pim 
 Came elegantly smart and trim 
 When ev'ry smiling maiden, certain, 
 Cut off some cheese to try her fortune. 
 Nancy at once not fearing— -caring, 
 To shew her saving ate the paring; 
 And Bet, to shew her gen'ious mind, 
 Cut and then threw away the rind j 
 G % 
 
124 
 
 "While prudent Sarah, sure to please, 
 
 Like a clean maiden, scrap'd the cheese. 
 
 This done, young Pimlico replied, 
 
 *' Sally I now declare my bride: 
 
 With Nan I can't my welfare put, 
 
 For she has prov'd a dirty slut : 
 
 And Betsy, who has par'd the rind, 
 
 Would give my fortune to the wind. 
 
 Sally the happy medium chose, 
 
 And I with Sally will repose; 
 
 She's prudent, cleanly : and the man 
 
 Who fixes on a nuptial plan, 
 
 Can never err, if he will choose 
 
 A wife by cheese — before he ties the noose." 
 
 TITLED PRAYERS. 
 
 In a country parish, the wife of the lord of the 
 manor came to church, after her lying-in, to return 
 thanks. The parson, aiming to be complaisant, 
 and thinking plain " woman" too familiar, in- 
 stead of saying, '* O Lord, save this woman !" 
 said, " O Lord, save this lady !" The clerk, re- 
 solving not to be behind-hand with him in polite- 
 ness, answered, " Who putteth her ladyship's trust 
 in thee." 
 
 GRAMMATICAL ANCESTORS. 
 
 Mr. Pitt was once disputing for the energy and 
 beauty of the Latin language. In support of the 
 superiority which he affirmed it to have over the 
 English, he asserted, that two negatives made a 
 thing more positive than one affirmative possibly 
 could. " Then," said Thurlow, " your father 
 and mother must have been two complete negatives 
 to make such a positive fellow as you are." 
 
 THE LAtJGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 a lady's Valuables. 
 
 THE DISAPPOINTED CRITIC. 
 
 An orator having written a speech, which he 
 intended to deliver at a public meeting, gave il 
 to a friend to read, and desired his opinion of it. 
 The friend, after some time, told the author he had 
 read it over three times : the first time it appeared 
 very good, the second indifferent, and the third 
 quite insipid. " That will do," said the orator, 
 ■very coolly, " for I have only to repeat it once." 
 
 When the Duchess of Kingston wished io be" re- 
 ceived at the court of Berlin, she got the Russian 
 minister there to mention her intentions to bis 
 Prussian majesty; and to tell him, at the same 
 time, that her fortune was at Rome, her bank at 
 Venice, but that her heart was at Berlin. Imme- i 
 diately on hearing this, the king sarcastically re- 
 plied, " I beg, sir, you will give my compli- 
 ments to her grace, and inform her that I am very 
 sorry we are only entrusted with the very worst 
 part ofh*r property." 
 
 EPITAPH ON A TRAVELLER. 
 
 The evil that men do lives after them. 
 The good is oft interred with their bones. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 Here resteth the body of 
 
 T B , 
 
 late of Manchester, 
 
 who died on a journey thro'i-eh Scotland, 
 
 May 3, 1798, aged 30. 
 
 This stone was placed here 
 
 by an Acquaintance, 
 
 who, after examining the Debits and Credits 
 
 of his cash account, 
 
 found a small balance in his favour. 
 
 His sickness was short, and being a stranger, 
 
 he was not troubled in his last moments 
 
 with the sight of weeping friends, 
 
 but died at an hospitable inn, 
 
 ■with the consent of all around him. 
 
 He left no mourner here, 
 
 Save a favourite mare, which, 
 
 (if the account of an ostler may be credited) 
 
 neither ate nor drank during his indisposition. 
 
 reader! 
 little will be said to perpetuate his memory ; 
 
 the fact is — he died poor : 
 
 the whole he left behind would not buy paper 
 
 sufficient to paint half his virtues. 
 
 His chief mourner was sold by public roup, 
 
 To pay the expenses of an 
 
 over-grown landlord and half-starved apothecary. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 His bags at once contained 
 
 his wardrobe, patterns, and library, 
 
 consisting of 
 
 two neckcloths and a clean shirt; 
 
 with samples of 
 
 fringes, lace, lines and tassels, 
 
 whips, webs, and whalebone; 
 
 also the following curious collection of books ; 
 
 A volume of manuscript poetry, 
 
 (the offspring of his own muse) 
 
 Matrimonial Magazines, 
 
 Ovid's Art of Love— The Whole Duty of Man, 
 
 and 
 
 Plato on the Immortality of the Soul. 
 
 In a snug pocket lay 
 
 an Aberdeen note for five pounds, 
 
 and an unfinished love-letter; 
 the latter evinced an eager desire 
 of a speedy marriage; 
 For though his family face was an index of an 
 hardened and unforgiving temper, 
 ( it was at last approved by the object of his affection, 
 and, if deatli had spared him, 
 though nature had beeo unkind 
 he might have lived to have improved an ill-fa- 
 voured stock. 
 The affability of his manners, 
 and the susceptibility of his heart, 
 gave appearances the lie ; 
 His attachment to the fair sex was notorious 
 to whom he was so tenderly attentive, 
 that the story of a rude embrace 
 would have caused the ' tear of Sensibility' 
 to trickle from his eye.* 
 He was ever happy when doing good; 
 and his liberality bountifully extended 
 to the unfortunate part of the sex, 
 whom heal ways relieved to the utmost of his power; 
 he was, justly speaking, a friend to all; 
 an enemy to none but himself. 
 
 BROTHER TRAVELLER 
 
 stop ! and reflect a moment on the uncertainty of 
 this life ! 
 
 * He had only one. 
 
 125 
 
 Five days are not yet passed, since he drank with 
 
 glee the well-known bumper toast; 
 
 he little thought it was 
 
 his farewell tribute to every earthly pleasure ! 
 
 But his last journey being over, there is now 
 
 no riding double stages to make up lost time; 
 
 Nor boxing Harry 
 
 to make up his cash account ! 
 
 who knows but Harry may now be boxing him ? 
 
 The final balance 
 
 of the good and evil actions of hislife isnow struck! 
 
 and here he rests in hope, 
 
 that it may be found to his credit 
 
 on the judgment day, 
 
 in the grand ledger of everlasting happiness. 
 
 PRIESTCRAFT OUTWITTED. 
 
 An Italian noble being at church one day, and 
 finding a priest who begged for the souls in purga- 
 tory, gave him a piece of gold. "Ah! my lord," 
 said the good father, " you have now delivered a 
 soul." The count threw upon the plate another 
 piece ; ' k Here is another soul delivered," said the 
 priest. " Are you positive of it ?" replied the 
 count. " Yes, my lord," replied the priest, " I 
 am certain they are now in heaven." — " Then," 
 said the count, " I'll take back my money, for it 
 signifies nothing to you now, seeing the souls are 
 already got to heaven, there can be no danger of 
 their returning to purgatory." 
 
 POETICAL LICENCE. 
 
 When Charles, at once a monarch and a wit, 
 Some smooth, soft flattery read, by Waller writ ; 
 Waller, who erst to sing was not asham'd, 
 That heav'n in storms great Cromwell's soul had 
 
 claim'd, 
 Turn'd to the bard, and, with a smile, said he-, 
 " Your strains for Noll excel yourstrains forme.'* 
 The bard, his cheeks with conscious blushes red, 
 Thus to the king return'd, and bow'd his head j 
 " Poets, so heav'n and all the nine decreed, 
 In fiction better than in truth succeed." 
 
1126 
 
 THE SNORING MEMBER. 
 
 During a debase in the House of Commons, 
 about four in the morning, a member was called to 
 order for snoring, while a very eminent orator was 
 addressingthe house. When a division took place 
 the speaker, as usual, put the question. — " Those 
 who are for the amendment say aye, and those who 
 are of the contrary opinion say no.'' A gentleman 
 who was near the snoring member, exclaimed from 
 the gallery, " the nose had it." 
 
 LOVE FOR OUR ENEMIES. 
 
 A physician seeing Charles Bannister about to 
 drink a glass of brandy, said, " Don't drink that 
 filthy stuff; brandy is the worst enemy you have ?" 
 — " I know that," replied Charles, " but you 
 know we are commanded by Scripture to love our 
 enemies." 
 
 A SUCCESSOR TO CERBERUS. 
 
 Carolan, the Irish bard, being refused entrance 
 to a nobleman's house by the porter, whose name 
 was O'Flinn, wrote with chalk on the door — 
 *' What pity hell's gates are not kept by O'Flinn, 
 Such a surly old dog would let nobody in." 
 
 MACKCOULL, THE PICKPOCKET. 
 
 While Sir W. Parsons was one day sitting at 
 Bow-street, he received the following curious epis- 
 tle from a notorious pickpocket — 
 
 Gentlemen, — I beg leave to inform you that I 
 am (with my wife) going to the theatre, Covent- 
 garden. I take this step, in order to prevent any- 
 ill-founded malicious constructions. Trusting I 
 am within the pale of safety, and that my conduct 
 will ever insoreme the protection of the magistracy, 
 I remain, Gentlemen, with all due respect and at- 
 tention, your most obedient very humble servant, 
 John Mackcooll. 
 
 Donaldson, the officer, therefore treated the 
 apologist with proper attention, and Maekcoull 
 retired with his wife, without attempting to mill a 
 wipe, queer a stilt, or draw a tatler. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN, 
 
 SHEWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER 
 
 THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME 
 
 HOME SAFE AGAIN. 
 
 John Gilpin was a citizen 
 
 Of credit and renown, 
 A train-band captain eke was he 
 
 Of famous London town. 
 
 John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, 
 
 Though wedded we have been 
 These twice ten tedious years, yet we 
 
 No holiday have seen 
 
 To-morrow is our wedding-day, 
 
 And we will then repair 
 Unto the Bell at Edmonton, 
 
 All in a chaise and pair. 
 
 My sister and my sister's child, . 
 
 Myself and children three, 
 Will fill the chaise, so you must ride 
 
 On horseback after we. 
 
 He soon replied, I do admire 
 
 Of womankind but one ; 
 And you are she, my dearest dear, 
 
 Therefore it shall be done. 
 
 I am a linen-draper bold, 
 
 As all the world doth know, 
 And my good friend the callender, 
 
 Will lend his horse to go. 
 
 Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, that's well said; 
 
 And, for that wine is dear, 
 We will be furnish'd with our own, 
 
 Which is both bright and clear. 
 John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife, 
 
 O'erjoy'd was he to find 
 That though on pleasure she was bent, 
 
 She had a frugal mind. 
 
 The morning came, the chaise was brought, 
 
 But yet was not allow'd 
 To drive up to the door, lest all 
 
 Should say that she was proud. 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 So three doors off the chaise was staid, 
 
 Where they did all get in, 
 Six precious souls, and all agog 
 
 To dash through thick and thin. 
 
 Smack wefitthe whip, round wentthe wheels, 
 
 Were never folks so glad ; 
 The stones did rattle underneath 
 
 As if Cheapside were mad. 
 
 John Gilpin at his horse's side 
 
 Seiz'd fast the flowing mane 
 And up he got in haste to ride, : 
 
 But soon came down again 
 
 For saddle-tree scarce reach'd had he, 
 
 His journey to begin, 
 When turning round his head, he saw 
 
 Three customers come in. 
 
 So clown he came, for loss of time, 
 
 Although if griev'd him sore, 
 Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, 
 
 Would trouble him much more. 
 
 'T^as long before the customers 
 
 Were suited to their mind ; 
 When Betty, screaming, came down stairs, 
 
 " The wine is left behind !" 
 
 " Good lack !" quoth he — " yet bring it me, 
 
 My leathern belt likewise, 
 In which I bear my (rusty sword 
 
 When I do exercise." 
 
 Now Mistress Gilpin, careful soul ! 
 
 Had two stone-bottles found, 
 To hold the liquor that she lov'd, 
 
 And keep it safe and sound. 
 Each bottle had a curling ear, 
 
 Through which the belt he drew, 
 And hung a bottle on each side, 
 
 To keep his balance true. 
 
 Then over all, that he might be 
 
 Equipp'd from top to toe, 
 His long red cloak, well brtish'd and neat, 
 
 He manfully did throw. 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 127 
 
 Now see him mounted once again 
 
 Upon his nimble steed 
 Full slowly pacing o'er the stones 
 
 With caution and good heed. 
 
 But finding soon a smoother road, 
 
 Beneath his well-shod feet. 
 The snorting beast began to snort, 
 
 Which gall'd him in his seat* 
 
 " So — fair and softly !" John he cried, 
 
 But John he cried in vain ; 
 That trot became a gallop soon, 
 
 In spite of curb or rein. 
 So stooping down, as needs he must 
 
 Who cannot sit upright, 
 He grasp'd the mane with both his hands, 
 
 And eke with all his might. 
 His horse, who never in that sort 
 
 Had handled been before, 
 What thing upon his back had got 
 
 Did wonder more and more. 
 
 Away went Gilpin neck or nought, 
 
 Away went hat and wig ; 
 He little dream'd when he set out 
 
 Of running such a rig. 
 
 The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, 
 
 Like streamer long and gay, 
 'Till loop and button failing both, 
 
 At last it flew away. 
 
 Then might all people well discern 
 
 The bottles he had slung ; 
 A bottle swinging at each side, 
 
 As hath been said or sung. 
 
 The dogs did bark, the children scream'd ! 
 
 Up flew the windows all ; 
 And every soul cried out, Well done ! 
 
 As loud as he could bawl. 
 Away went Gilpin — who but he? 
 
 His fame soon spread around — 
 He carries weight ! he rides a race! 
 
 'Tis for a thousand pound. 
 
128 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 And stiH as fast as he drew near, 
 
 'Twas wonderful to view, 
 How in a trice the turnpike-men 
 
 Their gates wide open threw. 
 
 And now as he went bowing down 
 
 His reeking head full low, 
 The bottles twain behind his back, 
 
 Were shatter'd at a blow. 
 
 Down rah the wine into the road, 
 
 Most piteous to be seen, 
 "Which made his horse's flanks to smoke 
 
 As they had basted been. 
 
 But still he seem'd to carry weight, 
 
 With leather girdle brac'd 
 Tor all might see the bottle necks 
 
 Still danglipg-at his waist. 
 
 Thus all through merry Islington 
 
 These gambols he did play, 
 And till he came unto the Wash 
 
 Of Edmonton so gay. 
 
 And there he threw the wash about 
 
 On both sides of the way, 
 Just like unto a trundling mop, 
 
 Or a wild goose at play. 
 
 At Edmonton his loving wife 
 
 From balcony espied 
 Her tender husband, wond'ring much 
 
 To see how he did ride. 
 
 ' Stop, stop, John Gilpin ! here's the house,' 
 
 They all at once did cry; 
 " The dinner waits, and we are tir'd ;'* 
 
 Said Gilpin—" So am I." 
 
 But yet his horse was not a whit 
 
 Inclin'd to tarry there ; 
 For why — his owner had a house 
 
 Full ten miles off, at Ware. 
 
 So like an arrow swift he flew, 
 
 Shot by an archer strong ; 
 So did he fly — which brings me to 
 
 The middle of my song. 
 
 Away went Gilpin, out of breath, 
 
 And sore against his will, 
 'Till at his friend the Calender's 
 
 His horse at last stood still. 
 
 The callender, amaz'd to see 
 
 His neighbour in such trim, 
 Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, . 
 
 And thus accosted him — 
 " What news? what news? your tidings tell 
 
 Tell me, you must and shall — 
 Say why bare-headed you are come, 
 
 Or why ,you're come at all ?" 
 
 Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, 
 
 "And lov'd a timely joke; 
 And thus unto the callender, 
 
 In merry guise he spoke — 
 " I came because your horse would come, 
 
 And if I well forbode, 
 My hat and wig will soon be here ; 
 
 They are upon the road. 
 
 The calender, right glad to find 
 
 His friend in merry pin, 
 Return' d him not a single word, 
 
 But to the house went in ; 
 When straight he caine-with hat and wig, 
 
 A wig that flow'd behind, 
 A hat not much the worse for wear, 
 
 Each comely in its kind. 
 
 He held them up, and in his turn 
 
 Thus /show'd his ready wit ; 
 *' My head is twice as big as yours, 
 
 They therefore needs must fit. 
 
 " But let me scrape the dirt away 
 
 That hangs upon your face ; 
 And stop and eat, for well you may 
 
 Be in a hungry case," 
 
 Said John, i(r It is my wedding-day j 
 And all the world would stare, 
 
 If wife should dine at Edmonton, 
 And I should dine at Ware." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 129 
 
 So turning to bis horse he said, 
 
 " I am in haste to dine ; 
 'Twas for your pleasure you came here, 
 
 "You shall go back for mine." 
 Ah ! luckless speech, and bootless boast ! 
 
 For which he paid full dear ; 
 For while he spake a braying ass 
 
 Did sing most loud and clear ! 
 
 "Whereat his horse did snort as he 
 
 Had heard a lion roar ; 
 And galloped otf with all his might, 
 
 As he had done before. 
 
 Away went Gilpin, and away 
 
 Went Gilpin's hat and wig; 
 He lost them sooner than at first, 
 
 For why ? they were too big. 
 Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw 
 
 Her husband posting down, 
 Into the country far away, 
 
 She pull'd out half a crown ; 
 
 And thus unto the youth she said 
 
 That drove them to the Bell, 
 " This shall be your's when you bring back 
 
 My husband safe and well. 
 The youth did ride, and soon did meet 
 
 John coming back amain, 
 Whom in a trice he tried to stop 
 
 By catching at his rein; 
 
 But not performing what he meant 
 
 And gladly would have done, 
 The frighted steed he frighted more, 
 
 And made him faster run. 
 
 Away went Gilpin, and away 
 
 Went post-boy at his heels, 
 The post-boy's horse right glad to miss 
 
 The lumb'ring of the wheels. 
 
 Six gentlemen upon the road, 
 
 Thus seeing Gilpin fly, 
 With post-boy scamp'ring in the rear, 
 
 They rais'd the hue and cry j 
 
 Stop thief ! stop thief! a highwayman! 
 
 Not one of them was mute; 
 And all and each that pass'd that way 
 
 Did join in the pursuit. 
 
 And now the turnpike gates again 
 
 Flew open in short space : 
 The toll-men thinking, as before, 
 
 That Gilpin rode a race. 
 
 And so he did, and won it too, 
 
 For he got first to Town, 
 Nor stopp'd till where he first got up 
 
 He did again get down. 
 
 Now let us sing, long live the king, 
 
 And Gilpin, long live he; 
 And when he next doth ride abroad, 
 
 May I be there to see ! 
 
 AFFAIR OF HONOUR ACCOMMODATED. 
 
 Weston the actor having borrowed, on note, five 
 pounds, and failing in payment, the gentleman 
 who had lent the money mentioned it in a public 
 coffee-house, which caused Weston to send him a 
 challenge. When in the field, the gentleman, 
 being a little tender in point of courage, offered 
 him the note to make it up ; to which our hero rea- 
 dily consented, and the note was delivered, " But 
 now," said the gentleman, " if we should return 
 without fighting, our companions will laugh at ua, 
 therefore let us give each other a slight scratch, 
 and say we wounded each other," — " With all my 
 heart" said Weston ; " come, I'll wound you first," 
 so drawing his sword, he thrust it through the 
 fleshy part of his antagonist's arm, till he brought 
 the tears into his eyes. This being done, and the 
 wound tied up with a hankerchief, ** Come," 
 said the gentleman, " where shall I wound you ?" 
 Weston, putting himself in a posture of defence, 
 replied, " where you can, sir." 
 (PAST CURE.) 
 
 Comus proclaims aloud his wife's a w — : — ; 
 
 Alas ! good Comus ! what can we do more ? 
 
 Were thou no cuckold we could make thee one, 
 
 But, being so, we cannot make thee none, 
 g 5 
 
ISO 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 COMMITTAL. 
 
 A witness in the Court of King's Bench being 
 cross-examined by Mr. Garrow, was asked if he 
 was not a. fortune-teller. ** I am not," answered 
 the witness; " but if every one had his due, I 
 should have no difficulty in telling your fortune." 
 — " Well, fellow," says Mr, Garrow, " pray 
 what is to be my. fortune?" — "Why, sir," re- 
 joined the witness, " I understand you made your 
 first speech at the Old Bailey, and I think it is 
 probable that you will make your last speech 
 there." Lord Kenyon told the witness, angrily, 
 " That he would commit him."- — " I hope," an- 
 swered he, '* your lordship will not commit your- 
 self." 
 
 A- SLEEPING WATCHMAN. 
 
 Sound sleeps yon guardian of the night, 
 The hours uncall'd — youth's rest not sweeter. 
 
 " I thought he was a watch" — u You're right, — 
 He's a stop-watch, not a repeater." . 
 
 THE CHRISTENING. 
 
 A countryman carrying his son to be baptized, 
 the parson asked what was to be the name. 
 " Peter, my own name, and please your reve- 
 rence." — " Peter, that is a bad name; Peter 
 denied his master." — " What then would your 
 reverence advise?" — *' Why not take my name, 
 Joseph ?" — " Joseph ; ah ! he denied his mis- 
 tress." 
 
 ELECTION MANOEUVRE, 
 
 The non-resident freemen of Berwick-upon- 
 Tweed living in London, being put on board two 
 vessels in the Thames, a few days previous to the 
 election of 1768, in order to be conveyed to Ber- 
 wick by water, Mr. Taylor, one of the candidates 
 in opposition, covenanted with the naval com- 
 mander of this election cargo, for the sum of £400, 
 to land the freemen in Norway. This was ac- 
 cordingly done, and in consequence Mr. Taylor 
 and Lord Delaval secured their seats without any 
 farther expense. j j 
 
 THE MISER S MANSION. 
 
 See, sir, see, here's the grand approach ; 
 
 This way is for his grace's coach; 
 
 There lies the bridge, and here's the clock . 
 
 Observe the lion and the cock, 
 
 The spacious court, the colonnade, 
 
 And mark how wide the hall is made 
 
 The chimnies are so well design'd, 
 
 They never smoke in any wind. 
 
 The gallery's contriv'd for walking; 
 
 The windows, to retire and talk in ; 
 
 The council-chamber for debate, 
 
 And all the rest are rooms of state.— 
 
 Thanks, sir, cried I; 'tis very fine 
 
 But where d'ye sleep, or where d'ye dine ? 
 
 I find, by all you have been telling, 
 
 This is a house, but not a. dwelling. 
 
 KNAVERY ON ALL SIDES. 
 
 A clergyman said to one of his poor parishioners, 
 " You have lived like a knave, and you will die 
 like a knave." — *.* Then," said the poor fellow, 
 " you will bury me like a knave." 
 
 A WELL-INFORMED WITNESS. 
 
 A quaker was examined before the board of 
 excise, concerning certain duties ; when the com- 
 missioners thinking themselves disrespectfully 
 treated by his theeing and thouing, one of them, 
 with a stern countenance, asked him; "Pray, 
 sir, do you know what we sit here for?" — • 
 " Yea," replied Nathan, "I do; some of you 
 for a thousand, some for fifteen hundred, and 
 others for seventeen hundred and fifty pounds 
 a-year." 
 
 THE TOPER'S LOGIC. 
 Some say that hard drinking will hasten our end, 
 And that temperance is to Jong life the best friend; 
 But since we were fash ion 'd from dust, as we 
 
 learn, 
 And to dust are all hast'ning again to return, 
 To prolong our existence, a toper would say, 
 'lis undoubtedly needful to " moisten our day." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 131 
 
 A FAIR BARGAIN. 
 A gentleman, once advertising for a coachman, 
 had a great number of applicants. One of them 
 he approved of; and told him, if his character 
 answered, he would take him on the terms which 
 they had agreed upon. " But," said he, " my 
 good fellow, as I am rather a particular man, it 
 may be proper to inform you, that every evening, 
 after the business of the stable is done, I shall 
 expect you to come to my house for a quarter of 
 an hour to attend family prayers. To this, I 
 suppose, you can have no objection." — " Why, as 
 to that, sir," replied the fellow, " I do not see 
 much to say against it ; but I hope you'll consider 
 it in my wages. " 
 
 A DIALOGUE. 
 
 M. Get along, Sir— I hate you ; that's flat. 
 
 Let me go then — Lord bless me! — be quiet — 
 If you won't keep your hands off — take that j — • 
 
 D'ye think I came here to a riot ? 
 JV. Why, madam, — how now ? Do you scratch 
 
 In short, Miss, I won't bear this usage — 
 You're a little unthinking cross-patch — 
 
 And yet you're of Miss I know who's age. 
 
 M. Of this, or of that Miss's age, 
 
 What business have fellows with me, Sir? 
 
 Put yourself into ne'er such a rage, 
 I care not three skips of a flea, Sir. 
 
 N. Lord, madam, I hope no offence; — 
 My words seldom bear any meaning: 
 
 Besides, you're a lady of sense, 
 
 And anger would scorn to be seen in, 
 
 31. Such rudeness would ruffle a saint; 
 
 I wish you could learn to be civil. — 
 N. One kiss, and I will, I'll maintain't — 
 
 M. Well ! sure you're an impudent devil. 
 
 There !— now you are satisfied ? — N. No : 
 
 M. What again ! — how can folks be so teasing. 
 
 N. While your lips so rauch sweetness bestow, 
 Your nails can do notning displeasing. 
 
 REASON FOR GETTING DRUNK. 
 
 Says my lord to his cook, " You son of a punk, 
 How comes it I see you, thus, every day drunk? 
 Physicians, they say, once a month do allow 
 A man, for his health, to get drunk as a sow." 
 " That is right," quoth the cook, " but the day 
 
 they don't say, 
 So for fear I should miss it, I'm drunk every 
 
 day." 
 
 NEGRO CANDOUR. 
 
 A negro in the island of St. Christopher had so 
 cruel "a master that he dreaded the sight of him. 
 After exercising much tyranny among his slaves, 
 the planter died, and left h>3 son heir to his 
 estates. Some short time after his death, a gen- 
 tleman meeting the negro, asked him how his 
 young master behaved. " I suppose," says he, 
 " he's a chip of the old block?" — iC No, no," 
 says the negro, " Massa be all block himself." 
 
 AMERICAN ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY. 
 Ran away from his wife and helpless family, on 
 Friday last, John Spriggs, by trade a tailor, aged 
 thirty-five; has a wide mouth, zig-zag teeth, a 
 nose of high-burned brick-blue with a lofty 
 bridge, swivel-eyed, and a scar (not an honour- 
 able one) on his left cheek. He primes and loads 
 (that is, takes snuff and tobacco); and is so lo- 
 quacious that he tires every one in company but 
 himself. In order that he may entrap the sinner 
 and the saint, he carries a pack of cards in one 
 pocket, and the Practice of Piety in the other. 
 He is a great liar, and can varnish falsehood with 
 a great deal of art. Had on, when he went away, 
 a three-cocked hat, which probably he has since 
 changed to a round one, with a blue body-coat, 
 rather on the fade. He was seen in Bennington 
 on Saturday last, disguised in a clean shirt. 
 
 THE LOYAL PAIR. 
 " I'll list for a soldier," says Robin to Sue, 
 
 To avoid these eternal disputes !" — 
 " Aye, aye," cries the termagant," do, Robin, do I 
 
 41 I'll raise, the mean while, fresh recruits.'* 
 
132 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 HUMOURS OF A CLUB. 
 Sir Geoffrey Notch, who is the oldest of the 
 club, has been in possession of the right-hand 
 chair time out of mind, and is the only man 
 among us that has the liberty of stirring the fire. 
 This our foreman is a gentleman of an ancient 
 family, that came to a great estate some years 
 before he had discretion, and ran it out in hounds, 
 horses, and cock-fighting ; for which reason he 
 looks upon himself as an honest, worthy gentle- 
 man, who has had misfortunes in the world, and 
 calls every thriving man a pitiful upstart. 
 
 Major Matchlock is the next senior, who served 
 in the last civil wars, and has all the battles by 
 heart. He does not think any action in Europe 
 worth talking of. since the fight of Marstou 
 Moor; and every night tells us of his having 
 been knocked off his horse at the rising of the 
 London apprentices; for which he is in great 
 esteem among us 
 
 Honest old Dick Reptile is the third of our 
 society. He is a good-natured indolent man, who 
 speaks little himself, but laughs at our jokes; 
 and brings his young nephew along with him, a 
 youth of eighteen years old, to shew him good 
 company, and give him a taste of the world. 
 This young fellow sits generally silent; but 
 whenever he opens his mouth, or laughs at any 
 thing that passes, he is constantly told by his 
 uncle, after a jocular manner, " Ay, ay, Jack, 
 you young men think us fools ; but we old men 
 knOw you are." 
 
 . The greatest wit of our company, next to my- 
 self, is a bencher of the neighbouring inn, who 
 in his youth frequented the ordinaries about 
 Charing-Cross, and pretends to have been inti- 
 mate with Jack Ogle. He has about ten distichs 
 of Hudibras without book, and never leaves the 
 club until he has applied them all. If any mo- 
 dern wit be mentioned, or any town frolic spoken 
 of, he shakes his head at the dulness of the present 
 age, and tells us a story of Jack Ogle. 
 
 JFor my own part, I am esteemed among them, 
 
 because they see I am something respected by 
 others ; though, at the same time, I understand by 
 their behaviour, that I am considered by them as 
 a man of a great deal of learning, but no know- 
 ledge of the world ; insomuch, that the Major 
 sometimes, in the height of his military pride, 
 calls me the philosopher: and Sir Geoffrey, no 
 longer ago than last night, upon a dispute what 
 day of the month it was then in Holland, pulled 
 his pipe out of his mouth, and cried, " What does 
 the scholar say to it ?" 
 
 Our club meets precisely at six of the o'clock in 
 the evening ; but I did not come last night until 
 half-an-hour after seven, by which means I es- 
 caped the battle of Naseby, which the Major 
 usually begins at about three-quarters after six ; 
 I found also, that my good friend, the Bencher, 
 had already spent three of his distichs; and only 
 waited. an opportunity to hear a sermon spoken 
 of, that he might introduce the couplet where 
 " a stick" rhimes to " ecclesiastic." At my en- 
 trance into the room, they were naming a red 
 petticoat and a cloak, by which I found that the 
 Bencher had been diverting them with a story of 
 Jack Ogle. 
 
 I had no sooner taken my seat, but Sir Geof- 
 frey, to shew his good-will towards me, gave me 
 a pipe of his own tobacco, and stirred up the fire. 
 I look, upon it as a point of morality, to be 
 obliged by those who endeavour to oblige me; 
 and, therefore, in requital for his kindness, and to 
 set the conversation a-going, I took the best occa- 
 sion I could to put him upon telling us the story 
 of old Gantlett, which he always does with very 
 particular concern. He traced up his descent on 
 both sides' for several generations, describing his 
 diet and manner of life, with his several battles, 
 and particularly that in which he fell. ' This 
 Gantlett was a game-cock, upon whose head the 
 knight, in his youth, had won five hundred pounds, 
 and lost two thousand. This naturally set the 
 Major upon the account of Edgehill fight, and 
 ended in a duel of Jack Ogle's. 
 
 Old Reptile was extremely attentive to all that 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 was said, though it was the same he had heard 
 every night for these twenty years, and upon all 
 occasions winked upon his nephew to mind what 
 passed. 
 
 This may suffice to give the world a taste of 
 our innocent conversation, which we spun out 
 until about ten of the clock, when my maid came 
 with a lantern to light me home. 
 
 REDUCTION OF YEARS. 
 
 The author of the following receipt asserts, 
 that it will reduce a man of sixty to the appear- 
 ance of fifty at least; Close shaving (if a black 
 complexion) two years ; false hair, one ; powder, 
 one; a new set of artificial teeth, two; a clean 
 shirt, one; some two; false eye-brows, one; 
 false calves, one ; corns pared, and thin shoes, 
 one. 
 
 PROLOGUE, SPOKEN BY BARRINGTON, THE 
 
 PICKPOCKET, ON OPENING THE THEATRE 
 
 AT SIDNEY, BOTANY BAY. 
 
 From distant climes o'er wide-spread seas we 
 
 come, 
 Tho' not with much eclat or beat of drum $ 
 True patriots all, for be it understood, 
 We left our country for our country's good ; 
 No private views disgrac'd our generous zeal, 
 "What urg'd our travels, was our country's weal ; 
 And none will doubt, but that our emigration 
 Has prov'd most useful to the British nation. 
 But you enquire what could our breasts inflame 
 With this new fashion for theatric fame ? 
 What in the practice of our former days 
 Could shape our talents to exhibit plays? 
 Your patience, sirs, some observations made, 
 You'll grant us equal to the scenic trade. 
 He who to midnight ladders is no stranger, 
 You'll own will make an admirable Ranger. 
 To see M ache nth we have not far to roam. 
 And sure in Filch I shall be quite at home : 
 Unrivall'd there, none will dispute my claim 
 To high pre-eminence and exalted fame, 
 
 i3a 
 
 As oft on Gadshill we have ta'en our stand, 
 When 'twas so dark you could not see your hand, 
 Some true-bred Falstaff we may hope to start, 
 Who, when well bolster'd, well wili play his 
 
 part; 
 The scene to vary, we shall try in time 
 To treat you with a little pantomime; 
 Here light and easy columbines are found, 
 And well-tried harlequins with us abound: 
 From durance vile our precious selves to keep^" v 
 We often had recourse to a flying-leap ! 
 To a black face have sometimes owed a 'scape, 
 And Hounslow-Heath has prov'd the worth of 
 
 crape. 
 But how, you ask, can we e'er hope to soar 
 Above these scenes, and rise-to tragic lore ? 
 Too oft, alas r- we forc'd the unwilling tear, 
 And petrified the heart with real fear ! 
 Macbeth a harvest of applause will reap, 
 For some of us, I fear, have murder' d sleep! 
 His lady too, with grace will sleep and talk ; 
 Our females have been us'd at night to walk. 
 Sometimes, indeed, so various is our art, 
 An actor may improve and mend his part. 
 " Give me a horse !" bawls Richard like a drone ; 
 We'll find a man would help himself to one. 
 Grant us your favour, put us to the test, 
 To raise your smiles we'll do our very best; 
 And without dread of future turnkey Lockits. 
 Thus, in an honest way, still pick your pockets. 
 
 EPITAPH ON A MARSHAL OF THE KING'S BENCH. 
 Some years since there was a Marshal of the 
 King's Bench whose name was Thomas, that be- 
 came extremely obnoxious to the prisoners; one 
 of them, on some occasion or other, spread a 
 report of his death, which gave rise to the fol- 
 lowing epitaph : — 
 
 Beneath this stone lies Marshal 
 
 Thomas. 
 
 He's gone : 'tis well ; 
 
 We thank thee, Hell, 
 
 For taking such a rascal 
 
 from us. 
 
134 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 AUCTIONEER ELOQUENCE. 
 
 An elegant pleasure-yacht being sold by auction, 
 the auctioneer said, that it comprehended all the 
 advantages of the most finished country villa, be- 
 sides many whieh were peculiar to itself. It had 
 all the accommodations of a house, and was free 
 from the inconveniences of a bad neighbourhood, 
 for its scite could be changed at pleasure; it had 
 not only the richest, but also the most various 
 prospects ; and it was a villa free from house-duty 
 and window^ lights; it paid neither church-tythe 
 nor poor-rate; it was free from government and 
 parochial taxes, and it not only had a command of 
 wood and water, but possessed the most extensive 
 fishery of any bouse in England. 
 
 A PHILOSOPHIC COBBLER. 
 
 Though not very fond of seeing a pageant my- 
 self, yet I am generally pleased with being in the 
 crowd-which sees it: it is amusing to observe the 
 effect, which such a spectacle has upon the va- 
 riety of faces; the pleasure it excites in some, 
 the envy in others, and the wishes it raises in all. 
 With this design, I lately went to see the entry of 
 a foreign ambassador, resolved to make one in 
 the mob, to shout as they shouted, to fix with 
 earnestness upon the same frivolous objects, and 
 participate for a while the pleasures and the 
 wishes of the vulgar. 
 
 In this plight, as I was considering the eager- 
 ness that appeared in every face, how some 
 bustled to get foremost, and others contented 
 themselves with taking a transient peep when 
 they could ; how some praised the four black 
 servants that were stuck behind one of the equi- 
 pages, and some the ribbons that decorated the 
 horses' necks in another ; my attention was called 
 off to an object more extraordinary than any I 
 had yet seen: a poor cobler sat in his stall by 
 the way-side, and continued to work while the 
 crowd passed by, without testifying the smallest 
 share of curiosity. I own his want of attention 
 excited aainej and, as I stood in need of his as- 
 
 sistance, I thought it best to employ a philoso 
 phic cobler on this occasion. Perceiving my bu- 
 siness, therefore, he desired me to enter and sit 
 down, took my shoe in his lap, and began to 
 mend it, with his Usual indifference and taci- 
 turnity. 
 
 *' How, my friend," said I to mm, " can you 
 continue to work, while all those fine things are 
 passing by your door?" — "Very fine they are, 
 master," returned the cobler, " for those that like 
 them, to be sure; but what are all those fine 
 things to me? You don't know what it is to be 
 a cobler, and so much the better for yourself. 
 Your bread is baked ; you may go and see sights 
 the whole day, and eat a warm supper when you 
 ome home at night ; but for me, if I should run 
 hunting after all these fine folk, what should I 
 get by my journey but an appetite? and, God 
 help me, I have too much of that at home al- 
 ready, without stirring out for it. Your people, 
 who may eat four meals a-day, and a supper at 
 night, are but a bad example to such a one as I. 
 — No, master, as God has called me into this 
 world, in order to mend old shoes, I have ho bu- 
 siness with fine folk, and they no business with 
 me." I here interrupted him with a smile. 
 *' See this last, master," continues he, " and 
 this hammer; this last and hammer are the two 
 best friends I have in this world, nobody else 
 will be my friend, because I want a friend. The 
 great folks you saw pass by just now have five 
 hundred friends, because they have no occasion 
 for them; now, while I stick to my good friends 
 here, I am very contented ; but, when I ever so 
 little run after sights and fine things, I begin to 
 hate my work, 1 grow sad, and have no heart to 
 mend shoes any longer." 
 
 This discourse only served to raise my curiosity 
 to know more of a man whom nature had thus 
 formed into a philosopher. I therefore insen- 
 sibly led him into a history of his adventures. 
 " I have lived," said he, M a wandering life, . 
 now five-and-fifty years, here to-day and gone 
 to-morrow } for it was my misfortune, when I 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 was young, to be fond of changing." — " You 
 have been a traveller then, I presume?" inter 
 rupted I. rt I can't boast much of travelling,' 
 continued he, " for I have never left the parish 
 in which I was born but three times in my life 
 that I can remember; but then there is not a 
 street in the whole neighbourhood that I have 
 not lived in at some time or another. When I 
 began to settle and take to my business in one 
 street, some unforeseen misfortune, or a desire 
 of trying my luck elsewhere, has removed me, 
 perhaps a whole mile, away from my former cus- 
 tomers, while some more lucky cobler would 
 come into my place, and make a handsome for- 
 tune among friends of ray making; there was 
 one who actually died, in the stall that I had left, 
 worth seven pounds seven shillings, all in hard 
 gold, which he had quilted into the waistband of 
 his breeches." 
 
 I could not but smile at these migrations of a 
 man by the fire-side, and continued to ask, H he 
 had ever been married? ** Ay, that I have, mas 
 ter," replied he, " for sixteen long years; and a 
 weary life I had of it, heaven knows. My wife 
 took it into her head, that the only way to thrive 
 in the world was to save money ; so, though our 
 incomings were but three shillings a-week, all 
 that she ever could lay her hands upon she used 
 to hide away from me, though we were obliged to 
 starve the whole week after for it. 
 
 ** The first three years we used to quarrel 
 [ about this every day, and I always got the bet- 
 ter ; but she had a hard spirit, and still conti- 
 nued to hide as usual ; so that I was at last tired 
 of quarrelling and getting the better, and she 
 scraped and scraped at pleasure, till I was almost 
 starved to death. Her conduct drove me at last 
 in despair to the alehouse; here I used to sit, 
 with people who hated home like myself, drank 
 while 1 had money left, and run in score when 
 any body would trust me; till at last the land- 
 lady coming one day with a long bill, when I 
 was from home, and putting it into my wife's 
 hands, the leDgth of it effectually broke her 
 
 135 
 
 heart. I searched the whole stall, after she was 
 dead, for money; but she had hidden it so effec- 
 tually, that, with all ray pains, I could never find 
 a farthing." 
 
 ASSISTANCE. 
 
 Curio, whose hat a nimble knave had snatch'd, 
 Fat, clumsy, gOuty, asthmatic, and old. 
 
 Panting against a post, his noddle scratch'd, 
 And his sad story to a stranger told. 
 
 " Follow the thief," replied the stander by ; 
 " Ah, Sir!" said he, " these feet will wag no 
 more." 
 "Alarm the neighbourhood with hue and cry." 
 "Alas! I've roar'd as long as lungs could 
 roar." 
 
 " Then," quoth the stranger, " vain is all endea- 
 vour, 
 
 Sans voice to call, sans vigour to pursue: 
 And since your hat, of course, is gone for ever, 
 
 I'll e'en make bold to take your wig — adieu !" 
 
 RIVAL DOCTORS. 
 
 "When Drs. Cheyne and Winter were the two 
 principal physicians at Bath, they adopted very 
 opposite modes of practice; but the former gave 
 some credence to his prescription of milk diet, by 
 making it the principal article of his own suste- 
 nance. On this occasion Winter sent to him the 
 following stanzas: — 
 
 Tell me from whom, fat-headed Scot, 
 
 Thou didst thy system learn ; 
 From Hippocrates thou hast it not, 
 Nor Celsus, nor Pitcairne. 
 
 Suppose we own that milk is good, 
 
 And say the same of grass ; 
 The one for babes and calves is food, 
 
 The other for an ass. 
 
 Doctor, one new prescription try, 
 
 A friena's advice forgive : 
 Eat grass, reduce thyself, and die, 
 
 Thy patients then may live. 
 
136 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 DR. CHEYNE's ANSWER. 
 
 My system, Doctor, 's all my own, 
 
 No teacher I pretend ; 
 My blunders hurt myself alone, 
 
 But yours your dearest friend. 
 
 Were you to milk and straw confin'd, 
 
 Thrice happy might you be; 
 Perhaps you might regain your mind, 
 
 And from your wit get free. 
 I can't your kind prescription try, 
 
 But heartily forgive ! 
 'Tis natural you should bid me die, 
 
 That you yourself may live. 
 
 SCOTCH NOBILITY. 
 
 Quin being asked if he had ever been in Scot- 
 land, and how he liked the people, replied : " If 
 you mean the lower order of them, I shall be at a 
 loss to answer you ; for I had no farther acquaint- 
 ance with them than by the smell. As for the no- 
 biiity they are numerous; and, for the most part, 
 proud and beggarly. I remember, when I 
 crossed from the north of Ireland into their coun- 
 try, I came to a little wretched village, consisting 
 of a dozen huts, in the style of the Hottentots; 
 the principal of which was an inn, and kept by 
 an earl. I was mounted on a shrivelled quad- 
 ruped, for there was no certainty of calling it 
 horse, mare, or gelding ; much like a North Wales 
 goat, but larger, and without horns. The whole 
 village was up in an instant to salute me; sup- 
 posing, from the elegance of my appearance, that 
 I must be some person of a large fortune and 
 great family. The earl ran, and took hold of my 
 stirrup while I dismounted; then turning to his 
 eldest son, who stood by us without breeches, 
 said, my lord, do you take the gentleman's horse 
 to the stable, and desire your sister, Lady Betty, 
 to draw him a pint of two-penny ; for I suppose 
 so great a raon will ha' the best liquor in the whol 
 /ious." — " I was obliged," continued Quin, " to 
 stay here a whole night, and to make a supper of 
 
 rotten potatoes and stinking eggs. Theoldnobleman 
 was indeed very complaisant, and made me accept 
 of his own bed. I cannot say that the dormitory 
 was the best in the world ; for there was nothing 
 but an old box to sit upon in the room, and there 
 were neither sheets nor curtains to the bed. Lady 
 Betty was kind enough to apologize for the apart- 
 ment, assuring me, many persons of great degnaty 
 had frequently slept in it; and that though the 
 blonkets luked sue block, it was not quite four years 
 sin they had been washed by the countess her 
 mother, and Lady Matilda Carolina Amelia 
 Eleonora Sophia, one of her younger sisters. She 
 then wished me a good night, and said, the vis- 
 count, her brother, would take particular care to 
 grease my boots. ,, 
 
 ANACREONTIC. 
 Ah ! wherefore did I daring gaze 
 
 Upon the radiance of thy charms 
 And, vent'ring nearer to thy rays, 
 
 How dar'd I clasp thee in my arms ? 
 That kiss will give my heart a pain, 
 
 Which thy sweet pity will deplore. 
 Then, Cynthia, take the kiss again, 
 
 Or let me take ten thousand more. 
 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH AND THE BEGGAR. 
 As Queen Elizabeth was riding on horseback, 
 she was met by a beggar, who asked alms of her. 
 The Queen remarking to her chamberlain, that 
 the man followed her wherever she went, quoted 
 this line out of Ovid: 
 
 Pauper ubique jaceU 
 Which may be thus translated : 
 
 " In any place, in any bed, 
 
 The poor man rests his weary bead " 
 On which the pauper instantly replied, 
 
 In thalamis Regina iuis, liac node jacerem 
 Si foret hoc verum, Pauper ubique jacet. 
 
 " Ah, beauteous Queen, if that were true, 
 This very night I'd rest with you," 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 HELL AND PURGATORY. 
 
 A Venetian nobleman was one day rallied by 
 a. priest, upon his refusing to give something to the 
 church, which the priest demanded for the deliver- 
 ance of him from purgatory ; when the priest 
 asking him, if he knew what an innumerable num- 
 ber of devils there were to take him ? he answer- 
 ed/' Yes, he knew how many devils there were in 
 all," — " Indeed, how many ?" says the priest, his 
 curiosity being raised by the novelty of the an- 
 swer. " Why, ten millions, five hundred and 
 eleven thousand, six hundred and seventy-five 
 devils and a half," says the nobleman. " A 
 half?" says the priest, " pray what kind of a 
 devil is that?" — "Yourself," says the noble- 
 man, "for you are half a devil already, and 
 will be a whole one when yon come there ; for 
 you are for deluding all you deal with, and bring 
 us soul and body into your hands, that you may 
 be paid for Jetting us go again." 
 
 where's the poker 
 
 The poker lost, poor Susan storm' 
 
 And all the rites of rage perform'd. 
 
 As scolding, crying, swearing, sweating, 
 
 Abusing, fidgetting, and fretting; 
 
 " Nothing but villany and thieving ! 
 
 Good heavens ! what a world we live in ! 
 
 If I don't find it in the morning, 
 
 I'll surely give my master warning. 
 
 He'd better far shut up his doors, 
 
 Than keep such good-for-nothing w s, 
 
 For wheresoe'er their trade they drive, 
 
 "We virtuous bodies cannot thrive." 
 
 "Well may poor Susan grunt and groan, 
 | Misfortunes never come alone, 
 1 But tread each other's heels in throngs, 
 j For the next day she lost the tongs ; 
 ' The salt-box, cullender, and grate 
 | Soon shar'd the same untimely fate, 
 i In vain she vails and wages spent 
 ' On rew ones — for the new ones went, 
 
 13 7 
 
 There'd been, she swore, some devil or witch in, 
 
 To rob and plunder all the kitchen. 
 
 One night she to her chamber crept, 
 
 Where for a moment she'd not tlept, 
 
 Curse on the author of these wrongs, 
 
 Iu her own bed she found the tongs ! 
 
 Hang Thomas for an idle joker! 
 
 And there, good lack ! she found the poker 
 
 With salt-box, pepper-box, and kettle, 
 
 And all the culinary metal. 
 
 Be warn'd, ye fair, by Susan's crosses, 
 
 Keep chaste, and guard yourselves from losses, 
 
 For if young girls delight in kissing, 
 
 No wonder that the poker's missing. 
 
 THE LESS OF TWO EVILS." 
 The doctrine of purgatory was once disputed 
 between the Bishop of Waterford and Father 
 O'Leary ; it is not likely the former was convinc- 
 ed by the arguments of the latter, who, however, 
 closed it very neatly by telling the bishop — 
 " Your lordship may go farther, and fare worse." 
 
 HOW TO SAVE ONE THOUSAND POUNDS. 
 It was observed that a certain covetous rich 
 man never invited any one to dine with him, 
 " I'll lay a wager," said a wag, " I get an invi- 
 tation from him." The wager being accepted, he 
 went the next day to the rich man's house, about 
 the time that he was known to sit down todinner, 
 and told the servant that he must speak with his 
 master immediately ; for that he could save him a 
 thousand pounds. " Sir," said the servant to his 
 master, " here's a man in a great hurry to speak 
 with you, who says he can save you a thousand 
 pounds." Out comes the master, " What's that 
 yon say, sir ? That you can save me a thousand 
 pounds ?" — " Yes, sir, I can ; but I see you are 
 at dinner. I'll go and dine myself, and call 
 again." — " Oh, pray, sir, come in, and take a 
 dinner with me." — '.' Sir, I shall be troublesome.'* 
 — " Not at all." The invitation was accepted ; 
 and, dinner being over, and the family retired — 
 " Well, sir, said the man of the house, now to our 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 138 
 
 business. Pray, sir, let me know how I am to 
 save this thousand pounds." — " Why, sir," said 
 the other, " I hear you have a daughter to dispose 
 of in marriage." — " I have." — '* And that you 
 intend to portion her with ten thousand pounds!" 
 — -*' I do so." — " Why then, sir, let me have her, 
 and I'll take her with nine thousand." 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE DOOR OF A CERTAIN HOUSE. 
 
 Gold rules within, and reigns without these doors, 
 Makes men take places, and poor maids turn w — s. 
 Her blooming virtue's sold, his trust's betray'd, 
 Debauch'd the member falls, alike theinaid! 
 Each pleads excuse, tho' profit each does move— 
 His is the sov'reign's service, her's is love. 
 The world sees through the sham in which both 
 
 join, 
 He votes for interest, as she yields for coin. 
 
 PATRONAGE. 
 
 The late Earl of Chesterfield was universally 
 esteemed the Maecenas of the age in which he lived. 
 Dr. Johnson addressed the plan of his dictionary 
 of the English language to him on that account; 
 and his lordship endeavoured to be grateful by re- 
 commending that valuable work in two essays, 
 which, among others, he published in a paper in- 
 tituled the World, conducted by Mr, Moore and 
 his literary friends. Some time after, however, 
 the doctor took great offence at being refused ad- 
 mittance to Lord Chesterfield, which happened 
 by a mistake of the porter; and just before the 
 ■work was finished, on Mr. Moore's expressing his 
 surprise that Dr. Johnson did not intend to de- 
 dicate the book to his lordship, the lexicographer 
 declared he was under no obligation to any great 
 man whatever, and therefore should not make him 
 his patron. " Pardon me, sir," said Moore, 
 44 you are certainly obliged to his lordship for the 
 two elegant papers he has written in favour of 
 your performance." — "You quite mistake the 
 thing," returned Johnson, " I confess no obliga- 
 tion. I feel my own dignity, sir ; I have made a 
 Commodore Anson's voyage round the whole 
 
 world of the English language; and while lam 
 coming into port, with a fair wind on a fine sun- 
 shiny day, my Lord Chesterfield sends out two 
 little cock-boats to tow me in. I am very sensi- 
 ble of the favour, Mr. Moore, and should be sorry 
 to say an ill-natured thing of that nobleman: but 
 I cannot help thinking he is a lord among wits, 
 and a wit among lords. 
 
 LETTER FROM AN IRISH GENTLEWOMAN TO 
 HER SON IN LONDON. 
 
 My dear child, 
 
 I thought it my duty incumbint upon roe, to lit 
 you know that your only living sister, Carney 
 Mac-Frame, has been violently ill of a fit of sick- 
 ness, and is dead ; therefore we have small or no 
 hopes of hergitting bitter. Your dear modther 
 constantly prayed for a long and speedy recovery. 
 
 I am sorry to acquaint you, that your godfather, 
 Patrick O'Conner, is also dead. His dith was oc- 
 casioned by ateing rid-hirrings stuffed wid para- 
 tes, or parates stuffed wid rid hirrings, I don't 
 know which ; and notwithstanding the surgeons 
 attended him for three weeks, he died suddenly 
 for want of hilp on the day of his dith, which was 
 Sunday night last. The great bulk of his estate 
 comes to an only dead child in the family. 
 
 I have made a prisent of your sister's diamond- 
 ring to Mr. O'Hara, the great small-beer brewer, 
 for three guineas ; and I have taken the great 
 corner-house that is burnt down, on a repairing 
 lase. 
 
 I have sint you a Dublin Canary-bird, which I 
 have carefully put up in a rat-trap, with some 
 food in a snuff-box, which will come free of all 
 charges, only paying the captain for the passage. 
 
 Pray sind me the news of the prosadeings of ihe 
 House of Commons nixt week ; for we hear they 
 have given us leave to import all our parates to 
 England, which is great news indeed. 
 
 Write immediately, and don't stay for the post. 
 Dirict for me nixt door to the Bible and Moon, 
 in Copper Alley, Dublin, for there I am now ; 
 but I shall remove to-morrow into my new house. 
 
THE LAUGHIXG PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 139 
 
 Don't sind to me in a frank again ; for the last 
 
 litter that came free was charged thirteen-pince. 
 
 So no more at prisent from 
 
 Your dutiful modther, 
 
 Camet Carrnayl Mac Frame. 
 
 P. S. I did not sale this litter, to prevint it from 
 being broke open ; therefore send word if 
 it miscarries. Your cousin-in-law, Thady 
 O'Dogharty, is gone for a light-horseman among 
 the marines. 
 
 IMPOSSIBLE TO SCREEN A FOOL. 
 
 A master tailor, as tis said, 
 By buckram, canvass, tape, and thread, 
 Hair cloths, and wadding, silk, and twist, 
 And all the long extensive list 
 "With which their uncouth bills abound 
 (Though rarely in their garments found :) 
 With these and other arts in trade, 
 He soon a handsome fortune made ; 
 And did, what few have ever done, 
 Left thirty thousand to his son. 
 
 The son, a gay young swagg'ring blade, 
 Abhorr'd the very name o' the trade, 
 And, lest reflections should be thrown 
 On him, resolv'd to leave the town, 
 And travel where he was not known. 
 
 To Oxford first he made his way, 
 With gilded coach and liv'ries gay ; . 
 The bucks and beaux his taste admire, 
 His equipage aud rich attire ; 
 But nothing was so much adored 
 As his fine silver-hiked sword ; 
 Tho' small, and short, 'twas vastly neat, 
 The sight.was deem'd a perfect treat; 
 Beau Banter begg'd to have a look, 
 But when the sword in hand he took, 
 He swore, by Jove, it was an odd thing, 
 And look'd just like a tailor's bodkin. 
 Beau Shred was gall'd at his expression, 
 Thinking they knew his mean profession ; 
 Sheathing his sword he sneak'd away, 
 And drove for Glo'ster the same day. 
 
 There soon he found new cause oF grief 
 For (dining on some fine roast beef) 
 They asked him which he did prefer, 
 Some cabbage or some cucumber. 
 
 What was design'd a complient, 
 He thought severe reflection meant ; 
 His stomach turn'd, he could not eat, 
 So made an ungenteel retreat; 
 Next day left Glo'ster in great wrath, 
 And bade his coachman drive to Bath. 
 There he suspected fresh abuse, 
 Because the dinner was roast goose ; 
 And that he might no more be jeer'd, 
 For Exeter directly steer'6% 
 
 There with the beaux, he drank about, 
 Until he fear'd they'd find him out ; 
 His glass not fill'd (as was his rule) 
 They said 'twas not a thimble full 
 The name of thimble was enough, 
 He paid his reckoning and went off. 
 Next day to Plymouth he remov'd, 
 Where he still unsuccessful proved 
 For tho' he filled his glass or cup, 
 He did not always drink it up ; 
 The topers mark'd how he behav'd, 
 And said " a remnant should be sav'd." 
 
 The name of remnant gall'd him so, 
 He then resolv'd for York to go ; . 
 There fill'd his bumper to the top, 
 And always fairly drank it up; 
 " Well done," said Jack, a buck of York, 
 " You go through stitch, sir, with your work." 
 
 The name of stitch was such reproach, 
 He rang the bell, and call'd the coach; 
 But e'er he went, enquiry made 
 By what means they found out his trade. 
 
 You put the cap on, and it fits, 
 Replied one of the Yorkshire wits ; 
 Our words, in common acceptation, 
 Could not find out your occupation ; 
 "Twas you yourself gave us the clue, 
 To find out both your trade and you j 
 
140 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Proud coxcombs and fantastic beaux. 
 In ev'ry place themselves expose; 
 They travel far, at great expense, 
 To shew their wealth and want of sense j 
 But take this for a standing rule, 
 There's no disguise will screen a fool. 
 
 CHARACTER OF A MIGHTY GOOD KIND OF A 
 MAN. 
 
 The good qualities of such a man (if he has any) 
 are of the negative kind. He does very little 
 harm, but 3^011 never find him do any good. He is 
 careful to have all the externals of sense and vir- 
 tue, but you never^perceive his heart concerned in 
 any word, thought, or action. To him every body 
 is his dear friend, with which he always begins all 
 his letters, and ends them with" Your ever sincere 
 and affectionate friend.' 1 He is usually seen with 
 persons older than himself, but always richer. He 
 is not prominent in his conversation, but merely 
 puts in his " Yes, sir," and " No, sir," to every 
 thing said by the elevated or overbearing ; which 
 confirms him in their opinion as ** a very sensible 
 and discerning person," as well as a " mighty good 
 kind of a man." — He is so familiarized to assent 
 to every thing advanced, that I have known him 
 approve opposite sentiments in the course of five 
 minutes ! The weather is a leading topic with " a 
 mighty good kind of a man," and you may make 
 him agree in one breath, that it is hot and cold, 
 frost and thaw, and that the wind blows from every 
 point of the compass ! He is so civil and well- 
 bred, as to keep you in the rain, rather than as- 
 cend a carriage before you ; and the dinner would 
 grow cold in your attempt to move him from the 
 lower end of the table. Not a glass approaches 
 his lips unless he has disturbed half the company 
 to drink their health. He never omits his glass 
 with the mistress of the house, nor forgets to notice 
 little master and miss, which with mamma always 
 makes him " a mighty good kind of a man," and 
 also assures her, that he would make a very good 
 husband. No man is ever half so happy, or 
 so general, in his friendships^-every one he names 
 
 is-a friend of his, and all his friends are " mighty 
 good kind of men." He pulls off his hat to 
 every third person he meets, though he knows not 
 even the name of one in twenty ! — A young man 
 born with this demonstrated propensity of* migh- 
 ty goodness," has every chance of advancing 
 his fortune. Thus, if in orders, he will contrive 
 to pick up a tolerable living, or become tutor to 
 a dunce of quality. If " a mighty good kind of 
 man" is a counsellor, he will draw from the attor- 
 nies a large supply of chamber cases and special 
 pleadings, or bills and answers, he being greatly 
 qualified for a dray-horse of the law. If he is ad- 
 mitted into the college as M, D. he will have every \ 
 chance to be at the top of the profession, as the 
 whole success of the faculty depends upon old wo- 
 men, or fanciful young ones, hypochondriac men 
 and ricketty children; to the generosity of all 
 these nothing so much recommends a physician, as 
 his being " a mighty good kind of a man." It is 
 past dispute that a good man, and a man of sense, 
 should possess in some degree the outline describ- J 
 ed ; yet, if he possesses no more, he will be at least 
 but a vapid and valueless character. Many su- 
 perficial observers are deceived by French paste, I 
 it has the glitter of a diamond, but the want of 
 hardness discovers the counterfeit, and points it 
 out to be of no intrinsic value ! If the head and I 
 heart are to be omitted in the character, you may 
 as well seek for female beauty without a nose or ] 
 an eye, as expect a Valuable man without under- 
 standing or sensibility. But besides this, it often 
 happens that those " mighty good kind of men" J 
 are wolves in sheep's clothing, and that the plan- ; l 
 sible cunning of their outward deportment is cal- ] 
 culated to entrap the unwary, and to promote si- 
 nister designs. [ 
 
 MADAM, MY WIFE. 
 
 Ye lovers of quiet, and conjugal joys ; 
 Dread foes to contention, jars, tumult, and noise ; J' 
 Oh ! fly from my dwelling, fly quickly for life ! I 
 Is't the plague ? Ten times worse — 'tis madam my 
 wife. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 What din and confusion ; what clack of a mill ; I 
 Or swift-rolling torrent, that falls from yon hill ; 
 Or cannon's loud roar ? None of these, by my life,' 
 The noise that you hear is — from madam, my wife. 
 
 Hark! murder's cry'd out; I am sure 'tis no 
 
 dream : 
 How dreadful the sound is I how shrill is the 
 
 scream i 
 Run, neighbours, with speed, seize the murderer's 
 
 knife! 
 Stop ! stop! it is nothing — but madam, my wife. 
 
 Sure Bedlam's let loose ! the fierce winds now 
 
 arise; 
 The loud thnnder rolls, and disturbs all the skies; 
 The earth itself quakes ; 'tis the element's strife ; 
 'Tis nature's last pang ; no — 'tis madam, my wife. 
 
 O grant, ye kind gods ! that these tumults may 
 
 cease, 
 Or waft me, with speed, to some island of peace ; 
 Then with thanks — Hark! the noise of drum, 
 
 trumpet, and fife! 
 Whew ! crack ! stop my ears ! — oh, 'tis madam, 
 • my wife. 
 
 SIR ROGER DE COVERLY. 
 
 The first of our society is a gentleman of Wor- 
 cestershire, of ancient descent, a baronet, his 
 name Sir Roger de Coverly. His great grand- 
 J father was inventor of that famous country-dance 
 | which is called after him. All who know that 
 i shire are very well acquainted with the parts and 
 merits of Sir Roger. He is a gentleman that is 
 very singular in his behaviour, but his singulari- 
 ties proceed from his good sense, and are contra- 
 dictions to the manners of the world, only as he 
 thinks the world is in the wrong. However, this 
 \ humour creates him no enemies, for he does no- 
 I thing with sourness or obstinacy ; and his being 
 I unconfined to modes and forms, makes him but 
 the readier and more capable to please and oblige 
 i all who know him. When he is in town, he lives 
 | in Soho-square. It is said, he keeps himself a 
 
 141 
 
 bachelor, by reason he was crossed in love by a 
 perverse beautiful widow of the next county to 
 him. Before this disappointment, Sir Roger was 
 what you call a fine gentleman, had often supped 
 with my Lord Rochester and Sir George Etherege, 
 fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and 
 kicked Bully Dawson in a public coffee-house, 
 for calling him youngster. But, being ill-used 
 by the above-mentioned widow, he was very 
 serious for a year and a half; and though his 
 temper being naturally jovial, he at last got over 
 it, he grew careless of himself, and never dressed 
 afterwards. He continues to wear a coat and 
 doublet of the same cut that were in fashion at 
 the time of his repulse, which, in his merry hu- 
 mours, he tells us, has been in and out twelve 
 times since he first wore it. It is said, Sir Roger 
 grew humble in his desires after he had forgot 
 this cruel beauty, insomuch, that it is reported he 
 has frequently offended in point of chastity with 
 beggars and gypsies! but this is looked upon, by 
 his friends, rather as matter of raillery than 
 truth. He is now in his fifty-sixth year, cheerful, 
 gay, and hearty ; keeps a good house both in 
 town and country; a great lover of mankind* 
 but there is such a mirthful cast in his behaviour, 
 that he is rather beloved than esteemed. His 
 tenants grow rich, his servants look satisfied, all 
 the young women profess love to him, and the 
 young men are glad of his company; when he 
 comes into a house, he calls the servants by their 
 names, and talks all the way up-stairs to a visit. 
 I must not omit, that Sir Roger is a Justice of the 
 Quorum ; that he fills the chair at a quarter- 
 session with great abilities, and three months ago 
 gained universal applause by explaining a passage 
 in the game act. 
 
 A TOUCHSTONE FOR THE TIM-ES. 
 
 Midas (we read) with wond'rous art of old, 
 Whate'erhe touch'd, at once transform'd to gold; 
 This modern statesmen can reverse with ease, 
 Touch them with gold, they'll turn to what you 
 please. 
 
U2 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE SIX-FOOT SUCKLING, 
 
 "With that low cunning, which in fools supplies, 
 And amply too, the place of being wise, 
 Which Nature, kind indulgent parent, gave 
 To qualify the blockhead for a knave; 
 With that smooth falsehood, whose appearance 
 
 charms, 
 And reason of each whoiesome doubt disarms, 
 Which to the lowest depths of guile descends, 
 By vilest means pursues the vilest ends, 
 Wears friendship's mask for purposes of spite, 
 Fawns in the day, and butchers in the night; 
 With that malignant envy which turns pale, 
 And sickens even, if a friend prevail ; 
 Which merit and success pursues with hate, 
 And dams the worth it cannot imitate; 
 With the cold caution of a coward's spleen, 
 Which fears not guilt, but always seeks a screen, 
 Which keeps this maxim. ever in her view — 
 What's basely done, should be done safely too; 
 With that duil, rooted, callous impudence 
 Which, dead to shame, and every nieer sense, 
 Ne'er blush'd, unless, in spreading vices snares, 
 She blunder'd on some virtue unawares; 
 With all these blessings, which we seldom find 
 Lavish'd by Nature on one happy mind, 
 A motly figure, of the fribble tribe, 
 Which heart can scarce conceive or pen describe, 
 Came simpering on. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Nor male, nor female; neither, and yet both 
 Of neuter gender, tho' of Irish growth ; 
 A six-foot suckling, mincing in Its gait, 
 Affected, peevish, prim, and delicate ; 
 Fearful It seem'd, tho' of athfetic make, 
 Lest brutal breezes should too roughly shake 
 Its tender form, and savage motion spread 
 O'er its pale cheeks, the horrid manly red. 
 Much did It talk, in Its own pretty phrase, 
 Of genius and of taste, of players, and of plays; 
 Much too of writings which Itself had wrote, 
 Of special merit, tho' of little note ; 
 
 For fate, in a strange humour, had decreed 
 That what It wrote none but Itself should rend ; 
 Much too It chatter'd of dramatic laws, 
 Misjudging critics, and misplac'd applause; 
 Then with a self-complacent pitting air 
 It smil'd, It smirk'd, It wriggl'd to the chair, 
 And with an awkward briskness — not Its own, 
 Looking around, and perching on the throne, 
 Triumphant seem'd ; when that strange savage 
 
 dame, 
 Known but to few, or only known by name, 
 Plain common sense appear'd, by nature there 
 Appointed, with plain truth, to guard the chair; 
 The pageant saw, and blasted with her frown, 
 To Its first state of nothing melted down. 
 Nor shall the muse, (for even there the pride 
 Of this vain nothing shall be mortify'd,) 
 Nor shall the muse (should fate ordain her rhymes, 
 Fond, pleasing, thought, to live in after-times) 
 With such a trifler's name her pages blot ; 
 Known be the character, the thing forgot 
 Let It, to disappoint each future aim, 
 Live without sex, and die without a name. 
 
 THE BACHELOR'S REGISTER. 
 
 At 16 years incipient palpitations are manifest- 
 ed towards the young ladies. 
 
 17. Much blushing and confusion occurs when 
 addressed by a handsome woman. 
 
 18. Confidence in conversation with the ladies 
 is much increased 
 
 19. Becomes angry if treated by them as a boy. 
 
 20. Betrays great consciousness of his own 
 charms and manliness. 
 
 21. A looking-glass becomes an indispensable 
 piece of furniture in his dressing-room, and in 
 some instances finds its way into the pocket. 
 
 22. Insufferable puppyism now exhibited. 
 
 23. Thinks no woman good enough to enter 
 the marriage state with him. 
 
 24. Is caught unawares by the snares of Cu- 
 pid. 
 
 25. The connection broken off from self-conceit 
 on his part. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 143 
 
 26. Conducts himself with airs of much supe- 
 riority towards her. 
 
 27. Pays his addresses to another lady, not 
 ■without hopes of mortifying the first. 
 
 28. Is mortified and frantic on being refused. 
 
 29. Rails against the fair sex in general, as 
 heartless beings. 
 
 30. Seems morose and out of humour in all 
 conversations on matrimony. 
 
 31. Contemplates matrimony more under the 
 influence of interest than previously. 
 
 32. Begins to consider personal beauty in a 
 ■wife not so indispensable as formerly. 
 
 33. Still retains a high opinion of his attrac- 
 tions as a husband. 
 
 34. Consequently has the hope that he may 
 still marry a chicken. 
 
 35. Falls deeply and violently in love with one 
 of seventeen. 
 
 36. Au dernier desespoir ! another refusal. 
 
 37. Indulges now in every kind of dissipation. 
 
 38. Shuns the best part of the female sex, and 
 finds some consolation for his spleen in the society 
 of ladies of easy dispositions. 
 
 39. Suffers much remorse and mortification in 
 60 doing. 
 
 40. Begins to think he is growing old, yet still 
 feels a fresh budding of matrimonial ideas, but no 
 spring shoots. 
 
 41. A nice, buxom young widow begins to per- 
 plex him. 
 
 42. Ventures to address her with mixed sensa- 
 tions of love and interest. 
 
 43. Interest prevails, which causes much cau 
 tious reflection. 
 
 44. The widow jilts him, being full as cautious 
 as himself. 
 
 45. Becomes every day more gloomy and averse 
 to the fair sex. 
 
 46. Gouty and nervous symptoms now begin to 
 assail him. 
 
 47. Fears what may become of him wherv he 
 I gets old and infirm; but still persuades himself he 
 i is a young man. 
 
 48. Thinks living alone irksome. 
 
 49. Resolves to have a prudent young woman 
 as housekeeper and companion. 
 
 50. A nervous affection about him, and fre '; 
 quent attacks of the gout. 
 
 51. Much pleased with his new housekeeper as 
 a nurse. 
 
 52. Begins to feel some attachment to her. 
 
 53. His pride revolts at the idea of marrying 
 her. 
 
 54. Is in great distress how to act. 
 
 55. Completely under her influence, and very 
 miserable, 
 
 56. Many painful thoughts about parting with 
 her, and attempts to gain her on his own terms. 
 
 57. She refuses to live any longer with him 
 solo. 
 
 58. Gouty, nervous, and bilious to excess. 
 
 59. Feels very ill, sends for her to his bedside, 
 and promises to espouse her. 
 
 60. Grows rapidly worse, has his will made in 
 her favour, and makes his exit in her arms. 
 
 THE TOPER AND THE FLIES. 
 
 A group of topers at a table sat, 
 With punch, that much regales the thirsty soul ; 
 Flies soon the party join'd, and join'd the chat, 
 Humming and pitching round the mantling bowl. 
 
 At length those flies got drunk, and, for their sin, 
 Some hundreds lost their legs, and tumbled in, 
 And sprawling 'midst the gulph profound, 
 Like Pharaoh and his daring host were drown'd. 
 
 Wanting to drink, one of the men 
 
 Dipp'd from the bowl the drunken host, 
 And drank — then, taking care that none were 
 lost, 
 
 He put in ev'ry mother's son again. 
 
 Up jump'd the Bacchanalian crew on this, 
 Taking it very much amiss ; 
 
 Swearing, and in the attitude to strike. 
 " Lord !" quoth the man, with gravely lifted eyes. 
 " Though I don't like to swallow flies, 
 I did not know but others might." 
 
144: 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 WHIMS OF PHILOSOPHERS, 
 
 Previous to the year 1820, when Sir Richard 
 Phillips published that system of nature in which 
 he demonstrates that there exists no power in the 
 material or known universe but matter in motion, 
 or that matter in motion is the only existing power ; 
 and then illustrates the proximate causes of all 
 phenomena on this principle : the soi-disant phi- 
 losophers taught to the world, and perhaps many 
 of them actually believed in the following most 
 whimsical doctrines: 
 
 I, That bodies attract one another, or are 
 made to move towards one another by their own 
 mutual influence or pressure, which is the same 
 thing as to say that they acted where they are not, 
 and pushed each other from their opposite or 
 contrary sides ! 
 
 2. That in other cases they took it into their 
 noddles to repel or repulse one another, or were 
 actuated alternately by sentiments of affection 
 and dislike ! 
 
 3. That a stone moves towards the earth because 
 the earth attracts it or pushes it downwards from 
 the opposite side. 
 
 4. That the earth thus pushes the moon towards 
 itself on the moon's opposite side, and the sun all 
 the planets, though none of them permanently vary 
 their distances. 
 
 5. That the space between the planets is a 
 vacuum, though gas expands on every side. 
 
 6. That heat is a subtle fluid coming when 
 called for, and filling up the spaces between 
 atoms, when these are said to be heated. 
 
 7. That animal life, is a principle of its own 
 kind, or a sort of rare fluid which gets into bodies. 
 
 8. That electric, galvanic, and magnetic phe- 
 nomena are each produced by fluids which whisk 
 up and down the world, and come at command, 
 on performing certain incantations. 
 
 9. That identical atoms of light travel twelve 
 millions of miles in a second, and have fits of easy 
 reflection and transmission. 
 
 10. That the moon in some way gets under the 
 
 waters of the ocean, and pushes them Up, while the 
 waters somehow get behind the moon and push 
 down the moon. 
 
 All which may be called the philosophical com- 
 mandments of the last age, and absurd as they 
 may seem to every thinking mind, they are even 
 to this day cherished by dotards in philosophy, 
 and by superannuated establishments where know- 
 ledge never advances. 
 
 RELIGION AND TRADE. 
 Queen Mary having ordered her attorney- 
 general, Seymour, to draw up the charter for the 
 college in Virginia, which was to .be given with 
 two thousand pounds in money, he opposed the 
 grant, saying, that the nation was engaged in an 
 expensive war, that the money was wanted for 
 better purposes, and he did not see the least occa- 
 sion for a college in Virginia. The commissary 
 represented to him, that its intention was to edu- 
 cate and qualify young men to be ministers of the 
 gospel, much wanted there; and begged Mr. 
 Attorney-General would consider that the people 
 of Virginia had souls to be saved as well as the 
 people of England; Souls! said he, damn your 
 souls ! make tobacco 1 
 
 OLD AND YOUNG, IN CHAUCER'S STYLE. 
 
 Fair Susan did her wif-hede well menteine, j 
 Algates assaulted sore by letchours tweine. 
 Now and I read aright that auntient song, 
 Olde were the paramours, the dame full yong. 
 
 Had thilke same tale in other guise been tolde, 
 Had they been yong, (pardie) and she been olde ; 
 That, by St. Kit, had wrought much sorer tryal ; 
 Full marveillous, I wote, weue swilk denyal. 
 
 THE CRITICAL QUESTION 
 When Macklin gave lectures on the drama, 
 Foote being one evening present, talking and 
 laughing very loud, just before the lecture began, 
 Macklin, offended, called out rather pettishly, 
 " Sir, you seem to be very merry there; but do 
 you know what I am going to say now ?" — " No, 
 sir," said Foote; " pray do you?" 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 145 
 
 ' NOMINAL EPITAPH. 
 
 Dr. Walker wrote a work on the English par- 
 i Cicles, which obtained for him the short and pithy 
 i epitaph : — 
 
 Here lie Walker's particles. 
 
 DORINDA. 
 Dorinda's sparkling wit and eyes, 
 
 United cast too fierce a light, 
 Which hlazes high, but quickly dies 
 
 Pains not the heart but hurts the sight. 
 Love is a calmer, gentler joy, 
 
 Smooth are his looks, and soft his pace; 
 Her Cupid is a blackguard boy, 
 
 That runs his link full in your face. 
 
 ACCOMMODATING A VISITOR. 
 Baron Perryn, having been engaged on a visit 
 io Foote, came at an early hour, to enjoy the plea- 
 sure of angling in the pond. Foote, ever ready to 
 oblige his guests, ordered the fishing apparatus to 
 ! be got ready, and a chair to be placed at the 
 pond-side for the accommodation of the learned 
 sportsman. Two honrs did the Baron throw the 
 line patiently. At length Foote and his company 
 came out. M Well, baron," said he, " do they 
 bite?" — " No, I have only had a nibble or two." 
 — " That you have not!" says the son of Aristo- 
 phanes. " What do you mean ?" said his lord- 
 ship. " I mean," replied his host, "that there is 
 not a fish in the pond, for the water was only put 
 in yesterday/' 
 
 LUTHER AND THE CATHOLICS. 
 Martin Luther thus elegantly expresses himself 
 about the Catholics. — "The Papists are all asses ; 
 .put them in whatever form you please boiled, 
 roasted, baked, fried, skinned beat hashed, 
 they are always the same — asses f The pope (he 
 says) was born out of the devil's posteriors, fall 
 of devils, lies, blasphemies, and idolatries; he is 
 
 | Antichrist, the robber of churches, the ravishcr of 
 virgins, the greatest of pimps, the governor of 
 
 I Sodom," &c. &c. 
 
 THE PARSON'S BRIDLE. 
 
 A youthful parson one day preach'd 
 
 Against the drunken, lewd, and idle ; 
 His flock he earnestly beseech'd 
 
 On their desires to put a bridle. 
 The service o'er, his text forgot, 
 
 The parson revell'd with the squire j 
 Bumpers went round, oh woeful blot, 
 
 His rev'rence tumbled in the mire. 
 
 " Where's now your bridle?" quoth his host, 
 He hiccup'd out, " What do you think 
 
 I've thrown't away ? no, 'tis not lost, 
 I only took it off to drink." 
 
 BOWELS OF AN ATTORNEY-GENERAL. 
 Mr. Erskine, when a counsel in the Court of 
 King's Bench, told Mr. Jekyll, " That he had a 
 pain in his bowels, for which he could get no re- 
 lief." — " I'll give you an infallible specific," 
 replied the humourous barrister; "Get made 
 attorney-general, my friend, and then you'll ha^e 
 no bowels at all !" 
 
 WHITFIELD AND THE DRUMMER. 
 
 George Whitfield was once, in the early part 
 of his life, preaching in the open fields, when a 
 drummer happened to be present, who was deter- 
 mined to interrupt his pious business, and rudely 
 beat his drum in a violent mariner, to drown the 
 preacher's voice. Mr. Whitfield spoke very loud, 
 but was not so powerful as the instrument ; he 
 therefore called out to the drummer in these 
 words: " Friend, you and I serve the two 
 greatest masters existing, but in different callings, 
 yon may beat up for volunteers for King George; 
 1 for the Lord Jesus Christ. In God's name, 
 then, don't lei us interrupt each other; the world 
 is wide enough for us both, and we may get re- 
 cruits in abundance." His speech had such an 
 effect, that the drummer went away in great good 
 humour, and left the preacher in full possession 
 ■of the field. 
 
143 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE CARELESS COUPLE.. 
 
 Jenny is poor, and I am poor 
 
 Yet we will wed — so say no more ; 
 
 And should the bairns you mentiou come. 
 
 ( ^.s few that marry but have some) 
 
 No doubt but Heav'n will stand our friend, 
 
 And bread, as well as children, send. 
 
 So fares the hen, in farmer's yard, 
 
 To live .alone she finds it hard; 
 
 I've known her weary every claw 
 
 In search of corn amongst the straw; 
 
 But when in quest of nieer food, 
 
 She clucks amongst her chirping brood ; 
 
 With joy I've seen that self-same hen 
 
 That scratched for one, could scratch for ten. 
 
 These are the thoughts that make me willing 
 
 To take my girl without a shilling ; 
 
 And for the self-same cause, d'ye see, 
 
 Jenny's resolv'd to marry me 
 
 A HOT ' BIRTH* 
 
 Mahommed says the slightest of sinners will be 
 confined in iieJl nine hundred years, so very hot as 
 to make the brain boil through the skull; but 
 downright sinners for nine thousand years, in a 
 a place where the heat is seven times more hor- 
 rible. 
 
 NICE DISTINCTION* 
 
 " It is very hard, my lord," said a convicted 
 felon at the bar to Jadge Burnet, " to hang a 
 poor fellow for stealing a horse." — " You are not 
 to be hanged, sir," answered the judge, " for 
 stealing a horse, but you are to be hanged that 
 horses may not be stolen.'- 
 
 EXTEMPORE ON A KEY, APPENDED TO THE 
 BOSOM OF A VERY BEAUTIFUL 
 YOUNG LADY 
 How b-lesi is thy lot, thou insensible key, 
 How gladly I'd change situations with thee! 
 For to thee, like the key of St. Peter, is given 
 To guard o'er the gateway — that leads into 
 Heav'n ! 
 
 THE TRAVELLINU v, JOK. 
 
 Foote, being at Dover, in his way to France, 
 went into the kitchen of the inn to order his din- 
 ner. The cook, understanding that he was about 
 to embark for France, was bragging that, for her 
 part, she was never once out of her own country. 
 Foote instantly replied, " Why, Cookey, that's 
 very extraordinary ; as they tell me, above stairs, 
 that you have been several times all over grease " 
 — " They may say what they please above stairs 
 or below stairs," replied the cook, " but I was 
 never ten miles from Dover in my life." — " Nay, 
 now, that must be a fib," 6aid Foote, " for I 
 have myself seen you at Spit-head.''' The servants 
 by this time caught the joke, and a roar of laughter 
 ran round the kitchen, which ended in his'giving 
 them a crown to drink his health and a good 
 voyage. 
 
 UPS AND DOWNS. 
 Phoebus and Ned are like two buckeis grown ; 
 Always, when one is up, the other's down. 
 
 POPULAR NUMERAL. 
 
 In Wilkes's time No. 45 was extolled beyond 
 any other assemblage of numerals which art cOuld 
 Invent. One man swore that he would eat 451 bis,, 
 of beef-steaks; another that he would drink 45 
 pots of porter; but they both died before the 
 glorious purpose could be accomplished. But to 
 Wilkes it was a lucky number ; presents poured 
 in upon him in forty-fives; from one he received 
 45 dozen of claret; from another 45 dozen of 
 candles, but all in forty-fives. 
 
 OLD MARGERY. 
 
 Dead drunk Old Marg'ry oft was found, 
 But now she's laid beneath the ground, 
 As door-nail dead — alas the day ! 
 Her nose was red, and moist her clay. 
 From morn to night, of care bereft, 
 
 She plied her glass and wet her throttle; 
 Without a sigh her friend she left, 
 
 But much she gricv'd to leave her bottio 
 
TtIE stout gentleman. 
 
 ROMANCE, 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 A STAGE-COACH 
 
 It was a rainy Sunday, in the gloomy month of 
 November. I had been detained, in the course of 
 a journey, by a slight indisposition, from which 
 I was recovering ; but I was still feverish, and was 
 obliged to keep within doors all day, in an inn of 
 the small town of Derby. A wet Sunday in acoun- 
 try inn — whoever has had the luck to experience 
 one, can alone judge of my situation. The rain 
 pattered against the casements j the bells tolled for 
 church with a melancholy sound. I went to the 
 windows in quest of something to amuse the eye ; 
 but it seemed as if I had been placed completely 
 out of the reach of all amusement. The windows 
 of my bed-room looked out among tiled roofs and 
 stacks of chimneys, while those of my sitting-room 
 commanded a full view of the stable-yard. I 
 know of nothing more calculated to make a man 
 sick of this world than a stable-yard on a rainy day. 
 The place was littered with straw that had been 
 kicked about by travellers and stable-boys. In 
 one corner was a stagnant pool of w ater, surround- 
 ing an island of muck; there were several half- 
 drowned fowls, crowded together under a cart, 
 among which was a miserable crest-fallen cock, 
 drenched out of all life and spirit; his drooping 
 iail matted, as it were, into a single feather, along 
 which the water trickled from his back ; near the 
 cart jwas a half-dozing cow, chewing the cud, and 
 standing patiently to be rained on, with wreaths of 
 •vapour rising from her reeking hide ; a wall-eyed 
 horse, tired of the loneliness of the stable, was pok- 
 ing his spectral head out of a window, with the 
 raindrippingon itfrom theea\es; an unhappy cur, 
 chained to a dog-house hard by, uttered something 
 every now and then between a bark and a yelp ; 
 a drab of a kitchen- wench tramped backwards and 
 forwards through the yard in pattens, looking as 
 sulky as the weather itself; every thing, in short, 
 was comfortless and forlorn, excepting a crew of 
 hardrdrickinff ducks, assembled Hke boon com 
 
 ur 
 
 pinions round a puddle, and making a riotous 
 noise over their liquor. 
 
 I was lonely and listless, and wanted amusement. 
 My room soon became insupportable. I abandoned 
 it, and sought what is technically called the travel* 
 lers' room. This is a public room set apart at 
 most inns for the accommodation of a class of way- 
 farers, called travellers, or riders ; a kind of com- 
 mercial knights-errant, who are incessantly scour- 
 ing the kingdom in gigs, on horseback, or by coach. 
 They are the only successors, that I know of at the 
 present day, to the knights.-errant of yore. They 
 lead the same kind of roving adventurous life, only 
 changing the lance for a driving whip, the buckler 
 for a pattern card, and the coat of mail for an tip 9 
 per Benjamin. Instead of vindicating the charms 
 of peerless beauty, they rove about, spreading the 
 fame and standing of some substantial tradesman 
 or manufacturer, and are ready at any time to bar- 
 gain in his name ; it being the fashion now-a-days 
 to trade instead of fight with one another. As the 
 room of the hostel in the good old fighting times 
 would be hung round at night with the armour of 
 way-worn warriors, such as.coats of mail, falchions, 
 and yawning helmets; so the travellers' room is 
 garnished with the harnessing of their successors, 
 with box-coats, whips of all kinds, spurs, gaiters, 
 and oil-cloth covered hats. 
 
 I was in hopes of finding some of these worthies 
 to talk with, but was disappointed. There were, 
 indeed, two or three in the room ; but I could mak? 
 nothing of them. One was just finishing bis break- 
 fast, quarrelling with his bread and butter, and 
 huffing the waiter ; another buttoned on a pair of 
 gaiters, with many execrations at boots for not 
 having cleaned his shoes well ; a third sat drum- 
 ming on the table with his fingers, and looking at 
 the rain as it streamed down the window-glass : 
 they all appeared infected by the weath»r, and dis«? 
 appeared one after the other, without exchanging 
 a word. 
 
 I sauntered to the window, and stood gazing at 
 the people, picking their way to church, with petti*. 
 /•jnaits hoisted mid-leg high and dripping urabrelr 
 
m 
 
 las. The bell ceased io toll, and thestFeets became 
 silent. I then amused myself with watching the 
 daughters of a tradesman opposite, who being con- 
 fined to the house for fear of wetting their Sunday 
 finery, played 0(F their charms at thefront windows, 
 to fascinate the chance tenants of the inn. They 
 at length were summoned away by a vigilant vine- 
 gar-faced mother, and I had nothing farther from 
 without to amuse me. 
 
 What was I to do to pass awry the lon^-lived 
 day ? 1 was sadly nervous and lonely ; and every 
 thing about an inn seems calculated to make a dull 
 day ten times duller. Old newspapers, smelling 
 of beerand tobacco-smoke, and which I had already 
 read half a dozen times : Good for nothing books, 
 that were worse than rainy weather. I bored my- 
 self to death with an old volume of the Lady's Ma- 
 gazine. I read all the common-place names of 
 ambitious travellers scrawled on the panes of glass; 
 the eternal families of the Smiths and the Browns, 
 and the Jacksons, and the Johasons, and all the 
 other sons ; and I deciphe/ed several scraps of fa- 
 tiguing inn-window poetry, which I have met with 
 in all parts of the world. 
 
 The day continued lowering and gloomy ; the 
 slovenly, ragged, spongy clouds, drifted heavily 
 along ; there was no variety even in the rain ; it 
 wasonedull, continued, monotonous patter-patter- 
 patter, excepting that now and then 1 was enliven- 
 ed by the idea or' a brisk shower, from the rattling 
 of the drops upon a passing umbrella. 
 
 It was quite refies/ung (if I may be allowed a 
 hackneyed phrase of the day) when, in the course 
 of the morning, a horn blew, and a stage-coach 
 whirled through the street, with outside passengers 
 stuck all over it, cowering under cotton umbrellas, 
 and seethed together, and reeking with the steams 
 of wet box-coats and upper Benjamins. 
 
 The sound brought out from their lurking-places 
 a crew of vagabond boys, and vagabond dogs, and 
 the carroty-headed hostler, and that non-descript 
 animal, ycleped boots, and all the other vagabond 
 race that infest the purlieus of an inn; but the 
 fcustle was transient; the coach again whirled on 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER* 
 
 its way, and boy and dog, and hostler and boots, ; 
 all slunk back to their holes; the street again 
 became silent, and the rain continued to rain on. [ 
 In fact, there was no hope of its clearing up : the [ 
 barometer pointed to rainy weather; mine hostess's 
 tortoise-shell cat sat by the fire washing her faee, 
 and rubbing her paws over her ears; and on re- 
 ferring to the almanack, I found a direful p red ic- 
 tion stretching from the top of the page to the bot- 
 tom, through the whole month, " Expect — much 
 — rain — about — this — time." 
 
 I was dreadfully hipped. The hours seemed as 
 if they would never creep by. The very ticking 
 of the clock became irksome. At length the still- 
 ness of the house was interrupted by the ringing of 
 a bell. Shortly after, I heard the voice of a waiter 
 at the bar, " The stout gentleman in No. 13. wants 
 his breakfast. Tea, and bread and butter, with I 
 ham and eggs ; the eggs not to be too much done." j 
 In such a situation as mine, every incident was of 
 importance. Here was a subject of speculation 
 presented to my mind ; and ample exercise for my.; 
 imagination. I am prone to paint pictures to my- 
 self, and on this occasion I had some materials to 
 work upon. Had the guest up-stairs been men- i 
 tioned as Mr. Smith, or Mr. Brown, or Mr. Jack- | 
 son, or merely as " the gentleman in No. 13," it! 
 would have been a perfect blank to me ; I should 
 have thought nothing of it ; but " the stout gentle- 
 man !" the very name had something in it of the 
 picturesque. It at once gave the size ; it embo- 
 died the personage to my mind's eye; and my 
 fancy did the rest. 
 
 He was stout, or as some term it, lusty ; in all I 
 probability, therefore, he was advanced in life, |t 
 some people expanding as they grow old. By his 
 breakfasting: rather late, and in his own room, he ',< 
 must be a man accustomed to live at his ease, and 
 above the necessity of early rising; no doubt a 
 round, rosy, lusty old gentleman. 
 
 There was another violent ringing. The stout it 
 gentleman was impatient for his breakfast. He L 
 was evidently a man of importance; " well to do 
 in the world *," accustomed to be promptly waited 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 upon ; of a keen appetite, and a little cross when 
 hungry. ; ' Perhaps," thought I, "he may be some 
 London alderman ; or who knows but he may be 
 a member of parliament !" 
 
 The breakfast was sent up, and there was a short 
 interval of silence ; he was doubtless making the 
 tea. Presently there was a violent ringing; and 
 before it could be answered, another ringing still 
 more violent. " Bless me ! what a choleric old 
 gentleman !" The waiter came down in a huff. 
 The butter was rancid ! the eggs were overdone ; 
 the ham was too salt ; the stout gentleman was 
 evidently nice in his eating ; one of those who eat 
 and growl, and keep the waiter on the trot, and 
 live in a state militant with the household. The 
 hostess got into a fume. I should observe that 
 she was a brisk coquettish woman ; a little of a 
 shrew, andsomethingofslammerkin, but very pret- 
 ty withal ; with a nincompoop for a husband, as 
 shrews are apt to have. She rated the servants 
 roundly for their negligence in sending up so bad 
 a breakfast, but said not a word against the stout 
 gentleman; by which I clearly perceived, that he 
 must be a man of consequence, entitled to make a 
 noise, and to give trouble at a country inn. Other 
 eggs and ham, and bread and butter, were sent up. 
 They appeared to be more graciously received; at 
 least there was no further complaint. I had not 
 made many turns about the travellers' room, when 
 there was another ringing. Shortly afterwards, 
 there was a stir and an inquest about the house. 
 The stout gentleman wanted the Times or Chroni- 
 cle newspaper. J set him down, therefore, for a 
 whig;; or rather, from his being so absolute and 
 lordly where he had a chance, I suspected him of 
 being a radical. Hunt, I had heard, was a large 
 man ; " who knows," thought I, " but it is Hunt 
 himself." 
 
 My curiosity began to be awakened. I inquired 
 of the waiter, who was this stout gentleman that 
 was making all this stir ; but I could get no infor- 
 mation. Nobody seemed to know his name. The 
 landlords of bustling inns seldom trouble their 
 heads about the names or occupations of their tran- 
 
 149 
 
 sient guests. The colour of a coaV, ihe shape or 
 size of the person, is enough to suggest a travelling 
 name. It is either the tall gentleman, or the short 
 gentleman, or the gentleman in black, or tbegentle- 
 tnan in snuff colour ; or, as in the present instance, 
 the stout gentleman; a designation of the kind 
 once hit on, answers every purpose, and saves all 
 further inquiry. Rain — rain — rain! pitiless cease* 
 less rain! No such thing as putting afoot out of 
 doors, and no occupation or amusement within. 
 By and by I heard some one walking over-head. It 
 was in the stout gentleman's room. He evidently 
 was a large man, by the heaviness of his tread ; and 
 an old man from his wearing such creaking soles. 
 " He is doubtless," thought I, '* some rich old 
 square-toes of regular habits, and is now taking 
 exercise after breakfast." 
 
 I had to go to work at this picture again, and to 
 paint him entirely different. I now set him down 
 for one of those stout gentlemen that are frequency 
 met with, swaggering about the doors of country 
 inns. Moist merry fellows, in Belcher hand ker«= 
 chiefs, whose bulk is a little assisted by malt Ji* 
 quors. Men who have seen the world, and been 
 sworn at Highgate ; who are used to tavern life; 
 up to all the tricks of tapsters, and knowing in the 
 ways of sinful publicans. Free livers on a small 
 scale, who are prodigal within the compass of a 
 guinea; who call all the waters by name, tousle 
 the maids, gossip with the landlady at the bar, and 
 prose over a pint of port, or a glass of negus after 
 dinner. The morning wore away in forming of 
 these and similar surmises. As fast as I wove one 
 system of belief, some movement of the unknown 
 would completely overturn it, and throw all my 
 thoughts again into confusion. Such are the soli- 
 tary operations of a feverish mind. I was, as I 
 have said, extremely nervous ; and the continual 
 meditation on the concerns of this invisible-person- 
 age began to have its effect. I was getting a fit of 
 the fidgets. Dinner-time came. 1 hoped the stout 
 gentleman might dine in the travellers' room, and 
 that I might at length get a view of his person ; 
 but no, he had dinner served in his own room — 
 
150 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 What Could be the meaning of this solitude and 
 mystery ? He could not be a radical ; there was 
 something too aristocratical in thus keeping him- 
 selfapart from the rest of this world, and condemn- 
 ing himself to his own dull company throughout a 
 rainy day. And then, too, he lived too well for a 
 discontented politician. He seemed to expatiate 
 on a variety of dishes, and to sit over his wine i ike 
 a jolly friend of good living. Indeed, my doubts 
 on this head were soon at an end ; for he could not 
 have finished his first bottle, before Icould faintly 
 hear him huraaiing a tunej and, on listening, I 
 found it to be "God save the King." 'Twas 
 plain, then, he was no radical, but a faithful sub- 
 ject ; one that grew loyal over his bottle, and was 
 ready to stand by king and constitution, when he 
 could standby nothing else. Bjj4 who could he 
 be!- My conjectures began to ru*i wild. Was he 
 not some personage of distinction travelling incog? 
 ** Who knows !" said I, at my wit's end ; " it may 
 be one of the royal family, for ought I know, for 
 they are all stout gentlemen." The weather con- 
 tinued rainy. The mysterious unknown kept his 
 room, and, as far I could judge, bis chair, for I 
 did not hear him move. In the mean time, as the 
 day advanced, the travellers' room began to be 
 frequented. Some, who had just arrived, came in 
 buttoned up in box-coats ; others came home who 
 had been dispersed about the town. Some took 
 their dinners, and some their tea. Had I been in a 
 different mood, I should have found entertainment 
 in studying this peculiar class of men. There were 
 two, especially , who were regular wags of the road, 
 and up to all the standing jokes of travellers. 
 They had a thousand sly things to say to the wait- 
 ing maid, whom they called Louisa and Ethelinda, 
 and a dozen -other fine names y changing the name 
 every time, and chuckling amazingly at their own 
 waggery. My mind, however, had become com- 
 pletely engrossed by the si out gentleman. He had 
 kept my fancy in chase during a long day, and it 
 was not how to be diverted from the scent. 
 
 The evening gradually wore away, the travellers 
 zsad the papers two or three times over, some drew 
 
 round the fire, and told long stories, about theif 
 horses, about their adventures, their overturns, and 
 breakings down. They discussed the creditsof dif 
 ferent merchants, and different inns ; and the tw , 
 wags told several choice anecdotes of pretty cham- i 
 bermaids and landladies. All this passed as they 
 were quietly taking what they called their night- ; 
 caps, that is to say, strong glasses of brandy and ( 
 water and sugar, or some other mixture of the 
 kind, after which, they, one after another, rung for L 
 boots and the chambermaid, and walked oft* to bed 
 in old shoes cut down into marvellously uncom- 
 fortable slippers. There was only one man left : 
 a short-legged, long-bodied, plethoric fellow, with , 
 a very large sandy head. He sat by himself, with 
 a glass of port-wine negus, and a spoon ; sipping, - 
 and stirring, and meditating, and sipping, until I 
 nothing was left but the spoon, Hegradually fell 
 asleep, but upright in his chair, with the empty 
 glass standing before him; and the candle seemed LI 
 to fall asleep too, for the wick grew long and black, !, 
 and cabbaged at the end, and dimmed the little , 
 light that remained in the chamber. The gloom 
 that now prevailed was contagious. Around hung 
 the shapeless and almost spectra! box-coats of de- 
 parted travellers, long since buried in deep sleep* j 
 I only heard the ticking of the clock, with the ' 
 deep-drawn breathings of the sleeping toper, and | 
 the drippings of the rain, drop— drop — drop, from i 
 the eaves of the house. The church-bells chimed 
 midnight. All at once the stout gentleman began 
 to walk over-head, pacing slowly backwards and ! 
 forwards. There was something extremely awful j ; 
 in all this, especially to one in my state of nerves. [, 
 These ghastly great-coats, these guttural breathings, r 
 and the creaking footsteps of this mysterious being, n 
 His steps grew fainter and fainter, and at length i 
 died away. I could bear it no longer. I was !, 
 wound up to the desperation of a hero of romance. 
 " Be he who, or what he may," said I to myself, r 
 " I'll have a sight of him !" I seized a chamber 
 candle, and hurried up to No. 13. The door [ 
 stood ajar. I hesitated, — I entered. The room. ! 
 was deserted. There stood a large broad-bottomed 
 
Till: LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 X5I 
 
 elbow-cbair al a (able, on which was an empty 
 tumbler, and a Times newspaper, and the room 
 smelt powerfully of Stilton cheese. The mysteri- 
 mis stranger had evidently but just retired. I 
 turned off, sorely disappointed, to my room, which 
 had been changed to the front of the house. As I 
 wentalongthe corridor,! saw a large pair of boots, 
 with dirty waxed tops, standing at the door of a 
 bed-chamber. They doubtless belonged ta the un- 
 known ; but it would not do to disturb so redoubt- 
 able a personage in his den. He might discharge 
 a pistol, or something worse, at my head. I went 
 lo bed, therefore, and lay awake half the night in 
 a terribly nervous state, and even when I fell 
 asleep. I was still haunted in my dreams by the 
 idea of the stout gentleman and his wax-topped 
 boots 
 
 I slept rather late the next morning, and was 
 awakened by some stir or bustle in the house, which 
 I could not at first comprehend ; until getting 
 more awake, I found there was a mail-coach 
 starting from the door. Suddenly there was a cry 
 from below, " The gentleman has forgot his um- 
 brella ! look for the gentleman's umbrella in No. 
 13. !" I heard an immediate scampering of a 
 chamber-maid along the passage, and a shrill reply 
 as she ran, " Here it is! here's the gentleman's 
 umbrella !*' 
 
 The mysterious stranger was then on the point 
 of setting off. This was the only chance I could 
 ever have of knowing him. I sprang out of bed, 
 scrambled to the window, snatched aside the cur- 
 tains, and just caught a glimpse of the rear of a 
 person getting in at the coach-door. The skirts 
 of a brown coat parted behind, and gave me a full 
 view of (he broad disk of a pair of drab breeches. 
 The door closed, — " All right !" was the word, — 
 the coach whirled off, — and that was all I ever 
 raw of the stout gentleman ! 
 
 TREASON NEVER TROSPER.S. 
 
 Treason doe? never prosper; what's the reason ? 
 Why, when it prospers, none dare call it treason. 
 
 IRISH READING. 
 An American citizen, for the purpose of arrest- 
 ing attention, caused his sign to be set upside 
 down. One day, white the rain was pouring 
 down wkh great violence, an Irishman was disco- 
 vered directly opposite, standing with some gra- 
 vity upon his head, and flying his eyes sted fasti y 
 upon the sign. On an enquiry being made of this 
 inverted gentleman, why he stood in so singular 
 an attitude, he answered," I am trying to read 
 that sign." 
 
 HOME TRUTHS. 
 
 Relations take the greatest liberties, and give 
 the least assistance. If a stranger cannot help us 
 with his purse, he will not insult us with his com- 
 ments j but with relations, it mostly happens, that 
 they are the veriest misers with regard to their 
 property, but perfect prodigals in the article of 
 advice, 
 
 SATIRE. 
 
 Strong and sharp as our wit may be, it is not so 
 strong as the memory of fools, nor so keen as their 
 resentment ; he that has not strenglh of mind to 
 forgive, is by no mean;, so weak as to forget; and 
 it is much more easy to do a cruel thing, than to 
 say a severe one. 
 
 INTOLERANCE. 
 
 There are only two things in which the profes- 
 sors of all religions have agreed ; to persecute all 
 other sects, and to plunder their own. 
 
 THE THRIVING TRADESMAN. 
 When a couple, of broom-men had chatted one day 
 On a number of things in a sociable way, 
 A new subject they started; says Jack, " My 
 
 friend, Joe, 
 I have long been most plaguedly puzzled to know 
 How you manage to sell your'brooms cheaper than 
 
 mine, 
 As I steal the materials."— -" I like your design, 
 But improvement, you know, is the soul of each 
 
 trade, 
 So the brooms which I bell, I steal ready made" 
 
152 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 GREENWICH FAIR. 
 
 The glorious sun now rises gay, 
 Promise of a brilliant day j 
 Leave your toils and cares for one day, 
 Greenwich hoy ! 'tis Whitsun-iMonday. 
 
 Now the throng begins to pour 
 Through the Minorles to the Tower; 
 From Spitalfielris in crowds they come, 
 .From Shoreditch, and from Hackney sorae» 
 Hark ! each driver from his coach, 
 As the motley groups approach, 
 Haiis 'em with tremendous bawl, 
 " Room for barbers ! Shavers all !" 
 And the noisy boatman roars, 
 *& Sculler ? Sculler ? Oars, sir ? oars ?" 
 
 The 'prentice,. pantaloon'd so neat, 
 Hands his fair one to her seat, 
 Then beside her gently sits, 
 Courting,— cracking nuts by fits; 
 "While around, with cheerful faces, 
 Lads and lasses take (heir places ;, 
 And the boatman doffs his coat, 
 Calling out to—" Trim the boat." 
 
 Now adown fair Thames they glide, 
 Bandying jokes from side to side ; 
 Ship-bells jingling — shouting sailors, 
 " Barbers all ! or, tailors ! tailors ! 
 Here's a pair ,!— ?-.how smart they look ! 
 Coachy John, and ; Betty Cook ! 
 
 Cuckold's awful Point they pass, 
 Each gay lad salutes his lass. 
 Head uncover'dj bending low, 
 Gives to horns the accustomed bow. 
 
 Hark ! the French-horn's cheerful note, 
 Heard from yonder gilded boat, 
 '* What a handsome, well-dress'd crew, 
 Holland trowsers— jackets blue : 
 And their ladies at each side, 
 Chanting as they sweetly glide, 
 While England's banner o'er them waves,. 
 •* Britons never will be slaves!" 
 
 " What a charming group of sailors !" 
 " Ma'am you're wrong." — '* What! are they, 
 tailors?" 
 
 Bustle, bustle ; noise and bustle ; 
 Now among, the boats they rustle : 
 The narrow keel now cuts the strand^ 
 Each joyous soul prepares to land, 
 'Midst shouting, swearing, wrangling, laughter. 
 Some in mud, and some in water; 
 While the cropp'd lass, and jemmy spark, 
 Onward push for Greenwich Park. 
 
 Hark ! the merry bells are ringing, 
 Happy mortals! — cheerful singing- 
 Dancing — eating- — drinking— smoking--. 
 Wrangling some — and, others joking ! 
 Bless me! what a mingled din ! 
 6< Shew 'em up ; pra)- walk in ! 
 Just now going to begin !"" 
 
 Lo, the Park, and many a stall, 
 With toys and ribbons, 'gainst its wall ^ 
 And Pidcock with his beasts so rare O, 
 And strolling actors, with Pizarro, 
 Shewing the histrionic ar.t,. 
 From its primeval, stage, — a cart ! 
 
 Now the Park's small entrance view, 
 Ah ! what struggling to get through ; 
 " Biess me, sir ! don't squeeze me so !" 
 " Ma'am, your heel is on my toe !" 
 One general push, now — " Yo — oh — hoy ; ; 
 Huzza ! we're in the P/ark* my boy !" 
 Mercy on us ! what ado! 
 44 I've lost a cloak !" " and I a shoe.!" 
 " Stop thief, pray stop (hat running fellow, 
 He's scampering off wilh my umbrella." 
 See the rumpled lasses stand, 
 Lending each a helping hand, 
 Smoothing back dishevell'd tresses, 
 Pinning up their tatter'd dresses. 
 
 The anxious school-boy takes his stand, 
 Brandish'd truncheon in his hand, 
 Aiming, by one skilful fling, 
 To drive the orange o'er the ring. 
 
 ■J 
 
THE LAUGHINO PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 153 
 
 In spacious circle near yon tree 
 The merry lads and lasses see, 
 One smart damsel passing round, 
 Just without its ample bound, 
 Drops the handkerchief— and mark 
 Tis nearest to that jemmy spark. 
 
 Bounding like the nimble fawn, 
 See the nymph spring o'er the lawn, 
 While the swain pursuing hard, 
 Anxious for the sweet reward, 
 The panting fugitive does bring, 
 Blushing, to the joyous ring ; 
 'Midst laughing lads and titt'ring misses, 
 Takes his well-earn'd prize of kisses. 
 There the well-known hill appears, 
 Down its slope they trip in pairs ; 
 The long drawn line, link'd hand in-hand, 
 Wailing for the signal stand ; 
 'Tis giv'n, and off they nimbly go! 
 Adown the steep in steady row, 
 " But stop, ah, stop !— across the slope, 
 Mischievous boys have drawn a rope." 
 
 Heels o'er head away they go ! 
 Tumbling to the vale below ! 
 In vain the rolling fair one tries 
 To hide her charms from vulgar eyes ; 
 The stocking black, or blue, or white,. 
 The lovelv legs expos'd to sight, 
 The pretty foot, in neat made shoe, 
 Nay, e'en the sacred garter too ! 
 
 What joyous shouts now rend the skiea, 
 As each fallen nymph essays to rise; 
 While the swain, with tender care, 
 Sweetly soothes his trembling fair 
 And from this disastrous scene 
 Leads her blushing o'er the green. 
 
 Firm against yon spreading tree, 
 Timber toe, the fiddler see, 
 " Waking the soul to haimony." 
 
 See the active sailor go, 
 First on heel — then on toe ; 
 Now retreating — then advancing, 
 While the sprightly hornpipe dancing 
 
 Hail ! all hail ! to one-tree hill ! 
 Here we'll sit and gaze pur fill ; 
 Ships and boats, and herds, arid flocks, 
 Blackwall Yard, and London Docks; 
 A palace, too, beneath our feet, 
 The sailors' well-earn'd last retreat, 
 And Deptford Yard, and meads and bow'rs, 
 And fam'd Augusta's distant tow'rs. 
 
 If Greenwich Park such joys can give 
 At Whitsuntide, there let me live. 
 
 LIGHT AND SHADE. 
 
 A citizen, whose industrious habits hadadvanced 
 him to a country-house, while walking one day 
 in his garden, caught the gardener asleep under 
 a tree. He scolded him soundly for his laziness, 
 and ended by telling him, that such a sluggard 
 was not worthy to enjoy the light of the sun. 
 " It was for that reason exactly," said the gar- 
 dener, " ihat I crept into the shade." 
 
 A QUICK RETORT. 
 
 A black footman was one day accosted by a fel- 
 low, — " Well, Blackee, when did you see the 
 devil last?" Upon which Blackee, turning sud- 
 denly round, gave him a severe blow, which stag- 
 gered him, and with it this appropriate and laco- 
 nic answer, " When I saw him last he send you 
 dat — how you like it." 
 
 MARRIAGE OF FIGARO. 
 
 A French epigrammatist gives the following 
 account of Beaumarchais' Comedy of the Marriage 
 of Figaro. "In this imprudent play every actor 
 is a vice: Bartholo is avarice; Almavira, seduc- 
 tion; his Tender Rib, adultery; Double-main, 
 theft; Mircelline, a fury; Basile, calumny; 
 Fanchette, innocence on its way to seduction; 
 Cherubin, libertinism ,• Suzen, craft: as for the 
 Figaro, the droll, he so perfectly resembles his 
 patron, that the likeness makes one start; in 
 short, that all the vices might be seen together^ 
 the pit in full chorus called for the author," 
 H & 
 
m 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 TAKING THE WALL. 
 An ill-bred man, who always took the wall, 
 one day said to a gentleman," I do not give the 
 wall to every puppy ;" when the latter replied 
 " But I do." 
 
 CRACKING A PUN. 
 Two bucks, who were sitting over a pint of 
 Wine, made up for the deficiency of port b> the 
 liveliness of their wit. After many jokes had 
 passed, one of them took up a nut, and holding it 
 to his friend, " If this nut could speak, what would 
 it say?" — " Why," rejoined the other," it would 
 say, give me none of your jaw." 
 
 WALTZING. 
 "What ! the girl I adore by another embraced ? 
 "What! the balm of her lips shall another man 
 
 taste ? 
 What ! touch'd in the twirl by another man's 
 
 knee? 
 What ! panting, recline on another than me ? 
 Sir, she's yours; from her lip you have brush'd 
 
 the ripe dew ; 
 What you've touch'd you may take. — Pretty 
 
 Waltzer, adieu. 
 
 THE FAT GROCER OF MALDEN. 
 Edward Bright was a grocer of Maldon, in Es- 
 sex, and became heir, in regular succession, to 
 mountains of flesh, for his ancestors were remark- 
 ably fat. At the age of twelve years and a half, 
 be weighed 144 pounds. Before he attained the 
 age of twenty he weighed twenty-four stone; and 
 increased about two stone in each year, so that at 
 the time of his death his weight amounted to forty- 
 four stone, or 616 pounds. He died at the age of 
 thirty, November, 1750. This man, it appears, 
 took a great deal of exercise, and even walked 
 nimbly ; his appetite always good. Towards the 
 close of his life, he drank nothing but small-beer, 
 at the rate of a gallon a day. After his death, 
 seven men of twenty-one years of age were inclos- 
 ed in his waistcoat, in consequence of a wager, 
 " without breaking a stitch, or straining a button." 
 
 LAW. 
 How many good laws have our Parliament made f 
 And how many of breaking them make a mere 
 jest? 
 Let us then have one more — that all laws be 
 obey'd; 
 And, happily, this may be broke like the rest. 
 
 LITERARY FELONY 
 When Sir John Hay ward published his Life and 
 Reign of Henry IV., in the year 1599, Queen Eli- 
 zabeth was highly incensed at it, and asked Mr, 
 Bacon, (afterwards Lord Bacon, one of her coun- 
 cil) whether there was any treason contained in 
 it? Mr. Bacon answered, " No, madam, for trea- 
 son, I cannot deliver opinion that there is any ; but 
 very much felony." The queen apprehending it, 
 gladly asked, " how and wherein ?" Mr. Bacon 
 answered, " Because he had stolen many of his 
 sentences and conceits out of Cornelius Tacitus." 
 
 THE DEAD AND THE LIVING. 
 To the bedridden rector the curate did step in, 
 
 The state of his health to inquire of his wife — 
 And found him departed — the widow sat weeping 
 
 " Bewailing the loss of her comforts in life." 
 " In this valley of tears," the kind curate replied, 
 
 *' From some the Lord takes, and to some he is 
 giving; 
 It is your duty now, madam, to mourn for the dead, 
 
 But 'tis mine to be off" and look after the living." 
 
 CLERICAL THEFT. 
 
 A clergyman at Cambridge preached a sermon 
 which one of his auditors commended. " Yes," 
 said a genlleman to whom it was mentioned, " it 
 was a good sermon, but he stole it." This being 
 told to the preacher, he resented it, and called on 
 the genMeman to retract what he had said. " I 
 am not," replied the aggressor, " very apt to re- 
 tract my words, but in this instance I will ; I said 
 you had stolen the sermon ; I find I was wrong ; 
 for on returning home, and referring to the book 
 whence I thought it taken, I found it there." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 155 
 
 THAnnY MAHONF. AND SILVIA PRATT. 
 
 Of la!o a fond couple alone A 
 
 In the bar of a coffee-room sat, 
 Where the swain, Mr. Thaddy Mali one,. 
 
 Sigh'd hard at the plump Mrs. Pratt. 
 
 His praises so pointedly gay, 
 
 The widow received with a smile; 
 
 She heard the soft things he could say, 
 But she counted her silver the while 
 
 " Mrs. Pratt," the fond shepherd began, 
 
 *' How can you be cruel to me? 
 I'm a lovesick and thirsty young man " 
 
 Oh give me some gunpowder-tea. 
 " For rolls never trouble your mind ;. 
 
 I feast when I look upon you ; 
 To my love let your answer be kind, 
 
 And half a potatoe will do." 
 
 " No trouble at all, sir, indeed, 5 * 
 Said the lady, and gave him a leer, 
 
 " Do you wish to-day's paper to read ? 
 
 Will you please, sir, to take your tea here :" 
 
 " Will I take my tea here ? that I will 
 But I never read papers nor books; 
 
 Be pleas'd, ma'am, the tea-pot to fill, 
 Yon sweeten the tea with your looks. 
 
 ** Saint Patrick ! I've emptied the pot," 
 Exclaim'd the stout Monaghan youth ; 
 
 " But, my honey, your tea is so hot, 
 It has scalded the top of my tooth- 
 
 " How well your good time you employ ; 
 
 May I beg for a jug of your cream ? 
 The water's so warm, my dear joy, 
 
 My whiskers are singed by the steam. 
 
 *' Mrs. Pratt, you're an angel in face, 
 How 1 doat on your fingers so fair! 
 
 Oh, I long like a dragon to place 
 Another gold wedding-ring there. 
 
 *' Do you think now my lies are untrue ? 
 
 You may shut those sweet eyes of your own, 
 And never see one that loves you, 
 
 Like myself, Mr. Thaddv Mahone. 
 
 '' Come join your estate (o my own, 
 And then what a change we shall see ! 
 
 When yon are the flesh of my bone, 
 Wiiata beautiful charmer I'll be ! 
 
 * c I have fields in my farm at Kilraorc,"— 
 
 Again Mrs. Pratt gave a icer, 
 And all that he man fully swore, 
 
 She drank wiih a feminine ear. 
 
 But scarce did the widow begin 
 
 To ansvrer her lover so gay ; 
 When, alas! a bum bailiff came in, 
 
 And took Mr. Thaddy away. 
 
 CHOICE OF EVILS. 
 A gentleman who was asked whether sieging or 
 public speaking entertained him most, replied, 
 " Of the two evils I certainly prefer the former ;. 
 a song has an end, but a speecii hys none." 
 
 KNIGHTHOOD. 
 When Lord Sandwich was to present Admiral 
 Campbell, he told him, that probably the King 
 would knight him. Th" admiral did not much 
 relish the honour. " Well, but," said Lord S. 
 " perhaps Mrs. Campbell will like it." — " Then 
 let the King knight her," answered the rough sea- 
 man. . 
 
 PUNNING ON NAMES* 
 
 A Miss Hudson being addressed by a naval 
 officer, whom she repulsed, it was observed, in her 
 presence, that he was not the only warrior who 
 had been foiled in endeavouring to enter Hudson's 
 Bay. 
 
 On Mrs. Trout being delivered of a son, who 
 was christened Jonas, a wag said — 
 
 Three days and nights, asserts the sacred tale, 
 
 Jonas lay hid in belly of a whale ; 
 
 A greater wonder now by far's come out — 
 
 Jonas, from nine months lodging in a Trout ! 
 
 Mr. Bearcroft told his friend, Mr. VansUtart, 
 " Your name is such a long one, I shall drop the 
 sittart, and call you Van for the future." — " With 
 all my heart;" said he, " by the same rule, I shall 
 drop croft, and call you Bear." 
 
156 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 TO A FOPPISH CLERGYMAN. 
 
 Be thou, dear parson, plainly dress'd, 
 
 All priestly frippery I detest; 
 
 No curls should deck thy torturd hair, 
 
 To make the congregation stare ; 
 
 Nor diamond ring, nor perfumes strong, 
 
 Nor 'kerchief wav'd to thee belong 
 
 In cassock plain ,and sable gown, 
 Thou'lt be admir'd by all the town ; 
 'Twill ne'er shame thee as a divine, 
 To make the sober vestments thine ; 
 Nor me, as an impartial friend. 
 The decent garb to recommend. 
 
 THE WRONG LEG. 
 
 Dr. Thomas, (Bishop of Salisbury) forgot tin? 
 day he was to be married, and was surprised at 
 his servants bringing him a new dress. A. gnat 
 stinging him in the leg, the doctor stooped and 
 scratched the leg of a gentleman who stood next to 
 him. 
 
 AMOURS OF HENRY VIII. 
 Three Kates, two Nans, and one sweet Jane, I 
 
 wedded, 
 One Dutch, one Spanish, and four English wives ; 
 From two I got divorced, two I beheaded, 
 
 One died in childbed, and one me survives. 
 
 Henry once sent an offer of his hand to the Prin- 
 cess of Parma, who returned for answer, that she 
 was greatly obliged to the king for his compliment; 
 and that if she had two heads, one of them should 
 have been at his service ; but, as-she had only one, 
 she could not spare it. 
 
 VALUABLE GIFT. 
 A scene-shifter to a provincial company having 
 sustained some severe losses, was advised by the 
 manager to solicit a subscription. A few days af- 
 terwards the latter asking how the business pro- 
 ceeded, was shewn the list of donations, which, 
 after inspecting it, he returned, " Why, sir." said 
 the scene-shifter, somewhat surprised, "will you 
 not give me any thing?" — " Zounds, man," re- 
 plied the other, " did not I give you the hint." 
 
 TO SIR JOHN HILL, M. D. 
 Thou essence of dock, of valerian and sage* 
 At once the disgrace and the pest of this age, 
 The worst that I wish thee for all thy d — d crimei 
 Is to take thy own physic, and read thy own 
 rhymes. thjs junto. 
 
 Answer to the Junto. 
 Their wish in form must be revers'd, 
 
 To suit the doctor's crimes; 
 For he who takes his physic first, 
 Will never read his rhymes. 
 The doctor sent to one of the papers the follow^ 
 ing answer : — 
 
 Ye desperate Junto, ye great or ye small, 
 Who combat dukes, doctors, the devil and all, 
 Whether gentlemen scribblers, or poets in jail, 
 Your impertinent curses shall never prevail ; 
 I'll take neither sage, dock, valerian or honey, 
 Do you take the physic, and I'll take the money. 
 ENGLISH AND SCOTCH OATHSe 
 A highlander's -oath, was formerly performed, 
 and may still be, by holding up the right-hand. 
 A highlander, at the Carlisle assizes, had positive- 
 ly sworn to a fact of consequence, in the English 
 mode ; but his indifference being noticed by the op. 
 posite party, he was required to confirm his testi 
 mony by taking the oath of his* country to the same a 
 " Na, na," said the mountaineer, in his northern 
 dialect, " dinna ye ken that thair is muckle odds 
 between blawing on a buik and damning ane's ain 
 saul?" 
 
 MILITARY PRIZE POEM. 
 On the death of General Wolfe, a premium was. 
 offered for the best written epitaph on that brave 
 officer. A number of poets, of all descriptions, 
 started as candidates, and among the rest was apoeia 
 sent to the editor of the Public Ledger, of which: 
 the following was one of the stanzas :_: — 
 " He march'd without dread or fears, 
 At the head of his bold grenadiers; 
 And what was more remarkable — nay, very parti- 
 cular, 
 He climb'd up rocks that were perpendicular." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 157 
 
 COCKNEYISMS. 
 
 The peculiar pronunciation of the following 
 words is the unique property of the Cockneys, 
 which may be said to give their precedents or 
 rent-rolls of inheritance. 
 
 Curous, for curious; and curosity, for curiosity. 
 Here is a short cut ; and yet they say stupendious, 
 for stupendous, which ^hews, that though brevity 
 may be the* soul of wit, it is not always of pro- 
 nunciation. 
 
 Neccssiated and necessitated, for necessitated. 
 
 Unpossible, for impossible. 
 
 Leastwise, for at least. 
 
 A conquest of people, for a concourse. 
 
 Attackted, for attacked. 
 
 Shayaad po-shay, for chaise and post-chaise. 
 
 Govcnd, for gown; schoold, for school. 
 
 Bacheldor, for bachelor. 
 
 Obstropolous, for obstreperous. 
 
 Argufy, for signify ; or, to argue. 
 
 Common-garden, for Covent-garden. 
 
 Kinsington, for Kensington. 
 
 Chimley, or Chimbley, for chimney. 
 
 Perdigious, for prodigious. 
 
 Progidy, for prodigy. 
 
 Kiver, for cover. 
 
 Sarsepan, for saucepan ; saacc, for sauce ; saacer, 
 for saucer ; saacy, for saucy. 
 
 Daater, for daughter. 
 
 Contagious, fur contiguous. 
 
 For fraid of, instead of, for fear of. 
 
 Duberous, for dubious. 
 
 Musicianer, for musician ; opticianer, for op- 
 tician. 
 
 Squits, for quit. 
 
 Pillor'd, for pilloried. 
 
 Scroicdge, for crowd 
 
 Squeedge, for squeeze. 
 
 Anger (as a verb), to make angry. 
 Vernon, for venom. 
 
 Sermont, for sermon. 
 
 Verment, for vermin. Also surgeont, for surgeon. 
 
 Palarctick, for paralytic, 
 
 Postvs and postesscs, for posts. So also ghostes 
 and ghostesses. 
 
 Sitiation, for situation. 
 
 Portingal, for Portugal. 
 
 Somewheres, for somewhere ; nowheres, for no- 
 where; a favourite plural, 
 
 Midest, for molest. 
 
 Scholard, for scholar. 
 
 Regiment, for regimen. 
 
 Margent, for margin. 
 
 Contrary, for contrary. 
 
 Blasphemious and blasphemous, for blasphemous. 
 
 Howsomdever and whatsomdever , for however 
 and whatever. 
 
 Successfully, for successively ; " He did not pay 
 my bill, though I called upon him several days 
 successfully." 
 
 Respectively, for respectfully. 
 
 Mayor altry, for mayoralty. 
 
 Commonality, for commonalty. 
 
 Properietor, for proprietor. 
 
 Nonplush'd, for nonplus'd. 
 
 Colloguing, for colleaguing. 
 
 Drowndcd, for drowned. 
 
 An-otomy, a skeleton. 
 
 Paragraft, for a paragraph. 
 
 Stagnated, for stagger'd. 
 
 Ruinated, for ruined. 
 
 Solentary, for solitary. 
 
 Eminent danger, for imminent danger. 
 
 Intosticated, for intoxicated. 
 
 Perwent, for prevent. 
 
 Preused, for perused. 
 
 Refuge, for refuse. 
 
 Radiiges, for radishes; also rulbidgc\ for rub- 
 bish ; furbidge, for furbish. ' 
 
 Taters, for potatoes : thus abbreviated, cockneys 
 perhaps do not consider them as poi-atos, until 
 they are put into the pot! 
 
 Loveyer, for lover. 
 
 Humoursome, for humourous. 
 
 Pottecary, for apothecary. 
 
 3of, for sat; " he so£ himself down j" w*, for 
 sit? M pray, sef down." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 158 
 
 Flagrant, for fragrant, as, " this moss-rose is 
 very flagrant." 
 
 Fetch a walk, fotcJi'd a walk, cotch'd cold. 
 
 Know'd, for knew and known; also seed, for 
 saw and seen ; grow'd, throw' d, draw' d, for grown, 
 thrown, drawn. 
 
 Nought, for might. 
 
 Fit, for fought ; a Five's-court abbreviation of 
 the preterite fought. 
 
 *d-dry, a-hungry, a-cold, &c. 
 
 This here ; that there; if so be at how — and so. 
 
 Refusial, for refusal. 
 
 Jtayly, for really. 
 
 Wind, for wine. 
 
 Scithers, for scissors. • i 
 
 Postponded, for postponed. 
 
 Kicine, for coin. 
 
 Inigo Jones, the architect, has been often com- 
 plimented as Indigo Jones, 
 
 Rizz, for risen. 
 
 Lunnun, for London. 
 
 Moral, for model ; ie The child is the very moral 
 of his father," who may not have much morality 
 to spare. 
 
 Hhn, hern, for his or hers. 
 
 Ourn, yourn, for our's, your's, 
 
 Nolus bolus, for nolens volens. They also call 
 part of the funeral service, " Be profundis," (the 
 130th Psalm,) by the style and title of " Deborah 
 Fundish." An ignorant imprisoned cockney 
 pickpocket once called a " habeas corpus," " a 
 hap'orth of copperas," which is the language of 
 Newgate. 
 
 Weal, for veal. 
 
 Winegar, for vinegar. 
 
 Vicked, for wicked. 
 
 Fig, for wig. 
 
 Widowhood, neighbourhood, and livelihood, are 
 called widow-tcooct, neighbour-wood, lively-»cood. 
 
 Howdacious, for audacious. 
 
 Underminded, for undermined. 
 
 Mullygrubs, a neat symphonous expression for 
 megrims. 
 
 Nincompoop, (a corruption of the .tin non 
 compos,) a fool, an idiot. 
 
 Obstacle, for obelisk. 
 
 The letter h is taken great liberties with by t he- 
 genuine cockney, as in the following exampic. 
 " They saw a flower in theeaJ^e,- and, in trying to 
 get at it, trod just at the hedge of the stream. They 
 have their air cut by a fashionable dresser; and 
 have bought a most beautiful at, which is a most 
 becoming ed-dress, and they shall wear it the next 
 time they go hout to dinner, 
 
 A City servant once began a letter to his master, 
 the alderman, with Horned Sir, instead of Ho- 
 noured Sir. 
 
 " Is there none here but you ?" a usual query ; 
 used by Dean Swift to his clerk, Roger Cox, 
 who, turning over the leaves of his prayer-book, 
 dryly replied, " Sure, you are here too !" 
 
 THE IRISHMAN'S RECKONING, 
 
 " Who lives there, honest fellow?" said a tra- 
 velling stranger, 
 As on thro' the county of Antrim he sped, 
 And who fancied that houses shut up implied 
 danger, 
 " Lives there." answered Teague, "why a man 
 that is dead." 
 " When did he die?" cried the stranger more 
 
 gaily; 
 
 Teague paus'd, scratch'd his caxon, so straight 
 
 and fo sleek, 
 Then replied, " By my conscience, my jewel, 
 
 why really, 
 If he'd lived till- to-day, he'd been dead a whole 
 
 week!" 
 
 DOUBLE CONFESSION. 
 
 A pamphlet called " The Snake in the Grass," 
 being reported to be written by an illiterate 
 nobleman, (probably in joke,) the gentleman 
 abused in it sent him a challenge. His lordship 
 protested his innocence ; but the gentleman not 
 being satisfied without having it under his hand, 
 the nobleman took a pen, and began. " This is 
 to scratify, that the buk, called the Snak — -"— - 
 " Oh, my lord." said the person, *' I am quits 
 sst isfied now vou are not the author." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHIC, 
 
 159 
 
 MUTUAL MISTAKE. 
 
 Ah Irish pig-merchant, who had more money in 
 his pocket than his ragged appearance denoted, 
 once took an inside passage in a Liverpool stage- 
 coach. An exquisite, of the first order, who was a 
 fellow-passenger, was evidently annoyed by the 
 presence of Pat ; and having missed his handker- 
 chief, tasked him with having picked his pocket, 
 threatening to have him taken before a magistrate, 
 at the next stage. Before they arrived there, 
 however, the exquisite found his handkerchief, 
 which he had deposited in his hat. He made a 
 very awkward kind of an apology upon the occa- 
 sion ; but Pat stopped him short with this remark, 
 " Make yourself easy, my honey; there's no 
 occasion for any bother about the matter. You 
 took me for a thief; and I took yon for a gen- 
 tleman t and we are both mistaken ; that's all 
 honey. ' r 
 
 DR. ALDRICH r S FIVE REASONS FOR DRINKING. 
 Good wine — a friend — or being dry — 
 Or lest we should be by and bye — 
 Or any other reason why. 
 
 EARLY RECOLLECTIONS. 
 Kennet, Lord-Mayor of London, in the year 
 1780, began life as a waiter, and his manner 
 never rose above his original station. When he 
 was summoned to be examined in the House, one 
 of the Members wittily observed — " If you ring 
 the bell Kennet will come of course." One 
 evening at the Alderman's Club, he was at the 
 whist-table, and Mr. Alderman Pugh, a dealer in 
 soap, and an extremely good-natured man, was 
 at his elbow, smoakinghis pipe. " King the bell, 
 soap-suds," said Mr. Kennet, in his coarse way. 
 " Ring it yourself, Bar," replied the alderman, 
 " you have been twice as much used to it as I 
 have." 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 If you cannot inspire a woman with love of 
 you, fill her above the brim with love of herself; 
 and all that runs over will be yours. 
 
 LOGIC. 
 
 Cries logical Bobby to Ned, will you dare 
 A bet, which has most legs, a mare, or no mare. 
 A mare, to he sure, replied Ned, with a grin, 
 And fifty I'll lay, for I'm certain to win. 
 Quoth Bob, you have lost, sure as you are alive, 
 A mare has but four legs, and no mare has five. 
 
 TEDIOUS BREAKFAST. 
 
 When Buonaparte was preparing to invade 
 Spain, Talleyrand remonstrated against it as 
 fraught with difficulties. " No, no," said Na- 
 poleon, " the war with Spain will be only a break- 
 fast foF me." — "I fear," replied the minister, 
 " that your Majesty may be long at table." 
 
 ROUGH ROADS. 
 
 As no roads are so rough as those that have just 
 been mended, so no sinners are so intolerant as 
 those that have just turned saints. 
 
 CREENWICH AND DULWICH. 
 
 A celebrated living poet, occasionally a little 
 absent of mind, was invited by a friend, whom he 
 met in the street, to dine with him at a country 
 lodging he had taken for the summer months. 
 The address was " near the Green Man at DuU 
 wich," which, not to put his inviter to the trouble 
 of pencilling down, our bard promised faithfully 
 to remember. But when Sunday came, he made 
 his way to Greenwich, and began inquiring for the 
 sign of the DuU Man! No such sign was to be 
 found ; and, after losing an hour, a person guessed 
 that though there was no Dull Man at Greenwich, 
 there was a Green Man at Dulwich, which the gen- 
 tleman might possibly mean. 
 
 MOURNING SUITS. 
 
 Parsons and lawyers, both you'll find 
 
 By mourning suits are known ; 
 Those for the sins of all mankind, 
 
 The other for their own. 
 
160 
 
 THfi LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ODE TO MY PIPE. 
 
 Pipe! whether plain in fashion of Frey-herr, 
 Or gaudy glittering in the taste of Boor, 
 Deep-darkened Meer-schaum or Ecume-demer, 
 Or snowy clay of Gowda, light and pure. 
 Let different people different pipes prefer, 
 Delft, horn, or catgut, long, short, older, newer, 
 Puff, every brother, as it likes him best, 
 De gustibus non disputandum est* 
 Pipe! when I stuff into thee my canaster, 
 With flower of camomile and leaf of rose,. 
 And the calm rising fume comes fast and faster, 
 Curling with balmy circles near my nose 
 And all the while my dexter hand is master 
 Of the full cup from Meux's vat that flows. 
 Heavens ! all my brain a soft oblivion wraps 
 Of wafered letters and of single taps. 
 
 I've no objections to a good segar, 
 A true Havannah, smooth and moist, and brown; 
 But then the smoke's too near the eye by far, 
 And out of doors 'tis in a twinkling flown ; 
 And somehow it sets all my teefh ajar, 
 When to an inch or so we've smoked him down ; 
 And if your leaf have got a straw within it, 
 You know 'tis like a cinder in a minute^ 
 I have no doubt a long excursive hooker 
 Suits well some lordly lounger of Bengal, 
 Who never writes or looks into a book, or 
 Does any thing with earnestness at all ; 
 He sits, and his tobacco's in the nook, or 
 Tended by some black heathen in the hall, 
 Lays up his legs, and thinks he does great things 
 If once in the half-hour a puff he brings. 
 
 1-ratber follow in my smoking trim 
 
 The example of Scots cotters and their wives, 
 
 Who, while the evening air is warm and dim, 
 
 In July sit beside their garden hives; 
 
 And, gazing all the while with wrinkles grim 
 
 To see how the concern of honey thrives, 
 
 Empty before they've done a four-ounce bag 
 
 Of sailors' twist, or, what's less common— shag. 
 
 MENDING A PEN. 
 When Mr. Penn, a young gentleman well- 
 known for his eccentricities, walked from Hyde- 
 park-corner to Hammersmith, for a wager of one 
 hundred guineas, with the Hon. Butler Danvers, 
 several gentlemen who had witnessed the contest 
 spoke of it to the Duchess of Gordon, and added, 
 it was a pity that a man with so many good qua- 
 lities as this Penn had, should be incessantly play- 
 ing these unaccountable pranks. " It is so," said 
 her grace; " but why don't you advise him bet- 
 ter ? He seems to be a pen that every body cuts,. 
 but nobody wends." 
 
 FEMALE VIRTUE. 
 Did ladies now (as we are told 
 Our great grandmother did of old) 
 Wake to a sense of blasted fame, 
 The fig-tree spoil to hide their shame, 
 So numerous are these modern Eves, 
 A forest scarce could find them leaves, 
 
 SWIFT ON STOCK JOBBERS. 
 He who sells that of which he is not possessed, 
 is said, proverbially, to sell the Seer's skin, while 
 the bear runs in the woods ; and it being common 
 for stock-jobbers to make contracts for trans- 
 ferring stock at a future time, though they were 
 not possessed of the stock to be transferred, they 
 were called sellers of bear-skins, or " bears." 
 Another interpretation arises from the general 
 character for trampling under-foot, which agrees 
 with their department of business, viz. to keep 
 down the stocks. 
 
 ON A PHYSICIAN. 
 Here Doctor Fisher lies interr'd, 
 Who filled the half of the church-yard. 
 
 HONESTY. 
 A gentleman once asserted that he did not be- 
 lieve that there was a truly honest man in the 
 whole world ; Sir, said a bye-stander, it is quite 
 impossible that any one man should know all the 
 world ; but it is very possible that some one man 
 —may know himself. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 m 
 
 AMATEUR THEATRICALS. 
 
 Suppose us, flow, at Mrs. Flourish's, — chairs 
 and sofas all crowded; the ceremonies of tea and 
 coffee quite finished, and the eyes and ears of the 
 visitants all expanded for the promised display. 
 " Now, my dear Diggory," said the young geu- 
 tleman's doting mamma, " make your best bow 
 to the company, my love, and let Doctor Tadpole 
 hear you speak " The Newcastle Apothecary !" I 
 always like my Diggory to say summat happli- 
 cable." — " Then suppose, Madam," replied the 
 Doctor, " suppose the young gentleman recites 
 Gay's fable of e The Old Hen. and the Cock !' "— 
 " Deary me, Doctor, he shall larn that next, after 
 he has got ' Gimlet,' and ' Mounseer Tonson,' 
 and ' Bucks have at you all !' and ' Young Nor- 
 val,' and « Old Towler,' and ' All the World's a 
 
 Stage,' and *' — "Hold , hold, mydear madam ! 
 
 why there's enough for the next nine months al- 
 ready ; — why, you'd multiply the ten parts of 
 speech by forty," and let us have all of them!" — 
 "Come then, Diggory, my man, I'll ring the bell, 
 and snuff the candles, and you shall give us that 
 there one first, howsomever ; and we'll have 
 t'others afterwards." The Doctor interfered no 
 farther ; the company adjusted themselves in pro- 
 per order, and sat in rueful expectation of the 
 coming pleasure. 
 
 I must here premise, that Master Flourish's 
 memory, although tolerably tenacious as to the 
 number of its subjects, was rather variable as to 
 the method of detailing them ; thus making a kind 
 of dramatic cross-reading, which sometimes mar- 
 red the solemn effect of his tragedy. At length, 
 therefore, after blacking his face, clearing his 
 throat, and pulling up his trowsers, he thus 
 began : — 
 
 " I do remember an apothecary, 
 And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, 
 A halligator stuff'd ; — 
 A member of this Esculapian line 
 Lived at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 
 His name was Bolus ! 
 
 My poverty, but not my will consents, 
 When taken — To be well shaken. 
 A beggarly account of empty boxes, 
 Calling aloud : — What, ho! Apothecary !'* 
 During this very extraordinary exhibition, the 
 good old lady winked, nodded, and prompted, 
 but all to no purpose. The fact was, Master Dig- 
 gory 's speeches were literally at his 'fingers' ends, 
 as, being accustomed to work them into his head, 
 by scratching himself with a particular finger, the 
 same manoeuvre was always to be performed at 
 the recital, and the application of a wrong digit 
 invariably introduced a wrong passage. " Why, 
 Diggory, my love !" at length exclaimed his per- 
 turbed mamma, — " you were sadly out, my dear,! 
 Now do try again, chuck, and let the company 
 hear Gimlet's sillyliquus about Toby." Master 
 Flourish, junior, accordingly again hah'd and 
 hemmed;, and, after the usual evolutions, thus 
 broke out: — 
 
 " Toby, or not Toby,— that there s the question ? 
 Whether — my name is Norval 
 On the Grampian hills, — My father feeds his 
 Pigs, — no, sheep,— his flocks— flocks of 
 Pigeons, that flesh is heir to. 
 To die, to sleep, a horse ! ahorse! — 
 My kingdom for a horse! 
 Aye, there's the rub ! for, for, for, — 
 Heaven soon granted what my sire denied, yon 
 moon !." 
 Here young Hopeful concluded ; most of the 
 company expressed themselves perfectly satisfied, 
 and even Doctor Tadpole was convinced that, in 
 some cases, a single dose is one too many 
 HALF-WAY AND BACK. 
 An old gentleman, who had been accustomed to 
 walk round St. James's Park every day, was 
 once met by a clergyman in the Mall, who asked 
 him if he still continued to take his usual walk, 
 " No, sir," replied the old man, "I cannot do so 
 much now ; I cannot get round the Park ; but I 
 will tell you what I do insteadj, I go half round 
 and back again,." 
 
162 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE BERKSHIRE PUBLICAN. 
 Friend Isaac, 'tis strange you, that live so near 
 Bray, 
 Should not set up the sign of the vicar ; 
 Though it may he an odd one, you cannot but say, 
 It must be the sign of good liquor. 
 
 The Answer. 
 
 Indeed, master poet, your reason's but poor j 
 
 For the vicar would think it a sin 
 To stay, like a booby, and lounge at the door; 
 
 'Twere a sign of bad liquor within. 
 
 HOUSEHOLD SERVANTS. 
 The following paper contains regulations for the 
 household-servants of an English baronet, about 
 the year 1566. 
 
 1. That no seruant bee absent from praier, at 
 morning or euening, without a lawfull excuse, to 
 bee alleged within one day after vppon paine to 
 forfeit for eury tyme 2d. 
 
 2. That none sweare any othe vppon pain for 
 eury one Id. 
 
 3. That no man leau any doore open that he 
 findeth shut, without theare be cause, vppon paine 
 for eury tyme Id. 
 
 4. That none of the men be in bed, from our 
 Lady-day to Michaelmas, after 6 of the clock in 
 the morning ; nor out of his bed after 10 of the 
 clock at night ; nor from Michaelmas till our 
 Lady-day, in bed after 7 in the morning, nor out 
 after 9 at night, without reasonable cause, on 
 paine of 2d. 
 
 5. That no man's bed be vnmade, nor fire or 
 candle-box vncleane after 8 vf the clock in the 
 morning, on paine of Id. 
 
 6. That no man teach any of the children any 
 ttnhonest speeche, or othe, on pain of 4d. 
 
 7. That no man waite at table without a tren- 
 cher in his hand,, except it be vppon some good 
 cause, on paine of Id, 
 
 8. That no man appointed to waite at my table 
 be absent that meale without reasonable cause, on 
 paine of Id. 
 
 9. If anie man break a glassc hee shall answer 
 the price thereof out of his wages: and if it bee 
 not known who breake it, the butler shall pay for 
 it, on paine of 12d. 
 
 10. The table must be couered half-an-houre 
 before 11 at dinner, and 6 at supper, or before, on 
 paine of 2d. 
 
 11. That meate be readie at 11, or before, at 
 dinner, and 6, orbefore,atsupper, on paine of 6d. 
 
 12. That none be absent without leave or good 
 cause, the whole dav, or anie part of it, on paine 
 of4d. 
 
 13. That no man strike his fellow, on paine of 
 losse of seruice ; nor reuile or threaten, or pro- 
 uoke one another to strike, on paine of 12d. 
 
 14. That no man come to the kitchen without 
 reasonable cause on paine of Id. and the cook 
 likewise to forfeit Id. 
 
 15. That none toy with the maids, on paine of 
 4d. 
 
 16. That no man weare foul shirt on Sunday, 
 nor broken hose orshooes, or dublett without but- 
 tons, on paine of Id. 
 
 IT. That when any stranger goefh hence, the 
 chamber be dressed vp againe within four bowers 
 after, on paine of Id. 
 
 18. That the hall bee made cleane eury day, by 
 eighth in the winter and seuen in the summer, on 
 paine of him that shall doe it Id. 
 
 19. That the court-gate bee shut each meale, 
 and not opened during dinner and supper, with- 
 out just cause, on paine the porter to forfeit on 
 euery tyme Id. 
 
 20. That all stayrs in the house, and other rooms 
 that need shall require, bee made cleane on Fry- 
 day after dinner, on pain of forfeiture for cuery 
 one whom it shall belong vnto 3d. 
 
 All which summes shall be duly paide eaeh 
 quarter-day out of their wages, and bestowed on 
 the poere, or other goodly use. 
 
 OUT OF DEBT. 
 
 You say you nothing owe, and so I say, 
 He only owes who something has — to \m? 
 
fHE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 163 
 
 NAME OF A COACH. 
 A traveller in a stage, not particularly cele- 
 brated for its celerity, inquired of the gentleman 
 ■who sat next him, what the coach was called ; 
 upon which the latter replied, " I think, sir, it 
 must be the Regulator, for I observe all the other 
 coaches go by it." 
 
 THE BRIGHTON BELLE, 
 Addressed to a Gentleman at Nottingham* 
 
 No longer boast your midland town, 
 The flovv'r of English fair possesses j 
 
 A lovelier band no spot can own, 
 Than what our happy Sussex blesses. 
 
 Come quit your nest of stocking-looms* 
 And take with me a trip to Brighton; 
 
 AH that enchanting place illumes 
 
 Which heart can love or eye delight in* 
 
 And he who there can keep his heart, 
 
 Tno' he hath travell'd from Jerusalem, 
 May safely dare love's potent dart, 
 
 Should he in age exceed Methusatem. 
 Vain all your efforts to retreat, 
 
 Or shield yourself by meditation ; 
 Where angels at each step you meet, 
 
 And ev'ry star's a constellation. 
 
 " But there's ane lass in prime of youth, * 
 Aboon them a', I loe her better;" 
 
 That's right broad Scotch ; but since 'tis truth, 
 I quote the ballad to the letter. 
 
 And faith so soon I'm set on flame, 
 
 That, ope my heart this very minute, 
 Depend on't, Dick, you'd find her name 
 
 Engrav'd, and pretty deeply, in it. 
 A face and form to rival Venus, 
 
 A sparkling eye of love and light full, 
 ('Tis one could quiz — I think between us,) 
 
 The tout ensemble is delightful. 
 I will not sing her charms in rhyme, 
 
 Who writes of her in verse but proses; 
 For surely 'tis a waste of time, 
 
 To praise the hue or sweets of roses. 
 
 But this I know, that, say or sing, 
 The sight of her to me's a sweater, 
 
 Yet, curse me, 'tis an easier thing, 
 To see this damsel than forget hert 
 
 And were I not so over nice, 
 
 (Or not such brass, as you say rather,) 
 
 I could methinks give some advice, 
 Would prove of service to her father. 
 
 For, sure, were all men of my mind, 
 His girl might prove a mighty saving; 
 
 Five minutes gaze on her they'd find 
 A cure for all their warm-bath craving. 
 
 And he might charge the usual tip, 
 
 For where's the man would grudge to pay iti -■ 
 He snre must be a frigid rip, 
 
 And dead to beauty, though I say it. 
 
 But soft ! too fast my projects rise, 
 And after all I should but fool him,* 
 
 For when thus warm'd at Kitty's eyes 
 All his cold-baths could never cool 'era. 
 
 OXY-GIN AND HYDRO-GIN. 
 
 While a ventriloquist was describing the na- 
 ture of gas, a blue-stocking lady clamorously in- 
 quired of a gentleman near her, what he meant by 
 oxy-gin and hydro-gin\ or what was the difference ? 
 "Very little, Madam," said he; " by oxy-gin, 
 we mean pure gin, and by hydro-gin gin and 
 water." 
 
 THE BASHFUL MAN, 
 Written by Himself, in a Letter to a Friend. 
 
 I labour under a species of distress, which I 
 fear will at length drive me utterly from that so- 
 ciety in which I am most ambitious to appear ;— 
 but I shall give you a short sketch of my present 
 situation, by which you will be enabled to judge 
 of my difficulties. 
 
 My father was a farmer, of no great property, 
 and with no other learning than what he had ac- 
 quired at a charity-school ; but my mother being 
 dead, and I an only child, he determined to give 
 me that advantage which he fancied would have 
 made him happy, viz a learned education. I was 
 
164 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 sent to a country grammar-school, and from thence 
 to the university, with a view of qualifying for 
 holy orders. Here, having but a small allowance 
 from my f3ther, and being naturally of a timid 
 and bashful disposition, I had no opportunity of 
 rubbing off that native awkwardness which is the 
 fatal caUse of all my unhappiness, and which I 
 now begin to fear can never be amended. 
 
 Sir Thomas Friendly, who lives about two miles 
 distant, is a baronet, with an estate of about two 
 thousand pounds a-year, joining to that I pur- 
 chased. He has two sons and five daughters, all 
 grown up, and living with their mother, and a 
 maiden sister of Sir Thomas's, at Friendly-Hall, 
 dependant on their father. Conscious of my un- 
 polished gait, I have for some time past taken pri- 
 vate lessons from a professor who teaches " grown 
 gentlenfen to dance ;" and although I at first found 
 wondrous difficulty in the art he taught, my know- 
 ledge of , mathematics was of prodigious use in 
 teaching me the equilibrium of my body, and the 
 due adjustment of the centre of gravity to the five 
 positions. Having now acquired the art of walk- 
 ing without tottering, and learned to make a bow, 
 'I boldly ventured to accept the Baronet's invita- 
 tion to a family dinner, not doubting but my new 
 acquirements would enable me to see the ladies 
 with tolerable intrepidity ; but, alas! how vain 
 are all the hopes of theory when unsupported by 
 habitual practice! As I approached the house, a 
 dinner-bell alarmed my fears lest I had spoiled 
 the, dinner by want of punctuality. Impressed 
 jwith this idea, I blushed the deepest crimson, as 
 my name was repeatedly announced by the several 
 livery-servants who ushered me into the library, 
 hardly knowing what or whom I saw. At my 
 fiist entrance I summoned all my fortitude, and 
 made my new-learned bow to Lady Friendly; 
 but, unfortunately, bringing back my left foot to 
 the third position, I trod upon the gouty toe of 
 poor Sir Thomas, who had followed close at my 
 heels, to be the nomenclator of the family. The 
 confusion this occasioned in me is hardly to be 
 conceived, since none but bashful men can judge 
 
 of my distress ; and of that description, the num- 
 ber, I believe, is very small. The Baronet's 
 politeness, by degrees, dissipated my concern; 
 and I was astonished to see how far good-breed- 
 ing could enable him to suppress his feelings, and 
 to appear with perfect ease after so paiuful an 
 accident. 
 
 The cheerfulness of her ladyship, and the fa- 
 miliar chat of the young ladies, insensibly led me 
 to throw off my reserve and sheepishness, till at 
 length I ventured to join in conversation, and 
 even to start fresh subjects. The library being 
 richly furnished with books, in elegant bindings, I 
 conceived Sir Thomas to be a man of literature;, 
 and ventured to give my opinion concerning the 
 several editions of the Greek classics, in which 
 the Baronet's ideas exactly coincided with my 
 own. To this subject I was led by observing an 
 edition of Xenophon in sixteen volumes, which 
 (as I had never before heard of such a th'mg) 
 greatly excited my curiositj', and I rose up to 
 examine what it could be. Sir Thomas saw what 
 I was about, and (as I supposed) willing to save 
 me trouble, rose to take down the book, -which 
 made me more eager to prevent him, and hastily 
 laying my hand on the first volume, I pulled it 
 forcibly; but lo! instead of books, a board, 
 which, by leather and gilding, had been made to 
 look like sixteen volumes, came tumbling down, 
 and unluckily pitched upon a Wedgwood ink- 
 stand on the table under it. In vain did Sir 
 Thomas assure me there was no harm. I saw the 
 ink streaming from an inlaid table on the Turkey 
 carpet, and scarce knowing what I did, attempted 
 to stop its progress with my cambric handker- 
 chief. In the height of this confusion we were 
 informed that dinner was served up ; and I with 
 joy then understood that the bell which at first 
 had so alarmed my fears, was only the half-hour 
 dinner-bell. 
 
 In walking through the hall and suite of apart- 
 ments to the dining-room, I had time to collect 
 my scattered senses, and was desired to take my 
 seat betwixt Lady Friendly and ber eldest daugh- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 165 
 
 ter at the table. Since the fall of the wooden Xe- 
 nophon, my face had been continually burning 
 like a fire-brand; and I was just beginning to 
 recover myself, and to feel comfortably cool, 
 when an unlooked-for accident rekindled all my 
 heat and blushes. Having set my plate of soup 
 too near the edge of the table, in bowing to Miss 
 Dinah, who politely complimented the pattern of 
 my waistcoat, I tumbled the whole scalding con- 
 tents into my lap. In spite of an immediate 
 supply of napkins to wipe the surface of my 
 clothes, my black silk breeches were not stout 
 enough to save me from the painful effects of this 
 siulden fomentation, and for some minutes my legs 
 and thighs seemed stewed in a boiling cauldron ; 
 but recollecting how Sir Thomas had disguised his 
 torture, when I trod upon his toes, I firmly bore 
 my pain in silence, and sat with my lower extre- 
 mities parboi'-d, amidst the stifled giggling of 
 Ihe ladies and th^ servants. 
 
 I will not relate the several blunders which I 
 made during the first course, or the distress occa- 
 sioned by my being desired to carve a fowl, or 
 help to various dishes that stood near me, spilling 
 a sauce-boat, and knocking down a saltcellar; 
 rather let me hasten to the second course, where 
 fresh disasters quite overwhelmed me. 
 
 I had a pirce of rich sweet pudding on my 
 fork, when Miss Louisa Friendly begged to 
 trouble me for a pigeon that stood near me. In 
 my haste, scarce knowing what I did, I whipped 
 the pudding into my mouth, hot as a burning coal ; 
 it was impossible to conceal my agony; my eyes 
 were starting from their sockets. At last, in 
 spite of shame and resolution, I was obliged to 
 drop the cause of torment en my plate. Sir 
 Thomas and the ladies all compassionated my mis- 
 fortune, and each advised a different application. 
 One recommended oil, another water, but all 
 agreed that wine was best for drawing out the 
 heat; and a glass of sherry was brought me from 
 the sideboard, which I snatched up with eager- 
 ness: but oh! how shall 1 tell the sequel ? Whe- 
 ther the butler by accident mistook, or purposely 
 
 designed , to drive me mad, he gave tne the strongest 
 brandy, with which I filled my mouth already 
 flayed and blistered. Totally unused to every 
 kind of ardent spirits, with my tongue, throat, 
 and palate as raw as beef, what could I do? I 
 could not swallow ; and clapping my hands upon 
 my mouth, the cursed liquor squirted through my 
 nose and fingers like a fountain over all the 
 dishes, — and I was crushed by bursts of laughter 
 from all quarters. In vain did Sir Thomas repri- 
 mand the servants, and Lady Friendly chide her 
 daughters 5 for the measure of my shame and 
 their diversion was not yet complete. To relieve 
 me from the intolerable state of perspiration 
 which this accident had caused, without consider- 
 ing what I did, I wiped my face with that ill- 
 fated handkerchief, which was still wet from the 
 consequences of the fall of Xenophon,and covered 
 all my features with streaks of ink in every direc- 
 tion. The Baronet himself could not support 
 this shock/ but joined his lady in the general 
 laugh ; while I sprung from the table in despair, 
 rushed out of the house, and ran home in an agony 
 of confusion and disgrace which the most poig- 
 nant sense of guilt could not have excited. 
 
 ON A GIANT ANGLING. 
 His angle-rod, made of a sturdy oak, 
 His line a cable, which in storms ne'er broke, 
 His hook he baited with a dragon's tail, 
 And sat upon a rock, and bobb'd for whale. 
 
 ECLIPSE DEFERRED. 
 Dean Swift one day observed a great rabble 
 assembled before his deanery door, and upon in- 
 quiring the cause, was told it was to see an eclipse. 
 He immediately sent to the beadle, and gave him 
 instructions what to do. Away ran the crier for 
 his bell, and after ringing it some time in the 
 crowd, bawled out, " Oh yes, oh yes, all manner 
 of persons concerned, are desired to take notice, 
 that it is the Dean of St. Patrick's will and plea- 
 sure, that the eclipse be put off till this hour to- 
 morrow. So God save the King and his reverence 
 the Dean." 
 
 ;-.,. 
 
166 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE HUMOUROUS REFUSAL; OR, SUNDRY 
 
 NOVEL OBJECTIONS AGAINST GOING ' 
 
 TO SEA. 
 
 Of a vein most facetious and quaint was Dick 
 
 Swill, 
 But the jovs of the bottle his thoughts aye did 
 
 AH j 
 One day to his sire, who made a great fuss 
 In begging to sea he would go, Dick spoke thus : 
 " Dear father, no further insist on this matter— 
 Ods heart ! the trite subject is worn to a tatter; 
 But yet, ere in toto we wisely dismiss it, 
 Just hear me expound my refusal explicit:— 
 Your son well-advised from such dangers would 
 
 keep — 
 He's a vast deal too deep, sir, to tempt the vast 
 
 deep; 
 Nor into the hazard of drowning e'er poo? he, 
 Unless in epitome, drowning—by dropsy • 
 The ocean, oh shun ! would I say to my soui, 
 Or be thy main sport but a brimming punch-bowl. 
 Then, sir, living at sea would be scarcely to me 
 
 life, 
 Who like to see life, though I like not a sea life. 
 Obeying, I quickly most wretched should be, 
 And besides being sea-sick, quite sick of the sea. 
 What vessels care I for, save vessels of wine ? 
 What anchors, save anchors of brandy divine? 
 Say, how can I harbour a thought about Port, 
 Save that which creates the gay Bacchanal's 
 
 sport ? 
 Besides, who could ever regard as a treat 
 That compound of leather and brine, their salt 
 
 meat ? 
 'Twere not fair to expect with such fare life to 
 
 drag on ; - 
 
 No— give me a flagon — I'll ne'er think a flag on. 
 Then, hang it ! that word of such ominous scope, 
 Rope's-end — which suggests the sad end by a 
 
 rope. 
 But should some grand booty (like Colchis' rich 
 
 fleece) 
 Reward my sea perils, thro' Fate's kind caprice, 
 
 Would there not then, you ask me, be argument 
 
 some for't ? 
 Ah no ; — I should be but fleet 'd out of my com- 
 fort. 
 That man must possess, sir, a mind that nought 
 
 minds, 
 Who at the ship's stern can endure the stern 
 
 winds; 
 Ah ! think what a toil, in one's life's latter stage< 
 To be ploughing the main 'midst the furroioi of 
 
 age! 
 I prefer a deep glass to the glassy deep, far, 
 And now pilch to oblivion all thoughts 'bout a 
 
 lar. 
 Thus, as for the sea, my dear father now knows 
 
 all 
 The motives which urge mc to wave the proposal," 
 
 A BANDY JOKE. 
 A company of itinerant actors once attempting 
 to gratify the inhabitants of a country town by 
 their united efforts ; one of our best tragedies was 
 selected for the night's amusement. In the fourth 
 act of the tragedy, the Duke, sitting in judgment, 
 ordered the culprit into court, in these words — 
 " Bring the vile offender straight before us." 
 The messenger, who was a wag, stepped forward, 
 and exclaimed in the superlative, '• It's impos- 
 sible, your grace, to bring him straight before 
 you, for he is one of the bandyest legged fellows 
 you ever saw in all your life;" which occasioned 
 such a universal roar, that a considerable time 
 elapsed before the comical tragedy could be pro- 
 ceeded with. 
 
 ON A POSTILION. 
 Here I lays, 
 Killed by a chaise. 
 
 Bed is a bundle of paradoxes ; we go to it with 
 reluctance, yet we quit :t with regret; and we 
 make up our minds every ijight to leave it early, 
 but we make up our bodies every morning to keep 
 it late. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 167 
 
 BILLY TAYLOR. 
 Billy Taylor was a brisk young feller, 
 
 Full of tnirth, and full of glee, 
 And his mind he did diskiver 
 
 To a lady fair and free. 
 Four and twenty brisk young fellers, 
 
 Drest they vas in rich array. 
 They kira and they seized Billy Taylor, 
 
 Pressed he vas, and sent to sea. 
 
 His true-love she followed arter, 
 
 Under the name of Richard Car, 
 And. her hands were all bedaubed 
 
 With the nasty pitch and tar. 
 
 An engagement came on the very next morning ; 
 
 Bold she fit among ihe rest ; 
 The wind aside did blow her jacket, 
 
 And diskivered her lily-white breast. 
 
 When the captain kirn for to know it, 
 
 He says vat vind has blown you to me ? 
 Kind sir; I be kim for to seek my true-love, 
 
 Vhom you pressed and sent to sea. 
 If you be kim to seek your frue-love 
 
 He from the ship is gone away, 
 And you'll find him in London streets, ma'am, 
 
 Valking with his lady gay. 
 She rose up early in the morning, 
 
 Long before the break of day : 
 And she found false Billy Taylor, 
 
 Valking vith his lady gay. 
 Straight she called for swords and pistils, 
 
 Brought they vas at her command, 
 She fell on shooting Biily Tajlor, 
 
 Vith his lady in his hand. 
 When the captain he kim for to know it, 
 
 He very much applauded her for what she 
 had done. 
 And he made her first lieutenant, 
 
 Of the valiant Thunder bomb. 
 
 THE DEVIL OUTWITTED. 
 The Beehive of the Romish church, 15S0, black 
 Jetier, contains the following story — There was a. 
 
 lively holy monke, which was continually tempted 
 and troubled with a deuill, euen tyll his olde days; 
 and when, in the ende, hee began to waxe weery 
 of it, hee then did pray the deuill, very friendly, 
 that hee woulde let him alone in quiet ; where- 
 upon the deuill did answere him, that so farre 
 as he woulde promise to doe, and sweare to keepe 
 secrete a thing that hee woulde commande him, 
 then he woulde leaue off to trouble him any more. 
 The monke did promyse him, and tooke thereupon 
 a deepe othe. Then sayde the deuill ; '* If thou 
 wilt that I shall trouble thee no more, then thou 
 must not pray any more to that image ;" and it 
 was an image of our ladie, holding her childe in 
 armes. But the monke was more craftie than the 
 deuill ; for he went and confessed him of it, the 
 next daye, to the abbot, and the abbot did dis- 
 pence with him for his othe, upon condition that 
 hee should continue his praying to the image. 
 
 ON A PARISH PARSON. 
 
 Come, let us rejoice, merry boys, at his fall, 
 For, egad, had he lived, he'd have buried us all. 
 
 VIOLATION OF THE SABBATH, 
 
 In the time of Marlow, the celebrated patriot, 
 fanaticism ran so high, that an order was issued 
 by the Privy Council that no beer should be 
 brewed on a Saturday. This very singular order 
 being the subject of conversation, King James the 
 Second asked Marlow, during the period he was 
 composing his celebrated " Jew of Malta," what 
 his opinion was of the subject, ' ; May it please 
 your Majesty," replied Marlow, " you may de- 
 pend upon it, the reason why they will not suffer 
 any beer to be brewed upon a Saturday, is, for 
 fear it should ivork on a Sunday. 
 
 DEFINITION OF THE WORD NEWS. 
 
 The word explains itself, without the Muse, 
 And the four letters speak from whence comes 
 
 news. 
 From north, east, west, south, the solution's made, 
 Each quarter gives accounts of war and trade. 
 
168 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 REASONS FOR HANGING A WEAVER 
 
 i A blacksmith of a village murdered a man, and 
 was condemned to be hang'd. The chief peasants 
 of the place joined together, and begged the alcade 
 that the blacksmith might not suffer, because he 
 was necessary to the plate, which could not do 
 without a blacksmith, to shoe horses, mend wheels, 
 &c. But the alcade said, " How, then, ean I 
 fulfil justice ?" A labourer answered, " Sir, there 
 are two weavers in the village, and for so small a 
 place, one is enough ; hang the other?'' 
 
 BOTHERATION. 
 
 Copy of an Order sent by a Farmer's Wife, to a 
 
 Tradesman in Town, for a Scarlet Cardinal. 
 
 Sir, — If you please to send me a scarlet cardi- 
 nal, let it be full yard long, and let it be full, it 
 is for a large woman ; they tell me I may have a 
 large one and a handsome one for eleven shillings, 
 I should not be willing to give more than twelve; 
 but i^ you have any as long either duffel or cloth, 
 if it comes cheaper 1 should like to have it, for I 
 am not to give more than twelve shillings; I beg 
 you, sir. to be so good as not to fail sending me 
 this cardinal on Wednesday without fail, let it be 
 full yard long, I beg, or else it will not do, fail 
 not on Wednesday, and by so doing you will 
 oblige, Your humble servant, M.W. 
 
 P.S. I hope you will charge your lowest price, 
 and if you please not to send me a duffel one, but 
 cloth, full yard long and full, and please to send 
 it to Mr. Field's the waterman, who comes to the 
 Beehive, at Queenhithe; pray don't send me a 
 duffel one, but cloth ; I have altered my mind, I 
 should not like it duffel, but cloth; let it be full 
 yard long, and let it be cloth, for I don't like 
 duffel; it must not.be more than twelve shillings 
 at most, one of the cheapest you have and full 
 yard long; send two, both of a length, and both 
 large ones full yard long ; both of a price, they 
 be both for one woman, they must be exactly alike 
 fpr goodness and price, fail then not on Wednes- 
 day, and full yard long. 
 
 THE FRFARS OF DIjON. — A TALE. 
 When honest men confess'd their sins, 
 
 And paid the church genteely — 
 In Burgundy two Capuchins 
 
 Lived jovially and freely. 
 They raareh'd about from place to place, 
 
 With shrift and dispensation ; 
 And mended broken consciences, 
 
 Soul-tinkers by vocation. 
 One friar was Father Boniface, 
 
 And he ne'er knew disquiet, 
 Save when condemn'd to saying grace 
 
 O'er mortifying diet. 
 The other was lean Dominick, 
 
 Whose slender form and sallow, 
 Would scarce have made a candlewick 
 
 For Boniface's tallow. 
 Albeit, he tippled like a fish, 
 
 Though not the same potation; 
 And mortal man ne'er clear'd a dish 
 
 With nimbler mastication. 
 
 Those saints without the shirts arrived, 
 
 One evening late, to pigeon 
 A country pair for alms, that lived 
 
 About a league from Dijon — 
 
 Whose supper pot was set to boil, 
 
 On faggots briskly crackling; 
 The friars enter'd, with a smile, 
 
 To Jacquez and to Jacqueline 
 
 They bow'd, and bless'd the dame, and then 
 
 In pious terms besought her, 
 To give two holy-minded men 
 
 A meal of bread and water. 
 
 For water and a crust they crave, 
 
 Those mouths that even on' Lent days, 
 Scarce knew the taste of water, save 
 
 When watering for dainties. 
 Quoth Jacquez, "That were sorry cheer 
 
 For men fatigued and dusty ; 
 And if ye supp'd on crusts, I fear 
 
 You'd go to bed but crusty.' 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER* 
 
 169 
 
 So forth he brought a flask of rich 
 
 Wine fit to feast Silenus, 
 And viands, at the sight of which 
 
 They laugh'd like two hyaena3. 
 
 Alternately the host and spouse 
 • Regaled each pardon- gauger, 
 Who told them tales right marvellous, 
 And lied as for a wager — 
 
 'Bout churches like balloons convey'd 
 
 With aeronautic martyrs ; 
 And wells made warm, where holy maid 
 
 HaoVonly dipt her garters. 
 
 And if their hearers gaped, I guess 
 With jaws three inch asunder, 
 
 'Twas part out of weariness, 
 And partly out of wonder. 
 
 Then striking up duets, the Freres 
 
 Went on to sing in matches, 
 From psalms to sentimental airs, 
 
 From these to glees and catches. 
 
 At last they would have danced outright, 
 Like a baboon and tame bear, 
 
 If Jacquez had not drunk Good night, 
 And shewn them to their chamber. 
 
 The room was high, the host's was nigh — 
 
 Had wife or he suspicion, 
 That monks would make a raree-show 
 
 Of chinks in the partition ? — 
 
 Or that two confessors would come 
 
 Their holy ears out-reaching, 
 To conversations as hum-drum 
 
 Almost as their own preaching ? 
 Shame on you Friars of orders gray, 
 
 That peeping knelt, and wriggling, 
 And when ye should have gone to pray, 
 
 Retook yourselves to giggling! 
 But every deed will have its meed : 
 
 And hark ! what information 
 Has made the sinners, in a trice, 
 
 Look black with consternation. 
 
 The farmer on a hone prepares, 
 His knife, a long and keen one; 
 
 And talks of killing both the Freres, 
 The fat one and the lean one, 
 
 To-morrow, by the break of day, 
 
 He orders too, salt-petre, -.. 
 And pickling tubs ; but, reader, stay, 
 
 Our host was no man-eater. 
 
 The priests knew not that country-folk 
 
 Gave pigs the name of friars ; 
 But startled, witless of the joke, 
 
 As if they'd trod on briars. 
 
 Meanwhile, as they perspired with dread, 
 
 The hair of either craven 
 Had stood erect upon his head, 
 
 But that their heads were shaven. 
 
 Wliat, pickle and smoke us limb by limb! 
 
 God curse him and his larders! 
 St. Peter will bedevil him, 
 
 If he salt-petres Friars. 
 
 Yet, Dpminick, to die ! — the bare 
 
 Idea shakes one oddly ; — 
 Yes, Boniface, 'tis time we were 
 
 Beginning to be godly. 
 
 Would that for absolution's sake 
 
 Of all our sins and cogging. 
 We had a whip to give and take 
 
 A last kind mutual flogging. 
 O Domiuick, thy nether end 
 
 Should bleed for expiation, 
 And thou shouldst have my dear fat friend, 
 
 A glorious flagellation. 
 
 But having ne'er a switch, poor souls, 
 They bow'd like weeping willows, 
 
 And told the Saints long rigmaroles 
 Of all their peccadillos. 
 
 Yet midst this penitential plight 
 A thought their fancies tickled, 
 
 'Twere better brave the window's height 
 Than be at morning pickled. 
 l 
 
170 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 And so they girt themselves to leap, 
 
 Both under breath imploring 
 A regiment of Saints to keep 
 
 Their host and hostess snoring. 
 
 The lean one lighted like a cat, 
 
 Then scamper'd off like Jehu, 
 Nor stopp'd to help the man of fat, 
 
 Whose cheek was of a clay hue — 
 
 "Who being by nature more design'd 
 
 For resting than for jumping. 
 Fell heavy on his parts behind, 
 
 That broaden'd with the plumping. 
 
 There long beneath the window's sconce 
 
 His bruises he sat pawing, 
 Squat as the figure of a bonze 
 
 Upon a Chinese drawing. 
 
 At length he waddled to a sty ; 
 
 The pigs, you'd thought for game sake, 
 Came round and nosed him lovingly, 
 
 As if they'd known their namesake. 
 Meanwhile the other flew to town, 
 
 And with short respiration 
 Bray'd like a donkey up and down 
 
 Ass-ass-ass-assi nation ! 
 
 Men left their beds, and night-capp'd heads 
 
 Popp'd out from every casement ; 
 The cats ran frighten'd on the leads ; 
 
 Dijon was all amazement. 
 Doors bang'd, dogs bay'd, and boyshurra'd, 
 
 Throats gaped aghast in bare rows, 
 Till soundest-sleeping watchmen woke, 
 
 And even at last the mayor rose — 
 
 "Who, charging him before police, 
 
 Demands of Dominick surly, 
 "What earthquake, fire, or breach of peace 
 
 Made all this hurly-burly .' 
 
 Ass — quoth the priest — ass-assins, sir, 
 Are (hence a league, or nigher) 
 
 About to salt, scrape, massacre 
 And barrel up a friar. 
 
 Soon at the magistrate's command, 
 A troop from the gens-d'armes house 
 
 Of twentv men rode sword in hand, 
 To storm the bloody farm's house. 
 
 As they \?< T ere cantering toward the place, 
 Comes Jacquez to the swineyard, 
 
 But started when a great round face 
 Cried, Rascal, hold thy whinyard. 
 
 'Twas Boniface, as mad's King Lear, 
 Playing antics in the piggery : — 
 
 " And what the devil Drought you here, 
 You mountain of a friar, eh ?" 
 
 Ah, once how jolly, now how wan, 
 And blubber'd with the vapours, 
 
 That frantic Capuchin began 
 To cut fantastic capers — 
 
 Crying help, hollo, the bellows blow, 
 
 The pot is on to stew me; 
 I am a pretty pig, but no ! 
 
 They shall not barbacue me. 
 
 Nor was this raving fit a sham ; 
 
 In truth, he was hysterical, 
 Until they brought him oiu a dram, 
 
 And that wrought like a miracle. 
 
 Just as the horseman halted near, 
 Crying, Murderer, stop, ohoy, oh ! 
 
 Jacquez was comforting the frere 
 "With a good glass of noyeau — 
 
 "Who beckon'd to them not to kick up 
 
 A row ; but waxing mellow, 
 Squeez'd Jacquez' hand, and with a hiccup, 
 
 Said you're a damn'd good fellow. 
 
 Explaining lost but little breath : — 
 
 Here ended all the matter j 
 So God save Queen Elizabeth, 
 
 And long live Henry Quatre! 
 
 The gens-d'armes at the story broke 
 
 Into horse fits of laughter. 
 And, as if they had known the joke, 
 
 Their horses neigh'd thereafter. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 171 
 
 Lean Dominick, methinks, his chaps 
 Yawii'd weary* worn, and moody, 
 
 So may my readers, too perhaps, 
 And thus I wish 'em good day. 
 
 HECTIC FEVER. 
 
 As the Duke of Sully was going one morning 
 iDto the chamber of Henry IV. of France, he met 
 a lady of easy virtue, who he knew had just left 
 the apartment of this amorous monarch. When 
 Sully came, the king received him with a very se- 
 rious countenance, told him he was very unwell, 
 and added, that, " For the whole morning he had 
 a fever, which had but just left him."- — " I know 
 it has left you," replied the minister, " I know it 
 has left you, I met it going away, all in green. 5 ' 
 
 A SEA CHAPLAIN'S RELIGION. 
 "When the Earl of Cloncartie was captain of a 
 man-of-war, and was cruising on tiie coast of 
 Guinea, he happened to lose his chaplain, who 
 was carried off by a fever ; on which the lieutenant, 
 a Scotchman, gave him notice of it, saying, at the 
 same time, " that lie was sorry to inform him that 
 he died a Roman Catholic." — "' Well, so much the 
 better," said his lordship. " Oot awa, my lord, 
 how can you say so of a British clergyman ?" — 
 " Why," said his- lordship, *' because I believe I 
 am the first captain of a man-of-war that could 
 boast of having a chaplain who had any religion 
 at all." 
 
 ON A LOCKSMITH. 
 A zealous locksmith died of late, 
 
 And silent stands at heaven's gate ; 
 The reason why he will not knock, 
 Is that he means to pick the lock, 
 
 FACILIS DESCENSUS AVERNI. 
 A Cornish clergyman having a dispute concern- 
 ing several shares in different mines, found it 
 necessary to send for a London lawyer, to have 
 some conversation with the witnesses, examine the 
 title-deeds, view the premises, &c. The divine 
 very soon found that his legal assistant was as great 
 
 a scoundrel as ever was struck off the rolls. How- 
 ever, as lie thought this knowledge might be useful, 
 he showed him his papers, took him to compare 
 she surveyor's drawing with the situation of the 
 pits, &c. When in one of these excursions, the 
 professional gentleman was descending a deep 
 shaft by means of a rope which he held tight in his 
 hand, he called out to the parson who stood at the 
 top, " Doctor, as you have not confined your stu 
 dies to geography, but know all things from the 
 surface to the centre, pray how far is it from this 
 to the pit in the infernal regions ?" — " I cannot 
 exactly ascertain the distance," replied the divine, 
 " but let go your hold, and you'll be there in a 
 minute." 
 
 BACCHANALIAN ODE 
 
 Inscribed to James Hogg, the Eltrick Shepherd, 
 
 While worldly men through stupid years 
 
 Without emotion jog, 
 Devoid of passions, hopes, and fears, 
 
 As senseless as a log — 
 I much prefer my nights to spend, 
 
 A tia'ppy ranting dog, 
 And see dull care his front unbend 
 
 Before the smile of Hogg. 
 
 The life of man's a season drea<", 
 
 Immersed in mist and fog, 
 Until the star o € wit appear, 
 
 And set its clouds agog. 
 For me, I wish no brighter sky 
 
 Than o'er a jug of grog, 
 When fancy kindles in the eye, 
 
 The good gray eye of Hogg. 
 
 When Misery's car is at its speed, 
 
 The glowing wheels to cog; 
 To make the heart where sorrows bleed 
 
 Leap lightly like a frog; 
 Gay verdure o'er the crag to shower, 
 
 And blossoms o'er the bog, 
 Wit's potent magic has the power, 
 
 When thou dost wield it, Hogg! 
 
172 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 PROCLAMATION TOR HOLDING A FAIR AMONG 
 THE SCOTCH. 
 O yes ! and that's e'e time ; O yes ! ami that's 
 twa times ; O yes ! and that's third and last time. 
 All manner of person or persons whosoever, let 
 'em draw near, and I shall let 'em ken that there 
 is a fair to be held at the muckle town of Lang- 
 holm, for the space of aught days, wherein gin, 
 any hustrin, custrin, land-lopper, dubs-kouper, or 
 gang-the-gate-swinger, shall breed any hurdam, 
 durdam, rabblement, babblement, or squabble- 
 ment, he shall have his lugs tacked to the muckle 
 throne, with a nail of twa-a-penny until he down 
 on his hobshanks, and up with his muckle donp, 
 and pray to ha'en nine times God bless the king, 
 and thrice the muckle laird of Relton, paying a 
 groat to me Jemmy Ferguson, bailey of the afore- 
 said manor. So you've heard my proclamation, 
 and I'll gang name to my dinner. 
 
 NUDA PAPILLA. 
 
 In Paradise, ere baneful sin began, 
 Naked were seen the woman and the man, 
 But when blest innocence remained no more, 
 Sin brought forth shame and cast a covering o'er; 
 Their virtuous times primaeval worth express 
 By throwing off the incumbrances of dress ; 
 Our beauteous belles, with elegance and ease^ 
 And in a state of nature, strive to please. 
 Hail, heav'nly charmers! justly you're ador'd 
 Now shame is fled, and innocence restor'd 
 
 DRESSING AND SHAVING. 
 
 Two sailors went into a cook's shop, and called 
 for dinner. The landlady set before them apiece 
 of boiled pork, which had not been properly 
 singed, many long hairs adhering to it. " Jack," 
 said one to his companion, " I cannot stomach 
 this pork ; why, the hairs are half as thick and as 
 long as a cable," — " You may eat away, gentle- 
 men," said the landlady; " I can assure you it is 
 good meat, for I dressed it myself." — " Did yon 
 so? mistress," said the other sailor j "I wish 
 you had also shaved it yourself." 
 
 BAD TIMES. 
 
 A Yorkshireman meeting with a friend in 
 London, the following conversation took place 
 between them: — "Sad times," says the York- 
 shireman, " how dun you come on here in Lun- 
 nun?" — "Very bad," replied the other, "an 
 honest man has no chance to live, now-a-days." — 
 " Ah ! (says the Yorkshireman) but we mixes it a 
 bit in our country." 
 
 ON A WOMAN WHO WAS SINGING BALLADS 
 FOR MONEY TO BURY HER HUSBAND. 
 
 For her husband deceas'd, Sally chaunts the 
 sweet lay, 
 Why, faith, it is singular sorrow ; 
 But (I doubt) since she sings for a dead man to- 
 day, 
 She'll cry for a live one to morrow. 
 
 UNLUCKY OMISSION. 
 
 The company of Stationers, in the reign of 
 Charles I., took it into their heads to command 
 people to commit adultery ; for in the Bible they 
 then printed, at the King's Printing-office, Black- 
 friar's, now the Times' Office, instead of the usual 
 run of the seventh commandment, a great number 
 of copies were issued with this reading, " Thou 
 shalt commit adultery." Archbishop Laud, how- 
 ever, had them up to the Star Chamber, and fined 
 them severely for the oversight. Whether the 
 reading world availed themselves of the license 
 given in the early copies, history doth not tell. 
 The Spectator, however, archly remarks, " that 
 he fears many young profligates of both sexes are 
 possessed of this spurious edition, and observe the 
 commandment very strictly." 
 
 DRYDEN'S IRRITABILITY. 
 Dryden, in his play of the " Conquest of Gre- 
 nada," makes Almanzor say to Boabdelin, King: 
 of Grenada — 
 
 " Obey'd as sovereign by thy subjects be; 
 But know, that I alone am king of me." 
 This mode of expression incurred the censure of 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 173 
 
 the critics, which Dryden's temper could not ea- 
 sily bear 5 and it was retorted upon him by Colo- 
 nel Heylyn, the nephew of Dr. Heylyn, the cos- 
 magrapher. Not long after the publication of his 
 book, the doctor had the little misfortune to lose 
 his way upon a large common, which created an 
 innocent laugh against him, as a minute geogra- 
 pher. Dryden, falling into the colonel's company 
 at a coffee-house, rallied him upon the circum- 
 stance which had happened to his uncle, and asked 
 where it was that he lost himself? " Sir," said 
 the colonel, " I cannot answer you exactly ; but I 
 recollect that it was somewhere in the kingdom of 
 Me !" Dryden took his hat, and walked off. 
 
 MATRIMONIAL WHIMS. 
 
 I will not have a man that's tall, 
 
 A man that's little is worse than all ; 
 
 I will not have a man that's fair, 
 
 A man that's black I cannot bear j 
 
 A young man is a constant pest, 
 
 An old one would my room infest; 
 
 A man of sense, they say, is proud, 
 
 A senseless one is always loud ; 
 
 A man that's rich I'm sure won't have me, 
 
 And one that's poor I fear would starve me 
 
 A sailor always smells of tar, 
 
 A rogue, they say, is at the bar ; 
 
 A sober man I will not take, 
 
 A gambler soon my heart would break; 
 
 Of all professions, tempers, ages, 
 
 Not one my buoyant heart engages ; 
 
 Yet strange and wretched is my fate, 
 
 For still I sigh for the marriage state. 
 
 luther's polemics. 
 Luther, the German reformer, thus addresses the 
 pope: " Little pope, little, little pope, you are 
 an ass, a lubberly ass ; walk very softly, it is slip- 
 pery, you will break your legs, and then people 
 will say, what the devil is this ? The little ass of 
 a pope is lamed. An ass knows it is an ass; a 
 stone knows it is a stone; but these little asses of 
 popes do not know that '.hey are asses." 
 
 ENGLISH SANG FROID. 
 An Englishman applied, when at Berlin, to the 
 lord-mareschal, to present him to the king, Fre- 
 deric the Great. His lordship told him, that it was 
 not such an easy matter, and that many great no- 
 blemen had been refused. " Faith !" said the 
 Englishman, " it is not that I care much about it; 
 but, as I have already seen five kings, I should be 
 glad to make up the half-dozen." 
 
 WIGS. 
 
 Soon after the death of Counsellor Pitcairne, 
 Counsellor Seare bought his tye-wig; and when. 
 Seare appeared in it at the Chancery-bar, the 
 Lord-Chancellor (Hard wick) addressing Mr. 
 Seare, (or rather the wig) said, " Mr. Pitcairne, 
 have you any thing to move ?" 
 
 The sight of a wig has also an evangelical ef- 
 fect. A man returned from attending one of Whit- 
 field's sermons, and said, " it was good for him to 
 be there : the place, indeed, was so crowded, that 
 he had not been able to get near enough to hear 
 him J but then," he said," I saw his blessed wig," 
 
 ON CAPTAIN THOMAS STONE. 
 As the earth the earth doth cover, 
 So under this stone lies another. 
 
 JAPANESE PUNCTILIO. 
 A Japanese, who had been brought from 
 Russia, in the suite of the ambassador, one day, 
 in a fit of despondency, made an attempt to 
 cut his throat with a razor. A physician and sur- 
 geon instantly prepared to staunch the blood ; but 
 a Japanese guard interposed, asserting, that it 
 would be unprecedented to take any measures 
 until the governor's orders had been received. It 
 was in vain to tell them, that the man might die in 
 the interim : he was left to bleed till the arrival 
 of some of the Banjos, who declared that it would 
 have been quite irregular for the Russian doctors 
 to save the life of a Japanese ; and he was ac- 
 cordingly turned over to the faculty, to be dealt 
 with according to the laws and institutions of Ja- 
 pan. 
 
174 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 PRIDE OF PARENTAGE. 
 
 A comet of hussars, who was not the most po- 
 lished in his manners, having joined his regiment, 
 was asked by his colonel what his father v/as ? 
 He replied a farmer." — " Pity your father did 
 not make you follow his trade." Upon which the 
 cornet asked, " Pray, sir, what is your father ?" 
 — " A gentleman, sir."--" Pity he did not make 
 you one," replied the cornet. 
 
 ELEGY WRITTEN IN A BALL-ROOM. 
 
 The beaux are jogging on the pictured floor, 
 The belles responsive trip with lightsome heels ; 
 
 While I, deserted, the cold pangs deplore, 
 
 Or breathe the wrath which slighted beauty feels. 
 
 "When first I entered glad, with glad mamma, 
 The girls were ranged and clustered round us 
 then ; 
 
 Few beaux were there, those few with scorn I saw. 
 Unknowing dandies that could come at ten. ' 
 
 My buoyant heart beat high with promised plea- 
 sure, 
 
 My dancing garland, moved with airy grace $ 
 Quick beat my active toe to Gow's gay measure, 
 
 And undissembled triumph wreathed my face. 
 
 Fancy prospective took a proud survey 
 Of all the coming glories of the night ; 
 
 Even where I stood my legs began to play-— ■• 
 So racers paw the turf e'er jockeys smite. 
 
 And " who shall be my partner first ?" I said, 
 As my thoughts glided o'er the coming beaux ; 
 
 " Not Tom, nor Ned, nor Jack,"— I tossed my 
 head, 
 Nice grew my-taste, and high my scorn arose. 
 
 *' If Dicky asks me, I shall spit and sprain ; 
 
 When Sam approaches, headachs I will mention; 
 I'll freeze the colonel's heart with cold disdain:" 
 
 Thus cruelly ran on my glib invention. 
 
 While yet my fancy revelled in her dreams, 
 The sets are forming, and the fiddles scraping ; 
 
 Go/sv's wakening chord a stirring prelude screams, 
 The beaux are quizzing, and the misses gaping. 
 
 Beau after beau approaches, oows, and smiles, 
 Quick to the dangler's arm springs glad ma'am- 
 selle; 
 
 Pair after pair augments the sparkling files, 
 And full upon my ear " the triumph" swells. 
 
 I flirt my fan in time with the mad fiddle, 
 My eye pursues the dancers' motions flying ; 
 
 Cross hands ! Balancez ! down and up the 
 middle ! 
 To join the revel how my heart is dying 
 
 One miss sits down all glowing from the dance, 
 
 Another rises, and another yet; 
 Beaux upon belles, and belles on beaux advance, 
 
 The tune unending, ever full the set. 
 
 At last a pause there comes — to Gow's keen hand 
 The hurrying lackey han,ds the enlivening port ; 
 
 The misses sip the ices where they stand, 
 And gather vigour to renew the sport. 
 
 I round the room dispense a wistful glance, 
 
 Wish Ned, or Dick, or Tom, would crave the 
 honour; 
 
 I hear Sam whisper to Miss B. " Do — dance," 
 And launch a withering scowl of envy on her. 
 
 Sir Billy capers up to Lady Di ; 
 
 In vain I cough as gay Sir Billy passes ; 
 The Major asks my sister — faint, I sigh, [asses!" 
 
 " Well, after this—the men are grown such 
 
 In vain ! in vain ! again the dancers mingle, 
 With lazy eye I watch the busy scene, 
 
 Far on the pillowed sofa sad and single, 
 Languid'the attitude — but sharp the spleen. 
 
 " La ! ma'am, how hot !" — " Your quite fatigued, 
 I see ;" 
 " What a long dance !" — " And so you're come 
 to town !" 
 Such casual whispers are addressed to me, 
 But not one hint to lead the next set down. 
 
 The third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth are gone, 
 And now the seventh — and yet I'm asked not 
 once ! 
 
 When supper comes, must I descend alone ? 
 Does Fate deny me my last prayer — a dunce? 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 175 
 
 Mamma supports me to the room for munching, | the original dialogue, u I protest there's a candle 
 
 There turkey's breast she crams, and wing of 
 
 pullet ; 
 I slobbering jelly, and hard nuts am crunching, 
 And pouring tuns -of trifle down my gullet. 
 
 No beau invites meto a glass of sherry; 
 Above me stops the salver of champaigne; 
 "While all the rest are tossing brimmers merry, 
 I with cold water comfort my disdain. 
 
 Ye bucks of London! and ye tasteless creatures ! 
 lie vapid Dandies ! how 1 scorn you all ! — 
 Green slender slips, with pale cheese-pairing fea- 
 tures, 
 And awkward, lumbring, red-faced boobies tall. 
 Strange compounds of the beau and the attorney ! 
 Raw lairds! and school-boys for a whisker shav- 
 ing ! 
 May injured beauty's glance of fury burn ye ! 
 
 I hate you — clowns and fools ! but hah ! — I'm 
 
 raving ! 
 
 BENEFIT OF STAMMERING. 
 A nobleman, who stammered a great deal, being 
 in a cockpit, and proposing several bets which he 
 would have lost if he could have replied in time, 
 at length offered five thousand pounds to a hun- 
 dred. A gambler who stood by said done; but 
 his lordsliip'sLfit of stuttering happening to seize 
 him, he could not repeat the word done before his 
 favourite cock was beat. On this Colonel Thorn- 
 ton, giving him a knowing jog, observed, " If 
 your lordship had been a plain speaking man, you 
 would have been ruined by this time. 
 
 THEATRICAL MISTAKES. 
 
 A laughable blunder was once made by Mrs. 
 Gibbs, of Covenl Garden Theatre, in the part of 
 Miss Sterling in the 1 'Clandestine Marriage:" when 
 speaking of the conduct of Betty, who had locked 
 the door of Miss Fanny's room, and walked away 
 with the key, Mrs. Gibbs said, " She has locked 
 the key and carried away the door in her pocket'" 
 Mrs. Davonport, as Mrs. Heidleberg, had pre- 
 viously excited a hearty laugh by substituting for 
 
 coming along the gallery with a man in its hand; 
 but the mistake by Mrs. Gibbs seemed so unin- 
 tentional, and unpremeditated, that the effect was 
 irresistible, and the audience celebrated the joke 
 with three rounds of applause. 
 
 THE ADVANTAGE OF TOPING. 
 Some say topers should never get mellow, 
 That a drunken man's a stupid fellow, 
 For if 'tis true that he always sees double, 
 He's twice his neighbour's portion of trouble: 
 But an argument soonest admits of digestion, 
 When you take the pleasant side of the question; 
 And if our lives by this standard we measure, 
 He's twice his neighbour's portion of pleasure 
 Then all get drunk if you wish to be happy, [py, 
 To shun pleasure that courts you is stupid and sap- 
 Drink away, you'll be nobly repaid for your la- 
 bour, [neighbour, 
 Why 'twill make you as happy again as yopr 
 Suppose, while you're racking your piamater 
 You've not cash enough to pay the waiter; 
 Why what's to do ? get drunk you ninny, [guinea: 
 'Twill make ten and sixpence appear like a 
 Then if to do good you receive satisfaction, [tion, 
 How charming to think that, for every kind ac- 
 Of conferring two you'll have the employment, 
 And can any man shew me a sweeter enjoyment 
 
 Then all get drunk, &c. 
 
 Since friendship's so rare and so bright a jewel, 
 To the fire of life that so kindly adds fuel, [pie, 
 With wine make your clay so moist, and so sup- 
 Instead of one friend why you'll meet with a cou- 
 ple: - [pers, 
 Then when you come with the drink in your nap- 
 How sweet of two wives to hear the clappers ! 
 But that would be covetous out of season, 
 For one wife at a time is enough in all reason. 
 
 Then all get drunk, &c. 
 
 Thus, were the world drunk, 'twould double their 
 
 pleasure, 
 The drunken miser would double his treasure, 
 
176 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 A city feast would have double the covers, 
 And ladies would double the list of their lovers: 
 "With two sparks would Miss be to Scotland 
 
 eloping, [a toping, 
 
 Parsons find two tithe-pigs, could we catch them 
 The drunkard two bowls, as he's drinking and 
 
 roaring, [encoring. 
 
 And, if you were all drunk, you'd my song be 
 
 Then all get drunk, &c. 
 
 BOTTOM TO THE LAST. 
 
 A jester being on his death-bed, one of his 
 companions begged when he got to the other 
 world, he would put in a good word for him ; " I 
 may perhaps forget," said he; "tie a string 
 about my finger." 
 
 IRISH SKETCH OF THE LAW. 
 
 Law ! law ! law ! is like a fine woman's temper, 
 a very difficult study. Law is like a book of sur- 
 gery, a great many terrible cases in it. Law is 
 like fire and water; very good servants, but very 
 bad when they get the upper hand of us. It is 
 like a homely genteel woman, very well to fol- 
 low ; it is also like a scolding wife, very bad 
 when it follows us. And again, it is like bad 
 weather, most people choose to keep out of it. 
 In law there are four parts: — the quidlibet, the 
 quodlibate, the quid-pro-quo, and the sinaquanon. 
 Imprimis, the quidlibet, or who began first? 
 Because, in all actions of assault, the law is clear, 
 that probis jukes is dbsolutis maris, fine jokis ; 
 which being elegantly and classically rendered 
 into English, is, that whosoever he be that gave 
 the first blow, it is absolutely ill, and without a 
 joke. Secondly, the quodlibet, or the damages ; 
 but that the law has nothing to do with, only to 
 state them ; for whatever damages ensue, they are 
 all the client's perquisites, according to that an- 
 cient Norman motto ; if he is cast, or castandum, 
 he is " Semper idem ruinandum." Thirdly, 
 quid-pro-quo, feeing counsel, giving words for 
 money, or having money for words, according to 
 that ancient Norman motto, " Sicurat lex." We 
 live to perplex, fourthly, the sinaquanon; or, 
 
 without something, what would any thing be good 
 for? Without a large wig, what would be the out 
 lines of the law ? 
 
 THE WIFE'S DELIGHT, 
 Composed by her Husband. 
 The following old Scottish song is from a MS. 
 collection of poems, written and collected by An- 
 drew Sympson, school-master, at Stirling, A. D. 
 1690. 
 
 Some men they do delight in hounds, 
 And some in hawks take pleasure ; 
 Some do rejoice in war and wounds, 
 And thereby gain great treasure. 
 
 Some men do love on sea to sail, 
 
 And some rejoice in riding, 
 But all their judgments do them fail 
 
 Oh ! no such joy as chiding. 
 
 When in the morn I ope my eyes 
 
 To entertain the day, 
 Before my husband e'en can rise, 
 
 I chide him — then I pray. 
 "When I at table take my place, 
 
 Whatever be the meat, 
 I first do chide — and then say grace, 
 
 If so disposed to eat. 
 
 Too fat, too lean, too hot, too cold, 
 
 I ever do complain, 
 Too raw, too roast, too young, too old — 
 
 Faults I will find or feign. 
 
 Let it be flesh, or fowl, or fish, 
 
 It never shall be said, 
 But I'll find fault with meat or dish, 
 
 With master or with maid. 
 But when I go to bed at night, 
 
 I heartily do weep, 
 That I must part with my delight— 
 
 I cannot scold and sleep. 
 However this doth mitigate, 
 
 And much abate my sorrow, 
 That tho' to-night it be too late, 
 1 I'll early scold to-morrow. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 UNLUCKY HINTS. 
 
 Bishop Burnet was very remarkable for his 
 temporary absence of mind; in the days of the 
 great Marlborough, he obtained an interview with 
 him, and was even asked to dine, but cautioned 
 to be on his guard and not commit himself. 
 Among other great company was Prince Eugene, 
 who seeing a dignified clergyman present, asked 
 who he was, and having heard he had been at 
 Paris in 1680, asked him how long it was since he 
 had left Jt. Burnet, fluttered, answered with 
 precipitation he could not recollect the year, but 
 it was at the time that the Countess of Soissons 
 was imprisoned on suspicion of practicing a con- 
 cealed mode of poisoning people. This lady 
 happened to be the mother of Prince Eugene, and 
 both parties' eyes being fixed upon each other, 
 then only he perceived his mistake, stammered, 
 apologized, and retired in the utmost confusion. 
 Upon another occasion, the Bishop dining one 
 day with Sarah Duchess of Marlborough, the con- 
 versation turned upon the ingratitude of the Go- 
 vernment to the Duke, who had just lost his 
 places. Burnet aptly compared him to Belisarius; 
 when her Grace asked what was the occasion of 
 /u'sdownfal ? " Oh ! madam, (says Burnet) poor 
 Belisarius had a shocking brimstone of a wife." 
 
 COOD HEALTH. 
 A healthy old gentleman was once asked by a 
 king, what physician and apothecary he made use 
 of to look so well at his time of life. " Sire," re- 
 plied the gentleman, " my physician has always 
 been a horse, and my apothecary an ass." 
 
 ATTRACTIVE PLAY-BILL. 
 
 Soon after the representation of the dramatic 
 pieces of " Deaf and Dumb," and the " Blind 
 Girl," the following whimsical advertisement ap- 
 peared. 
 
 " We have the pleasure to announce to the 
 public, that there is in preparation, and intended 
 to be produced before Christmas (if it be possible 
 by that time to complete the splendid profusion of 
 
 177 
 
 scenery, machinery, dresses, and decorations), the 
 following entertainment: 
 
 " An entirely new grand serio-comic-pantomi- 
 mic-operatic-tragical Drama, called, ' The Idiot ,' 
 or ' Deaf, Dumb, and Blind.' 
 
 " In Act 1st. A scene of the interior of St. Bar- 
 tholomew's Hospital, including various surgical 
 operations, and a dance by invalids on crutches, 
 with a pas seul by the matron. 
 
 In Act2d. A procession of physicians, surgeons, 
 and apothecaries, on a cattle-day, productive con- 
 sequently of much comic confusion. 
 
 In Act 3d. A sea-fight by condemned malefac- 
 tors, a proper number of whom will be killed on 
 the stage, by particular desire of several persons 
 of distinction. Scene, An Indian Coast : savage 
 spectators by the patients of the Small-pox Hos- 
 pital. 
 
 " In Act 4th. A new and unrivalled compo- 
 sition, called * The Whooping Cough;' (the 
 united efforts of our best musicians,) to be sung by 
 Mr. Incledon. The execution of this bravura 
 will completely immortalize the fame of the 
 singer. 
 
 " In Act 5th. A grand shock of electricity — an 
 : metic by the three Miss Stentors ; an amputation j 
 a chorus of hysterical and hypocondriac persons, 
 male and female ; to conclude with an apoplectic 
 fit, which carries off all the characters. 
 " After which will be presented a Farce, called 
 ' The Maniac and the Cripple.'' " 
 
 THE FARCE OF PHYSIC. 
 
 When Dr.- , some years since, went to prac- 
 tise at Bath, a gentleman asked Dr. Delacour, 
 what could bring a practitioner from the metro- 
 polis to open a shop in the country. " The 
 reason," replied he, "is obvious enough, sir; 
 when a doctor breaks down on the London turf, 
 he retires to cover at Bath for a guinea and a 
 shilling."—" Why, my dear doctor, this makes 
 physic a mere farce."— 1 ' True," rejoined he, , a 
 direct farce, for it is generally the last act before 
 the curtain drops." 
 
 > I 5 
 
178 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE BAKER'S FUNERAL. 
 The death of Mr. Holland of Drury-lane theatre, 
 ■who was the son of a baker at Chiswick, had a 
 very great effect upon the spirits of Foote, -who 
 had a very warm friendship for him ; being a le- 
 gatee, as well as appointed by the will of the de- 
 ceased one of the bearers, he attended the corpse 
 to the family vault at Chiswick, and there very 
 sincerely paid a plentiful tribute of tears to his 
 memory. On his return to town, by way of alle- 
 viating his grief, he called in at the Bedford-cof- 
 fee-house ; when Harry Woodward coming up to 
 him, asked him if he had not been paying the last 
 compliment to his friend Holland ? " Yes, poor 
 fellow,'' says Foote, almost weeping at the same 
 time, p I have just seen him shoved into the family 
 oven." 
 
 THE DECANTER. 
 O thou, that high thy head dost bear, 
 With round smooth neck, and single ear, 
 With well-turn'd narrow mouth, from whence 
 Flow streams of nob3est eloquence ; 
 'Tis thou that first the bard divine, 
 Sacred to Phoebus, and the nine, 
 That mirth and soft delight can'st move, 
 Sacred to Venus, and to love : 
 Yet, spite of all thy virtues rare, 
 Thou'rt not a boon-companion fair ; 
 Thou'rt full of wine, when thirsty I; 
 And when I'm drunk, then thou art dry 6 
 
 MATRIMONIAL ADVERTISEMENT. 
 Confined in a certain street, the north-end of the 
 city, up three pair of stairs backwards, by the 
 cruelty of a most unnatural mother, and the indo- 
 lence of a father, who doth not want for sense, but 
 spirit to wear the breeches, a young girl, turned 
 cf one-and-twenty, not very tall, but thought to be 
 too much so by her mother, who still keeps her in 
 flat-heeled shoes. The young lady cannot boast of 
 as much beauty as her mamma, but she has the ad- 
 vantage of her in an easy temper, and would be 
 quiet if she would let her. She would be much 
 obliged to any gentleman who could take pity on 
 
 her sufferings, and relieve her by marriage, from 
 the distresses, bolts, and bars, she labours under. 
 N. B. She is quite easy as to fortune, and- will be 
 as well contented with a partner of -1,000 2. per 
 annum, as with a larger sum. 
 
 VULGAR NATURES. 
 Tender-handed stroke a nettle, 
 
 And it stings you for your pains ; 
 Grasp it, like a man of mettle, 
 
 And it soft as silk remains. 
 'Tis the same with vulgar natures, 
 
 Use them kindly, they rebel ; 
 But be rough as nutmeg graters, 
 And the rogues obey you well. 
 FIGHTING AND PAINTING. 
 When Hay man was painting the pictures of the 
 British heroes for the Rotunda atVauxhall, the 
 Marquis of Granby paid him a visit at his house 
 in St. Martin's-lane, and told him he came at the 
 request of his friend Tyers, the proprietor of Vaux- 
 hall Gardens, to sit for his portrait. " But 
 Frank," said the Marquis, " before I sit to you I 
 insist on having a, set-to with you." Hayman, 
 not understanding him, and appearing much sur- 
 prised at the oddity of the declaration, the Mar- 
 quis exclaimed : " I have been told ycu were one 
 of the best boxers of the school of Bronghton, and 
 I am not altogether deficient in the pugilistic art ; 
 but, since I have been in Germany, I have got a 
 little out of practice, therefore I will have a fair 
 trial of strength and skill." Hayman pleaded his 
 age and gout as insuperable obstacles. To the first 
 position the marquis replied that there was very 
 little difference between them $ to the latter, that 
 exercise was a specific remedy, and added, that a 
 few rounds would cause a glow that would give 
 animation to the canvass. At length they began, 
 and after the exertion of much skill and strength 
 on both sides, Hayman gave the marquis a blow 
 on the stomach, when they both fell with a tre- 
 mendous noise, which brought up the affrighted 
 Mrs ' Haj man, who found them rolling over eacb 
 other on the carpet, like two bears. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 179 
 
 GEORGE II. AND GARRICK. 
 "When George the Second went to see Garrick 
 act Richard the Third, the only part of the play 
 which amused or interested the king, was the 
 Lord-Mayor of London ; and when Garrick was 
 attending the royal party from the theatre, anxious 
 to hear the king's opinion of his own performance, 
 all the compliment he received from the sovereign 
 was a high eulogy upon the Lord-Mayor. M I 
 do love dat Lord-Mayor," said the king, " capital 
 Lord-Mayor — fine Lord-Mayor dat, Mr. Garrick, 
 where you get such capital Lord-Mayor." 
 COQUETRY. 
 A lady being asked what was the difference be- 
 tween a coquette and a woman of gallantry, an- 
 swered, " The same that there is between a sharp- 
 er and a thief/' 
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL MAID. 
 That Bell's na angel all confess: 
 
 An angel I agree her ; 
 That she's a devil is prov'd by this, 
 
 She te;r:pts all men that see her. 
 No wonder then our hearts we find 
 
 Subdued, do all we can, 
 Since heaven and hell are both combin'd 
 Against poor mortal man. 
 TYTHE GOSPEL. 
 A clergyman in an inland county once con- 
 cluded his sermon with the following words:—*- 
 " Brethren, next Friday is my tythe-day, and 
 those who bring the tythes on that day, which are 
 my due, shall be rewarded with a good dinner; 
 but those who do not, may depend, that on Satur- 
 day they will dine on a lawyer's letter." 
 love's felony. 
 
 To a Lady in a Court of Assize. 
 While petty offences and felonies smart, 
 Is there no jurisdiction for stealing a heart? 
 You, fair one, will smile and cry, " Laws I defy 
 
 you ;" 
 Assured that no peers can be summon'd to try you ! 
 But think not that paltry defence will secure ye: 
 For the Muses and Graces will just make a jury. 
 
 HOW TO EXAMINE A WITNESS. 
 
 Barrister. Call John Tomkins. 
 
 Witness. Here — [is sworn). 
 
 ft. Look this way — What's your name ? 
 
 TV. John Tomkins. 
 
 B. John Tomkins, eh ! And pray, John Tom- 
 kjns, what do you know about this affair ? 
 
 TV, As I was going along Cheapside — 
 
 B. Stop, stop ! not quite so fast, John Tom- 
 kins. When was you going along Cheapside? 
 
 TV. On Monday, the 26th of June. 
 
 B. Oh, oh! Monday, the £6th of June— And 
 pray, now, how came yon to know that it was 
 Monday, the 26th of June? 
 
 TV. I remember it very well. 
 
 B. You have a good memory, John Tomkins — 
 here is the middle of November, and you pretend 
 to remember your walking along Cheapside in the 
 end of Juiie. 
 
 TV. Yes, sir, I remember it as if it was but 
 yesterday. 
 
 B. And pray, now, what makes you remem- 
 ber it so very well ? 
 
 TV. I was then going to fetch a midwife. 
 
 B. Stop there, if you please. Gentlemen of 
 the jury, please to attend to this — So, John Tom- 
 kins, you, a hale, hearty man, were going lb fetch 
 a midwife. Now, answer me directly — look this 
 way, sir— what could you possibly want with a 
 midwife ? 
 
 TV. I wanted to fetch her to a neighbour's 
 wife, who was ill a-bed. 
 
 B. A neighbour's wife ! What, then, you have 
 no wife of your own ? 
 
 TV. No, sir. 
 
 B. Recollect yourself, you say you have no 
 wife of your own ? 
 
 TV, No, sir; I never had a wife. 
 
 B. None of your quibbles, friend; I did -not 
 ask you if you ever had a wife ; I ask you if you 
 have now a wife ? and you say no. 
 
 TV. Yes, sir ; and I say truth. 
 
 B. Yes, sir J and no, sir ! and you say truth 
 
180 
 
 we shall soon find that out. And was there no- 
 body to fetch a midwife but you ? 
 
 PP. No; ray neighbour lay ill himself — 
 
 B. What! did he want a midwife too? (aloud 
 laugh), 
 
 TV. He Jay ill of a fever; and so I went to 
 serve him. 
 
 B. No doubt, you are a very serviceable fel- 
 low in your way. But pray, now, after you had 
 fetched the midwife, where did you go I 
 
 TV. I went to call upon a friend — 
 
 B. Hold, what time in the day was this ? 
 
 TV. About seven o'clock in the evening. 
 
 B. It was quite day-light, was it not ? 
 
 TV. Yes, sir ; it was a fine summer evening. 
 
 B. What! is it always day-light in a summer 
 evening ? 
 
 TV. I believe so — (smiling). 
 
 B. No laughing, sir, if you please ; this is too 
 serious a matter for levity. What did you do when 
 you went to call upon a friend ? 
 
 TV. He asked me to take a walk ; and when we 
 were walking, we heard a great noise — 
 
 B. And where was this? 
 
 TV. In the street. 
 
 B. Pray attend, sir, — I don't ask you whether 
 it was in the street — I ask you what street ? 
 
 TV. I don't know the name of the street, but it 
 turned down from — 
 
 B. Now, sir, upon your oath — do you say you 
 don't know the name of the street ? 
 
 TV. No, I don't. 
 
 B. Did you never hear it ? 
 
 TV. I may have heard it, but I can't say I 
 remember it ? 
 
 B. Do you always forget what you haveheard? 
 
 TV. I don't know that I ever heard it ; but I 
 may have heard it, and forgot it. 
 
 B. Well, sir, perhaps we may fall upon away 
 to make you remember it. 
 
 TV. I don't know, sir 5 I would tell it if I 
 knew it. 
 
 B. Oh ! to be sure you would ; you are re- 
 markably communicative. Well, you heard a 
 noise, and X suppose you went to see it too. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 TV. Yes ; we went to the house where it came 
 from. 
 
 B. So ! it came from a house ; and pray what 
 kind of a house ? 
 
 TV. The Cock and Bottle, a public-house ? 
 
 B. The Cock and Bottle ! why I never heard 
 of such a house. Pray what has a cock to do with 
 a bottle ? 
 
 TV. I can't tell, that is the sign. 
 
 B. Well, and what passed then ? 
 
 TV. We went in to see what was the matter, 
 and the prisoner there — 
 
 B. Where ? 
 
 Him at the bar, there,* I know him very 
 
 TV. 
 
 well. 
 
 B. 
 him ? 
 
 W. 
 
 You know him? how came you to know 
 
 We worked journey-work together once ; 
 and I remember him very well. 
 
 B. So ! your memory returns : you can't tell 
 the name of the street, but you know the name of 
 the public-house, and you know the prisoner at the 
 bar. You are a very pretty fellow ! and pray 
 what was the prisoner doing ? 
 
 W. When I saw him, he was — 
 
 B. When you saw him! did I ask you what 
 he was doing when you did not see him ? 
 
 TV. I understood he had been fighting. 
 
 JB. Give us none of your understanding, tell 
 what you saw. 
 
 TV. He was drinking some Hollands and water. 
 
 B. Are you sure it was Hollands and water ? 
 
 TV. Yes ; he asked me to drink with him, and 
 I just put it to my lips. 
 
 B. No doubt you did, and I dare say did not 
 take it soon from them. But now, sir, recollect 
 you are upon oath — look at the jury, sir — upon 
 your oath, will you aver that it was Hollands aud 
 water ? 
 
 TV. Yes, it was. 
 
 B. What ; was it not plain gin ? 
 
 TV. No; the landlord said it was Hollands. 
 
 B. Oh ! now we shall come to the point. — The 
 landlord said ! Do you believe every thing the 
 landlord of the Cock and Bottle says i 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 181 
 
 TV. I don't know him enough. 
 
 JB. Pray what religion are you of? 
 
 TV. I am a Protestant. 
 
 JB. Do you believe in a future state ? 
 
 TV Yes. 
 
 B. Then, what passed after you drank the 
 Hollands and water ? 
 
 TV. I heard there had been a fight, and a man 
 killed; and I said, " Oh! Robert, I hope you 
 have not done this :" and he shook his head. — 
 
 B. Shook his bead ; and what did you under- 
 stand by that ? 
 
 TV. Sir! 
 
 B. I say, what did you understand by his shak- 
 ing his head ? 
 
 W. I can't tell. 
 
 B. Can't tell ! — Can't you tell what a man 
 means when he shakes his head ? 
 
 TV. He said nothing. 
 
 B. Said nothing ! I don't ask you what he said 
 — What did you say ? 
 
 TV. What did I say ? 
 
 B. Don't repeat my words, fellow ; but come 
 to the point at once. — Did you see the dead man ? 
 
 TV. Yes ; he lay in the next room. 
 
 B. And how came he to be dead ? 
 
 TV. There bad been a fight, as I said before — 
 
 B. I don't want you to repeat what you said 
 before. 
 
 TV. There had been a fight between him and 
 the— 
 
 B. Speak up — his lordship don't hear you — 
 can't you raise your voice ? 
 
 TV. There had been a fight between him and 
 the prisoner — 
 
 B. Stop there— Pray, sir, whei. did this fight 
 begin ? 
 
 TV. I can't tell exactly ; it might be an hour 
 before. The man was quite dead. 
 
 B, And so he might, if the fight had been a 
 month before ; that was not what I asked you. 
 Did you see the fight ? 
 
 TV. No — it was over before we came in, 
 
 B. We! what we? 
 
 TV* I and my friend 
 
 B. Well — and it was over — and you saw no- 
 thing? 
 
 TV. No, 
 
 B. Gem'men of the jury, you'll please to at- 
 tend to this ; he positively swears he saw nothing 
 of the fight. Pray, sir, how was it that you saw 
 nothing of the fight? 
 
 TV. Because it was over before I entered the 
 house, as I said before; 
 
 B. No repetitions, friend. — Was there any 
 fighting after you entered ? 
 
 TV. No, all was quiet. 
 
 B. Quiet ! you just now said, you heard a noise 
 — you and your precious friend. 
 
 TV. Yes, we heard a noise — 
 
 B. Speak up, can't you ? and don't hesitate so. 
 
 TV. The noise was from the people crying and 
 lamenting — 
 
 B. Don't look to me — look to thejury — well, 
 crying and lamenting — 
 
 TV. Crying and lamenting that it happened ; 
 and all blaming the dead man. 
 
 B. Blaming the dead man ! why, I should have 
 thought him the most quiet of the whole — [another 
 laughJ~*-But what did they blame him for? 
 
 TV. Because he struck the prisoner several 
 times without any cause. 
 
 B. Did you see him strike the prisoner ? 
 
 TV No ; but I was told that — 
 
 B. We don't ask you what you was told — What 
 did you see ? 
 
 TV. I saw no more than I have told yon. 
 
 B. Then why do you come here to tell us 
 what you heard ? 
 
 TV I only wanted to give the reason why the 
 company blamed the deceased. 
 
 B. Oh ! we have nothing to do with your rea- 
 sons or theirs either. 
 
 TV. No, sir, I don't say you have. 
 
 jB. Now, sir, remember you are upon oath — 
 you set out with fetching a midwife j I presume 
 you now went for an undertaker ? 
 
 W. No, I did not. 
 
 B. No! that is surprising; such ^ friendly man 
 as you ! I wonder the prisoner did nolemnloy you. 
 
182 
 
 PV. No, I went away soon after. 
 
 B. And what induced you to go away? 
 
 TV. It became late ; and I could do no good. 
 
 B. I dare say you could not — And so you come 
 here to do good, don't you ? 
 
 W. I hope I have done no harm — I have 
 spoken like an honest man — I don't know any 
 thing more of the matter, 
 
 B. Nay, I shan't trouble you farther — (witness 
 retires, but is called again).- Pray, sir, what did 
 the prisoner drink his Hollands and water out of? 
 
 W. A pint tumbler. 
 
 A pint tumbler! what! a rummer? 
 I don't know — it was a elass that holds a 
 
 B. 
 W. 
 
 pint. 
 B. 
 TV. 
 B. 
 
 Are you sure it holds a pint? 
 I believe so. 
 
 Ay, when it is full, I suppose. — You may 
 go your ways, John Tomkins. — A pretty hopeful 
 fellow that." (Aside). 
 ON THE STATUE OF GEORGE II. ON THE TOP 
 
 OF THE SPIKE OF BLOOMSBURT? CHURCH. 
 When Harry the Eighth left the Pope in the lurch, 
 His subjects all styl'd him the head of the church ; 
 But George's good subjects, iheBioomsbury people, 
 Instead of the church made him head of the steeple. 
 
 *. FRUITS OF WEDLOCK. 
 
 He that hath a handsome wife, by other men is 
 thought happy ; 'tis a pleasure to look upon her, 
 and be in her company ; but the husband is cloy- 
 ed with her. We are never contented with what 
 we have. 
 
 A man that will have a wife should be at the 
 Charge of her trinkets, and pay all the scores she 
 sits upon them. He that will keep a monkey 
 should pay for the glasses he breaks. 
 
 Srtden's Table Talk. 
 AVARICE. 
 Ten thousand pounds A varus had before, 
 His father died, and left him twenty more. 
 Till then, a roll and egg he could allow, 
 But eggs grow dear, a roll must dine him now. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 MUSICAL POLITICS. 
 Dr. Wise, the musician, being requested to sub- 
 scribe his name to a petition against an expected 
 prorogation of Parliament in the reign of Charles 
 II., answered, " No, gentlemen, it is not my bu- 
 siness to meddle with state-affairs; but VII seta, 
 tune to it, if you please." 
 
 PENNANT'S TOUR THROUGH CHESTER. 
 Pennant had a singular antipathy to a wig, 
 which, however, he could suppress till reason 
 yielded to wine, but when this was the case, off 
 went the wig next him into the fire. Dining once 
 at Chester with an officer who wore a wig, Mr. 
 Pennant became half-seas over; another friend in 
 company, however, had placed himself between 
 Pennant and the wig, to prevent mischief. After 
 much patience, and many a wistful look, Pennant 
 started up, seized {he wig, and threw it on the 
 binning coals. It was inflames in a mouicnt, as 
 well as the officer, who ran to his sword. Down 
 stairs ran Pennant, and the officer after him, 
 through all the streets of Chester; but Pennant, 
 from his superior knowledge of topography, es^. 
 caped. This was whimsically enough called 
 Pennant's tour through Chester. 
 
 PIETY AND PLEASURE. 
 Charles the Second had on the warming-pans of 
 his mistresses beds this inscription: " Serve God, 
 and live for ever." 
 
 ON FOOTE'S DEATH. 
 Foote from his earthly stage, alas ! is hurl'd ; 
 Death took him off, who took off all the world. 
 
 PATIENCE AND INTELLECT-. 
 When Home Tooke was called before the com- 
 missioners tG give an account of the particulars of 
 his income, having answered a question that was 
 asked, one of the wise men said peevishly, that he 
 did not understand his answer. " Then," said 
 Tooke, " as you have not half the understanding of 
 another man, you ought at least to have double the 
 patience," 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 183 
 
 ANCESTRY. 
 Sir Thomas Overbury says, it that the roan who 
 has not any thing to boast of but his illustrious an- 
 cestors, is like a potatoe— the only good belong- 
 ing to him is under ground." 
 
 TRIP TO PARIS. 
 Our party consists, in a neat Calais job, 
 Of Papa and myself, Mr. Connor and Bob. 
 You remember how sheepish Bob look'd at Kil- 
 
 randv, C a Dandy ; 
 
 But, Lord ! he's quite alter' d— they've made him 
 A thing, you know, whisker'd, great-coated, and 
 
 Iac'd , 
 Like an hour-glass, exceedingly small in the waist: 
 Quite a new sort of creatures, unknown yet to 
 
 scholars, 
 With heads, so immoveably stuck in shirt-collars, 
 That seats like our music-stools soon must be 
 
 found them, [round them ! 
 
 To twirl, when the creatures may wish to look 
 In short, dear, " a Dandy" describes what I mean, 
 And Bob's far the best of the genus I've seen :^ 
 An improving young man, fond of learning, 
 
 ambitious, 
 And goes now to Paris to study French dishes, 
 Whose names — think, how quick | — he already 
 
 knows pat, 
 A la braise, petits pates, and—what d'ye call that, 
 They inflict on potatoes ? — oh ! maitre d'hotel — 
 1 assure you, dear Dolly, he knows them as well 
 As if nothing but these all his life he had eat, 
 Though a bit of them Bobby has never touch'd 
 
 yet; [coo.ks, 
 
 But just knows the names of. French dishes and 
 As dear Pa knows ihe titles of authors and books. 
 . The next is a part of Bob's journal, 
 Dick, Dick, what a place is this Paris ! but stay — 
 As my raptures may bore you, I'll just sketch a 
 
 day, 
 As we pass it, myself, and some comrades I've got, 
 All thorough-bred Gnostics, who know what is 
 
 what. 
 
 After dreaming some hours of the land of Cock- 
 aigne, 
 That Elysium of all that is friand and nice, 
 Where for hail they have Ion mots, and claret for 
 
 rain, [ice, 
 
 And the skaiters in winter show off on cream.' 
 Where so ready all nature its cookery yields, 
 Macaroni au parmesan grows iu the fields ; 
 Little birds fly about with the true pheasant taint, 
 And the geese are all born with a liver complaint ! 
 I rise — put on neckcloth — stiff, tight, as can be — 
 For a lad who goes into the world, Dick, like me, 
 Should have his neck tied up, you know, there's 
 
 no doubt of it — 
 Almost as tight as some lads who go out of it. 
 With whiskers well oil'd, and with boots that 
 
 " holdup 
 The mirror to nature" — so bright you could sup 
 Off the leather like china j with coat, too, that 
 
 draws > 
 
 On the tailor, who suffers, a martyr's applause ! — 
 With head bridled up, like a four-in-hand leader, 
 And stays — devil's in them — too tight for a feeder, 
 I strut to the old Cafe Hardy, which yet 
 Beats the field at a dejeuner a la fourchette ; 
 There, Dick, what a breakfast! — oh, not like 
 
 your ghost [toast; 
 
 Of a breakfast in England, your curst tea and 
 But a side-board, you dog, where one's eye roves 
 
 about, [out 
 
 Like a Turk's in the Haram, and thence singles 
 One's pate of larks, just to tune up the throat, 
 One's small limbs of chickens, done en papi!lote y 
 One's erudite cutlets, drest all ways but plain, 
 Or one's kidnies — imagine, Dick — done with 
 
 champagne! [mayhap, 
 
 Then, some glasses of Beaune, to dilute — or, 
 Chainbcrtin, which you know's the pet tipple of 
 
 Nap, 
 And which Dad, by the by, that legitimate stickler, 
 Much scruples*4o taste, but I'm not so partie'lar. — 
 Your coffee comes next, by prescription ; and 
 
 then, Dick, 's 
 The coffee's ne'er-failing and glorious appendix, 
 
184 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 {If books had but such, my old Grecian, depend 
 
 on't, [on'Oi 
 
 I'd swallow even W — tk — ns', for sake of the end 
 A neat glass of parf ait-amour, which one sips, 
 Just as if bottled-velvet tipp'd over one's lips ! 
 This repast being ended, and paid for — (how odd! 
 Till a man's us'd to paying, there's something 
 so queer in't, 
 The sun now well out, and the girls all abroad. 
 And the world enough air'd for us, Nobs/ to 
 appear in't, 
 We lounge up the Boulevards, where — oh, Dick, 
 
 the phyzzes, 
 The turn-outs, we meet — what a nation of quizzes ! 
 Here toddles along some old figure of fun, 
 With a coat you might date anno domini 1 ; 
 A lac'd hat, worsted stockings, and — noble old 
 
 soul ! 
 A fine ribbon and cross in his best button-hole ; 
 Just such as our Pr e, who nor reason nor 
 
 fun dreads, 
 Inflicts without ev'n a court-martial on hundreds. 
 Here trips a grisette, with a fond, roguish eye, 
 (Rather eatable things these grisettes by the by) ; 
 And there an old demoiselle, almost as fond, 
 In a silk that has stood since the time of the 
 
 Fronde. 
 There goes a French dandy — ah, Dick, unlike 
 
 some ones 
 We've seen about White's — the Mounseers are but 
 
 rum ones; 
 Such hat? ! — fitformonkies — "I'd back Mrs. Draper 
 To cut neater weather-boards out of brown paper : 
 And coats — how I wish, if it wouldn't distress 
 
 'em ! ['em ! 
 
 They'd club for old B — m — 1, from Calais, to dress 
 The collar sticks out from the neck such a space, 
 That you'd swear 'twas the plan of this head- 
 lopping nation, 
 To leave there behind them a snug little place 
 For the head to drop into, on decapitation ; 
 In short, what with mountebanks, counts, and 
 
 friseurs, 
 Some mummers by trade, and the rest amateurs— 
 
 What with captains in new jockey-boots and silk 
 breeches, 
 
 Old dustmen with swinging great opera-hats, 
 And shoe-blacks reclining by statues in niches, 
 
 There never was seen such a race of Jack 
 Sprats! 
 WATER-GRUEL AND ROAST-BEEF. 
 
 Phillips and Smith, the sheriffs of London, in 
 1807-8, were men of very different appearance 
 and habits. Phillips lived on vegetables and 
 drank water, and Smith eat turtle and drank of 
 the best vintages, while in persons they were per- 
 fect contrasts. Phillips was rosy, fat, and up- 
 right. Smith was cadaverous, lean, and stooping. 
 As they passed through the street, they used to 
 hear the following ejaculations from the multitude, 
 as Smith went forward, " there goes water-gruel," 
 — " what a poor looking dog." — " He looks like 
 potatoes and cabbage." — "Ha! ha! ha! water- 
 gruel and he become one another!" As Phillips 
 advanced, " Here comes roast-beef," was the ge- 
 neral cry, "My God! what a contrast? That 
 water-gruel fellow looked as though he had been 
 
 eat and sp d up again ; but roast-beef for 
 
 ever." — "Ha! ha! ha! God bless his rosy gills 
 — no water-gruel for me." 
 
 THE TROGRESS OF MATRIMONY. 
 In the blithe days of honey-moon, 
 
 With Kate's allurements smitten, 
 I lov'd her late, I lov'd her soon, 
 
 And called her dearest kitten. 
 But now my kitten's grown a cat, 
 
 And cross like other wives, 
 Oh ! by my soul, my honest Mat, 
 
 I think she has nine lives ! 
 
 A MATCH FOR THE DEVIL. 
 
 " Two gossipping women," says the old proverb, 
 " are a match for the devil," as the following 
 story will, in some degree, explain and confirm 
 the saying — 
 
 Old Nick, or, as he is vulgarly termed, the 
 Devil, sometimes, it is said, amuses himself by 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 185 
 
 taking a survey of the world, ' as it is,' In one 
 cf these perambulations he happened to alight close 
 to a church during divine service. Anxious to see 
 how all the good people passed (heir time, he en- 
 tered, and taking his station outside the rails of 
 the altar, not being permitted to go within-side, 
 looked around. — Some, he observed, were most 
 intent upon gazing about them; others in notic* 
 ing who came in, or criticising their dress or 
 appearance, than minding what the parson was 
 saying; but what particularly took his atten- 
 tion, was two antiquated dowagers, who, instead 
 of paying attention to the minister, amused 
 each other with the scandal of the town, and such- 
 like edifying conversation ; not sparing the repu- 
 tations of even their own intimate friends. Sir 
 Nick, highly entertained with their innocent re- 
 marks, pulled a roll of parchment out of his 
 pocket, and began to write down in short-hand 
 the substance of their conversation. Before, how- 
 ever, they had half done, his parchment was full 
 on both sides. Unwilling to lose a word of what 
 passed, he stretched it with his teeth — still it was 
 too ltttle ; and in a short time he was as bad oiFas 
 ever. Vexed to be foiled by two old women, he 
 pulled and pulled, but all to no purpose ; at 
 length, by repeated pulling, the parchment snap- 
 ped, and bouncing his devilship's head against the 
 railing, broke it in several places. St. Martin, 
 who was saying mass at the altar, burst out a 
 laughing, to see Sir Nick in such a passion, and to 
 find the devil fool enough tosuppose that a roll, or 
 even a skin of parchment, would hold two wo- 
 men's gossip, even in church. 
 
 TO A SEAMSTRESS. 
 
 O! what bosom but must yield, 
 When, like Pallas, you advance, 
 
 "With a thimble for your shield, 
 And a needle for your lance i 
 
 Fairest of the stitching (rain, 
 
 Ease my passion by your art ; 
 And, in pity to my pain, 
 
 Mend the hole that's in my heart; 
 
 POETICAL FRANKING. 
 About the time of the trial of Lord Melville, Mr. 
 S. the clerk of the rules, having occasion for a 
 frank, to be addressed to "Mr. William Linkhorn, 
 of Dawlish, Devonshire," applied to Mr. Erskine, 
 then in the Court, who immediately wrote the 
 frank, and handed it back to Mr. S. with the fol- 
 lowing lines — 
 
 When the Cleik of the Rules draws a Frank up 
 
 in Court, 
 Though the distance be great, the direction is short; 
 If a member he spies, whose pen is but scrawlish, 
 He trusts will be legible somehow at Dawlish; 
 So he works the poor member, his pen, and his 
 
 ink horn, 
 To Melvilize postage for one Billy Linkhorn,' 
 
 THE DEVIL AND DR. FAUSTUS. 
 There is a strong propensity in man's nature, to 
 resolve every strange thing, or, whether really 
 strange or not, if it be but strange to us, into the su- 
 pernatuial, or into devilism or magic, and to say 
 every thing is the devil, that we can give no ac- 
 count of. Thus, the famous doctors of the faculty 
 at Paris, when John Faustus brought the first 
 printed books that had been then seen into the 
 city, and sold them for manuscripts, were surprised 
 at the performance, and questioned Faustus about 
 it; but he affirming they were manuscripts, and 
 that he kept a great many clerks employed to 
 write them, they were satisfied for a while. But, 
 looking farther into the work, they observed the 
 exact agreement of every book, one with another ; 
 that every line stood in the same place, every page 
 alike number of lines, every line a like number 
 of words; if a word was mispelt in one it was 
 mispelt also in all ; nay, if there was a blot in 
 one, it was alike in all ; they began to muse how 
 this should be: in a word, the learned divines, 
 not being able to comprehend the thing, concluded 
 it must be the devil; that it was done by magic 
 and witchcraft ; and that, in short, poor Faustus 
 dealt with the devil. John Faustus, however, was 
 a compositor, to Koster, of Haaerlem, the first in 
 
186 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ventor of printing; and having printed the psal- 
 ters, sold them at Paris, as manuscripts; because, 
 as such, they yielded a better price. The learned 
 doctors, not being able to understand how the 
 work was performed, concluded it was all the 
 devil, and that the man was a wizard ; accord- 
 ingly they took him up for a magician and a con- 
 juror, and one that worked by the black art; that 
 is to say, by the help of the devil ; they threat- 
 ened to hang him for a wizard, and commenced a 
 process against him in their criminal courts, 
 which made such a noise in the world, as raised 
 the fame of poor John Faustus to a frightful height, 
 till at last he was Obliged, for fear of the gallows, 
 to discover the whole secret to them. 
 
 THE HERALD. 
 
 I do remember a strange man — a Herald, 
 And hereabouts he dwells, whom late I noted, 
 In party-coloured coat, like a fool's jacket, 
 Or morris-dancer's dress. Musty his looks, 
 Like to a skin of ancient shrivelled parchment, 
 Or an old pair of leather-brogues twice turned. 
 And round the dusky room he did inhabit, 
 Whose wainscoat seem'd as old as Noah's ark, 
 Were divers shapes of ugly ill-form'd monsters, 
 Hung up in scutcheons, like an old church aisle } 
 A blue-boar rampant, and a griffin gules, 
 A gaping tiger, and a cat-a-mountain, 
 What nature never form'd, nor madman thought ; 
 *' Gorgons and hydras, and chimeras dire,'- 
 — And right before him lay a dusty pile 
 Of ancient legers, books of evidence, 
 Torn parish-registers, probates, and testaments, 
 From wheuce, with cunning art and sly contriv- 
 ance, 
 lie fairly culled divers pedigrees, 
 (Which make, full oft, the son beget the father, 
 And give to maiden ladies fruitful issues); 
 And next, by dint of transmutation strange, 
 Did coin his musty vellum into gold. — 
 Anon, comes in a gaudy city youth, 
 Whose father, for oppression and vile cunning, 
 Lies roaring now in linibo-lake the while $ 
 
 And after some few words of mystic import, 
 Most gravely uttered by the smoke-dried sage, 
 He takes in lieu of gold the vellum roll, 
 With arms emblazon'd and Lord Lyon's signet, 
 And struts away a well-born gentleman. 
 Observing this, I to myself did say, 
 An' if a man did need a coat of arms, 
 Here lives a cakiff that would sell him one. 
 
 A NEW WORLD. 
 The following scientific intelligence appeared 
 in an American newspaper: — 
 
 " Light developes light," ad infinitum. 
 St. Louis, (Missouri Territory,) North-America. 
 
 April 10, A.D/1818. 
 " To all the World. — I declare the earth to 
 be hollow, and habitable within; containing a 
 number of concentric spheres, one within the other, 
 and that their poles are open twelve or sixteen 
 degrees. I pledge my life in support of this truth, 
 and am ready to explore the concave, if the world 
 will support and aid me in the undertaking. 
 John Cleves Svmmes, 
 Of Ohio, late Captain of Infantry. 
 I ask one hundred brave companions, well 
 equipped, to start from Siberia, in autumn, with 
 rein-deer «.nd sledges, on the ice of the frozen sea. 
 I engage we find a warm country and rich land, 
 stocked with thrifty vegetables and animals, if not 
 men, on reaching about sixty-nine miles northward 
 of latitude 82. We will return in the succeeding 
 spring. — J..C. S. 
 
 THE MELANCHOLY OF TAILORS. 
 ' The characteristic pensiveness in tailors being so 
 notorious, it is to be wondered that none of those 
 writers, who have expressly treated of melancholy, 
 should have mentioned it. 
 
 They may be reduced to two, omitting two 
 subordinate ones, viz. 
 
 The sedentary habits of the tailor. — Something 
 peculiar in his diet. 
 
 First, his sedentary habits. — In Doctor Norris's 
 famous narrative of the frenzy of Mr. John Dennis, 
 
THE LATJGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 the patient, being questioned as to the occasion of 
 the swelling in his legs, replies that it was " by 
 criticism ;" to which the learned doctor seeming 
 to demur, as to a distemper which he bad never 
 heard of, Dennis (who appears not to have been 
 mad upon all subjects) rejoins with some warmth, 
 that it was do distemper, but a nobje art! that he 
 had sat fourteen hours a-day £t it ; and that the 
 other was a pretty doctor, not to know that there 
 was a communication between the brain and the 
 legs. 
 
 When we consider that this sitting for fourteen 
 hours continuously, which the critic probably 
 piactised only while he was writing his " re- 
 marks," is no more than what the tailor, in the 
 ordinary pursuance of his art, submits to daily 
 (Sundays excepted) throughout the year, shall we 
 wonder to find the brain affected, and in a manner 
 over-clouded, from that indissoluble sympathy 
 between the noble and less noble parts of the 
 body, which Dennis hints at ? The unnnatural and 
 painful manner of his sitting must also greatly 
 aggravate the evil, insomuch that I have some- 
 times ventured to liken tailors at their boards to 
 so many envious Junos, sitting cross-legged to 
 hinder the birth of their own felicity. The legs 
 transversed thus x cross-wise, or decussated, was 
 among the ancients the posture of "malediction. 
 The Turks, who practise it at this day, are noted 
 to be a melancholy people. 
 
 Secondly, his diet. — To which pnrpose is a 
 most remarkable passage in Burton, in his chapter 
 entitled " Bad diet a cause of melancholy." — 
 " Amougst herbs to be eaten (he says) I find 
 gourds, cucumbers, melons, disallowed ; but es- 
 pecially cabbage. It causeth troublesome dreams, 
 and sends up black vapours to the brain. Galen, 
 he. affect. lib. 3, cap. 8, of all herbs condemns 
 cabbage. And Isaack, lib. 2, cap. 1, animus 
 gravitatem facit, it brings heaviness to the soul." 
 I could not omit so flattering a testimony from an 
 author who, having no theory of his own to 
 serve, has so unconsciously contributed to the 
 confirmation of mine. It is well known, that this 
 
 187 
 
 last-named vegetable has, from the earliest period 
 which we can discover, constituted almost the 
 sole food of this extraordinary race of people. 
 
 HOT AND COLDi 
 To his poor cell a satyr led 
 A traveller, with cold half dead, 
 
 And with great kindness treated : 
 A fire-nose high he made him straight, 
 Show'd him his elbow-chair of state, 
 
 Aud near the chimney seated." 
 
 His tingling hands the stranger blows, 
 At which the satyr wond'ring rose, 
 
 And bluntly asked the reason. 
 Sir, quoth the man, I mean no harm, 
 I only do't my hands to warm, 
 
 In this cold frosty season. 
 
 The satyr gave him from the pot 
 A mess of porridge piping hot ; 
 
 The man blow'd o'er his gruel. 
 What's that for, friend ? The satyr cry'd, 
 To cool my broth, his guest reply'd, 
 
 And truth, sir, is a jewel. 
 
 How, quoth the host, then is it so, 
 And can you contradictions blow ? 
 
 Turn out, and leave my cottage. 
 This honest mansion ne'er shall hold 
 Such raecals as blow hot and cold, 
 
 The de'l must find you pottage. 
 
 THE EXCISEMAN IN H— L. 
 
 An exciseman, born and bred in London, whose 
 name was John Grant, chanced to fall in love with 
 a young lady from Newcastle, whom he shortly 
 married. The only condition was, that the newly- 
 married couple should pass the honey-moon in 
 Newcastle, at (he house of the bride's father, 
 which was readily acceded to. Accordingly, the 
 couple set out on their journey, and were well re- 
 ceived by their friends ; who, in the true spirit of 
 hospitality, contri-ved to intoxicate the bridegroom. 
 Overpowered by the fumes of the wine, Johnny 
 fell into a profound sleep, in this state his new 
 
188 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 friends, to complete the jest, let him down into a 
 •caaNpit. In a few hours Johnny awoke, and was 
 immediately surrounded by the miners; one of a 
 pecBliarly rough appearance stepped forward to 
 the trembling bridegroom, and asked him, in a 
 gruff voice, " Who, and what are you ? and how 
 sdid you come hither ?" Johnny, astonished at the 
 infernal crew, concluded immediately that he was 
 in hell, and very submissively taking on" his hat 
 replied, " how I came here I know not, but - 1 
 suppose I died." — "Who, and what are you," 
 repeated the miner. " When on earth," replied 
 the bridegroom, " I was Johnny Grant, the excise- 
 man, a righteous man, and apsalm-singer ; but now 
 I am in hell, I ata aoy thing your devilship 
 pleases/' 
 
 TO A PERSON VERY FOND OF SINGING* 
 O ! prithee cease thy ear-annoying strain, 
 
 And rid, at least, "thy friends of persecution i 
 Such notes were stolen from hell 'tis very plain: 
 
 Repent, and make the devil restitution. 
 HOW v. MUCH. 
 
 In 1824 an action was brought to iecover a 
 debt of 141. 5s. The counsel, Mr. Sergeant Pell, 
 first took the names of the parties How and Much 
 in their individual form, and after driving unfor- 
 tunate " How'''' through all the changes and vicis- 
 situdes which it ever experienced, had " yet," as 
 he himself observed, " a difficult task to perform," 
 for " Muck" remained behind. He assured the 
 Jury, that slight as the case was, and brief as 
 should be the proof, yet if they gave their verdict 
 for the plaintiff, they would be for ever remem- 
 "bered as on that day having done " much" at all 
 events. He then went on to speak of the names 
 collectively, and rang the changes upon " how 
 much," to no end. Mrs. How proved that she 
 had gone to Mr. Much for the amount of the bill ; 
 that he told her to go to Mr. Parry, with whom he 
 said he left the money, and when she refused to 
 do so, he told her either to go to Parry or to go to 
 hell. Counsel — I suppose you declined to go to 
 either?-— Indeed I did. 
 
 A QUERY, ADDRESSED TO A LADY. 
 Why is a Gardener the most extraordinary man in 
 the world? 
 Because no man has more business upon earth, 
 and he always chooses good grounds for what he 
 does. He commands his thyme, he is master of the 
 mint, and fingers penny-royal; he raises celery 
 every year, and it is a bad year indeed that does 
 not bring him a plum. He meets with more 
 boughs than a minister of state; he makes more 
 beds than the French king, and has in them more 
 painted ladies and genuine roses and lilies than are 
 to be found at a country-wake; he makes raking 
 his business more than his diversion, as many other 
 gentlemen do ; but makes it an advantage to 
 health and fortune, which few others do ; he can 
 boast of more rapes than any rake in the kingdom. 
 His wife, notwithstanding, has enough of lad's 
 love, and heart's ease, and never wishes for weeds. 
 Distempers fatal to others never hurt him ; he 
 walks the better for the gravel, and thrives most 
 in a consumption. He can boast of more bleeding 
 hearts than your ladyship, and more laurels than 
 the duke of Marlborough ; but his greatest pride, 
 and the world's greatest envy, is, that he can have 
 yew when he pleases. | 
 
 INTENDED FOR DRYDEN. 
 This Sheffield raised: the sacred du3t below 
 Was Dryden once. The rest, who does not know ? 
 
 DR. GOODENOUGH. 
 On being told that the Bishop of Carlisle, (Dr. 
 Goodenough) was appointed to preach before the 
 House of Peers— 
 
 " 'Tis well enough that Goodenough 
 Before the Lords should preach ; 
 For sure enough they're bad enough 
 He undertakes to teach." 
 When the above prelate was made Bishop, a 
 certain dignitary, whom the public had expected 
 to get the appointment, being asked by a friend 
 how he came not to be the new Bishop, replied, 
 because I was not Good-enough ! 
 
THE PIC-NIC PARTY 
 
 At length the day, "the great, the important 
 day, big with the fate" of three hack steeds, and 
 eighteen goodly personages, burst through my 
 window's curtains. I had coaxed myself to sleep 
 the preceding night, with the Possibility that it was 
 not impossible that it might rain,, seeing that all 
 sublunary things are subject to change — that the 
 earth had now been baited for upwards of six 
 weeks ; but I was disappointed. Phcebus was in 
 finer feather than ever, and the little girls were 
 dancing over my head with the most heart-rending 
 gaiety. Nevertheless, I was a philosopher, and 
 resolved to stand by my promise with magnani- 
 mity. I broke my fast with a glass of camomile 
 tea, which gave me vigour to dispose of a bowl of 
 strawberries and cream, and to tilt at the most ac- 
 complished jokes of the party. 
 
 The breakfast was scarcely over, when we were 
 attracted to the window by a strange outlandish 
 noise, resembling the gambols of sweeps on May- 
 day, or the more musical clink of marrow-bones 
 and cleavers. I had scarcely time to exclaim 
 " What the deuce is that?" when I beheld three 
 vehicles approaching the house, at the instigation 
 of certain animals which I should, without doubt, 
 have taken for crocodiles, had I not been assured 
 by the Captain that they were very excellent 
 horses. All our souls and bodies were in instant 
 commotion. The ladies donned their bonnets 
 and seized their parasols ; while the gentlemen 
 rushed out to the stowing of the cargo. " Ham- 
 pers, and baskets, and bundles," passed to and l'ro 
 with a rapidity that was truly fearful, and threat- 
 ened to flatten some of the handsomest noses of 
 'the party. I am well assured that I was consider- 
 ed a very helpless sort of a person ; for, in truth, 
 I was more occupied in getting out of the way 
 than in contributing my exertions for the general 
 weal. I suspect, likewise, that my skill in the 
 commissariat was but lightly esteemed ; for when 
 I hinted at taking a shower-bath with us, the pro- 
 posal was absolutely considered as a joke. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER* 18$ 
 
 At last there was a general cry for passenger. 
 The captain mounted the dicky of the best equi- 
 page, and was soon accommodated with five of the 
 lightest insides. His friend, the cornet, made 
 ready with equal alacrity ; and, to my dismay, L 
 was informed that I, even I, was to be the ehariot- 
 teer of the third. At the same time (I confess it 
 was with gratitude), I received aconfidentinl com- 
 munication that it would not be incumbent oil me- 
 to show any uncommon degree of Olympic spirit,. 
 as I had been appointed conducteur to the married; 
 ladies and the crockery-ware. And what to draw- 
 
 them ? O ye Gods! my blood curdled at the sight!. 
 I could have picked a. better horse out of the: 
 maws of the ravens. Such a ewe-necked, ra^js- 
 boned, rat-tailed, broken-kneed, maHendered,yj&- 
 lendered, spavined, and string-halted skeleton. 
 never entered the precincts of a dog-kennel. The 
 owner, however, assured me, upon the honour ofT 
 a gentleman, that it could see very tolerably with; 
 one eye, and had the best wind of any horse in. the^ 
 country. 
 
 I had applied four or five thwacks with the whip^. 
 and had begun to expect that my quadruped. wouldL 
 shortly agree to follow his companions, who wero- 
 now almost out of sight, when the operation was- 
 suspended by a shout in the distance,, and the: 
 appearance of a corpulent gentleman in leather 
 breeches and boots, with a bundle at his back. — 
 " Oh, here's Mr. D. !" cried the ladies all at once 
 " I knew he would come," said one. "How 
 kind !" cried another. " How he runs !" exclaim- 
 ed a third — and I must in justice declare, that, for 
 a gentleman whose legs diverged like a pair of 
 compasses, and who lacked some of the wind for 
 which my horse was so celebrated, he wagged along; 
 with very praiseworthy rapidity — " How d'ye do, 
 Mr. D.?" cried all at once — Mr. D. wiped his red 
 face and powdered head, and panted sorely— 
 "Servant, Ladies — pooft' — oh dear! pooff — how- 
 hot it is — only just got your note — pooff— came 
 offata moment's warning — pooff — ran likealamp- 
 lighter — Dear me, dear me — brought my share of 
 the pic-nic though — round of beef — fat as I am— 
 
190 
 
 all melted, I' 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 m afraid, and — beg pardon, young 
 gentleman — permit me to pat it between your 
 legs." 
 
 Ye Gods! ye Gods! must I endure all this? 
 The reeking bundle was placed under my nose, 
 and Mr. D. ascended the after part of the car. 
 The shafts rose, and the belly-band tightened, and 
 I was very near leaping from my situation, under 
 the idea that Mr. D. and the horse intended play- 
 ing at see-saw, or rather that the latter was to be 
 hoisted over ary head, and seated in the laps of the 
 ladies. The event, however, not occurring, I re- 
 sumed the application of the whip, and had the 
 satisfaction of seeing my animal set up his back 
 and grind away beyond ray hopes. 
 
 Oh, how I wish my limits w„old permit me to 
 dilate upon the dust and the neat; the stoppages 
 and the walkings up-hill ; the jokes of Mr. D. .and 
 the applauses of the ladies. For be it known that 
 Mr. D. was something of a wit, and very much of 
 a royster, and altogether a very desirable compa- 
 nion — when there was room for him. One thing I 
 must not oroi t to state, which is, that no person 
 whatsoever should jud^e of a horse by appear- 
 ances, or mistrust his abilities before he has given 
 them a fair trial. We overtook the car which pre- 
 ceded us, and, had it not been for the screams of 
 the married ladies^ and the clattering of the dishes, 
 I verily and truly believe we could have beaten 
 them — Mr. D. thought so too, for which I honour 
 him. We now arrived within sight of our destina- 
 tion, and I found my spirits not a little exhilirated 
 at the prospect of being once more upon my legs. 
 Perhaps this happy state of mind may have been in 
 some measure owing to the consciousness of having 
 proved myself a worthy candidate for gymnastic 
 honours ; but it was more likely to arise from a 
 sweet smile of my dark-eyed maid, who beckoned 
 me to approach her car, and assured me that, since 
 1 was evidently the most accomplished knight, she 
 had determined to place herself under my protec- 
 tion for the rest of the expedition. With such a 
 prospect, I leaped to the ground as lightly as if 
 my joints had not once been shaken out of their 
 
 sockets. The dust flew as if it had proceeded from 
 the jolt of a gigantic pepper-box ; but I heeded it 
 not— I gave but one sneeze, and helped the ladies 
 out. The captain took care of the hacks, (which, 
 without dispute, must have been nearly related to 
 the horses of the sun, or they must, many miles ago, 
 have sunk beneath his beams ) ; the cornet saw to 
 the unloading of the baggage ; and I did my best 
 to play the agreeable to thirteen petticoats ; for 
 Mr. D. was dusting himself amongst the butter- 
 cups; and another young gentleman, whom I have 
 not mentioned, was too much enthralled by an 
 individual enchantress to be worth the notice of 
 the rest. It would be an uncourtly breach of 
 confidence were I to relate all the gentle tilings 
 that were said to me. Let it suffice, that I had 
 interest to procure, by general assent, a total ma- 
 numission from the labours of the day, and received 
 the fairest arm in the world, with strict injunctions 
 to make myself as happy as I could. — " And now," 
 said my dark-eyed maid, " are yon still sorry that 
 you came with us?" — " Say no more of it," I 
 replied, " I would come every day of my life, if 
 I lived to the age of Methuselah." 
 
 Of course, eating and drinking (plebeian vices \) 
 were the first amusements which occurred to the 
 earthly minds of such of our gentles as did not 
 happen to be favourites with the ladies — that is 
 very especial ones — I mean — in short, the reader 
 knows, I mean a delicate allusion to myself. We 
 stood upon the summit of a hill, reconnoitering 
 the valley for an appropriate scene of carousal. 
 Huge cliffs on the opposite side extended their 
 delicious shadows over the green bosom of the 
 wood, and the blue streamlet looked cool as the 
 springs of Lapland. " Delightful," ejaculated 
 Mr. D. who had ji:st risen from the grass with a 
 pair of green buckskins, " let us carry down the 
 provisions without more ado. The two dragoons 
 shall bring the two hampers, the clergyman carry 
 the basket, and I my own beef." With that he 
 flourished the saturated bundle, and pushed boldly 
 at the declivity. — Alas, and alas ! the hill was 
 steep and the grass was slippery ! Poor Mr. D, >s* 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 191 
 
 his feet and his bundle at the same instant — The 
 whole party set up a shout, and down he rolled — 
 I never saw a man turn over at such a rate in my 
 life, and I am quite conviuced that he would have 
 distanced the best roller at Greenwich fair. The 
 be.T was inspired with a noble emulation, and con- 
 tended the race most magnanimously. Bets ran 
 high ; &rirj the edds varied from two to one on the 
 ■nan. to iivc to four on the beef. The wager, how- 
 ever, was not doomed to be decided ; for Mr. D. in 
 throwing iiis arms round about for some kind 
 friend te stop his career, unhappily seized upon 
 liis compefiior, and they both plunged into the 
 river together ; which the captain pronounced to 
 be a dead heat. At first there was some alarm for 
 the consequences of tnis surprising feat ; but on 
 Mr. D.'s emerging, like a river god, from the bed 
 of the stream, and waving his hat, which had gone 
 toddling after him, our breasts beat more freely, 
 and our youths commenced the removal of the 
 goods — something cautioned in their motions by 
 the fearful example which had just been exhibited. 
 Mr. D. made the best of his way to a farm-house — 
 I heard him churning the water in his boots at the 
 distance of a hundred yards. 
 
 We formed our head-quarters in a small green 
 space, which was nearly insulated by the brook, a 
 world of weeping birch and feathering ash trem- 
 bled over our heads, and beneath our feet smiled 
 the sweetest cowslips that ever welcomed the hap- 
 py to the scenes of happiness. I never before saw 
 man look so like what he ought to be, or woman 
 so iike an angel. While the gentlemen who did 
 not happen ta be favourites with the ladies, (mean- 
 ing, as 1 said before, all but myself and the luck- 
 less Mr. D.), were emancipating whole hecatombs 
 of the barn-door population, with certain quarrel- 
 some bottles of champagne, which had been 
 threateningto break each other's heads almost from 
 the commencement of the journey, I made myself 
 useful in spreading cloaks and coats for our more 
 delicate companions to recline upon. Never was 
 a bank so daintily adorned. I sat upon the same 
 
 cloak with the dark eyes, and could have spouted 
 extemporaneous poetry till 
 
 ' ; Scott, Rogers, Moore, and all the better brothers 
 Had hid their diminish'd heads, and look'd aghast.'* 
 I was getting from pensive to sad, and from sad 
 to sorrow, with a rapidity which would very soon 
 have affected the fountains of mine eyes, when I 
 was aroused by a peal of light laughter, to which 
 the sonorous " ho, ho, ho !" of Mr. D. beat time 
 like the drum in a band of music. He made 
 his appearance in a smock-frock, worsted stock- 
 ings, and hob-nails, and challenged to roll down 
 again with any gentleman or lady of the party, 
 and give them half-way. The gauntlet not being 
 taken up, (though I am not sure but I saw a pair 
 of little black eyes very much inclined to sparkle 
 with defiance), he wheeled round, and made a 
 dead point at a magnificent venison-pasty, which 
 rose up from the midst of the subordinate build- 
 ing, like the tower of Babel. Turret after turret 
 disappeared, the turkeys were mutilated, the pies 
 evaporated, and the champagne banged like a 
 battery upon the scene of slaughter. " Another 
 slice," quoth Mr. D. " with a little of the jelly, 
 and some of the under-crust — thank'ee ladies, your 
 health — ho, ho, ho ! what a roll it was ! I'll be 
 bound I made the turf as smooth as a bowling- 
 green, and flattened every stone in my course. 
 Happy to take a glass with you, sir — I meau the 
 gentleman in the blue cravat. — So — so — that beats 
 arquebusade and opodeldoc too — cured all my 
 bruises in a crack — I never drank any other em- 
 brocation than champagne. — Anotherslice, please, 
 with a little more of the jelly, shut antea, as the 
 doctors say. Hark'ee," continued he, flinging his 
 arm round my neck, and whispering while he was 
 yet masticating two square inches of venison, which 
 made some of the party believe he was devouring 
 my ear, " how do you think I got this doublet 
 and hose ? I knew my leathers would only be fit 
 for spindles after this sousing, and so I made a 
 swap with the farmer — ho, ho, ho ! I'll sell you 
 my smock at half-price." 
 
192 
 
 It was now time to harness the hacks, and while 
 this operation was in performance, I could plainly 
 distinguish the slayers of men discoursing in terms 
 •very derogatory to my skill as a whip. This I in- 
 stantly set down for envy, for I had almost beaten 
 ill em with the worst horse and the heaviest load (to 
 say nothing of Mr. D. as supercargo), and I was 
 quite certain, now that the pies were eaten, and 
 the above gentleman exchanged for my beauty, I 
 could win the race home with ease. I started, as 
 before, the last of the three, husbanding the powers 
 of my crocodile with laudable jockeyship. The 
 night became very dark, and we were only aware 
 of our relative distances by the rattle of our wheels, 
 and the merciless cracking of our whips. My 
 opponents were evidently gaining ground upon 
 me, and my passengers were beginning to grow 
 clamorous under the idea that we should lag too 
 far behind, and so be robbed and murdered. I 
 believe I have hinted, in various places, that I am 
 endowed with a certain portion of that greatest of 
 all earthly goods called philosophy; and it was 
 this which enabled me to calculate the chances in 
 my favour, with a precision that rendered me deaf 
 to the remonstrances of persons who were less 
 gifted. In the first place, it was granted on all 
 sides that we were going down hill ; and, in the 
 next, it was not to be denied that every one of our 
 quadrupeds, from the testimony of his knees, was 
 wofully addicted to stumbling. Now I bad al- 
 ways considered it as an axiom, that a horse was 
 more apt to stumble downhill than up hill, and 
 that an over-driven one had'no sort of conscience 
 whatever. Consequently it was incumbent on me 
 to use all proper circumspection, seeing that I had 
 six ladies, and all the dishes to answer for, besides 
 a seventh person, whom etiquette forbids me to 
 mention. The caution which 1 had adopted was 
 equally necessary for my competitors; and since 
 they were cursed with too much courage to follow 
 it, the chances were about fifty to one^ that one of 
 them would measure his length on the ground. 
 The other must ot course pull up to assist his com- 
 rade, and in this dilemma I had settled it with my 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 high mettled skeleton, that we should politely 
 wish them good-night. I believe it was about 
 mid-way that my calculations were verified. I 
 first heard a crash, then a general scream, then 
 the word of command to halt, and afterwards the 
 jolly " ho, ho, ho !" of Mr. D. which gave me the 
 satisfactory intelligence that my enemies had come 
 to a downfall, and that none of the party had ex- 
 perienced bodily injury. Now was the time for 
 my triumph ; but I must say I bore it like a hero. 
 I was beginning an admonitory harangue with, li I 
 told you how it would be," when the sight of their 
 distress actually deprived me of the powers of 
 speech. The noble steed still lay panting upon 
 the ground, while the captain cut the harness to 
 pieces for his liberation ; — the two shafts had 
 snapped off like sticks of barley-sugar, and the 
 whole machinery appeared to have received a 
 shock little short of a paralysis. " How shall we 
 get home?" cried the distressed females, " we 
 cannot sleep under the hedge." — " Beg pardon, 
 ladies," replied Mr. D., " it is one of the most 
 comfortable ditches I was ever pitched into— I 
 went right in upon inj r head, and received no 
 manner of damage, except a tug of the pig-tail 
 which hung in a bramble, and a few thorns, which 
 took advantage of the absence of my buckskins." 
 My heart melted within me, aud I agreed with 
 the opposition carrier, that if he would convey the 
 vanquished champion and the ponderosity of Mr. 
 D., I would endeavour to persuade my horse to 
 accommodate the five forlorn damsels. The pro- 
 posal was thankfully agreed to. The fragments of 
 the wreck were removed to the road-side, the 
 miserable hack turned into the first field that pre- 
 sented itself, and I finished the remainder of the 
 journey with eleven ladies, and not a single acci- 
 dent. 
 
 1MPEHIUM IN 1MPERIO 
 When Beelzebub first to make mischief began, 
 He the woman attack'd, and she gull'd the poor 
 
 man ; 
 This Moses asserts, and from hence would infer, 
 That woman rules man, and the devil rules her. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHY R. 193 
 
 PIALOGCES, V, ITH ECHO, WRITTEN IN THE \EAR 1816. 
 Dialogue I. ^ 
 
 JTaH'T0««V CTTtfAATW X«>.?V tiK3<.'*, 'SOlfA.eTa J;aV 
 
 Can Echo speak the tongue of every country ? Echo. Try. 
 
 Te virginem si forte poscam erotica ? EgS T «X a * 
 
 Ma si ti sopra il futuro questionero ? , Eteov h ji. 
 
 Et puis-je te parler sur des chases passees ? Essaye. 
 
 Die mihi quceso virunu vitiis cui tot bona parta : Buonaparte. 
 
 Whom once Sir Sidney drove with shame from Acre A cur ! 
 
 T' unlock cur India, France would make of Turkey — Her key. 
 
 Would she then seize Madras, Bombay, Bengal ? All. 
 
 And did her chief fly Egypt, when most needed ? He did. 
 
 Whom is he like, who thrives but by escaping? Scapin. 
 
 Croyez vous auv histoires, qiCen dit Denon ? JS'on. 
 
 What are the arms with which he now fights Britons ? High tones. 
 
 Ususne in istius minis fuil aliquis ? v ... All a quiz ! 
 
 Quid nobis Herat tanto hie jactator hiatu ? "I hale you." 
 
 Qu'il vienne aussitot qu'il le veut, ce grand homme ! A grand hum ! 
 
 Nectit at Hie moras, pelagusque horrere putatnr ! Peut-dtre. 
 
 You'd think htm then mad, if his forces he march here i As a March hare. 
 
 Where does he wish those forces wafted over ? To Dover. 
 
 Granted — what would they be, ere led to London ? »- Undone. 
 
 Can George then thrash by laud the Corsican ? He can. 
 
 But what, if he should chance to meet our Davy? Vae! 
 
 Tbtu y' af t^B^et yr\ re xal &aX«?<r' s<f>v; • * . A few. 
 
 Atqui, ceu Xerxes^ nostris Jugere actus ab oris A bore is. 
 
 And hence he swears, he'll ne'er again turn flyer Liar! 
 
 How best shall England quell his high pretences ? Paret enses. 
 
 Et qu'est ce qu'elle montrera, pour calmer cet inquiet ? ^yx, ta - 
 
 Ast unco ductus poenas dabis, improbe, Gallis Gallows. 
 
 E chi ti vedrd, morto, " Ben gli s/«" gridera ". ......... . Agreed— Hurra 
 
 Dialogue II. 
 
 Quas.nec reticere loquenti, 
 
 Nee prior ipsa loqui potuit. 
 
 Again I call ; sweet Maid, come echo me. Echo. Eccomi! 
 
 Tell me, of what consists the heart of Gaul : Of gall. 
 
 Her mad caprices in her ancient shape; Ape ! 
 
 Her present taste, for blood and riot eager Tigre! 
 
 Tell, of what God her sons are now the votaries ; Aove. 
 
 K 
 
191 
 
 rHi: LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 And whose before, so wolvish grown and ravenous : Echo. Venus. 
 
 VV retches, as changeful as the changing ocean ! O chiens ? 
 
 Au roi\ qui Its uimoit, Us out frappe le cuu— netaxxu. 
 
 Ma sotio i re trano sempre allegri k All agree. 
 
 Tic o« tos-jiv ayroi? cvjOTVti/a - ' 'TirctTU ^gnaKEjav j Cayenne. 
 
 Aliquid mail molitur in nos consili ; Silly ! 
 
 Cumque ilia miles Batavus conjurat amicd Rot 'em, I say. 
 
 Wheie would his Brest fleet .in our empire land ? Ireland. 
 
 A\Xo9i 3' o y jjwzjX' u<T&a.\i~v 5tnv.-Jt«? En Ecosse. 
 
 Quiitiam ilium u Scotis mc.net exilus, auspice Moirft ? , Motpa. 
 
 Spetn forsan nullum, Moira ibi jam dace, habet ! Deuce a bit ! 
 
 EK Ayy*jx»v $'»x.iiv icr»q voiX toJj To die. 
 
 How best shall we 'scape this invasion's alarm ? < . All arm. 
 
 Then, Englishmen, rush to the field, 'tis your duty : Aeut£. 
 
 Be no longer the dupes of an Amiens truce Ruse! 
 
 (Hv JeXo? , « <f>;Xj*' tu &' SJt $g«vo; rjXuQsv ay-tot ; ......... Otlo's.) 
 
 Furem ego contundam, qui te rapere audet, agelle: To a jelly. 
 
 Angliaque externos facile opprimet ipsa latrones; , At her own ease 
 
 And dost thou wish the throne restored by Moreau ? Oro. 
 
 Then from his height falls dread Napoleon ; Apoilyon ! 
 
 (Scilicet hunc Anglus vocat, hunc Hebraeus Abaddon ! A bad one.) 
 
 And then the world, now sacred, will laugh at him: . Affatim. 
 
 11 reste done d souhaiter, que la France lui desobeit So be it ! 
 
 THE CHESTER SHEWMAN AND MUNGO. 
 A puppet shewman, having engaged a black 
 (native of Africa) who was a performer on the 
 instrument called the jumba, made from an In- 
 dian nut-shell, also danced to bis own music, and 
 sung (in tolerable English) his own songs, his sim- 
 plicity and pleasantry drew his employer great 
 audiences, and poor Mungo believed his master 
 was possessed of some supernatural agency, by 
 nightly beholding with astonishment his wonder- 
 ful feats of deception and legerdemain. On the 
 5th of November, 1771, the showman, or doctor, 
 was exhibiting in a large lod^e-room at Chester. 
 After various feats that tended to elevate and sur- 
 prise, by cutting off locks, heads, swallowing 
 knives and forks, eating fire, disgorging ribbons 
 and needles, tricks of cups and balls, cards, &c. 
 to the astonishment of Blackey, and admiration of 
 the company, a most shocking occurrence happen- 
 ed. In a cellar under the lodge room, which was 
 
 an out-building, several barrels of gunpowder 
 were deposited for exportation to Ireland ; the 
 boys in the street, throwing about their wild-fne, 
 serpents, squibs, &c. one or more of them frll into 
 the cellar, and unfortunately communicated to ihe 
 powder, some of which had been spilt through the 
 crevices of the barrels, and occasioned a terrible 
 explosion, in the critical scene where " the devil 
 is in the act of running away with Punch and his 
 wife Joan." The majority of the spectators were 
 killed, including the shewman ; several, severely 
 lacerated and wounded, were driven to a great 
 distance. Poor Mungo was found in a neigh* 
 boujring field, scorched and stunned by the explo- 
 sion, but not dangerourly hurt. On his recovery, 
 taking it for granted the afFecting accident was. to 
 have happened as part of the performance, he ex- 
 claimed, " Oh dam my massa, he send me away in 
 a hurry ! My master dam clever fellow, but uie no- 
 like dis trick ; me give him warning ' ' 
 
THE LADOHINT. PHI LOSOPHl'R. 
 
 m 
 
 PRIVATE PUBLICITY. 
 
 Mr. Harrington having died suddenly, the 
 editor of a paper told his readers he was author 
 of several medical tracts which he had prioately 
 gjven to the public. 
 
 THE EDINBURGH LOUN'GEK. 
 
 I rose this morning about half-past nine, 
 
 At breakfast coffee I consumed pour quatre. 
 Unnumbered i\jUs enriched with marmaiade fine, 
 
 And little balls of butter dished in water, 
 Three eggs, two platefuls of superb cold chine 
 
 (Much recommended to make thin folks fatter) ; 
 And having thus my ballast stow'd on board, 
 Roamed forth to kill a day's time like a lord. 
 How I contrived to pass the whole forenoon, 
 
 I cau't remember though my life were on it; 
 I helped G T. in jotting of a tune, 
 
 And hinted rjjymes to G s for a sonnet ; 
 
 Called at the Knoxs' shop with Miss Balloon, 
 
 And heard her ipsa dixit on a bonnet; 
 Then washed my mouth witn ices, tarts, and 
 
 flummeries, 
 And ginger-beer and soda, at Montgomery's. 
 
 Down Prince's-street I once or twice paraded, 
 And gazed upon these same eternal faces; 
 
 Those beardless beaux and bearded belles, those 
 faded 
 And flashy silks, surtouts. pelisses, laces; 
 
 Those crowds of clerks, astride on hackneys jaded, 
 Prancing and capering with notorial graces ; 
 
 Dreaming enthusiasts who indulge vain whimsies, 
 
 That they might pass in Bond-street or St. James's. 
 
 I saw equestrian and pedestrian vanish 
 —One to a herring in his lonely shop, 
 
 And some of kind gregarious, and more clannish, 
 To club at Wafers' for a mutton-chop ; " 
 
 Myself resolved for once my cares to banish, 
 And give the Cerberus of thought a sop, 
 
 Got Jack's, and Sam's, and Dick's, and Tom's 
 consent, 
 
 And o'er the Mound to Billy Young's we went. 
 
 L am uot nice, I care nut what I diu«» oa 4 
 
 A sheep's-head, or beef-steak, is all [ wish; 
 Old Homer ! how he loved the spfyav oo»v 
 
 It is the glass-that glorifies the dish. ^ 
 The thing (hat I have always set my mind on 
 
 (A small foundation laid of fowl, nVso, fish) 
 Is out of bottle, pitcher, or punch-bowl 
 To suck reviving solace to my soul. 
 Life's a dull dusty desert, waste and drear, 
 
 With now and then an oasis between, 
 Where palm-trees ri<=e, and fountains gushing clear 
 
 Burst 'neath the shelter of that leafy screen; 
 Haste not your parting steps, when such appear, 
 
 Repose, ye weary travellers, on the green, 
 Horace and Milton, Dante, Burns, and Schiller, 
 Dined at a tavern — when they had " the siller.'* 
 
 And ne'er did poet, epical or tragical, 
 
 At Florence, London, Weimar, Rome, Maybole, 
 
 See time's dark-lauthern glow with hues more 
 magical 
 Than I have witnessed in the Coffin-hole. 
 
 Praise of antiquity a bam and fudge I call, 
 Ne'er past the present let my wishes roll ; 
 
 A fig far all comparing, croaking grumblers, 
 
 Hear me, dear dimpling Billy, bring the tumblers. 
 
 Let blank verse hero, or Spenserian rhymer, 
 Treat ponna Musa with chateau-margout, 
 
 Chateau-la-filte, Johannisberg, Huchejmer, 
 In tajl outlandish glasses green and blue. 
 
 Thanks to my stars, myself, a doggerel chimer. 
 Have nothing with such costly tastes tq do; 
 
 My muse is ahvays kindest when I court her 
 
 O'er whisky-punch, gin-twist, strong beer, and 
 porter. 
 
 And O. my pipe, 'hough in these Dandy days 
 Few love thee, lewer Still their love confess, 
 
 Ne'er let me blush to celehrn*e thy praise, 
 Divine inyentiqn of the age of Bess ! 
 
 I for a moment interrupt my lays 
 
 The tioy tube with loviug ips to, press, 
 
 I'll then come back with a reviving zest, 
 
 And giye Hk?e three more stanzas of my best. 
 
196 
 
 THE LAUGHING Pill LOS OP II, 
 
 A DOUBTFUL CAUSE. 
 
 At York assizes, a barrister met a tinker, and 
 jocosely clapping his hand on the fellow's shoul- 
 der, asked him what news from hell ? " A gVeaf 
 deal," replied the tinker; " a wall b - ' r a!Ien 
 down/' — k ' Well," returned the conn. 'it 
 
 i, to be built up again, I suppose." — " «. dpnH 
 know," says the other; " there is a great dispute 
 about it between the pope and the devil." — 
 " And how," cried the long-robed gentleman, 
 " do you think the matter -will go?"—" I don't 
 know," answered the tinker; " the pope has the 
 most money, but the devil has the most lawyers." 
 
 HAND AND FOOT. 
 
 An Irish officer having hurt his. foot, applied 
 for cure to the late Mr. Kelly, the surgeon. Kelly 
 and he having quarrelled, he quitted him before 
 the cure was completed, and put himself under 
 the management of another surgeon. Notwith- 
 standing this, Kelly brought him a bill of thirty 
 pounds, which the hero objecting to, the cause 
 was tried in Westminster Hall, where the counsel 
 employed for the defendant beginning an ha- 
 rangue which the captain thought irrelevant to 
 the cause, the captain interrupted him with — " My 
 lord, and gentlemen of the jury, I will state the 
 real fact in one minute. The real case was this; 
 I hurt my foot, and applied to Mr. Kelly to cure 
 it, but during five weeks curing, it grew worse 
 ivery day, and as I at last found he wanted to 
 nake a hand of my foot, I left him, and took it to 
 mother surgeon." 
 
 EPITAPH ON A TAYLOR. 
 
 Here lies poor Snip, who when he first began, 
 Bade fair to be the ninth part of a man; 
 In earth he lies, remov'd from all abuse, 
 Who, while alive, oft prov'd himself a goose; 
 But, as a goose to live must surely eat, 
 He dealt in cabbage — a most glorious treat. 
 To cut and clip, and stitch, he knew full well, 
 His work was done, and now he's gone to hell. 
 
 ODE ON THE SUN. 
 A young gentleman, at the university of Cam- 
 bridge, known to have a pretty knack at making 
 verses, was one day seized with the furor scri 
 bendi, ana determined to write an ode on the Sun. 
 The weather was uncommonly sultry, and feeling 
 his imagination peculiarly glowing, he began his 
 ode as follows — 
 
 " The sun's perpendicular heat, 
 " Had illumined the depth of the sea.' 
 This done, he scratched his head for another 
 thought, but in vain. The beams of Phoebus 
 sometimes inspire with genius, and sometimes 
 with sleep. With our poet they had the latter 
 effect, for in a few seconds he sunk back motion- 
 less in his chair. A fellow-collegian, who hap- 
 pened at this inauspicious moment to enter the 
 room, saw his situation, and seeing tiie beginning 
 of the new-born ode lying on the table before 
 him, he took the pen and wickedly completed 
 the stanza as follows 
 
 " The sun's perpendicular heat, 
 
 Had illumined the depth of the sea; 
 And the fishes beginning to sweat, 
 / Cried, d— n it, 'how hot we shall be." 
 1\ THE THREE CROSSES. 
 
 Dean Swift, in his journeys on foot, was accus- 
 tomed to stop for refreshment or rest at the neat 
 little ale-houses by the road-side. One of these, 
 between Dunchurch and Daventry, was distin- 
 guished by the sign of the three crosses, in refer- 
 ence to the three intersecting ways which fixed 
 the site of the house. At this, the dean caiied for 
 his breakfast; but the landlady, being engaged 
 with accommodating her more constant customers, 
 some waggoners, and staying to settle an alterca- 
 tion which unexpectedly arose, kept him wailing, 
 quite inattenfive to his repeated exclamations. 
 He took from his pocket a diamond, and wrote 
 on every pane of glass in the room:— - 
 To the Landlord. 
 There hang three crosses at thy door ; 
 Hang up thy wife, and she'll make four. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 197 
 
 AMUSEMENTS OF MODERN YOUNG MEN. 
 
 Gaming, talking, swearing, drinking, 
 
 Hunting, shooting, never thinking ; 
 " Chattering nonsense all day long, 
 
 Humming half an opera-song ; 
 
 Choosing baubles, rings, and jewels; 
 
 Writing verses, fighting duels. 
 
 Mincing words in conversation, 
 
 Ridiculing al! the nation. 
 
 Admiring their own pretty faces, 
 
 As if possessed of all the graces; 
 
 And, though no bigger than a rat, 
 
 Peeping under each girl's hat. 
 
 THE GENTLE GIANTESS. 
 The widow Blncket, of Oxford, says a modern 
 writer, is the largest female I ever had the pleasure 
 of beholding. There may be her parallel upon the 
 earth, but surely I never skw it. I take her to be 
 lineally- descended from the maid's aunt of Brain- 
 ford, who caused Master Ford such uneasiness. She 
 hath Athmtean shoulders ; and,asshestoopeth in her 
 gait — vvitlj as few otTenc.es to answer for in her 
 own particular as any of Eve's daughters — her 
 back seems broad enough to bear ihe blame of all 
 the peccadillos that have been committed since 
 Adam, She girdeth her waist— or what she is 
 pleased to esteem as such — nearly up to her shoul- 
 ders, from beneath which, that huge dorsal ex- 
 panse, in mountainous declivity, emergeth. Re- 
 spect for her alone preventeth the idle boys, 1 who 
 follow her about in shoals, whenever she cooieth 
 abroad, from getting up and riding. But her 
 presence infallibly commands a reverence. She 
 is indeed, as the Americans would express i^ 
 something awful. Her person is a burthen to her- 
 self, no le?s than to the ground which bears her. 
 To her mighty bone, she hath a pinguitude withal, 
 which makes the depth of winter to her the most 
 desirable season. Her distress in the warmer sol- 
 stice is pitiable. During the months of July and 
 August, she usually renteth a cool cellar, where 
 ices are kept, whereinto she descendeth when 
 Sirius rageth. She dates from a hot Thursday- 
 
 some twenty-five year* ago. Her apartment in 
 summer is pervious to ihe four winds. Two 
 doors, in north and south direction., and two win- 
 dows, fronting the rising and the setting sun, never 
 closed, from every cardinal point, catch the con- 
 tributory breezes. She loves to enjoy what she 
 calls a quadruple draught. That must be a 
 shrewd zephyr, that can escape her. I owe a 
 painful face-ach, which oppresses me at this mo- 
 ment, to a cold caught sitting by her, one day in 
 last July, at this receipt of coolness. Her fan in 
 ordinary resembleth a banner spread, which she 
 keepeth continually on the alert to detect the least 
 breeze. She possesseth an active and gadding 
 mind, totally incommensurate with her person. 
 No one delighteth more than herself in country 
 exercises and pastimes. I have passed many an 
 agreeable holiday with her in her favourite park 
 at Woodstock. She performs her part in these 
 delightful amnulatory excursions by the aid of a 
 portable garden-chair. She setteth out with you 
 at a fair foot gallop, which she keepeth up till 
 you are both well breathed, and then she reposeth 
 for a few seconds. Then she is up again, for a 
 hundred paces or so, and again resteth — her move- 
 ments, on these sprightly occasions, being some- 
 thing between walking and flying. Her great 
 weight seemeth to propel her forward, ostrich- 
 fashion. In this kind of relieved marching, I 
 have traversed with her many scores of acres on 
 those -well-wooded and well-watered domains. 
 Her delight at Oxford is in the public walks and 
 gardens, where, when the weather is not too op- 
 pressive, she pas?eth much of her valuable time. 
 There is a bench at Maudlin, or rather, situated 
 between the frontiers of that and ******'s college 
 — some litigation latterly, about repairs, has 
 vested the property of it finally in ******'s— 
 where at the hour of noon she is ordinarily to be 
 found sitting — so she calls it by courtesy — but in 
 fact, pressing and breaking it down with her 
 enormous settlement; as both those Foundations, 
 who, however, are good-natured enough to wink 
 at it, have found, I believe, to their cost. Here 
 
198 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER; 
 
 she taketh the fresh air, principally at vacation 
 times, when the walks are freest from interruption 
 of the younger fry of students. Here she passeth 
 her idle hours, not idly, but generally accom- 
 panied with a book — blest if she can but intercept 
 some resident Fellow (as usually there are some of 
 that brood left behind at these periods) ; or stray 
 Waster of Arts (to most of whom she is better 
 known than their dinner bell); with whom she 
 may confer upon any curious topic of literature. I 
 have seen these shy gownsmen, who truly set but a 
 very slight value upon female conversation, cast a 
 hawk's eye upon her from the length of Maudlin 
 grove, and warily glide off into another walk — 
 true monks as they are, and ungently neglecting 
 the delicacies of her polished converse, for their 
 own perverse and uncommunicating solitariness ! 
 Within doors her principal diversion is music, 
 vocal and instrumental, in both which she is no 
 mean professor. Her voice is wonderfully fine; 
 but till I got used to it, I confess it staggered me. 
 It is for all the world like that of a piping bul- 
 finch, while from her size and stature you %vould 
 expect notes to drown the deep organ. The 
 shake, which most fine singers reserve for the 
 close or cadence, by some unaccountable flexi- 
 bility, or tremulousness of pipe, she carrieth quite 
 through the composition ; so that her time, to a 
 common air or ballad, keeps double motion, like 
 the earth — running the primary circuit of the tune, 
 and still revolving upon its own axis. The effect, 
 as I said before, when you are used to it/ is as 
 agreeable as it is altogether new and surprising. 
 The spacious apartment of her outward frame 
 lodgeth a soul 'in all respects disproportionate. Of 
 more than mortal make, ^he evinceth withal a 
 trembling sensibility, a yielding infirmity of pur- 
 pose, a quick susceptibility to reproach, and all 
 the train of diffident and blushing virtues, which 
 for their habitation usually seek out a feeble 
 frame, an attenuated and meagre constitution. 
 With more than man's bulk, her humours and oc- 
 cupations are eminently feminine, She sighs 
 
 l?eirrg six foot high. She langnishefh—heing two 
 
 feet wide. She worketh slender sprigs upon the 
 delicate muslin — her fingers being capable of 
 moulding a Colossus. She sippetb her wine out 
 of her glass daintily — her capacity being that of a 
 tun of Heidelburg. She goeth mincingly with 
 those feet of hers — whose solidity need not fear 
 the black ox's pressure. Softest, and largest of 
 thy sex, adieu! by what parting tribute may [ 
 salute thee — last and best of the Titanesses — 
 Ogress, fed with milk instead of blood — not least, 
 or least haudsome among Oxford's stately struc- 
 tures—Oxford, who, in its deadest lime of vaca- 
 tion, can never properly be said to be empty, 
 having thee to fill it. 
 
 ON AN UNDERTAKER. 
 Here lies Bob Master. — Faith ! 'twas very hard, 
 
 To take away our honest Robin's breath; 
 Yet surely Robin was full well prepared — 
 
 Rcbin was always looking out for death. 
 
 STANDARD MERIT. 
 Fletcher, bishop of Nismis, was the son of A 
 tallow-chandler. A proud duke once endeavour- 
 ed to mortify the prelate, by saying at the levee 
 that he smelt of tallow ; to which the other re- 
 plied, ** My lord, 1 am the son of a chandler, 'tis 
 true, and if your lordship had been the same, yoii 
 would have remained a tallow-chandler all the 
 days of your life." 
 
 OLD ANAGRAMS. 
 Arresting very well with this agrees, 
 It is a stinger worse than wasps or bees, 
 The very word includes the prisoner's fates ; 
 Arresting briefly claps them up in grates. 
 To all good verses prisons are great foes, 
 And many poets they keep fast, in prose. 
 Again, this very word portends small hopes, 
 For he that's in a prison is in ropes, 
 Makes woeful purchase of calamities, 
 And finds in it no profit, or no prise: 
 Filth, cold, and hunger, dwell within the 
 
 door, 
 And thus a prison always rfotb nip sort 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 199 
 
 PARISIAN ENGLISH. 
 
 Chaucer laughs at the French spoken in his 
 <iays;\in London. 
 
 " After the school at Stratford at the Bow." 
 
 The Parisians have probably some such school 
 in the neighbourhood for teaching; a peculiar dia- 
 lect of the English language; and the abundant 
 influx of our countrymen into the French metro- 
 polis of late years, has brought this dialect into 
 much repute. One often sees emblazoned in large 
 letters, over a shop-window, meant probably as 
 a decoy, but more likely, one would think, to 
 operate as a warning to English travellers — 
 " Here they sprKK the English." 
 
 Which (being translated) merely declares that 
 the English language is spoken in the house. A lady 
 from London, perceiving this inscription over a 
 milliner's door, its import being explained to her, 
 she went in, when, having with some difficulty 
 found out which of the Damoiselles it was that 
 was skilled in spiking the English, she attempted 
 to converse with her about a hat which she was 
 trying on. After many vain attempts on both 
 sides, the young French woman at last, observing 
 that the hat was too small, brought out this accu- 
 rate phrase: 
 
 " Is, matame, he is too little big." 
 
 Tn the Rue St. Honore, a hair-dresser has the 
 following captivating invitation : 
 
 " Hear to cut off hares in English fashion." 
 
 In the Rue de Faubourg Poissonniere dwells a 
 lady mimed Conraizy, who tells the world, by 
 means of her sign-board, that she is a 
 
 " Washerwoman and wash embroideries, lace, 
 gauzes, silk-stockings, also household's furniture's 
 in linen table-cloths, napkins, and Calender's all 
 at one's desire ; she will also charge herself of tiie 
 entertaining the works that is to be done to all 
 sorts of linen for the body, and will be exactly 
 delivered at one's desire." 
 
 ON A WAGGONER. 
 Here I be — dead and gone, 
 Kill'd by a fall from a waggon. 
 
 CAUSE OF GOUT. 
 
 Alderman Barber one morning, while he watrin 
 bed, was visited by a friend, who being told he wa9 
 ill of the gout, walked into his chamber without 
 any ceremony. The visitor sat down, and entered 
 into conversation ; but observed the curtains to be 
 close drawn, and the alderman to be more reserved 
 than usual, and looking under the bed, spied a 
 woman's shoe. " Well, Mr. Alderman," said he, 
 " I hope you are not dangerously ill."—" I am 
 miserably tormented in my feet," replied the al- 
 derman. " I do not wonder at that," said the 
 other, '* when you wear such narrow-toed shoes." 
 THE LAW-SUIT. 
 
 An Irishman loaded with faggots, cried loudly 
 as he passed along, " Make way! make way!" 
 that people might beware in time, as is usual. A 
 coxcomb, who though! it beneath him to take the 
 fellow's counsel, pushed hy him, and had his coat 
 considerably torn. He flew in a violent passion, 
 and had the man taken before a magistrate, plead- 
 ing for payment of the damage. The Irishman 
 was interrogated, but he merely opened his mouth 
 without speaking. " Are you dumb ? my friend," 
 said the magistrate. " No," interrupted the plain- 
 tiff, " mere malice, because he cannot defend him- 
 self; he appears dumb now, but when we met thin 
 morning, he bawled, ' Make way ! make way !' 
 like a very devil; you might have heard him a 
 mile." — " And why, then," said the magistrate, 
 " did you not make way.'''' 
 
 THE SWEEP. 
 
 An Irish gentleman being confined to his bed by 
 a severe fit of the gout, some sweeps were employ- 
 ed to clean the chimnies of the house next to him, 
 and one of the boys by mistake came down into 
 the gentleman's apartment. The boy, confused at 
 his mistake, seeing the gentleman in bed, said, 
 ** Sir, my master will come for you presently.'* 
 " Will he, by G — d !" said the gentleman, leaping 
 out of bed ; " I beg to be excused staying here 
 any longer then," and immediately ran down 
 stairs. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 DRY HUMOUR, OR THE FAST-DAY. 
 'Twas on a day, but not the last, 
 When orders for a gen'ral fast 
 
 Were from the cockpit given ; 
 That men no more in sin might plunge, 
 But wipe all out by sorrow's sponge, 
 
 And make their odds all even. 
 When soaking Sam, who ev'ry day, 
 To sot's hole went, to souse his clay, 
 
 There found the doors all harr'd ; 
 For Sam the front and postern try'd^ 
 But all in vain for entrance ply'd, 
 
 A case he thought quite hard ! 
 And hard and harder while he knock'd, 
 Silence within his batfring mocfc'd, 
 
 'Till Sally op'd the sash; 
 And cry'd, " Fray cease your rat tat tat, 
 This day we are resolv'd, that's flat, 
 
 To fast, and take no cash." 
 " Why then," says Sam,~in sulky strain, 
 " Fast on. I'll rap no more in vain, 
 
 Upset me if I do ; 
 But you're a pack of curst queer elves, 
 Who not content to fast yourselves, 
 
 Must make your doors fast too !" 
 
 DIFFICULTY OF ONE IRISHMAN KNOWING 
 ANOTHER. 
 An Irishman having one night endeavoured to 
 display his abilities at a public eloquent society, 
 his oration was severely criticised and animad- 
 verted upon by several orators in the opposition, 
 and especially by one of his countrymen. When 
 the society broke up, he thus addressed himself 
 to a gentleman of his acquaintance, " did not you 
 observe what a silly argument that Scotch fellow 
 made against me," — 'J Why, it was your own 
 dear countryman," said the gentleman, " how 
 came you not to perceive it?'' — " No, surely," 
 replied Pat; u Why then, my dear, I will tell 
 you the reason ; you know that if there be two 
 people in a company that have eat gariick, they 
 cannot smell it upon each other." 
 
 A QUARRELSOME RHYME. 
 One morning, Otway happened to call upon 
 Dryden, (who lived opposite to him in Fetter- 
 lane), at breakfast-time; but was told, by his 
 servant, his master was gone to breakfast with the 
 Earl of Pembroke. " Very well," said Otway, 
 " tell your master, I will call to-morrow." The 
 next morning he called, according to his promise. 
 " Weil, is your master at home now ?" said he to 
 the servant. "No, sir, he 4s gone to breakfast 
 with the Duke of Buckinghamshire," said the ser- 
 vant. Otway, whether actuated by envy, pride, 
 or disappointment, then took up a piece of chalk 
 which lay on the table, and wrote over the door, 
 as he went out, 
 
 " Here lives Dryden, a poet and a wit." 
 The next morning Dryden recognised the hand- 
 writing, and told the servant to go to Mr. Otway 
 and desire his company to breakfast with him ; in 
 the mean time he wrote, with the same piece of 
 chalk, underneath Otway'sline of 
 
 " Here lives Dryden, a poet and a wit." 
 " This was written-by Otway, opposite^' 
 This, however, offended Otway, who told him 
 he might keep his wit and his breakfast to himself. 
 
 THE DRUNKARD. 
 Ned Soaker lay stretch'd on the bed of grim death, 
 By brandy burnt up, gasping deeply for breath; 
 A friend, with much fervor, advised him to think 
 On his awful approach to Eternity's brink ! 
 Cries Ned, " for such matters I duly have cared, 
 And am well for a world of pure spirits prepared." 
 A YOUNG WIFE WELL MATCHED. 
 A gentleman of Hamp:hire had, by his will, in 
 the year 1738, ordered, that after his decease his 
 body should be thrown into the sea beyond the 
 Needles, which was accordingly complied with. 
 On making enquiry into his motives for this sin- 
 gular disposal of his remains, it was discovered, 
 that he made it for the purpose of disappointing a 
 young wife, who had frequently assured him, by 
 way of consolation, that she would dance upon his 
 grave. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 201 
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A BRICKLAYER. 
 Some trifling repairs are required at your house, 
 tend for a bricklayer ; lie comes, probably attend- 
 ed with a man, to receive your directions, occu- 
 pying ten minutes. The next morning he sends a 
 workman and a labourer; the workman begins to 
 cut away ; die labourer returns for materials, and 
 brings a dozen bricks and one hod of mortar, em- 
 ployed half a day. The job being finished, 
 " What uas used. Paddy ?" enquires the mau of 
 ihe labourer. " Snre it is a score of bricks and 
 iivo hods of mortar," replies the assistant brick- 
 layer. Returned home, the foreman makes en- 
 quiry, " two score of bricks, and four hods of 
 mortar," answers the man ; the foreman makes a 
 memorandum for the clerk, three score bricks and 
 six hods of mortar; the clerk enters in his mas- 
 ter's books, one hundred bricks and eight hods of 
 mortar; the master, looking over his accounts, 
 alters the entry to one hundred and fifty bricks and 
 twelve hods of mortar ; and thus the bill is ren- 
 dered : — 
 
 Mr. William Lack wit, 
 
 Dr. to Thomas Singleton. 
 To taking up and relaying brick step in cellar; 
 underpinning wall; plaistering copper; stop- 
 ping rat-holes ; repairing ceiling ; self, man, 
 and labourer, one day and a half; one hundred 
 and fifty paving bricks; twelve hods of mortar ; 
 six baskets of rubbish cartedaway, hi. 19s-. lOd. 
 
 THE BANK CLERK AND THE STABLE-KEEPERS. 
 Shewing how Peter was undone, 
 By taking care of Number One. 
 Of Peter Prim (so Johnson would have written) 
 
 Let me indulge in the remembrance ; — Peter ! 
 Thy formal phiz has oft my fancy smitten, 
 
 For sure the Bank had never a completer 
 Quiz among its thousand clerks, 
 Than he who now elicits our remarks. 
 Prim was a formalist, a prig, 
 
 A solemn fop, an office Martinet, 
 One of those small precisians who look big 
 
 If half-an-hour before their time they get 
 
 To an appointment, and abuse those elves 
 Who are not over-punctual, like themselves. 
 
 If you should mark his powder'd head betimes, 
 
 And polish'd shoes in Lothbury, 
 You know the hour, for the three-quarter chimes 
 
 Invariably struck as he went by. 
 From morning fines he always saved his gammon 
 Not from his hate of sloth, but love of Mammon. 
 For Peter had a special eye 
 To Number One ; — his charity 
 Af home beginning, ne'er extends, 
 
 But where it started had its end too ; 
 And as to lending cash to friends. 
 Luckily he had none to lend to. 
 No purchases so cheap as his, 
 
 While no one's bargains went so far, 
 And though in dress a deadly quiz, 
 
 No Quaker more particular. 
 This live automaton, who seem'd 
 To move by clock-work, ever keen 
 To I've upon the saving plan, 
 Had soon the honour to be deem'd 
 That selfish, heartless, cold machine, 
 Call'd in the city — a warm man. 
 A Bank Director once, who dwelt at Chigweil, 
 - Prim to a turtle-feast invited, 
 And as the reader knows the prig well, 
 
 I need not say he went, delighted ! 
 For great men, when they let you slice their meat 
 May give a slice of loan — a richei treat. 
 
 No stage leaves Chigweil after eight, 
 
 Which was too ea*iy to come back ; 
 So, after much debate, 
 
 Peter resolved to hire a hack, 
 The more inclined to this because he knew 
 In London Wall, at Number Two, 
 An economic stable-keeper, 
 From whom he hoped to get one cheaper. 
 Behold him mounted on his jade ; 
 
 A perfect Johnny Gilpin figure, 
 But the good bargain he had made 
 
 Compensating For sneer and sniggei, 
 K 5 
 
202 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER'. 
 
 He trotted on— arrived— sat down, 
 
 Devoured enough for six or seven, 
 His horse remounted, and reach'd town 
 
 As he had fix'd, exactly at eleven. 
 But whether habit led him, or the Fates, 
 
 To give a preference to Number One 
 
 (Ashe had always done) 
 Or that the darkness jumbled the two gates, 
 Certain it is he gave that bell a drag, 
 
 Instead of Number Two, 
 Rode in — dismounted — left his nag, 
 
 And homeward hurried without more ado. 
 
 Some days elapsed and no one came 
 To bring the bill, or payment claim 
 He 'gan to hope 'twas overlooked, 
 Forgotten quite, or never book'd — - 
 An error which the honesty of Prim 
 Would ne'er have rectified, if left to him. 
 After six weeks, however, comes a pair 
 Of groom-like looking men, 
 
 Each with a bill, which Peter they submit to; 
 One for the six weeks hire of a bay mare, 
 
 Ard one for six weeks keep of ditto ; 
 Together — twenty-two pounds ten ! 
 
 The tale got wind.— What, Peter make a blun- 
 der! 
 There was no end of joke, and quiz, and won- 
 der, 
 Which, with the loss of cash, so mortified 
 Prim, that he suffer'd an attack 
 Of wile, and bargain'd with a quack. 
 Who daily swore to cure him — till he died ! 
 When, as no wfH was found, 
 
 His scraped, and saved, and hoarded store 
 Went to a man to whom some months before, 
 He had refused to lend a pound. 
 
 THE MUNIFICENT SAINT. 
 A devout lady offered up a prayer to St. Igna- 
 tius for the conversion of her husband ; a few 
 days after, the man died ; ** What a good saint is 
 our Ignatius I" exclaimed the consolable widow, 
 " he bestows on us more benefits than we ask 
 &>r!" 
 
 DANGER OF SCEPTICISM. 
 Mallet, the poet, was so fond of being thought 
 a sceptic, that he indulged this weakness On all 
 occasions. His wife, it is said, was a complete 
 convert to his doctrines, and even the servants 
 stared at their master's bold arguments, without 
 being poisoned by their influence. One fellow, 
 however, was determined to practise what Mallet 
 was so solicitous to propagate, and robbed his 
 master's house Being pursued, and brought to 
 justice, Mallet attended, and taxed him severely 
 with ingratitude and dishonesty. " Sir," said the 
 fellow, " i have often heard you talk of the im- 
 possibility of a future state; that, after death, 
 there was neither reward for virtue, nor punish- 
 ment for vice, and this tempted me to commit the 
 robbery." — " Well ! but, you rascal," replied 
 Mallet, 4i bad you no fear of the gallows ?"— 
 " Master," said the culprit, looking sternly at 
 him, " what is it to you, if I had a mind to ven- 
 ture that ? You had removed my greatest terror ; 
 why should I fear the less V' 
 
 THE ELEVENTH COMMANDMENT. 
 
 ArchbishopUsher, when crossing the channel from 
 Ireland to this country, was wrecked on some part 
 of the coast of Wales. On this disastrous occasion, 
 after having reached the shore, he made the best 
 of his way to the house of a clergyman, who resid- 
 ed not far from the spot on which he was cast. 
 Without communicating his name, or his dignified 
 station, the archbishop introduced himself as a 
 brother clergyman in distress, and stated the par- 
 ticulars of his misfortune. The Cambrian divine 
 suspecting his unknown visitor to be an impostor, 
 gave him no very courteous reception ; and having 
 intimated his suspicions, said, *' I dare say you 
 can't tell me how many commandments there are.'* 
 — '* There are eleven," replied the archbishop, 
 very meekly. " Repeat the eleventh," rejoined 
 the other, " and I will relieve you;"—" Put it 
 in -practice and you will," answered the primate. 
 " A new commandment I give unto you, that yoft 
 love one another." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 203 
 
 BFN JONSON A BRICKLAYER. 
 Ben Jonson, in the early part of his life, was a 
 bricklayer, bnt was then distinguished for his wit 
 and poetical talents. A lady of considerable hu- 
 mour, who had heard of him, passing him one 
 morning while he was at work, addressed him 
 thus — 
 
 " With line and rule, 
 Works many a fool ; 
 Good morning, master bricklayer." 
 To this Ben replied, 
 
 " In silk and scarlet 
 Walks many a harlo:; 
 Good morning, madam." 
 
 CIVIC CONUNDRUM. 
 A fashionable emigrant being invited to dine 
 with a city alderman, in whose hands he had lodg- 
 ed money, was for a long time tormented with ex- 
 travagant encomiums on a giblet-pie, which his 
 host was most voraciously devouring. *' Have 
 you ever, mounseer,'" said the alderman, tk have 
 you ever seen any thing like it ?" — " Nothing in 
 my life," replied the other, " except your wor- 
 ship's wig." — "Ha! ha!" exclaimed the alder- 
 man, " that's a good one. But pray how is my 
 wig like that pie." — " Pardie," rejoined the 
 Frenchman, " because it has a goose's head in it." 
 
 THE ROPE. 
 Two persons quarrelling in a public-house, one 
 told the other he knew what woald hang him. 
 " You area liar," replied his antagonist, " and I 
 defy you to prove~your wards," when the first 
 produced a rope, and said, " this would hang 
 you." 
 
 THE TART REPLY. 
 Says the squire to the parson, '* if you were to lie 
 In this dirt, we could make a substantial goose pie: 
 Quoth the parson, " if you in your grave were ex- 
 tended, [mended,) 
 (Which 1 hope won't happen till your morals are 
 And I read the prayers, by a much better rule, 
 The parish might call me a goose-bury fool" 
 
 CRITIC IN BLACK, AND THE LISPING LADY. 
 
 A Mail-coach Adventure. 
 
 The night was dark and stormy, nor except 
 from the occasional glimpse of a lamp as we pass- 
 ed through Ii-lington, could I form any idea of the 
 physiognomy of my three companions-; nor was it 
 until the constant use of a snuff-box, that set the 
 whole coach sneezing, that I discovered the person 
 opposite me to be a Frenchman ; and although we 
 were four in the inside, as loving and as compact, 
 aye, as potted beef, it was at least two hours before 
 one word was spoken. In another corner of the 
 coach was a lady with a pug-dog, which she hug- 
 ged with all possible care and attention ; and op- 
 posite her was a cynical old gentleman in black, 
 who might have passed either for a poor parson, a 
 rich attorney, a bishop, or a Welch judge, and 
 seemed to have taken an oath of solemn silence the 
 moment he entered the coach ; this seemed to give 
 great uneasiness to the Frenchman, who, by a va- 
 riety of sighs, shrugs, hints, and peeps at the old 
 gentleman, tried to break the ice which had hi- 
 therto frozen up all conversation. However, he 
 made an attempt at a thaw of words; perhaps it 
 would be requisite to tell you what he meant 
 before I tell you what he said ; he meant to say 
 that the coach he was in had started first from 
 town, but had suffered another to pass it, which 
 he had thus expressed — Mister Sare, dat coach 
 wich was fairst bye and bye is now behind very— 
 but observing he was not attended to, he address- 
 ed himself particularly to the old gentleman in 
 black, sitting opposite to him, whoseemed to have 
 taken an oath of solemn silence the moment he en- 
 tered the coach — and all he could get in reply 
 was a frown, an occasional nod, or a grunt, ugh ; 
 Ah, ah, monsieur, vat is dat ugh ? Je ne com- 
 prend pas, monsieur; I don't understand dat ugh. 
 Parlez vous Francois, monsieur, comment voits 
 portez vous, monsieur. How you do, sair ? Ugh, 
 ugh! Are you not well, sair? e'est bien drole 
 — e'est bien comical ; ah, that gentleman shall 
 not speak to me. — Are you not well, sair ? I am 
 
204 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 not very well myself, it is very warm, it is quite 
 de day of de dog — and whenever it is de day of 
 dog, I have de bad of de head. I have not drink 
 a present, mais, I must confess last night I did 
 drink for sixpence too much of your ponch — Ugh. 
 However the Frenchman having heard that perse- 
 verance always answered, he was now determined 
 to try its effect, by putting a direct question to 
 him, and trusting to his politeness for an answer — 
 " dites moi, tell me, sare, are you not well ;" at 
 last the old gentleman was provoked to a reply, 
 and said, though not in the civilest tone in the 
 ■world, " I am remarkably well, I was very well 
 ■when I left town ; I am very well now, and if I 
 should happen to be taken ill, sir, I'll let you 
 know." Finding all attempts at conversation 
 were ineffectual with him, he determined to try 
 his persuasion with the softer sex : he then turned 
 round to the lady with the pug-dog ; and here he 
 was rather more fortunate in his application — 
 being one of those who are called agreeable com- 
 panions in a stage-coach, who would rather talk 
 nonsense than not talk at all. When he said, 
 " madam, shall I have de pleasure to talk to you, 
 because dat gentleman shall not speak to me ?" — 
 " Oh, yes, monsieur," with a lisp, " with the 
 greatest pleasure in life, what shall we talk about?" 
 — " Oh ! madame, it is not for me to chuse — vat 
 you please, theatrique, politique, Belle Lettre — 
 Letters ; talking of letters, pray what do you 
 think of the letter S, madame ?" — " The letter S, 
 sir !" — " Madame, I don't understand you." — " I 
 mean, sir, with respect to the pronunciation on it." 
 — " Pronunciation, oh ! madame, I cannot pro- 
 nounce it at all ; it is de diable himself ; it is true 
 we have it in our language;, merely pro forma at 
 the end*6f'our words ; but there he lay wriggling 
 and twisting about like a French horn upon piano- 
 forte. Oh ! the letter S. is le diable himself." — 
 "O! sir, I think it is the sweetest sounding 
 letter in the whole alphabet; you must know, 
 sir, I always cultivate the sound of the S, for I 
 was married to Mr. Simmer, the soap-boiler, in 
 •St. Mary Axe; he used to say, ' Selina, my soul, 
 
 you have the sweetest lisp ;' so I've retained my 
 lisp, though I have lost him poor soul. You must 
 know, sir, so fond am I of the letter S, i have 
 taught my daughter Selina to cultivate it in the 
 same way; and I never take a servant into my 
 house if she has not got an S in her name, i've 
 got. a servant called Sukey, and another called 
 Sophy, a cat called Frisk, and a dog called Smo- 
 lensko ; so I told my daughter Selina, to repeat 
 a little lesson after me — that was to tell Sukey to 
 bring the scissars off the sofa, to cut Smolensky's 
 tail." 
 
 THE MEDDLER. 
 
 " Will and Hal, love their bottle." Well, Prat- 
 tle why not? [sot. 
 
 Drink as much as they can, 'twill not make you a 
 
 ' k PhiVs purse has fin'd deep for illicit amours." 
 
 Well, Prattle, the damage is Philip's, not yours. 
 
 " Surface revels all night, and sleeps out half the 
 day." 
 
 Well, Prattle, his pranks will not turn your head 
 grey. 
 
 " Charles, ruin'd by gambling, begs alms to sub- 
 sist."" 
 
 Well, Prattle, subscribe or withhold as you list. 
 
 Be less busy, good Prattle, with others affairs! 
 
 Keep an eye to concernsof your own, and not theiiSi 
 
 You're in risk of arrest, Prattle, that's your con- 
 cern ; 
 
 None will lend you a doit, and you've no means 
 to earn. 
 
 Your wife's ever drunk, Prattle, that concemsyou. 
 
 Miss Prattle, your daughter's with child — and that 
 too. 
 
 I could preach thus a week, did my taste so incline, 
 
 But, Prattle, your scrapes are no businesssof mine. 
 
 SWEARING BY PROXY. 
 
 Cardinal Dubois used frequently, in searching 
 after any thing he wanted, to swear excessively. 
 One of his clerks told hira, " Your eminence had 
 better hire a man to swear for ycu, and then you 
 will gain so much time." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 DEATH BY DEGREES. 
 A physician who attended Fontenelle, once 
 found him drinking coffee. " My good sir," said 
 this sage descendant of Galen, " 1 am astonished 
 to see yon swallowing the juice of that pernicious 
 berry! coffee is a slow poison!" — "I should 
 think it must be slow," said Fonienelle, " for I 
 have drunk it with great perseverance for more 
 than forty years." 
 
 EPITAPH, NEAR SHEFFIELD. 
 
 Thomas Hughes, 
 Removed from over the way. 
 
 GALLANT MOURNING. 
 
 The Spaniards do not often pay hyperbolical 
 compliments; but one of their admired writers, 
 
 says, *' They 
 ; he had corn- 
 
 speaking of a lady's black eyes 
 were in mourning for the murders 
 mitted." 
 
 saint Michael's chair. 
 
 Merrily, merrily, rung the bells, 
 
 The bells of St. Michael's tower, 
 When Richard Penlake, and Rebecca his wife, 
 
 Arriv'd at St. Michael's door. 
 
 Richard Penlake was a cheerful man, 
 
 Cheerful and frank and free. 
 But he led a sad life, with Rebecca his wife, 
 
 For a terrible shrew was she. 
 Richard Penlake a scolding would take, 
 
 Till patience avail'd no longer: 
 Then Richard Penlake, his crabstick would take 
 
 And shew her that he was the stronger. 
 
 Rebecca his wife had often wish'd 
 
 To sit in St. Michael's chair 
 For she should be the mistress then, 
 
 If she had once sat there. 
 
 It chanced that Richard Penlake fell sick, 
 They thought that he would have died ; 
 
 Rebecca his wife made a vow for his life, 
 As she knelt by his bed-side. 
 
 205 
 
 and spare 
 
 " Now hear ray prayer, St. Michael 
 
 My husband's life," quoth she; 
 " Aud to thine altar we will go, 
 
 Six marks to give to thee." 
 
 Richard Penlake repeated (he vow, 
 
 For woundidly sick was he ; 
 " Save me, St. Michael, and we will go 
 
 Six marks to give to thee." 
 
 When Richard grew well, Rebecca his wife 
 Teazed him by night and by day ; 
 
 " O mine own dear! for you I fear 
 If we the vow delay." 
 
 Merrily, merrily, rung the bells, 
 
 The bells of St Michael's tower, 
 When Richard Penlake, and Rebecca his wife, 
 
 Arriv'd at St. Michael's door. 
 
 Six marks they on the altar laid, 
 
 And Richard knelt in prayer: 
 She left him to pray, and stole away, 
 
 To sit in St. Michael's chair. 
 
 Up the tower Rebecca ran, 
 
 Round, and round, and round ; 
 'Twas a giddy sight to stand a-top, 
 
 And look upon the ground. 
 
 " A curse on the ringers, for rocking 
 
 The tower!" Rebecca cried, 
 As over the church battlements 
 
 She strode, with a long stride. 
 
 " A blessing on St. Michael's chair!" 
 
 She said as she sat down ; 
 Merrily, merrily, rung the bells, 
 
 And out Rebecca was thrown. 
 
 Tidings to Richard Penlake were brought 
 
 That his good wife was dead : 
 " Now shall we toll, for her good soul, 
 
 The great church-bell ?" they said. 
 
 " Toll at her burying," quoth Richard Penlake, 
 
 " Toll at her burying," quoth he 
 :i But don't disturb the ringers now, 
 
 In compliment to me." 
 
206 
 
 TIMELY FEAR. 
 Foote once went to spend his Christmas at a 
 friend's, when the weather being very cold, and 
 but bad fires, occasioned by a scarcity of wood, 
 Foote was determined to make his visit as short 
 as possible ; accordingly, on the third day after he 
 •went there, he ordered his chaise^ and was pre- 
 paring to set out for town. A lady seeing him 
 ■with his boot on in the morning, tisked him what 
 hurry he was in ? and pressed him to stay. '■' No, 
 no," says Foote^ '" was I to stay any longer, you 
 would not let me have a leg to stand otf."-^-' c Why, 
 sure," says the lady, " we do not drink so hard." 
 — •* No," says the wit, " but there is so little 
 wood in your house, that I am afraid one of your 
 servants may light the fires some morning with my 
 right leg." 
 
 THE PIG. 
 
 An Irishman seeing his neighbour driving an 
 unruly pig, asked what he was going to do with 
 it? 4i Faith!"' replied Paddy, "lam taking it 
 home to help the children to eat their potatoes." 
 
 THE FEMALE MICROCOSM. 
 To a Lady, who said, Man is a little World. 
 The world in small men are, you say ; 
 And why not women too, I pray ? 
 All species they as well comprise, 
 That trace earth, waters, or the skies. 
 
 The lamb their childhood well explains; 
 They're skittish fillies in their teens,; 
 Often the name of cats prevails, 
 Creatures that play much with their tails. 
 Yet are believ'd from seas to spring, 
 "When the dissembling Syrens sins;; 
 Some are call'd thornbacks — for their years ; 
 Some crocodiles — when they're in tears. 
 But they are parrots when they talk ; 
 They're peacocks proud whene'er they walk ; 
 
 Yet turtles, meeting face to face; 
 They're rails, who at tea-tables sway^ 
 They're bats, who chase their twilight prey ; 
 
 And other things in proper place. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 The Lady's Jnswer. 
 A little world, I say again, 
 Meets in the motley creature man 
 His single species all explains, 
 Earth, ocean, or the air contains. 
 
 The ape much in his youth appears; 
 The go&l, the stbine, or wolf in years; 
 Often, the name of curs prevails, 
 Tor fawning at their patrons tails. 
 
 Yet thought some ocean monster when 
 We see a state leviathan ; 
 Some are call'd codsheads — wanting brains; 
 Some sharks — where gaining reigns. 
 
 But blackbirds, when in pulpits zealous ; 
 They're horned oiols, when husbands jealous; 
 
 And jays, at court, who spark it ; 
 They're gulls, whom corporations glean, 
 Canary birds at 'Change are seen, 
 
 And capons — in Haymarket. 
 
 PICTURE DABBLING. 
 
 P , a picture-dealer, met S in the street 
 
 one day, and the following conversation ensued — 
 
 S. lou look deplorably sad, what is the matter 
 with you? 
 
 P. Oh ! I am the unluckiest dog alive, I am 
 almost ruined; I have lost fifty pounds this 
 morning. 
 
 S. How, how, man ; I never knew you had so 
 much to lose? 
 
 P. Oh! it is always my luck, always unfortu- 
 nate ; a heavy loss, a dead loss ! 
 
 S. (Sympathetically.) But how happened it? 
 
 jP. Why, last week 1 bought a volume of plates 
 at a sale for forty shillings; and as they were in 
 
 the way of Lord G 's collection, I offered 
 
 them to him. He appointed to call this morning; 
 I went; his Lord.-lup was engaged, and 1 sal 
 down in the anti-room. 1 had resolved to put a 
 good fise pounds profit on, and began looking 
 over the prints, that 1 might see where to insist on 
 their value, it struck me that they looked better 
 than before, and I determined to ask ten pounds 
 for them! Well,, sir, I waited and waited till 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 207 
 
 almost tired; and I said to myself, by G , I 
 
 won't waste my time so long for nothing, for any 
 lord in Christendom ; I'll ask fifteen pounds!! 
 Another half-hour passed, and I got so mad, that 
 I swore to myself I'd ask thirty, and I had made 
 up my mind to this when I was called in. His 
 Lordship was in desperate good humour, and be- 
 haved so kindly, that when he inquired the price, 
 I plumped it at once fifty pounds ! ! J 
 
 S. And so by your greed you lost your pur- 
 chaser! 
 
 P. No, d — n it; he gave me a check for the 
 money in a moment, without haggling; 1 might 
 just as easily have got a hundred ; but I am always 
 unlucky ! ! 
 
 fiddler's DUEL. 
 
 A desperate, and probably a most bloody duel, 
 was once prevented in the musical world, by the 
 interference of a friendly second fiddle, fortunately 
 screwed up in concert pilch for the harmonic pur- 
 pose. The minor-keyed Cramer, it seems, called 
 out the con-furioso Giornowichi, for an orchestra 
 insult on his father. It happening that neither of 
 the primos having a bow to draw the next day, he- 
 roically agreed to draw a trigger against the first 
 string of each other's life. The instruments were 
 prepared ; but, happily, the time was not duly 
 kept, as one of them only began his dead march to 
 Paddington in three flats, while the other had run 
 his rapid fugue to the termination of the passage, 
 marked for the last movement, where he remained 
 con poco affetiuoso ! From this error in counting, 
 a confused interval of twenty-four bars rest took 
 place, in which the two-part friend happily threw 
 in a melting cantabile of his own composing; this 
 brought the principal performers into unison with 
 each other, by an amicable rondeau, which, after a 
 long shake, closed the performauce by a very 
 laughable finale. 
 
 A PAIR OF EAR-RINGS. 
 Happy the mnn the music nursed 
 
 Towards Phoebus' temple beckoned ? 
 He lets some fair one sing the first, 
 And takes at sight the second. 
 
 Not mine that tuneful height to gain, 
 
 And yet, to stem disaster, 
 Methought I might, by care and pain* 
 
 Some few duettos master. 
 
 Kate, fair preceptress, taught me well* 
 
 By dint of toil, to bellow 
 A second to Mozart's " Crudel," 
 
 And Mayer's " Vecchierello." 
 
 Push'd on by her assiduous aid, 
 In strains not much like Banti, 
 
 Through " Con un Aria" next I strayed> 
 Composed by Fioravanti. 
 
 Thus taught my tuneful part to bear* 
 
 To Kate, assiduous girl, 
 In courtesy I sent a pair 
 
 Of earrings deck'd with pearl. 
 
 My Mercury to Kate's abode 
 
 On agile pinions flew, 
 And fleetly by the self-same road 
 
 Brought back this billet-doux: — 
 
 " A boon like this, dear sir, appears 
 
 The best you can bestow ; 
 'Tis fit you decorate my ears — 
 
 You've bored them long ago. 
 
 NICKNAMES. 
 
 Lord Howe was called, by his sailors, Black 
 Dick, from his dark complexion. 
 
 Old Vestris, the celebrated dancer, christened 
 himself the Dieu de Danse ! 
 
 Queen Anne was called, by Walpole, Goody 
 Anne, the wet-nurse of the church. 
 
 The great Duke of Marlborough got the nick- 
 name of Silly, from a habitude of expression he 
 had. If a question was asked, he would reply^ 
 " Oh silly !" Then will you do so and so? — " Oh 
 silly! silly!" was the eternal reply. 
 
 Lord-chancellor Northington, remarkable for 
 his profligate and brutal manner, procured him* 
 self the nickname of Surly Bob. 
 
 Lord Sandwich got the name of Jemmy Twiteher. 
 
208 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Judge Jeffreys had a book dedicated to him, as 
 Earl of Flint. 
 
 The late Lord Temple obtained the nickname 
 of Squire Gawkey. 
 
 Dr. Halifax', when at the University, was known 
 by the nickname of Louse, from his courting the 
 company of the heads of houses. 
 
 Sir Fletcher Norton, eleven years Speaker of 
 the House of Commons, got the epithet of Sir 
 Bullface Doublefee ! 
 
 When Julius Caesar entered Rome in triumph, 
 his own soldiers said, '■ Romans, take care of 
 your wives and daughters — Bald-pate is come 
 again." 
 
 Socrates was nicknamed Flat-nose. 
 
 Frederick the First got the name of Barbarossa, 
 from the colour of his beard. 
 
 CHANGING NAMES. 
 
 Thomas Knight, Esq. whose paternal name was 
 Brodnax, which, very early in life, he changed 
 for that of May. afterwards, by a statute of 9th 
 Geo. II. took the name of Knight, which oc- 
 casioned a facetious member of the House to get 
 up, and propose " a general bill, to enable that 
 gentleman to take what name he pleased." 
 
 THE JOVIAL PRIEST'S CONFESSION. 
 
 1 devise to end my days — in a tavern drinking, 
 May some Christian hold for me — the glass when 
 
 I am shrinking ; 
 That the Cherubim may cry — when they see me 
 
 sinking, 
 God be merciful to a soul — of this gentleman's 
 
 way of thinking. 
 
 A glass of wine amazingly — enlighteneth one's 
 
 internals, 
 'Tis wings reddened with nectar — that fly up to 
 
 supernals. 
 Bottles crack'd in taverns — have much the sweeter 
 
 kernels, [nals. 
 
 Than the sups allowed to us — in the college jour- 
 
 Every one by nature hath — a mould which he was 
 cast in: [write fasting ; 
 
 I happen to be one of those — who never could 
 By a single little boy — I should be surpass'd in 
 Writing so: I'd just as lief — be buried, tomb'd, 
 and grass'd in. 
 
 Every one by nature hath — a gift too; a dotal lm%. 
 I, when I make verses — do get the inspiration 
 Of the very best of wine — that comes into the 
 
 nation; 
 It maketli sermons to abound — for edification. 
 
 Just as liquor floweth good — floweth forth my 
 
 lay so; 
 But I must moreover eat — or I could not sav so ; 
 Nought it avaiieth inwardly — should I write all 
 
 day so ; [Naso, 
 
 But with God's grace after meat — I beat Ovidius 
 
 Neither is there given to me — prophetic anima- 
 tion, [saturation ; 
 
 Unless when I have eat and drank - yea, cv'n to 
 
 Then, in my upper story — hath Bacchus domi- 
 nation, [relation. 
 
 And Phoebus rusheth into me, and beggareth aM 
 
 AMERICAN ODDITIES. 
 Captains Lewis and Clarke, in their Travels to 
 the Source of the Missouri, among other tribes of 
 Indians, fell in with that of the Soux, whose 
 chiefs made a speech, but whose names, being 
 literally translated from their own dialect, were, 
 Mahtoree, that is, white crane; Carkapaha, that 
 is, crowds-head; Lenasawa, id est, black-cat; 
 Neswanja, that is, big-ox; Sananona, iron-eyes 
 There were other eminent men among them, with 
 equally eminent names ; as, Big Horse, White 
 Horse, Little Thief, Hospitality, Blackbird, Wolf- 
 man, Little Raven, Little Fox, Big White, and Big 
 Thief. These eccentricities are only equalled by 
 the names of the American rivers and creeks, such 
 as Big Muddy River, Little Muddy River, Little 
 Shallow River, Good, Woman River, Little Good 
 Woman Creek, Grindstone Creek, Cupboard Creek, 
 Biscuit Creek, Blowing-Jly Creek. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 209 
 
 SURGEON OUTWITTED, 
 It is a superstition with some surgeons who beg 
 the bodies of condemned malefactors, to go to the 
 gaol and bargain for the carcase with the criminal 
 himself. An Irishman once dii =;o, and wasadmitted 
 to the condemned men on the morning wherein 
 they died. The surgeon communicated his busi- 
 ness, and fell into discourse with a little fellow 
 who refused twelve shillings, and insisted upon 
 fifteen for his body. Another fellow said, " Look 
 you, Mr. Surgeon, that little dry fellow, who has 
 been half-starved all his life, and is now half dead 
 with fear, cannot answer your purpose. I have 
 ever lived highly and freely, my veins are full, I 
 have not pined in imprisonment ; you see ray crest 
 swells to your knife, and after Jack Catch has 
 done, upon my honour, you'll find me as sound as 
 e'er a bullock in any of the markets. Come, for 
 twenty shillings I am your man." Says the Sur- 
 geon, " done, there's agu>nea." The witty rogue 
 took the money, and as soon as he had it in his fist, 
 cried, " Bite, I'm to be hang'd in c/tci'ns." 
 
 MADRIGAL, 
 The idea from Quevedo. 
 O wherefore, Julia, heavenly maid! 
 Is thy sweet bosom thus display'd ? 
 I've heard admiring swains unfold, 
 It is so cruel and so cold, 
 That, love, the darling of the fair, 
 Was never known to nestle there : — 
 Oh ! lure the wand'rer to thy arms, 
 Or from our sight conceal thy charms; — 
 Cherish emotions he inspires, 
 Or cease to kindle fierce desires ; — 
 For never should the Graces rove, 
 Where chill disdain has banish'd Love. 
 
 GOOD WISHES. 
 
 An Irish hangman, upon asking a criminal about 
 to be executed for the customary bequest, and re- 
 ceiving it, exclaimed, " Long life to your honor," i 
 and at the same moment drew the bolt which 
 launched the unfortunate man into eternity. 
 
 LEFT-HANDED. 
 
 A prisoner in the bar at the Mayor's Court, in 
 being called on to plead to an indictment for lar- 
 ceny, was told by the clerk to hold up his right- 
 hand. The man immediately held up his left- 
 hand ; " hold up your right-hand," said the clerk. 
 — " Plase your honour," still- keeping his left 
 hand up, " plase your honour I am left-handed." 
 
 SHADES OF LIFE. 
 This is the very best world we live in — 
 To spend, to lend or to give in ; 
 But it is the worst world that ever was known — 
 To beg, or to borrow, or get one's owa. 
 
 IRISH PETITION. 
 | To the Honourable Commissioners of the Excise: 
 The humble Petition of Patrick O'Connor, 
 Blarney O'Bryan, and Carney Macquire, to be 
 appointed Inspectors and Overlookers (vulgarly 
 called Excisemen) for the Port of Cork, in the 
 Kingdom of Ireland. 
 
 And whereas we your aforesaid Petitioners 
 will, both by night and day, and all night and all 
 day, and we will come and go, and walk and ride, 
 and take and bring, and send and fetch and carry, 
 and we will see all, seize all, and more than all, 
 and every thing and nothing at all, of all such 
 goods and commodities as may be, can be, and 
 cannot be, liable to pay duty. 
 
 And we your aforesaid Petitioners will, at all 
 times, and no time, and time past, be present and 
 absent, and be backwards and forwards, and be- 
 hind and before, and be no where, and every 
 where, and here and there, and no where at all. 
 
 And we your aforesaid Petitioners will come 
 and inform, and give information and notice, duly 
 and truly, wisely and honestly, according to the 
 matter as we know and don't know, and we will 
 not rob or cheat the king any more than is now 
 lawfully practised. 
 
 And we your aforesaid Petitioners, all of us, are 
 protestants and gentlemen of reputation, and we 
 love the king, and we value him, and we will 
 
THE LAUGHING PHItOSOPHKft. 
 
 210 
 
 fight for him and against him, and we will run for 
 him and from him, to serve him or any of his fa- 
 mily and acquaintance, as far and as much farther 
 as lies in our power, dead or alive, as long as we 
 live. 
 
 Witness our several and separate hands in con- 
 junction, and oneand all three of us both together. 
 
 Patrick O'Connor. 
 
 Blarney O' Brian. 
 
 Carney Macquire. 
 ON IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. 
 Of old, the debtor that insolvent died, 
 ^gypt the rites of sepulture denied ; 
 A different trade enlightened Christians drive, 
 And charitably bury him alive. > 
 
 POLITE RORBERS. 
 
 A gang of robbers broke into the house of a 
 gentleman in Stanhope-street, and stole some plate 
 and other articles. A few days afterwards, the 
 following notice appeared in the Daily Adver- 
 tiser: — 
 
 ** A Card.^—Mr. R. of Stanhope-street, presents 
 his most respectful compliments to the gentlemen 
 who did him the honour of eating a couple of 
 roast chickens, drinking sundry tankards of ale, 
 and three bottles of Madeira, &c. at his house on 
 Monday night. In their haste they took away the 
 tankard ; they are heartily welcome to that ; to 
 the table-spoons, and to the light guineas which 
 were in an old red morocco pocket-book, they 
 are also heartily welcome; but in the said pocket- 
 book there were several loose papers, which, 
 consisting of private memorandums, receipts, &c. 
 can be of no use to his kind and friendly visitors, 
 but are important to him; he, therefore, hopes 
 and trusts they will be so polite as to take some 
 opportunity of returning them. For an old family 
 watch, which was in the same drawer, he cannot 
 ask on the same terms; but if any way could be 
 pointed out, by which he could replace it with 
 twice as many heavy guineas as they can get for 
 it. he would gladly be the purchaser j and is, with 
 iue respect* theirs, &c. W. R." 
 
 A packet was a few nights afterwards dropped 
 into the area of his house, containing the books 
 and papers, with this apologetical epistle: 
 
 " Sir,- — You are quite a gemmen. Your madery 
 we he's hot use to, and it got into our upper- 
 works, or we would never have cribbed your 
 papers. They be all marched back agen with 
 the red hook. Your ale was mortal good, and 
 the tankard and spoons were made into a white 
 soup in Duke's plaice, two hours before dey-lite* 
 The old family watch-cases were, at the same 
 time, made into a brown gravy, and the guts are 
 new christened, and on their voyage to Holland. 
 If they had not been transported, you should have 
 had 'em agen, for you are quite a gemmen, but 
 you know as they have been christened, and got a 
 new name, they would no longer be of your old 
 family; and soe, sir, we have nothing more to 
 say, but that we be much obligated to you, and 
 shall be glad to sarve and wissit you by nite or 
 by day, and are yours, till death, 
 
 " A. B. and C." 
 
 THE PAINTER. 
 
 In ev'ry town and village round, 
 A marvellous wight is always found, 
 Whose works, in signs and wonders shown, 
 Make both himself and others known 
 Within the reach of mortal ken : 
 Beyond that space, like other men, 
 His works unseen, unheard his name, 
 Remain untrumpeted by Fame. 
 
 For each vain dauber must not hope 
 A Dryden, Addison, or Pope 
 To celebrate his art and skill, 
 Although these brethren of the quill 
 Were loud and lavish in applause 
 Of sev'ral, with as little ca,use; 
 Whilst many such, for want of brass 
 Or gold, their lives obscurely pass ; 
 Nor when they die shall marble bust 
 Be placed above their humble dust; 
 No monument, no epitaph. 
 To make fools stare, and wise folks lau^h* 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 fll 
 
 Telling, (hat Nature, now alive all, 
 
 Is glad she's rid of such a rival ; 
 
 Though, finding him depriv'd of breath, 
 
 Fears that herself may suffer death." 
 
 Contented by their works to live, 
 
 Till death the fatal stroke shall give ; 
 
 Yet not entirely 'reft of praise, 
 
 While simple clowns admiring gaze, 
 
 Seeing the globe hang by a pole; 
 
 The moon that never shall be whole. 
 
 With greater wonder they behold 
 
 Sol, radiant blaze in burnished gold ; 
 
 The rainbow too, placed as a sign, 
 
 In earthly colours deign'd to shine ; 
 
 And hither by a fixed star, 
 
 Strangers are guided from afar.- — 
 
 Leaving the sky, sometimes he deigns 
 
 To mimic what the world contains; 
 
 His hand obstetric, head prolific, 
 
 Produce strange figures hieroglyphic 
 
 Of man, of beast, of fish, and fowl 
 
 Of insect, plant; jug, glass, and bowl; 
 
 Yet not confined to nature's storej 
 
 His fertile fancy strikes out more 
 
 And much more strange than she can orag on, 
 
 Hire monsters! such as fiery dragon ; 
 
 Of dreadful shape and dismal hue, 
 
 The griffin green, the lion blue; 
 
 Piicenix unique, by him so doom'd. 
 
 Dies in self-kindled flames consiim'd ; 
 
 Pelican, shedding her heart's blood, 
 
 Feeds her unfilial infant brood; 
 
 A white-lead angel here descends. 
 
 And there a lamp-black fiend attends ; 
 
 Half fish, half woman, 'bove the surges 
 
 A mermaid from the sea emerges ; 
 
 A satyr, somewhat more than deini- 
 
 Brute, and some others T cou'd name ye; 
 
 So great his art, so vast his genius, 
 
 That thing*, however heterogeneous, 
 
 Are by his pow'r combined together, 
 
 As if they all were of a feather ; 
 
 But never with presumptuous hand 
 
 Hoes he transgres-s heav'n's high command', 
 
 For nothing with or without breath* 
 
 In heaven above or earth beneath, 
 
 Or in the waters under earthy 
 
 Is like that to which his brush gives birth i 
 
 But all so like 'twould pose a witch 
 
 Well to determine which is which, 
 
 Had not that happy art been fouud 
 
 Which ** gives a form to empty sound," 
 
 And makes the hand talk to the eye ; 
 
 The traveller else, as passing by, * 
 
 Might for a cow mistake the steed 
 
 But that ev'n " he who runs may read," 
 
 In capitals, *' the wtite horse inn,'* 
 
 And in less characters, " wine, beer, and gin." 
 
 When England Charles for Noll did barter, 
 
 Made one protector — t'other a martyr ; 
 
 When roundheads ruled our cavaliers, 
 
 The arts and sciences in tears 
 
 Mourn'd their protector's hapless fate, 
 
 Gentle, generous, good, and great ; 
 
 It happen'd in these times fanatic, 
 
 Such artist with his host ran a lick, 
 
 Five pounds or so — a desperate score ! 
 
 (It might be less, or might be more,) 
 
 Of their discourse the constant theme 
 
 Whene'er they met ; at last this scheme, 
 
 Poor Brush, quite harass'd, did impart, 
 
 To pay each other art for art 
 
 Quoth he, they differ but in name, 
 
 The principle of both's the same, 
 
 On drawing both depend, 'tis clear — 
 
 I pictures draw, and you draw beer. 
 
 Then since they are so near a-kin, 
 
 To quarrel would be shame and sin." 
 
 The host, who could not mend the matter. 
 Thought something still than nothing better ; 
 In short, without much farther jargon, 
 They both agreed, and struck a bargain ; 
 The host, in want of a new sign, 
 Gives him the subject, or design; 
 Not dictated by wicked witj 
 But taken out of holy writ; 
 Nathless, resolved to make a show, 
 He would have Pharaoh's overthrew* 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 212 
 
 Home went the painter, overjoy'd, 
 To find himself again etnploy'd, 
 Got his materials and tools, i 
 
 And laid the board all over gules, 
 But how to place the figures there 
 Required more skiil than fell to's share ! 
 He beat his head, and rubb'd his brow, 
 But rubb'd in vain, as I do now. 
 Tir'd of the task, he soon gave o'er, 
 Said that should do — he said, nay swore. 
 
 Next day returning to his host, 
 He of his piece began to boast; — 
 " I'm sure it must be to your liking, 
 It is so very bold and striking." 
 " Well, say no more, — let's see, — dispatch, — 
 Zounds; — what is this! — a mere red splatch !" 
 " Red splatch d'ye call't ? — 'tis the Red Sea." 
 " The devil it is ! — well, that may be; 
 Then where are Pharaoh and his host?" — 
 " Drown'd in the sea, you know they're lost." 
 *' True — the Egyptians went to the bottom, 
 But the Israelites, where have you got 'em 
 And Moses too, who was their guide ?" 
 " Oh ! they're all safe on t'other side." 
 The host, who hitherto had stickled, 
 Finding at last his fancy tickled. 
 His visage now began t' uncloud, 
 ' And now he laugh'd both long and loud. 
 When he recover'd from his fit, 
 Quoth he, " Friend Brush, I love thy wit, 
 And like thy joke, yet much I doubt 
 Some dunces may not find it out ; 
 Therefore " pro bono publico," 
 In order that all men may know, 
 In letters fair write under, (bids he) 
 *' This is Pharaoh in the Red Sea." 
 
 curran's soul of wit. 
 
 Currau's ruling passion was his joke. In his 
 last illness, his physician observing in the morning 
 that he seemed to cough with more difficulty, he 
 answered, " That is rather surprising, as 1 have 
 been practising all night." 
 
 CHOICE COMPANY. 
 An Indian of the Abipones (an equestrian peo 
 pie of South America) was about to be baptised, 
 *' You will certainly go to heaven after this cere- 
 mony, wh.en you die," said the Jesuit, who was 
 to christen him ; the Indian was content. Just as 
 the water was on the point of being thrown, how- 
 ever, a doubt arose in the mind of the savage. 
 "■ By this water I shall go to heaven ?" said he. 
 " As sure as there are mosquiios in America," an- 
 swered the father. " But my friend*, who will not 
 be baptised, they must goto hell ?" — " Assuredly, 
 they shall not miss, a man of them." — " Then, ex- 
 cuse me ; I am sorry to have given you this trou- 
 ble, but I shall choose to go too." 
 
 THE MONUMENT 
 
 The celebrated Duke of Buckingham is said to 
 have written on the Monument the following 
 lines : — 
 
 Here stand I, 
 
 The Lord knows why; 
 
 But if I fall, 
 
 Have at ye all. 
 
 VILLAGE WORTHIES. 
 
 The tailor, a pale-faced fellow, playsthe clarionet 
 in the church choir, and, being a great musical ge- 
 nius, has frequent meetings of the band at his house, 
 where they " make night hideous" by their con- 
 certs. He is, in consequence, high in favour with 
 Master Simon; and, through his influence, has 
 the making, or rather marring, of all the liveries 
 of tie hall, which generally look as though they 
 had beer, cut out by one of those scientific tailors 
 of the I 1 lying Island of Laputa, who took measure 
 of their customers with a quadrant. The tailor, 
 in fact, might rise to be one of the nlonied men of 
 the village, was he not rather too prone to gossip, 
 and kef p holidays, and give concerts, and blowall 
 his substance, real and personal, through his clario- 
 net, which literally keeps him poor both in body 
 and estate. He has, for the present, thrown by all 
 his regular work, and sulfe red the breeches of the 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 215 
 
 village to go unmade and unmended, while he is 
 occupied in making garlands of party-coloured 
 rag?, in imitation of flowers, for the decoration of 
 the May -pole. 
 
 Another of Master -Simon's counsellors is the 
 apothecary, a short, and rather fat man, with a 
 pair of prominent eye?, that diverge like those of 
 a lobster. He is t lie village wise man; very sen- 
 tentious, and full of profound remarks on shallow 
 subjects. Master Simon often quotes his sayings, 
 and mentions him as rather an extraordinary man, 
 and even consults him occasionally in desperate 
 cases of the dogs and horses. Indeed, he seems to 
 have been- overwhelmed by the apothecary's phi- 
 losophy, which is exactly one observation deep, 
 consisting of indisputable maxims, such as may be 
 gathered from the mottos of tobacco-boxes. I had 
 a specimen of bis philosophy in my very first con- 
 versation with him; in the course of which he ob- 
 served, with great solemnity and emphasis, that 
 t; man is a very compound of wisdom and folly ;" 
 on which Master Simon, who had hold of my arm, 
 pressed very hard on it, and whispered in my ear, 
 " that's a devilish shrewd remark !" 
 
 THE FOUR AGES OF WOMEN. 
 
 Phyllis, more covetous than tender, 
 
 Since she could not delay the bliss, 
 One day exacted of Lysander 
 
 Thirty sheep to grant a kiss. 
 
 The next day ; what a change in trading ! 
 
 The merchandize became more cheap 
 The swain demanded of the maiden 
 
 Thirty kisses for a sheep. 
 
 Phyllis more am'rous now becoming, 
 
 And fearing to displease her swain, 
 Was but too happy to return hitn 
 
 All his sheep, one kiss to gain. 
 
 Phyllis, next day, all prud'ry over, 
 
 With sheep and dog would fain have bought 
 
 One tender kiss fier fickle lover 
 
 On young Lisette bestow'd for nought 
 
 ANECDOTE OF BURNS. 
 Than Burns perhaps no man more severely in- 
 flicted the casligation of reproof. The following- 
 anecdote will illustrate this fact. The conversa- 
 tion one night at the King's Arms Inn, Dumfries, 
 turning on the death of a townsman, whose funeral 
 was to take place on the following day, " By the 
 bye," said one of the company, addressing himself 
 to Burns," I wish you would lend me your black 
 coat for the occasion, my own being rather out of 
 repair." — " Having myself to attend the same fu- 
 neral," answered Burns, " I am sorry that I can- 
 not lead yon my sables, but I can recommend a 
 mostexcellentsuhstitute ; throw your character over 
 your shoulders — that will be the blackest coat you 
 ever wore in your life-time !" 
 
 PUNNING EPITAPH. 
 The following epitaph* engraven on a tombstone 
 in the HoulF, a large burying^ground in the town 
 of Dundee, affords a striking example of the taste 
 for playing on words, which prevailed towards 
 the end of the sixteenth, and the beginning of the 
 following century. 
 
 On Mr. Alex. Spcid. 
 Time flies with speed, with speed Speid's fled, 
 To the dark regions of the dead ; 
 With speed consumption's sorrows flew, 
 And stopt Speid's speed for Speid it slew. 
 Miss Spcid beheld, with frantic woe, 
 Poor Spcid with speed turn pale as snow, 
 And beat her breast, and tore her hair, 
 For Spcid, poor Speid, was all her care. 
 Let's learn of Speid with speed to fly, 
 From sin, since we like Sped must die. 
 HORACE WALPOLE AND HIS TIMES. 
 The eccentric Horace Walpolesays, that in his 
 times the modes of Christianity were exhausted, and 
 could not furnish novelty enough to fix attention. 
 Zinzendorffe plied his Moravians with nudities, 
 yet made few enthusiasts. Whitfield and the roe- 
 thodists made more money than disturbances: his 
 largest crop of proselytes lay amongservant-maids; 
 and his warmest devotees went to Bedlam without 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 314 
 
 going to war. Bower, whom some thought they 
 had detected as a Jesuit, and who at most was but 
 detected as an impostor, had laid open the prac- 
 tices of the catholics, and detailed the establish- 
 ments of the Jesuits in the very heart of London, 
 without occasioning either alarm or murmur 
 against those fathers. Yet, uninflammable as the 
 times were, they carried a great mixture of super- 
 stition. Masquerades had been abolished because 
 there had been an earthquake at Lisbon ; and 
 when the last jubilee masquerade was exhibited at 
 Ranelagh, the ale-houses and roads to Chelsea 
 ■tyere crowded with drunken people, who assem- 
 ©led to denounce the judgements of God on per- 
 sons of fashion, whose greatest sin was dressing 
 themselves ridiculously. A more inconvenient 
 reformation, and not a more sensible one, was set 
 on foot by societies of tradesmen, who denounced 
 to the magistrates all bakers that baked or. sold 
 bread on Sundays. Alum, and the variety of spu- 
 rious ingredients with which bread, and indeed all 
 Wares were adulterated all the week round, gave 
 not half so much offence as the vent of the chief 
 necessary of life on the seventh day. Some of the 
 ciders too of our own church, seeing what harvests 
 were brought into the tabernacles of Whitfield 
 and Wesley, by familiarising God's word to the 
 vulgar, and by elevating vulgar language, had the 
 discretion to apply the same call to their own loat 
 sheep, and tinkled back their 1 old women by 
 sounding the brass of the methodists. One Ash- 
 ton, a quaint and fashionable preacher of the or- 
 thodox, talked to the people in a phrase com- 
 pounded of cant and politics ; he reproved them 
 for not coming so church, where " God keeps a 
 day but sees little company ;" and informed them 
 that" our ancestors loved powder and ball, and 
 so did our generals ; but the latter loved them for 
 their hair and hands." 
 
 ROYAL LEARNING. 
 The present King of Persia made many inqui- 
 ries of Sir Harford Jones respecting America, 
 saying, '* What sort of a place is it ? How do you 
 get at it ? Ts it under ground, or how ?" 
 
 MATRIMONIAL FELICITY, AM> CONJUGAL 
 AFFECTION. 
 
 A messenger, in breathless haste, 
 
 With hair erected on his head, 
 In Cornaro's chamber prest, 
 
 And rush'd up to the sleeper's bed; 
 The sleeper lay in sweet repose, 
 
 The wasted strength of life restoring, 
 Lulled by the music of his nose, 
 
 Which mortals vulgarly call snoring. 
 The stranger shook him pretty roughly, 
 
 And tweaked his nose, and pulled his hair: 
 At last Cornaro, rather gruffly, 
 
 Asked what the devil brought him there ? 
 The messenger, in great distress, 
 
 At length in broken accents said, 
 *' O ! sir! they've sent me here express 
 
 To tell you that your wife is dead !" 
 " Indeed !" the widowed man replied, 
 Turning upou his other side, 
 And pulling o'er his eyes his cap, 
 In hopes of finishing his nap — 
 " To-morrow, when I wake, you'll see 
 How long and loud my grief shall be!" 
 
 CHISWICK. 
 Dr. Blunderton, the Vector of Chiswick, at the 
 time the Earl of Burlington built his Italian villa 
 there, had been made to believe that the house 
 was entirely formed of cheese. The doctor had re- 
 lated this report so often, that he, by degrees, had 
 persuaded himself of its truth. The tale thus ob- 
 tained a foundation, which was this. The earj had t 
 2omehow or other, discovered that the etvmon of 
 Chiswick was Cheese-wick ; and, therefore, to per- 
 suade the world that he was an antiquary, he con- 
 sulted with the best architects in Italy upon style, 
 but had not satisfied himself about the article ot* 
 materials. Brick was vulgar, and any body 
 might have a brick-house. Freestone was exces- 
 sively dear. At length, upon consulting an Ita- 
 lian abbate, who had an uncie in the province of 
 Lodi, where the Parmesan cheese is made, the 
 Italian had the address, for the benefitof his uncle, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 who was the greatest factor in the province, to 
 persuade the earl to case ti i s house with the parings 
 of Parmesan cheese. The oddity of the idea 
 struck the earl, and some thousands of the oldest 
 and largest Parmesan cheeses were selected for 
 the purpose, and shipped from Venice for Eng- 
 land. The house was cased with this curious en- 
 velope with a cement brought from Italy, and the 
 earl's cheesemonger's bill amounted to an enor- 
 jnous sum, which exceeded the bills of all the 
 other artificers put together. A fine summer saw 
 the house completed ; but, from the damps, dews, 
 and rains, of the winter, the cheese facades became 
 soft, and, by their odour, attracted all the rats in 
 the parish," which, added to the company they 
 brought with them from the Thames, so much un- 
 dermined and damaged the casing of the house, 
 that the abbaie was anathematized, and thecrusta- 
 tion of the building was changed to what it now is. 
 LOVE AND PRIDE. 
 
 Now how shall I do with ruy love and my pride? 
 
 Dear Dick, give me counsel, if friendship has 
 
 any : [p'v'd, 
 
 " Prithee purge, or let blood," surly Richard re- 
 
 '* And forget the coquette in the arms of your 
 Nanny." 
 
 A GHOST STORY. 
 
 A certain bishop and a justice of peace had 
 frequent altercations on the subject of ghosts. 
 The bishop was a zealous defender of their reality 
 —the justice somewhat sceptical. The bishop one 
 day met his friend, and the justice told him, that 
 since their last conference on the subject, he had 
 had ocular demonstration which convinced him of 
 the existence of ghosts. " I rejoice at your con- 
 version,''' replied the bishop ; " give me the cir- 
 cumstance that produced it, with all the particu- 
 .ars ; ocular demonstration you say." — " Yes, my 
 lord, as I lay last night in" my bed, — about the 
 twelfth hour 1 was awaked by an uncommon 
 noise, and heard something coming up stairs." 
 *' Go on." — '* Alarmed at the noise, I drew my 
 curtain!" — *' Proceed!" — " And saw a faint 
 
 2L5 
 
 glimmering light enter nay chamber."—" Of a 
 blue colour, was it not?" — " Of a pale blue /— The 
 light was followed by a tall, meagre, stern figure, 
 who appeared as an old man of seventy years of 
 age, arrayed in a long light-coloured rug gown, 
 bound round with a leathern girdle; his beard. 
 thick and grisly, his hair scant and straight, his 
 face of a dark sable hue, on his head a large fur 
 cap, and in his hand a long staff'. Terror seized 
 my whole frame — I trembled till the bed almost 
 shook, and cold drops hung on every limb ; the 
 figure, with a slow and solemn step, stalked nearer 
 and nearer," — " Did you not speak to it? There 
 was money hid, and murder committed, without 
 doubt." — " My lord, I did speak to it. I adjured 
 it, by all that was holy, to tell me whence and why 
 it thus appeared?"—" And in Heaven's name, 
 what was the reply ?" — " It was accompanied^ 
 my lord, by three strokes of his staff" upon the 
 floor, so loud that they made the room ring again ; 
 when, holding up his lantern, and then waving it 
 close to my eyes, he told me he was the watch- 
 man! and came to give me uotice that my street- 
 door was wide open, and unless I arose and shut 
 it, I might chance to be robbed before morning." 
 
 THE PAINTER OF FLORENCE. 
 There once was a Painter in Catholic days, 
 
 Like Job who eschewed all evil ; 
 Still on his Madonnas the curious may gaze, 
 With applause and amazement, but chiefly his 
 praise 
 And delight was in painting the Devil. 
 They were angels compared to the devils he drew, 
 
 Who besieged poor St. Anthony's cell, 
 Such burning hot eyes, such a d — mnable hue, 
 You could even smell brimstone, their breath was. 
 so blue, 
 He painted his devils so well. 
 
 And now had the artist a picture begun, 
 'Twas over the Virgin's church-door; 
 She stood on the dragon, embracing her son, 
 Many dewils already the artist had done, 
 But this must out-do all before. 
 
216 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 The old dragon's imps, as they fled through the air, 
 
 At seeing it, paus'd on the wing, 
 For he had a likeness so just to a hair, [there, 
 That they came, as Apollyon himself had been 
 
 To pay their respects to their king 
 Every child on beholding ii shiver'd with dread, 
 
 And scream'd, as he turned away quick ; 
 Not an old woman saw it, but raising her head, 
 Dropp'd a bead, made a cross on her wrinkles, 
 and said, 
 
 ** God help me from ugly old Nick!" 
 
 What the Painter so earnestly thought on by day, 
 
 He sometimes would dream of by night ; 
 But once he was startled, as sleeping he lay, 
 'Twas no fancy, no dream, he could plainly survey 
 
 That the Devil himself was in sight. 
 " You rascally dauber," old Beelzebub cries, 
 
 " Take heed how you wrong me again ! 
 Though your caricatures for myself I despise. 
 Make me handsomer now in the multitude's eyes, 
 ' Or see if I threaten in vain !" 
 Now the Painter was bold and religious beside, 
 
 And on faith he had certain reliance, 
 So earnestly he all his countenance eyed, 
 And thank'd him for sitting with Catholic pride, 
 
 And sturdily bade him defiance. 
 
 Betimes in the morning the Painter arose, 
 
 He is ready as soon as 'tis light ; 
 Every look, every line, every feature he knows, 
 'Twas fresh to his eye, to his labour he goes. 
 
 And he has the old wicked one quite. 
 
 Happy man, he is sure the resemblance can't fail, 
 The tip of the nose is red hot, [scales, 
 
 There's his grin and his fangs, his skin cover'd with 
 And that — the identical curl of his tail, 
 Not a mark, not a claw is forgot. 
 
 He looks, and retouches again with delight; 
 
 'Tis a portrait complete to his mind ! 
 He touches again, and again feeds his sight, 
 He looks around for applause, and he se*es with 
 
 The original standing; behind. [affright, 
 
 " Fool! idiot!" old Beelzebub grinn'd as he 
 spoke, 
 And stamp'd on the scaffold in ire; 
 The Painter grew pale, for he knew it no joke, 
 'Twas a terrible height, and the scaffolding 
 broke ; 
 And the Devil could wish it no higher. 
 
 " Help ! help me, O Mary," he cried in alarm 
 
 As the scaffold sunk under his feet. 
 From the canvass the Virgin extended her arm, 
 She caught the good Painter, she saved him from 
 harm, 
 
 There were thousands who saw in the street. 
 
 The old dragon fled when the wonder he spied, 
 
 And curs'd his own fruitless endeavour; 
 While the Painter call'd after, his rage to deride, 
 Shook his pallet and brush, in triumph, and cried, 
 "Now I'll paint thee more ugly than ever!" 
 
 TANDEM DRIVING. 
 At length Bill Puncheon sees bis sire laid low; 
 At length Bill Puncheon means to be " the go ;" 
 At length he soars to manage whip and reins ; 
 At length he's " all the kick," from Bow to Staines; 
 At length he drives upon Newmarket sod ; 
 At length he drives, until he drives to — quod. 
 
 ETYMOLOGICAL PUNNING. 
 
 Swift, in his Art of Punning, gives the etymo- 
 logical rule, when a man hunts a pun through 
 every letter and syllable of a word; as, for ex- 
 ample, I am asked, " What is the best word to 
 spend an evening with?" I answer, '■''Potatoes; 
 for there is, po — pot — pota — potat — potatoe r and 
 the reverse, sot a top. 
 
 Achilles, continues he* being a hero of a restless 
 unquiet nature, never gave himself any repose, 
 either in peace or in war; and, therefore, as Guy 
 Earl of Warwick was called a kill-cow, and an- 
 other terrible man a kill-devil, so this general was 
 called a kill-ease, or destroyer of ease, and at 
 length, by corruption, Achilles. 
 
 Andromache, the wife of Hector, he traces thus. 
 Her father was a Scotch gentleman, of a noble - 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 217 
 
 family, still subsisting in that ancient kingdom; 
 but, being a foreigner in Troy, to which city he 
 led some of his countrymen, in the defence of 
 Priam, as Dictys Cretensis learnedly observes, 
 Hector fell in love with his daughter, and the 
 father's name was Andrew Mackay. The young 
 lady was called by the same name, only a little 
 softened to the Grecian accent. 
 
 Home Tooke, in his Diversions of Purley, in- 
 troduces the derivation of King Pepin from the 
 Greek noun osper ! as thus — osper, eper, oper ; 
 diaper; napkin, nipkin, pipkin, pepin — king- — 
 King Pepin ! And, in another work, we find the 
 etymology of pickled cucumber from King Jere- 
 miah ! exempli gratia, King Jeremiah — Jeremiah 
 King; Jerry, king; jerkin, girkin, pickled cu- 
 cumber! Also, the name of Mr. Fox, as derived 
 from a rainy-day; as thus — Rainy-day, rain a 
 little, rain much, rain hard, reyuard, fox ! 
 
 OPTICAL DEFICIENCY 
 A poor man once lost his sight by an accident, 
 and having been placed under some skilful oculist, 
 luckily and strangely recovered it; he was in- 
 structed to use itgradually, and was able at length 
 to look boldly and firmly at distant objects, saw 
 with ease ships on the horizon, boats in the dis- 
 tance, houses, horses, dogs, flies, and even fleas ; 
 but still, to the astonishment of the faculty, he was 
 unable to read the largest type. As reading was 
 to be the criterion of his recovery, away went the 
 disappointed oculists, and doctors, and apotheca- 
 ries, physicking lancetting, lotioning, rubbing, 
 and brushing at the eyes as hard as they possibly 
 could, till at the termination of a fortnight, they 
 had exhausted all their skill, and nearly killed 
 their patient. " Gentlemen," said the sufferer, 
 " I bless you for your exertions, I assure you I 
 see quite well enough. I have sufficiently reco- 
 vered the use of my eyes to satisfy myself; I see 
 those horses and cows five fields distant. I see 
 this gnat upon the window frame — I am satisfied." 
 — " Ah!'' said one of the professors, "but your 
 greatest enjoyment is yet denied to you— you can- 
 
 not yet read even large type, and it is that which 
 convinces us there issomethingyet to do." — w ' That 
 there is, sir," answered the patient, " a great deal 
 to do, to make me read any type, for I never 
 could read at all." 
 
 woman's resolution. 
 O! cry'd Arsenia, long in wedlock blest, 
 Her bead reclining on her husband's breast, 
 u Should death divide thee from thy doating wife, 
 What comfort could be found in widow'd life? 
 How the thought shakes me ! — hcav'n my Strephon 
 
 save, 
 Or give the lost Arsenia half his grave." 
 
 Jove heard the lovely mourner, and approv'd; 
 " And should not wives like this," said he, " be 
 
 lov'd ? 
 Take the soft sorrower at her word ; and try 
 How deeply-rooted woman's vows can lie." 
 'Twas said, and done — the tender Strephon 
 dy'd ; 
 Arsenia two long months — t' out-live him try'd ; 
 But in the third — alas ! — became a bride. 
 
 VICE VERSA 
 A Frenchman once asked what difference there 
 was between M. de Rothschild, the loan broker, 
 and Herod ? " It is," he wa's told, " that Herod 
 was the King of the Jews, and Rothschild the Jew 
 of the Kings." 
 
 BARRISTERS. 
 A gentleman when attending York Assizes, 
 wrote to a friend as follows: — " I spend most of 
 my time in the Nisi-prius Court. Besides that the 
 trials are of a less painful nature than those at the 
 crown end, the bar have certainly there the widest 
 scope for the display of talent. I visited it for the 
 first time on Tuesday, in company with my worthy 
 friend Timothy. We set off &arly in order to se- 
 cure a good place. The streets through which we 
 passed were all alive, and the castle was evidently 
 the centre of general attraction. The bearers of 
 blue bags (for green is now discarded,) were parti- 
 cularly nimble. 
 
218 
 
 " There, with like haste, by several ways they run, 
 Some to undo — and some to be undone." 
 My friend wa>s in danger of laughing outright, 
 when his eye caught a first glimpse of the galaxy 
 of wigs, which " make so many foolish faces wise, 
 and so many wise faces foolish." — " Ode's bob- 
 bins," said ha, '* but they are a rum looking set.'' 
 And sure enough they are. I never look upon 
 them, without being reminded of the Ugly Club at 
 Oxford, mentioned by the Spectator. Some 
 frowned from under deep wig*. These Timothy 
 took to be the Chamber Counsel, of whose unfa- 
 thomable legal knowledge he had often heard. 
 Others mounted^erce wigs, and pert wigs. These, 
 he doubted not, were the formidable lawyers he 
 had read of, who terrify poor witnesses so in cross- 
 examination. A few sported sly wigs ; "and a 
 great many were encumbered with wigs that bore 
 no character at all. All these he set down as the 
 briefless. There were new moon phizzes and full 
 moon phizzes ; sleepy eyes and sleepless eyes ; 
 staring eyes and squinting eyes ; sharp noses and 
 snub noses; hook noses and long noses; twisted 
 noses and twittering noses ; in short, features dif- 
 fering as much from each other as possible, but all 
 agreeing in that true legal char-acteristic — Oddity ! 
 
 " What formidable gloom their faces wear! 
 How wide their front ! — how deep and black the 
 
 rear ! 
 How do their threatening heads each other 
 
 throng V* 
 
 Their employments, also, as Timothy remarked, 
 were some of them equally comical. Those who 
 were not concerned in the cases before the Court, 
 were killing their time, and perhaps smothering 
 their chagrin, by reading a newspaper, or French 
 novel; or sketching caricatures; or ..cracking 
 jokfs; or perpetrating puns. One graceless wag 
 was moulding p^per pellets with his finger and 
 thumb, and discharging them at his second neigh- 
 bour, over the shoulder of the first. Another was 
 scrutinizing a -'bevy of beauties, who occupied 
 one of the most conspicuous portions ef the Court, 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 as conveniently as if they had been placed there 
 for the express purpose of being seen. A third 
 and a fourth were conversing with each other by 
 signs and nods, across the table. It was an aw- 
 fully pleasant sight, and can only be paralleled by 
 an equal number of grave divines playing at hunt 
 the slipper in their canonicals, in the midst of a 
 public assembly, if such a thingshould ever occur. 
 
 VAT YOU PLEASE. 
 
 Some years ago, when civil faction 
 
 Rag'd like a fury thro' the fields of Gaul ; 
 
 And children in the general distraction, 
 Were taught to euRse as soon as they could squall. 
 
 When common sense in common folk was dead, ; 
 
 And murder shew'd a love of nationality ; 
 And France, determin'd not to have a head, 
 
 Decapitated all the higher class, 
 
 To put folk3 more on an equality ; 
 When coronets were not worth half-a-crown, 
 
 And liberty in bonnet-rouge, might pass 
 For Mother Red-eap, up at Camden-town ; 
 
 Full many a Frenchman then took wing, J 
 
 Bidding soup-maigre an abrupt farewell, 
 
 And hither came pell-mell, 
 Sans cash, sans clothes, almost sans ev'ry thing. J 
 
 Two Messieurs, who about this time came over, (, 
 
 Half-starv'd, but toujours gai } 
 
 (No weasels e'er were thinner) 
 Trudg'd up to town from Dover 
 
 Their slender store exhausted on the way, 
 
 Extremely puzzled how to get a dinner. 
 'Twas morn, and from each ruddy chimney top 
 
 The dun smoke-wreaths were slowly curling- 
 Each house-maid, cherry-cheek 'd, her snow white ? 
 
 Before the door was gaily twirling. -.[mop j 
 
 From morn till noon, from noon till dewy eve, 
 Our Frenchman wander' A on their expedition 
 
 Great was their need,, but sorely did they grieve, * 
 Stomach and pocket in the same condition, 
 
 At length, by mutual consent they parted, 
 
 And different ways on the same ef mud started. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 219 
 
 Hiis happen'd on a day mo3t dear 
 To epicures, when general use 
 Sanctions the roasting of the sav'ry goose ! 
 Towards night, one Frenchman, at a tavern near, 
 Stopp'd, and beheld the glorious cheer ; 
 While greedily he sniff d the luscious gale in, 
 That from the kitchen windows was exhaling, 
 And instant set to work his busy brain, 
 And snifTd and long'd,and long'd and sniff'd again. 
 Necessity's the mother of invention, 
 (A proverb I've heard many mention,} 
 So now, one moment saw his plan completed, 
 And our sly Frenchman at a table seated. 
 
 The ready waiter at his elbow stands — 
 
 * 4 Sir, will you favour me with your commands ? 
 
 " We've roast and boil'd, sir, choose you those or 
 
 these.' 
 "Sare! you are very good, sare! — vat tou 
 
 PLEASE." 
 
 Quick at the word., 
 Upon the table smokes the wish'd for bird I 
 No time in talking did he waste, 
 
 But pounc'd pell-mell upon it ; 
 Drumstick and merry-thought he pick'd in haste, 
 
 Exulting in the merry thought that won it ! 
 Pie follows goose, and after pie comes cheese; — 
 " Stilton or Cheshire, sir?" — " ah, vat you 
 
 And now our Frenchman having ta'en his fill, 
 Prepares to go, when — ** sir, your little bill !" 
 *' Ah ! vat you're bill! veil, Mr. Bill, good 
 
 day! 
 Bon jour, good Villiam i" — " No, sir, stay ; 
 My name is Tom, sir — you've this bill to pay." 
 
 " Pay, pay, ma Foi ! 
 " I call for nothing, sare — pardonnez moi ! 
 You bring me vat you call your goose, your cheese, 
 You ask-a me to eat — I tell you, vat you please." 
 
 Down came the master, each explained the case, 
 The one with cursing, t'other « ttn grimace ; 
 
 Rut Bonniface, who dearly iov'd a jest. 
 (Although sometimes he dearly paid for it,) 
 And finding nothing could be done — yon know, 
 (For when a man has got no money, 
 To make him pay some would be rather funny !) 
 
 Of a bad bargain made the best, 
 Acknowledg'd much was to be said for it; 
 Took pity on the Frenchman's meagre face, 
 And Briton-like forgave a fallen foe,| 
 Laugh'd heartily, and let him go ! 
 
 Our Frenchman's hunger thus subdued, 
 Away he trotted in a merry mood ; 
 When, turning round the corner of a street, 
 Who but his countryman chanc'd he to meet, 
 To him, with many a shrug and many a grin, 
 He told how he had taken Jean Bull in! 
 Fir'd with the tale, the other licks his chops, 
 Makes his congee, and seeks this shop of shops. 
 Ent'ring, he seats hiaiself, just at his ease, 
 " What will you take, sir?" — " vat you please.'* 
 The waiter look'd as pale as Paris plaster, 
 And, up stairs running, thusaddress'd his master— » 
 " These d — d Monseers, come over sure in pairs $ 
 " Sir, there's another " vat you please!" down 
 
 stairs !" ^ 
 
 This made the landlord rather crusty, 
 Too much of one thing — the proverb's somewhat 
 
 musty ; 
 Once to be done, his anger didn't touch, 
 But when a second time they tried the treason, 
 It made him crusty, sir, and with good reason; 
 
 You would be crusty, were you done so much I 
 There is a kind of instrument 
 Which greatly helps a serious argument, 
 And which, when properly applied, occasions 
 Some most unpleasant tickling sensations ! 
 'Twould make more clumsy folks than Frenchmen 
 
 skip; 
 'Twould strike you presently- -a stout horsewhip I 
 This instrument our mait <e d'hote 
 Most carefully conceaFd beneath his coat, 
 And, seeking instantly the Frenchman's station, 
 Ad&ress'd him with the usual salutation. 
 
C J20 
 
 Our Frenchman, bowing to his thread-bare 
 Determin'd whilst the iron's hot to strike it, [knees, 
 Pat with his lesson answers — " vat you please !" 
 But scarcely had he let the sentence slip, 
 Than round his shoulders twines the pliant whip ! 
 " Sare ! sare ! ah, misericorde ! parbleu ! 
 Got d — ra, monsieur, vat make yon use me so ? 
 Vat call you dis ?" — " Lord, don't you know ? 
 That's what I please," says Bonny " how d'ye 
 
 like it? — 
 Your friend, although I paid dear for his funning, 
 Deserv'd the goose he gain'd, sir, for his cunning; 
 But you, monsieur, or else my time I'm wasting, 
 Are goose enough— -and only wanted basting !" 
 
 adultery: 
 
 A Shandean Fragment. 
 " It is a shame — -it is a disgrace to our laws — 
 to our manners — to our religion," exclaimed 
 Yorick, with more than his usual elevation of 
 tone. My father waked him from his reverie, 
 and expected, from the earnestness of Yorick, an 
 elaborate disquisition on the laws, manners, or 
 religion. He drew, with great complacency of 
 look, and much inquisitiveness of aspect, his chair 
 towards that of Yorick, who pointed with his 
 finger to several paragraphs in the paper, which 
 he had been reading, dated from Doctors' Com- 
 mons. My father surveyed them with calmness, 
 or rather indifference. My father had been long 
 married, and the subject of adultery was one of 
 those few speculations which had never agitated 
 his pericranium, or produced one eloquent speech, 
 or one pointed observation. My father, besides 
 the inconvenience of the. hip-gout, was never, as 
 my mother used to relate, a very fond lover. He 
 had never written sonnets to praise her charms, 
 or elogies to deplore her cruelty. My father had 
 only written — his name to the marriage articles. 
 These valuable MSS. he had all the morning been 
 employed in perusiug, or dandling on his knee 
 before the fire-side. On Yorick's exclamation, 
 my father, in hopes of some fresh subject, put 
 them hastily into his pocket. " The many ex- 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHIL0SOPHE3, 
 
 amples," repeated Yorick, smiling at the same 
 time at the non-chalance of my father, who had 
 now placed his left leg on the top bar of the 
 grate, a posture which betrayed a most unseemly 
 fissure in his lower vestment, ** are a disgrace to 
 the religion we profess." — " In your church, Mr. 
 Yorick," said Dr. Slop, sitting upright in bis 
 chair, and in a very professional voice, " mar- 
 riage is not one of the communions, and therefore 
 the immorality of the breach of the vpw," con- 
 tinued Dr. Slop, with somewhat less lluency than 
 before " is not so great, as with you marriage 
 has more of a civil nature." — "The parties," re- 
 plied Yorick, " in our church, approach the 
 altar, and, in the sight of God and man, vow 
 eternal fidelity to each other, and therefore I 
 conceive the adulterer of either side forfeits all 
 claim" — " To a separate maintenance," observed 
 my father very quickly, who had for some time 
 resumed the perusal of his marriage articles. 
 
 And the children, you know, Mr. Yorick," con- l 
 tinued my father very scientifically. " Poor I 
 dear little things, and they are included in the 
 guilt of either sinner?" asked my uncle Toby^ 
 whilst a big tear stood in his eye, and his bosom 
 heaved with convulsive pity. Mrs. Wadman's 
 bewitching looks came across my uncle Toby's 
 imagination. Her age, which had not passed the 
 probability of being a mother, and her vivacity, 
 which had'created certain doubts and apprehen- jj 
 sions in the bosom of an old bachelor with a 1, 
 wound in his groin, all rushed at the same time" 
 upon his reservoir of ideas, and the tone of his > 
 voice was so elegiac, and the mode of putting the 
 question so very energetic, that my father's spor- ! 
 tive fancy was immediately on tiptoe ; he rubbed 
 the right side of his nose with great rapidity, and," 
 stifling a smile, he approached my uncle Toby's 
 chair, and looking at him.with great earnestness, 
 — " My dear brother, has then the late Mrs. Wad- ' 
 man done us the honour?" — " The late ,'" repeated 
 my uncle with great surprise. My father drew 
 his inference, and resumed his chair and studies 
 in perfect composure. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 221 
 
 READY-MADE SPEECH, 
 
 Adapted to all Occasions. 
 
 Sir, — Unused, unacquainted, unhabituated, un- 
 accustomed to public speaking, I rise, sir, in con- 
 sequence of having, caught your eye, sir, to ex- 
 press, with the utmost diffidence, my humble ideas 
 on the important subject now before the house. 
 I will, therefore, sir, be bold to affirm, and I am 
 also free to declare, that I by no means meet the 
 ideas of the nubble Lud. I will not, however, go 
 over the same grounds or commit myself, by taking 
 up a principle without the most perfect consider- 
 ation. But as I am now upon my legs, I cer- 
 tainly shall not blink the question; nor am I at all 
 inclined to meet him half way, because, on the 
 first blush of the business, I was determined to scout 
 the idea in toto; for if, sir,, the well-being of civi- 
 lized society, and the establishment of order and 
 tranquillity, is the grand object of our investi- 
 gation, I cannot hesitate to pronounce — Sir! I 
 cannot hesitate to pronounce, that I want words to 
 express my indignation at the general tenour of 
 the arguments so ably agitated by the honourable 
 member on my left hand. But, sir, the idea does 
 not attach ; and when my learned friend professed 
 to lay down his principles with so much method, he 
 only proved his weakness by undertaking to 
 cleanse the Augean stable, and to perform the 
 labours of Hercules himself. No, sir, I. am again 
 free to assert, and, sir, I am by no means disin- 
 clined to prove, that if gentlemen, under the 
 existing circumstances, do not act with vigour 
 and unanimity against the introduction of French 
 principles, our glorious constitution, produced by 
 the wisdom of our ancestors, may fall to the 
 ground, sir! yes, fall to the ground, by the im- 
 pulse of a Jacobin innovation. But on this head, 
 we are ripe to deliberate ; and I trust the gentle- 
 men with whom I have the honour to art, and 
 who constitute the decided majority of this ho- 
 nourable house ; for whose worth, integrity, 
 firmness, perspicuity, ingenuity, perseverance, 
 and patriotism I have the most dignified respect, 
 
 and in whom also I place the most perfect con- 
 fidence; I say, sir, I trust they will preserve the 
 privileges of this assembly from the lawless ban- 
 ditti of acquitted felons, who, not having been 
 killed off, insult us daily by their negative suc- 
 cesses, and circulate their seditious principles, to 
 the danger of every respectable man in the com 
 munity, who may, by possessing property, become 
 an object of their diabolical depredations Not, 
 however, to trespass any longer upon the patience 
 of the house, I shall conclude by observing, with 
 the great Latin poet of antiquity, 
 
 Quid sit futurum eras, fuge quaerere: 
 Carpe diem. 
 
 LAUGHING PROHIBITED. 
 To prove pleasure but pain, some have hit on a 
 project, 
 We're duller the merrier we grow, 
 Exactly the same unaccountable logic, 
 That talks of cold fire and warm snow 
 For me born by nature, 
 For humour and satire, 
 I sing, and I roar, and I quaff; 
 Each muscle I twist it, 
 I cannot resist it, 
 A finger held up makes rae laugh ; 
 For since pleasure's joy's parent, and joy begets 
 mirth, 
 Should the subtilest casuist, or soph upon earth, 
 Contradict me, I'd call him an ass and a calf, 
 
 And boldly insist once for all ; 
 That the only criterion of pleasure's to laugh, 
 
 And sing toll de roll loll de loll. 
 Vainly bountiful Natureshall fill up life's measure, 
 
 If we're not to enjoyment awake ; 
 Churls that cautiously nitrate and analyze pleasure 
 Deserve not that little they take. 
 For me who am jiggish, 
 And funny, and gigajsh, 
 Such joys are too formal by half: 
 I roar, and I revel, 
 Drive care to the devil, 
 And hold both my sides while I laugh. 
 
 For since pleasure, &c 
 
22% 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 I hate all those pleasures we're angling and squar- 
 And fitting and cutting by rules ; [ in g» 
 
 Anddam'me — dear me, I beg pardon forswearing, 
 All that follow such fashions are fools. 
 
 They may say what they list on'f, 
 But'of life, I insist on't, 
 That pleasure's the prop and the staff, 
 That seis every muscle, 
 In a comical bustle, 
 And tickles one into a laugh. 
 
 For since pleasure, &e. 
 
 THE MERIT OF BLOOD. 
 
 When Sheriff Phillies told Sir John Silvester, 
 the Recorder of London, that his court in the Old 
 Bailey smelt of blood. — " I'm glad of it," replied 
 Black Jack, in his stern way, " for it wilt thereby 
 keep away the rogues and thieves." 
 
 IN HENDON CHURCH-YARD. 
 
 T. Crosfield, 
 Died November 8th, 1808. 
 Beneath this stone Tom Crosfield lies, 
 Who cares not now who laughs or cries; 
 lie laughed when sober, and when mellow, 
 Was a harum-scarum harmless fellow j 
 He gave to none design'd offence, 
 So Honi soit qui mat y pense. 
 
 REPUBLIC OF BABINE: 
 
 There was, at the court of Sigismund Augustus, 
 a gentleman of the family of Psamka, who, in 
 concert with Peter Cassovius, bailiff of Lublin,' 
 formed a society which the Polish writers call 
 " The Republic of Babine;" and which the Ger- 
 mans denominate " The Society of Fools." This 
 society had its king, its chancellor, its counsel- 
 lors, its archbishops, bishops, judges, and other 
 officers. When any of the members did or said 
 any thing at their meetings, which was unbecom- 
 ing or ill-timed, they immediately gave him a 
 place, of which he was required to perform the 
 duties, till another was appointed in his stead; 
 fer example^ if any one spoke too much, so as 
 
 to engross the conversation, he was appointed 
 orator of the republic; if he spoke impro- 
 perly, occasion was taken from his subject to 
 appoint him a suitable employment; if, for in- 
 stance, he talked about dogs, he was made master 
 of the buck-hounds; if he boasted of his courage, 
 he .was made a knight, or perhaps a field-marshal ; 
 and if he expressed a bigotted zeal for any spe- 
 culative opinion in religion, he was made an 
 inquisitor". The offenders being thus distinguished 
 for their follies, and not their wisdom, gave occa- 
 sion to the Germans to call the republic " The 
 Society of Fools." The King of Poland, one 
 day, asked Psamka, if they had chosen a king in 
 their republic ? To which he replied, " God 
 forbid that we should think of electing a king 
 while your majesty lives ; your majesty will al- 
 ways be King* of Babine, as well as Poland." 
 The king inquired farther, to what extent their 
 republic reached? "Over the whole world," 
 says Psamka; " for we are told, by David, that 
 all men are liars." This society soon increased 
 so much, that there was scarce any person at court 
 who was not honoured with some post in it; and 
 its chiefs were also in high favour with the king. 
 
 TOWN AND COUNTRY. 
 
 In London I never know what to be at, 
 Enraptured with this, and transported with that ; 
 I'm wild with the sweets of variety's plan, 
 And life seems a blessing too happy for man. 
 
 But the country, Lord bless us, sets all matters 
 
 right, 
 So calm and composing from morning till night ; 
 Oh ! it settles the stomach when nothing is seen 
 But an ass on a common, a goose on a green. 
 In London how easy we visit and meet, 
 Gay pleasure's the theme, and sweet smiles are 
 
 our treat; 
 Our mornings, a round of good-humour'd delight^ 
 And we rattle in comfort and pleasure all night. 
 
 In the country how pleasant our visits to make, 
 Though ten miles of mud for formality's sake, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 225 
 
 Tith the coachman In drink, and the moon in a 
 
 tog, 
 And no thought in our heads but a ditch or a bog. 
 
 j In London, if folks ill together be put, 
 
 • A bore may be roasted, a quiz may be cut. — 
 
 I In the country, your friends wouid feel angry and 
 
 sore, 
 i Call an old maid a quiz, or a parson a bore. 
 
 I In the country, you're nail'd like a pale in your 
 park, 
 To some stick of aneighbourcrarnm'd into the ark: 
 Or if you are sick, or in fits tumble down, 
 You reach death ere the doctor can reach you 
 from town. 
 
 I've heard that how love in a cottage is sweet, 
 ! When two hearts in one link of soft sympathy 
 meet ; 
 I know nothing of that, for, alas ! I'm a swain 
 Who require (and I own it) more links to my chain. 
 
 Your jays and your magpies may chatter on trees, 
 And whispersoft nonsense in groves if they please; 
 But a house is much more to my mind than a tree, 
 And for groves— -Oh ! a fine grove of chimneys 
 for me, 
 
 In the evening vou're serew'd to your chairs fist 
 
 to fist, 
 All stupidly yawning at sixpenny whist, 
 And though win or lose, it's as true as it's strange, 
 You've nothing to pay — the good folks have no 
 
 change. 
 
 But for singing and piping, your time to engage, 
 You have cock and hen bullfinches coop'd in a 
 
 cage; 
 And what music in nature can make you so feel 
 As a pig in a gatefstuck, or knife-grinder's wheel ? 
 
 I grant, if in fishing you take much delight, 
 
 In a punt you may shiver from morning to night; 
 
 And though blest with the patience tiiat Job had 
 
 of old, 
 The devil a thing will you catch but a cold. 
 
 Yet it's charming to hear, just from boarding- 
 school come, 
 
 A hovden tune up an old family strum ; 
 
 She'll play " God save the King," with an excel- 
 lent tone, 
 
 With the sweet variation of " Old Bobbing Joan." 
 
 But what though your appetite's in a weak state ? 
 A pound at a time they will put on your plate, 
 It's true as to health you've no cause to complain, 
 For they'll drink it, God bless'em, again and 
 again. 
 
 Then in town let me live, and in town let me die, 
 For in trulh I can't relish the country, not I ; 
 If I must have a villa in London to dwell, 
 Oh ! give me the sweet shady side of Pall-Mall. 
 
 THE IRISH EATING-HOUSE, 
 This is to acquaint the whole world, and all my 
 good friends in Kilkenny into the bargain, that 1, 
 Bryan Mullorony, late of Bread-street, and for- 
 merly of Pudding-lane, do intend to open an 
 Eating-house in Swallow-street. And whereas it 
 is well-known that the belly is a monster, that 
 has no ears, and, therefore, it is mere waste of 
 windpipe to be talking to it ; and if the guts once 
 begin to grumble, if you should even swallow the 
 whole riot-act, it wont settle them half so soon a3 
 a clumsy piece of boiled beef, or a slice of plum- 
 pudding, he has, therefore, prepared dishes for 
 all appetites and for all nations. He knows very 
 well that a large troop of his own countrymen 
 are annually imported every year, duty free, like 
 their own Irish linen, as well to keep up the breed 
 as to reap down the harvest; and, as they are 
 lads of keen appetite, he has prepared a daintv 
 dish for all such maws. This dish he calls the 
 General Post-office, because there a>-e letters of 
 all description thrown into \t y viz. shins of beef, 
 clods, marrow, hogs-pudding, chitterlings, with a 
 train of et ccoteras as long as the tail of a paper 
 kite. For those that can afford to send nice bits 
 down Red-Lion-passage, he has prepared a table 
 as long as the board of longitude, that will always 
 
224 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 be found covered with legs of mutton, shouldering 
 each other, with some bones to be picked at 
 second-hand very cheap. He also intends to esta- 
 blish a cut-finger club for the use of shoe-blacks, 
 lewsrnen, nightmen, &c. and one of the rules of 
 this club will be, that if any one should happen 
 by choice or chance to swallow another fellow's 
 finger, or the joint of a finger, he is to pay one- 
 penny. Those that intend to stow in three din- 
 ners at once, are to pay by the pound, twelve 
 pound to the dozen, butter weight. And whereas 
 there are some pale thin-looking fellows, with 
 crane-necks, that would demolish a shoulder of 
 mutton at one sitting, they are to pay according 
 to the damages they have committed ; and as the 
 Irish are very fond of working at the wet-dock, he 
 has laid in a large quantity of small-beer, of so 
 fine a quality that it will wrestle even with some 
 of your porter, though it should get into a passion, 
 and foam as much as it pleases ; but his dear 
 countrymen must know, that he will not keep a 
 floating account with any one of them, nor take 
 a duplicate in pay for any one of them, even 
 though it should be backed by his honour. As to 
 Scotchmen, who wish to cheat their guts, and to 
 amuse their teeth, he has prepared for them 
 that dish so well known north of the Tweed, 
 r.amely,a haggis, with black-pudding as tough as 
 Indian-rubber ; and, as an empty sack can't 
 stand, he is resolved that the substantial only shall 
 appear on his tables. None of your French 
 slops, with a little piece of beef, and an ocean of 
 soup, like a small island in a lake; no syrup cf 
 cinders, no jelly of pipe stopples, or quaking 
 puddings, that will tremble at the sight of a knife 
 or a spoon. And as it sometimes happens that 
 those who frequent Eating-houses often mistake 
 their pocket for their mouth, and, as it is a pity 
 that the belly should be defrauded of its due, he 
 requests all such to take notice of this hint, -and 
 to be careful that they do not commit such mis- 
 takes. He has also fitted up a room for the use 
 of ladies, but he wishes that it may be publicly 
 known, that no woman is to be admitted in half- 
 
 mourning, or those that have business on both 
 sides of the street, as he does not wish to have any 
 meandering of that kind in his house. Those that 
 wish to eat against time, to pay one ^shilling a- 
 head, provided thej' don't bolt, and in that case 
 eighteen-pence. A bill of fare, as long as a 
 Welsh pedigree, wili be written out every day, 
 with a clean table-cloth once a quarter, for the 
 use of those that like to dine genteely, with every 
 genteel accommodation ; but no tripe at night, 
 and heels in the morning. The young Newlands 
 will be always welcome. 
 
 N.B. Fine roast pork, that would tempt a Jew, 
 every day at one o'clock. 
 
 IN LAMBETH CHURCH-YARD, 
 
 On William Wilson, a troublesome Tailor. 
 
 Here lies the body of W. W. 
 
 Who never more will trouble you, trouble you,. 
 
 THE CAMBRIDGE SCHOLAR. 
 
 In the days that are past, on the banks of a stream, 
 
 Whose waters but softly were flowing, 
 With ivy o'ergrown, an old mansion house stood, 
 That was built on the skirts of a chilling damp 
 wood, 
 Where the yew tree and cypress were growing. 
 
 The villagers shook as they pass'd by the doors, 
 
 When resting at eve from their labours, 
 And the trav'ller full many a furlong went round, 
 If his ears once admitted the terrific sound 
 Of the tale that was told by the neighbours. 
 
 They said that the house on the skirts of the wood 
 
 By a saucer-ey'd ghost was infested, 
 j Which fill'd ev'ry heart with confusion and fright, 
 
 By assuming strange shapes in the dead of the 
 night, 
 
 ' Shapes monstrous and foul, and detested. 
 
 And truly they said, for the master well knew, 
 That this ghost was the greatest of evils, 
 
 For no sooner the bell of the mansion toll'd one, 
 
 Than this frolicsome imp in a fury begun 
 To caper like ten thousand devils. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 He appeared in all forms the most strange and 
 
 uncouth, 
 Sure no goblin was ever so daring, 
 He utter'd loud shrieks, and most horrible cries, 
 Curs'd his body and bones, and his sweet little 
 
 eyes, 
 'Till his impudence grew beyond bearing. 
 
 Just at this nick o'time, as the master's sad heart 
 
 With sorrow and anguish was swelling, 
 He heard that a scholar, with science replete, 
 Full of mystical lore as an egg is of meat, 
 Had taken at Cambridge a dwelling. 
 
 The scholar was vers'd in all mystical arts, 
 Most famous was he throughout college, 
 To the Red Sea full many an unquiet ghost, 
 To repose with King Pharoah, and his mighty host, 
 He had sent, thro' his powerful knowledge. 
 
 To this scholar so learned, the master he went, 
 
 And so lowly he bent with submission, 
 Told the freaks of the ghost, and the horrible 
 
 frights, 
 
 That prevented his household from sleeping 
 o'nights, 
 Then offer'd this humble petition. 
 
 That he, the said scholar, in wisdom so wise, 
 
 Would this mischievous ghost lay in fetters, 
 
 And send him in torments for ever to dwell, 
 
 In the nethermost pit of the nethermost hell, 
 
 For destroying the sleep of his betters. 
 
 This scholar, so vers'd in all mystical lore, 
 
 Told the master his prayer should be granted, 
 Then order'd his horse to be saddled with speed, 
 And perch'd on the back of his cream-colour'd 
 steed, 
 Trotted off to the house that was haunted. 
 
 He enter'd the house at the fall of the night, 
 
 The trees of the forest 'gan shiver, 
 The hoarse raven croak'd, and blue burnt the 
 
 light, 
 The owl loudly shriek'd, and pale with affright, 
 
 The servants like aspens did quiver. 
 
 Bring some turnipsand milk, the scholar he cried, 
 
 In a voice like the echoing thunder; 
 They brought him some turnips, and suet beside, 
 Some milk and a spoon, and his motions they ey'd,. 
 Quite lost in conjecture and wonder. 
 
 He took up the turnips — he par'd off the skin, 
 
 Put them into a pot that was boiling, 
 Spread a table and cloth, and made ready to sup, 
 Then call'd for a fork, and the turnips fish'd up 
 In a hurry, for they were a spoiling 
 
 He mash'd up the turnips with butter and mflk, 
 
 The hail at the casement 'gan clatter ; 
 The scholar ne'er headed the tempest without, 
 But raising his eyes, and turning about, 
 Ask'd the maid for a small wooden-platter. 
 
 He mash'd up the turnips with butter and milk, 
 
 The storm came on thicker and faster, 
 The blue lightnings fiash'd and with terrific din, 
 The rain at each crevice and cranny crept in, 
 Tearing up by the root lath and plaster. 
 
 He mash'd up the turnips with butter and milk, 
 
 The mess would have ravish'd a glutton, 
 When, lo! his sharp bones scarcely cover'd hrs 
 
 Skin, 
 The ghost from the nook o'er the window peep'd 
 in, 
 In the form of a boil'd scrag of mutton. 
 
 " Oh, ho!" cried the ghost, "what art doing 
 below, 
 
 The scholar lobk'd up in a twinkling, 
 Since the times are too hard to afford any meat, 
 To make my poor turnips more pleasant to eat, 
 
 A few grains of pepper I'm sprinkling. 
 
 Then he caught up a fork, and the mutton he 
 seized, 
 And sous'd it at once in the platter. 
 Threw o'er it some salt, and a spoonful of fat, 
 And before the poor ghost could tell what he 
 
 was at, 
 He was gone like a mouse down the throat of 
 a cat, 
 And that is the whole of the matter* 
 l 5 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 watchmaker's epitaph, 
 
 On a Tomb in Berkeley church-yard, Gloucestershire. 
 
 Here !yeth Thomas Feirce, whom no man taught, 
 
 Yet he in iron, brasse, and silver wrought. 
 
 He jacks and clocks, and watches (with art) 
 
 made 
 And mended too, when others work did fade. 
 Of Berkeley five tymes maior this artist was, 
 And yet this major, this artist was but grasse : 
 When his owne watch was downe on the last day, 
 He that made watches had not made a key 
 To wind it up, but uselesse it must lie 
 Until he rise again no more to die. 
 
 THE HAUNCH OF VENISON. 
 At Number One dwelt Captain Drew, 
 George Benson dwelt at Number Two ; 
 
 (The street we'll not now mention) 
 The latter stunn'd the King's Bench bar, 
 The former, being lamed in war, 
 
 Sung small upon a pension. 
 
 Tom Blewit knew them both«~than he 
 None deeper in the mystery 
 
 Of culinary knowledge; 
 From turtle soup to Stilton cheese, 
 Apt student, taking his degrees 
 
 In Mrs. Ru ridel l's college. 
 
 Benson to dine invited Tom; 
 Proud of an invitation from 
 
 A host who " spread" so nicely, 
 Tom answer'd, ere the ink was dry, 
 u Extremely happy — come on Fri- 
 
 Day next, at six precisely." 
 
 Blewit, with expectation fraught, 
 Drove up at six, each savoury thought 
 
 Ideal turbot reach in : 
 But, ere he reach 'd the winning post, 
 He saw a Haunch of Ven'son roast 
 
 Down in the next-door kitchen. 
 
 "Hey! Zounds! what's this? 
 I must drop in; I can't refuse 
 
 haunch at 
 fDrew'si! 
 
 To pass were downright treason ; 
 To cut Ned Benson's not quite staunch ; 
 But the provocative — a haunch i 
 
 Zounds! it's the first this season ! 
 
 " Ven'son, thou'rf mine ! I'll talk no more — " 
 Then, rapping thrice at Benson's door, 
 
 4i John, I'm in such a hurry • 
 Do tell your master that my aunt 
 Is paralytic, o.uit? aslant, 
 
 I must be off for Surrey." 
 
 Now Tom at next door makes a din — 
 
 " Is Captain Drew at home ?" — " Walk in — " 
 
 " Drew, how d'ye dor" — " What! Blewit!" 
 " Yes, I — you've ask d me, many a day, 
 To drop in, in a quiet way, 
 
 So now I'm come to do it." 
 
 " I'm very glad you have," said Drew, 
 j " I've nothing but an Irish stew — " 
 
 Quoth Tom (aside) " No malter, 
 'Twon't do — my stomach's up to that, 
 'Twill lie by, til! the lucid fat 
 
 Comes quiv'ring on the platter." 
 
 " You see your dinner, Tom," Drew cried, 
 '* No, but I don't though,'' Tom replied ; 
 
 "Ismok'd below,"— ; - What?" — " Ven'son, 
 A haunch" — " Oh ! true, it is not mine; 
 My neighbour has some friends to dine: — " 
 
 " Your neighbour! who? — " George Benson. 
 
 " His chimney smoked ; the scene to change, 
 I let him have my kitchen range 
 
 While his was newly polish'd : 
 The Ven'son you observed below, 
 Went home just half an hour ago : 
 
 I guess it's now demolished. 
 
 " Tom, why that look of doubtful dread ! 
 Come, help yourself to salt and bread, 
 
 Don't sit with hands and knees up 5 
 But dine, for once, off Irish stew, 
 And read the * Dog and Shadow' through, 
 When next you open ^sop." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 227 
 
 jonak's soliloquy. 
 
 What house is this ? here's neither coal nor 
 
 candle; 
 Where I nothing but guts of fishes handle 
 1 and my table ere both here within, 
 Where day ne'er dawn'd, where sun did never 
 
 shine 
 The like of this on earth man never saw, 
 A living man within a monster's maw! 
 Buried under mountains, whieh are high and 
 
 steep ! 
 Plunged under waters hundred fathoms deep ! 
 Not so was Noah in his house of tree, 
 For through a window he the light did see ; 
 He sailed above the highest waves, a wonder, 
 -I and my boat are ail the waters under ! 
 He and his ark might go and also come ; 
 But I sit still in such a straigiiten'd room 
 As is most uncouth ; head and feet together 
 Among such grease as would a thousand smother. 
 The above is extracted from the poems of the 
 Itev. Zachary Boyd, a man of undoubted piety, 
 though great eccentricity. He left his fortune 
 and his manuscripts to the University of Glasgow ; 
 the latter part of his bequest, judging from the 
 specimen just given, must have been invaluable! 
 
 ON DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 By Soame Jenyn^s. 
 
 Here lies poor Johnson ; reader, have a care, 
 Tread lightly, lest ye rouse a sleeping bear j 
 Religious, moral, gen'rous, and humane 
 He was, but self-conceited, rude, and vain; 
 Ill-bred, and overbearing in dispute, 
 A scholar and a Christian, yet a brute ; 
 Would you know all his wisdom and his folly, 
 His actions, sayings, mirth, and melancholy, 
 Boswell and Thrale, retailers of his wit, 
 Will tell you how he wrote, and talk'd, and spit 
 
 job's comforters. 
 The world abounds with a description of per- 
 sons who may be designated by the title of j 
 
 croakers; mortals endowed with optics so un- 
 happily formed in their views of the affairs of 
 others, that they can contemplate nothing in the 
 long perspective of a fellow-creature's Iwe but 
 j one uninterrupted scene of gloom, — 
 | " Shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon it." 
 If you consult a person of this class on the subject 
 I of your affairs, there are no hopes which he will 
 j not deem unfounded, no expectations that are not 
 i too sanguine, no projects that are not futile and 
 visionary. Young persons, in particular, he will 
 have a most kind and special care of guarding 
 against that buoyancy of spirits so natural at their 
 time of life. In addition to the " hair-breadth 
 'scapes" to which all are liable, and on which he 
 will not fail to expatiate most emphatically, he 
 will discover, in the peculiar character of each 
 individual with whom he converses, something 
 calculated to augment his distrust and enhance his 
 dangers. Though most lavish, even to intrusive- 
 ness, of his opinions, he is far from prodigal of 
 advice. In fact, you would vainly seek it of 
 him ; his forte is dissuasion. Whatever steps you 
 propose to pursue, ask his sentiments upon the 
 subject, and all that you are likely to learn is, 
 that y here Scylla foams, and there Chary bdis 
 yawns." He will leave no objection to any of 
 your plans unstated ; and availing himself of the 
 noted maxim of antiquity, that the gods have 
 placed all human good on the right hand and on 
 the left, be will never leave his argument till he 
 has, to the best of his ability, succeeded in con- 
 vincing you, that, let the measures you intend to 
 adopt be what they may, your object will prove 
 equally unattainable. If he have sufficient influ- 
 ence over the person he addresses, he will, per- 
 haps, be thus enabled to beget in him alt the 
 indolence of indecision, and all the torment of 
 suspense. But, though the croaker may succeed 
 in establishing the impropriety of every plan 
 suggested by another, be will be careful eot to 
 commit himself, or assist you by proposing any 
 substitute. It is in dissuasion, as I have before 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 observed, that he shines. Besides, he abounds in 
 predictions, though invariably of an unfavourable 
 description, and prides himself not a little on bis 
 gift in the way of prophecy. Indeed, it would 
 be surprising if he had not much room for boast- 
 ing in this line; for if he be of your acquaintance, 
 scarcely any mishap of any description can befal 
 you, of which you will not be able to say with 
 truth, 
 
 " Ssepe sinistra cava prsedixit ab illice cornix." 
 For the human croaker is no less an ill-omened 
 boder of mischief in modern times, than the fea- 
 thered one was esteemed to be among the ancients. 
 And, as his prophecies respecting some one or 
 other of his acquaintance include almost every 
 circumstance in the dark catalogue of physical 
 and moral evil; as his provident anticipations 
 have marked out, for sundry of his fellow-crea- 
 tures, nearly every article of deprecation which 
 the Litany affords ; it may be pretty confidently 
 expected, in a world so replete with vice and 
 misery as ours, that no small portion, among so 
 rich a variety, will certainly be accomplished. 
 
 My acquaintance, Tim Damper, may not un- 
 justly be regarded as the unrivalled prince of the 
 croaking fraternity. I was about to have called 
 him my friend ; but, really, whatever may -be his 
 intentions, as far as his conduct may decide, Tim 
 is a friend to no man. Though my knowledge 
 of his character ought, by this time, to have 
 neutralized the effects of his conversation upon 
 me, I seldom escape from his company without a 
 fit of the vapours. Tim, is, in fact, a kind of 
 moving upas tree, whose contagious influence, 
 wherever it is diffused, blights all the joyous 
 freshness and enlivening gaiety of life. If hope 
 have been justly termed the taper whose glim- 
 mering light can, in some measure, cheer the most 
 gloomy seenes of existence, Tim may net unaptly 
 be denominated the extinguisher. The habitual 
 expression of his physiognomy is either the gravity 
 of mournful anticipation, or the withering smile 
 of contempt. The former is employed while dis- 
 
 cussing the projects of his friends, and the latter 
 when he derides the hopes of indifferent persons. 
 His voice is chilling, and his aspect acetous ; and 
 he is unfortunately gifted with an intuitive per- 
 ception of the most ready means of overclouding 
 the sunny scenes of pleasure, or of making the 
 darkness of trouble " deeper and deeper still," 
 In vain would you exclaim to Tim, in the midst 
 of his career, " male ominatis parcite verbis ; 5 ' 
 they appear to be his natural dialect, and we 
 might almost suspect that he lisped in them, as Pope 
 did in numbers, from his very infancy. To a lady 
 who had recently lost her only child, Tim kindly 
 remarked, that the distemper was evidently here- 
 ditary decline, and that it was common to her 
 husband's family, all of whom had died very 
 young. His saturnine temperament can even 
 contrive to extract prospective misfortune out of 
 present felicity. If a young tradesman has made 
 a successful beginning, Tim will observe, how 
 much better it in general ultimately proves to 
 take the rough of life before the smooth ; that 
 "fair and softly goes far in a day ;" and that the 
 usual consequences of early success in trade is to 
 turn a young person's brain, and to render him 
 extravagant and negligent of his business. Being 
 in company with the sister of a gentleman in the 
 bank, who is fond of fashionable amusements, he 
 made various comments on the strong temptations 
 under which persons in that department, parti- 
 cularly if of gay habits, must labour to be guilty 
 of embezzlement, if not of forgery. Tim is never 
 without a newspaper in his pocket, which he ren- 
 ders admirably subservient to his purpose. If he 
 meets with any person who has friends at sea, he 
 never fails to read, with great deliberation, the 
 accounts of the damages done by heavy gales; 
 and, as a commentator on the Bankrupt List, he 
 is a very Bentley. The other day he was edifying 
 a widow lady, whose son is at Smyrna, with some 
 very amplified accounts of the present contest 
 between the Greeks and the Turks ; and yesterday 
 evening, taking a turn towards Westminster, I 
 detected him in the act of endeavouring to con- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 229 
 
 vince a country gentleman, who has a share in one 
 of the temporary erections forth* accommodation 
 of spectators at the approaching coronation, that, 
 in consequence of the pending debates on the 
 Queen's claim, that event must inevitably take 
 place at a very distant period, if at all, 
 
 I would fain endeavour to persuade myself, 
 that characters such as Mr. Damper are actuated 
 merely by a restless disposition, and a wish of 
 displaying their self-importance, did not a certain 
 pleasure, which they cannot avoid betraying, 
 when their predictions are verified, and still 
 more, their evident mortification where the reverse 
 is the case, appear to justify the suspicion that 
 their motives are of a more malevolent descrip- 
 tion. " Facile credunt quod volunt." I can 
 hardly conceive that a man who is constantly 
 foreboding ill to others has their good very much 
 at heart. The humourous Swift appears to have 
 been pretty much of this opinion. After men- 
 tioning the affected apprehensions of persons of 
 this description for his declining state* of health, 
 be thus sums up his own estimate of their benevo- 
 fcnce :■— 
 
 " Thus, dealing in rhetoric tropes, 
 They, by their fears, express their hopes. 
 They'd rather far that I should die 
 Than their predictions prove a lie !"' 
 
 MIDAS'S SECOND MISTAKE. 
 Once, an old country squaretoes, to fopp'ry a foe, 
 And disgusted alike at a crop and a beau, 
 Being churchwarden made,-was in office so strict, 
 That there scarce was a coat, but a hole in't he'd 
 
 pick ; 
 Infringements, encroachments, and trespasses 
 
 scouting, 
 And from straddling the tomb-stones the boys 
 
 daily routing; 
 At last, made a justice, corruption to purge, 
 His worship became both a nuisance and scourge. 
 When a poor needy neighbour, who kept a milch 
 
 ass, [grass, 
 
 Which he often turn'd into the church yard for 
 
 And with long ears and tail o'er the graves did he 
 
 stray, 
 While perchance, now and then, at bystanders 
 
 he'd bray. 
 And once, when old Midas was passing along, 
 He set up his pipes at his brother, ding dong. 
 At which, his puff'd pride was so stung to the 
 
 quick, 
 That he glar'd at his browser as stern as old Nick ; 
 And when he got home, for the sexton he sent, 
 Who, with his doughty threat, to the ass-keeper 
 
 went, 
 That again should his beast the churchwarden 
 
 assail, [tail; 
 
 Or be seen in the church-yard — he'd cut off his 
 When the owner replied — " Sure his worship but 
 
 jeers ; 
 But should he dock my donkey — I'll cut off* his 
 
 ears." 
 When no sooner the answer was brought to him 
 
 back, 
 But he summon'd before him the clown in acracK, 
 And he said — " Thou vile varlet, how comes it to 
 
 pass, 
 That thou dar'st for to threaten to crop a just-ass? 
 Thou cut off my ears ?^-Make hi3 mittimus, clerk ; 
 I'll make an example of this precious spark ; 
 But first reaeh me down the black act he shall 
 
 see 
 That the next Lent assizes, he'll swing on a tree." 
 "I swing on a tree, — and for what ?' replies 
 
 Hob, 
 " How the dickens came such a strange freak in 
 
 your knob? 
 I woanly but zaid, if my ass met your sheers, 
 And you cut off his tail, that I'd cut off his ears; 
 Vor as you hate long tails, as the mark of a fop, 
 I'd ha'* don't cause I knaugh you don't like a 
 
 crop." 
 At this subtle rejoinder, his worship struck dumb, 
 Found his proud overbearing was quite over- 
 come ; 
 So the ass sav'd his tail by a quibble so clever, 
 And the justice's ears are now longer. than ever. 
 
230 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 Here old John Randall lies, who, telling of his 
 
 tale, [Ale ; 
 
 Lived threescore years and ten, such virtue was in 
 Ale was his meat, Ale was his drink, Ale did his 
 
 heart revive, [been alive. 
 
 And if he could have drunk his Ale, he still had 
 
 NAPOLEON AND FOUCHE. 
 Napoleon sent for Foucbe, and in a great rage 
 told him he was a fool, and not fit to be at the head 
 of the police ; that he was quite ignorant of what 
 was passing. Pardon me, sire, said Fouche, in- 
 terrupting him, I know that your majesty has my 
 dismissal ready signed in your pocket. This was 
 the case; it need not be added, that Napoleon iu- 
 etantly changed his mind, and kept his minister. 
 
 buffon's SON. 
 The son of Buffon was a very dolt. Rivarol 
 said of him, he is the worst chapter of his father's 
 Natural History. 
 
 RIVAROL. 
 
 A person, in repeating one of Rivarol's witti- 
 cisms, destroyed the point. How could it be 
 otherwise, said Rivarol ; if a fool understood wit 
 he would be no longer a fool. 
 
 PETTY LARCENY. 
 
 A grenadier in Marshal Saxe's army having 
 been taken in the act of plundering, was sentenced 
 to be hanged. What he had stolen was only of 
 the value of five shillings ; on which the marshal 
 said to him, " you must be a pitiful fellow, to risk 
 your life for five shillings." — *' I beg your par- 
 don, general, I risk it every day for two-pence- 
 halfpenny." The marshal smiled, and pardoned 
 him. 
 
 MY NAME IS NOT A SIN. 
 
 A lady having made a very ample confession at 
 a distant church, the priest pressed her to tell her 
 name; "Father," said she, " my name is not a 
 sin, and I am not obliged to confess it." 
 
 EAN MEDICINALE. 
 
 This dangerous medicine for the gout was one 
 day vaunted by a lady, who advised a gouty man 
 to take it, adding, " 1 know many who praise it 
 to the skies," — " No doubt, madam," said he, 
 " for it has sent many to the skies to praise it." 
 EIGHTEEN REASONS FOR ABSENCE. 
 
 The Prince of Conde passing through Beaune, 
 the public authorities went to meet hiai at the 
 gates of the town ; after many high-flown compli- 
 ments, the mayor ad Jed k ' To display our joy we 
 wished to receive you with the reports of a nume- 
 rous artillery, b\it we have not been able to fire 
 the cannons for eighteen reasons; in the first place 
 we have none, secondly" — " My good friend," 
 said the Prince,' 4 the first reasou is so good I will 
 excuse the other seventeen." 
 
 LOUIS XIV. 
 
 The same city of Beaune received. Louis XIV. 
 and offered him a taste of their wine, which his 
 majesty praised : "Oh! sire," said the mayor," it 
 is not to be compared with what we have in our 
 cellars." — " Which you keep, no doubt, for a 
 better occasion," replied the king. 
 MIRABEAU. 
 
 Mirabeau, said Rivarol, is capableof any thing 
 for money, even a good action. 
 
 TEDIOUS CONFESSION- 
 The populace of Paris resolved to burn the 
 Abbe Maury in effigy. Accordingly, a figure was j 
 made of wood and straw, clothed in a clerical i 
 dress. Just as they were about to set fire t* it, a ) 
 priest passed, and the populace thought it would 
 be good fun to make him confess the Abbe Maury. 
 Finding there were no means of escaping, the | 
 priest expressed his willingness to do it. " But 
 recollect, my friends," said he, '' the Abbe will 
 have such a long confession to make to me, that 
 you will not be able to burn him to night." This 
 was an all-powerful reason, and determined them 
 on letting the priest ^o, and burning the Abbe 
 without confession. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER* 
 
 PIRON AND THE THISTLE. 
 
 Piron, the satiric poet, having quarrelled with 
 the good people of Beaune, set about cutting 
 down all the thistles in the neighbourhood. On 
 being asked the reason, he said, " I am at war 
 with the Beaunese, and am cutting off their pro- 
 visions." 
 
 DEAD ALIVE. 
 
 A Swiss captain, after a battle, ordered the 
 dead and dying to be buried pell-mell. Being 
 told that some of those buried were alive and 
 might be saved, *• Oh," said he, " if you pay 
 attention to what they say, there is not one of 
 them that would allow himself to be dead." 
 
 KINGS AND CALIPHS. 
 
 Don Sancho, second son of Alphonso, King of 
 Castile, being at Rome, was proclaimed King of 
 Egypt by the Pope. The air was instantly rent 
 with applause, and Sancho, not knowing the lan- 
 guage, asked what it meant of his interpreter. 
 " Sire," said he, " the Pope has created you 
 King of Egypt." — " Has he so?" replied Don 
 Sancho, " well, I do not like to be ungrateful, 
 rise and proclaim the holy father Caliph of 
 Bagdad. 7 ' 
 
 SAGACITY OF A MAD DOG. 
 
 A member of the French jacobin club said to 
 his colleagues, "I have been very lucky this 
 morning ; a mad dog passed between my legs 
 without biting me."—" That is not surprising," 
 replied a member, " it was because he knew who 
 you were." 
 
 THE ABBE' MAURY. 
 
 The mob once got hold of the Abbe Maury and 
 resolved on putting him to death. " To the lan- 
 tern with him," was the universal cry. The 
 Abbe, with much sang froid, said to those who 
 were dragging him along, *' Well, if you do hang 
 me at the lantern will you see any the clearer for 
 it ?" This created a general laugh, and saved the 
 Abbe. 
 
 231 
 
 THE ONLY SON. 
 During the French Revolution, every one was 
 called brother. A jacobin, entering a coffee- 
 room, and seeing a man reading the paper, said, 
 " brother, when you have done with that, I'll 
 thank you for it," No reply. — He repeated, 
 " brother, when you have read the paper I'll 
 thank you for it." Still no reply ; indignant at 
 the circumstance, he went and slapped the party 
 on the shoulder, repeating his demand a third 
 time. " I beg your pardon," said the young 
 man, " I did not think you were speaking to me, 
 for I am an only son." 
 
 NOT AT HOME. 
 
 An Irish servant being asked if his master was 
 within, replied, " No." — " When will he re- 
 turn ?" — " Oh, when master gives orders to say 
 he is not at home we never know when he will 
 come in." 
 
 A PURE WINE-BIBBER. 
 
 A Swiss was drinking with two French soldiers 
 in the garden of a public-house. It came on rain, 
 but they paid no attention to it, except that when 
 the Swiss's glass was filling, he held his hat over 
 it, to prevent any water falling in. 
 
 MADAME DE MONTESPAN. 
 Madame de Montespan succeeded Madame de 
 la Valliere, as mistress to Louis XIV. She called 
 one day on a lady who was not at home, and she 
 begged the Swiss porter to mind and say she had 
 called, adding, "You know me, don't you?" — 
 " Oh, yes, madame, you are the lady who bought 
 Madame de la Valliere's place at Court." 
 
 WHICH IS THE LADY? 
 At a church not an hundred miles from London, 
 a real Corinthian dandy went to church to be 
 married. The clergyman, who was of the school 
 of Dr. Parr, looked at the thing from head to 
 foot, and then coolly turned round to the gentle- 
 man who acted as father, and said, " Pray, Sir, 
 which is the lady?" 
 
232 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 SPARTAN DEVICE. 
 
 A Lacedemonian was quizzed for having a fly 
 painted on his buckler, and his comrades told him 
 he was afraid of being known. " Quite the 
 reverse," replied he, " I shall come to such close 
 quarters with the enemy, that he will have no 
 difficulty in seeing the fly." 
 
 THE LAME SOLDIER. 
 A lame man, who enlisted in the infantry, being 
 asked why he did not choose the cavalry on 
 account of his infirmity, answered, " I do not go 
 into battle to run away." 
 
 DIFFERENCE BETWEEN RUMP-STEAKS AND 
 BEEF-STEAKS. 
 
 Two Frenchmen, who had been in London, 
 comparing notes, one of them was loud in praise 
 of English bif takes, (beef-steaks,) " Yes," said 
 the other, " they are very good, but rum takes 
 are much better." — " What are rum takes}" 
 " Why, my fritnd, they are always bif takes, but 
 they call them rum takes, because they put de rum 
 in de sauce." 
 
 MICE SIX FEET HIGH, WITH ANTLERS. 
 "Monsieur Charles Malo, an eminent French 
 translator, being employed on an American work, 
 came to the words moose deer; he flew to his dic- 
 tionary, but could not find moose, but 6nding 
 mouse, he concluded moose to be a misprint, and 
 he accordingly translated moose deer, de grands 
 sourish qui ont six pieds de hauteur, avec des bois. 
 " Great mice, six feet high, with antlers." 
 
 RETALIATION. 
 
 When Duke John, of Anjou, was approaching 
 Naples, at the head of a large army, to take pos- 
 session of that city, he had iuscribed upon his 
 standards, this passage of the gospel of St. John. 
 " He was sent whose name was John." Alphonso, 
 of Arragon, who defended the city, answered him 
 by another passage of scripture, which he, in like 
 manner, inscribed upon his standards, " He came 
 and they received him not." 
 
 THE DOUBLE TRANSLATION* 
 A Welsh curate preached sermons in English, 
 far beyond what was expected of him. One of 
 his friends finding nothing analogous to them in his 
 other writings, told him he thought he must be in- 
 spired when he composed his sermons, " Ah, my 
 tear friend ! that is a secret which I will tell you. 
 I have got, you do know, the cood and ereat arch- 
 bishop Tiilotaon's works, and I do take one of his 
 sermons, and I do translate it into Welch, and 
 then I do translate back again into English, 
 after which the tevil himself would not know it 
 again for his own." 
 
 THE BISHOP OF LLANDAFF. 
 The see of Llandaff is the poorest in the king- 
 dom, it indeed resembles a bishopric in partibus. 
 The episcopal palace, and the cathedral, are both 
 in ruins ; hence many of the good people, of Llan- 
 daff do not know what sort of thing a bishop is. 
 Dr. Watson resolved, however, on visiting it; 
 his arrival was announced for a certain day, which 
 happened to be the fair ; all were on the tiptoe of 
 expectation, when a woman ran and called her 
 neighbours together, " come, come directly, and 
 seethe bishop." — "Where is it?" — "In the 
 church-yard, the queerest thing you ever saw." 
 They ran in crowds, " Lud, lud ! what a queer 
 thing it is," they all cried, save one old woman, 
 who had been to Bristol once in her life, and con- 
 sequently could relate what she had seen on her 
 travels, and was a kind of oracle amongst them, 
 " That the bishop ! why it is only a dancing bear." 
 — " Are you sure." — " To be sure 1 am, I saw 
 one at Bristol fair." — " La ! then it is not the 
 bishop after all," said they, " what a pity." 
 
 DIGNIFIED MENDICITY. 
 
 A beggar of the environs of Madrid implored 
 alms. " Are you not ashamed ?" said a passenger 
 to him," to carry on such an infamous trade when 
 you can work ?" — " Sir," replied the beggar, " I 
 asked for money, and not advice," turning bis 
 back with true Castilian dignity. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE ENGLISH DEICIDES. 
 The French missionaries in India, to inspire the 
 natives with a horror of the English, constantly 
 taught, that Jerusalem was London, and that it 
 was the English who crucified our Saviour. 
 
 FORTUNATE OBSTACLE. 
 A Spanish friar, preaching on the temptation, 
 when he came to the part where the devil shewed 
 Christ all the kingdoms of the world, and said, 
 all these will I give thee, observed, " he did not 
 see Spain, for the Pyrenees were in the way; if 
 he had seen it, our Saviour must have fallen." 
 
 THE WONDERFUL WORKS OF NATURE. 
 Captain Greer and a party coming from the 
 Isle of Wight to Portsmouth, one of the party 
 said, tl Greer, if you don't make a bull till we get 
 to Portsmouth, we'll frank you for a week; if you 
 do you shall pay a dinner to the party." — " Done," 
 
 exclaimed Greer, " I'll win that, for by J s I 
 
 won't open my lips till we get ashore." Every 
 attempt to make him talk was ineffectual, till the 
 boat passed under the stern of the Queen Char- 
 lotte man-of-war, when Greer, struck with ad- 
 miration, raised his hands, and exclaimed, " how 
 wonderful are the works of nature!'''' It need not 
 be added that he lost the dinner. 
 
 WHO TOLD YOU ? 
 " Lady Racher is put to bed," said Sir Boyle 
 to a friend. " What has she got ?" — i% Guess." — 
 " A boy ?" — " No, guess again." — " A girl?" - 
 « Who told you." 
 
 THE LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. 
 After the death of the Duke de Berry, a law 
 was presented to restrain the liberty of the press, 
 which made every one hasten to profit by it, before 
 Mie law was passed. A pickpocket being caught 
 m the fact of picking a pocket in a crowd, or, as 
 the French call it, a presse, he was taken before 
 (he commissary of police, who asked him if poverty 
 had driven him to it, he replied, " I only wished 
 to profit by the liberty of the press." 
 
 233 
 
 DEATH MADE TO WAIT. 
 An old Gascon was at the point of death, his son 
 alarmed ran to the house of the priest to confess 
 him, and give him extreme unction ; it being very 
 late at night, he knocked very gently at the door, 
 and was three hours before he was heard. The cure 
 being awaked, asked him why he did not knock 
 louder, " I was afraid of disturbing you, sir." — 
 " Well, what is the matter ?"— " I left my father 
 at the last gasp, sir, and I want you to confess 
 him." — " Why, if he was at the last gasp three 
 hours since, he must be dead by this time." — " Oh, 
 no, sir, my neighbour Pierrot promised to amuse 
 him until I brought you to him." 
 
 PEASANT'S CHILDREN. 
 A French count said to one of his farmers, 
 "Why, man, what fine fresh rosy children yon 
 have got ; it does one good to see them'. We no- 
 blemen have all children that are puny sickly 
 things ; how do you peasants manage it better than 
 we ?" — " Why, sir, I hope no offence, but we 
 always make them ourselves." 
 
 FARINELLI. 
 
 The King of Spain having given Farinelli the 
 order of Calatrava, he was armed as a knight with 
 the usual formalities, at which the English ambas- 
 sador was present. The Spanish minister asked 
 him his opinion of it. " Why, as your excellency 
 asks it, I will tell you: In England we spur 
 cocks, at Madrid you spur capons." 
 PLURALITIES. 
 
 An archbishop, who enjoyed several benefices, 
 disputing with the Pope's legate, asserted the su- 
 periority of the council over the pope.- The le- 
 gate replied, 4i Either give up all your benefices, 
 save one, or believe in the authority of the pope." 
 COTTON, THE JESUIT, 
 
 The Jesuit Cotton had a great ascendancy over 
 Henry IV- of France, on which Piron remarked, 
 we have a good and excellent prince, and he loves 
 the truth, but it is a great pity that he has Cotton 
 in his ears. 
 
234 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE BEATITUDES. 
 
 A stupid ignorant Italian priest preached one 
 day a long and tiresome sermon on the Beatitudes. 
 The next day he asked a lady what she thought of 
 it. " You forgot one." — " No, madam, there 
 are only . . . . " — " You forgot one, I tell you, and 
 that is, Blessed are they who did not hear your ser- 
 mon." 
 
 GEORGE THE THIRD'S FATHER, 
 
 One of Sir Boyle Roche's children asked him 
 one day, " papa, who was the father of George 
 the Third ?" — " My darling," he answered, " it 
 was Frederick, Prince of Wales, who would have 
 been George the Third if he had lived." 
 
 AN AMBIGUITY. 
 
 An Irish attorney, not proverbial for his pro- 
 bity, was robbed one night in going from Wick- 
 low to Dublin. His father, next day, meeting 
 Baron O'Grady, said, " My lord, have you heard 
 of my son's robbery ?" — " No," replied the baron, 
 " whom did he rob J" 
 
 GUARDING AGAINST A LEAP. 
 
 A prince, whose sallies never succeeded, because 
 they contained more bitterness than wit, standing 
 one day in a balcony, with a foreign minister, 
 whom he wished <o humiliate, said to him, ** It 
 was from this balcony that one of my ancestors 
 once made an ambassador leap." — " It would 
 appear, then," replied the minister drily, " that 
 ambassadors did not in those times wear swords." 
 
 MINUTE TOPOGRAPHY. 
 
 An Italian prince, who took the title of king of 
 the two sovereignties, in which he had not an inch 
 of ground, being desirous of mortifying a foreign 
 ambassador at his court, who bore the title of 
 marquis, asked him in public, where the marqui- 
 sate, from which he derived his title, was situated ? 
 " Between your two kingdoms, my lord," coolly 
 answered the ambassador 
 
 CHANGE OF CONDUCT. 
 A nobleman of the court of France, on taking 
 leave of Louis XIV., who was sending him in the 
 quality of his ambassador to the court of another 
 sovereigu, " The principal instruction which I 
 have to give you," said the king to him, " is to 
 pursue a conduct diametrically opposite to that of 
 your predecessor." — " Sire," replied the new 
 ambassador, " I will act in such a manner that your 
 majesty will not have to give similar instructions to 
 him who will succeed me." 
 
 SELF-RESPECT. 
 An ambassador of Charles V. at the court of So- 
 liman, emperor of the Turks, was called to the 
 audience of that prince. As he perceived* on 
 entering into the hall of audience, that there was 
 no seat for him, and that it did not arise from for- 
 getfulness, but pride, that he was left to remain 
 standing, he took off his cloak, and seated himself 
 upon it, with as much freedom as if this was a cus- 
 tom which had been long established. He declar- 
 ed the object of his mission with a confidence and 
 presence of mind which Soliman himself could 
 nothelp admiring. When the audience was ended, 
 the ambassador went out without taking his cloak. f 
 It was thought, at first, that this was owing to for- | 
 getfiilness, and he was therefore apprized of it. 
 He answered, with equal gravity and mildness. 
 "The ambassadors of the king, my master, are 
 not in the habit of carrying their seats with them." 
 
 CONSISTENCY. 
 The Marshal Villeroy was wont to say, " When 
 a man is appointed minister, were he made of 
 straw, he would be my friend ; but, if it happens ' 
 that he be disgraced, I am then ready to throw a " 
 nameless utensil at his head." 
 
 NEAR THIRTY. 
 A lady complained how rapidly time stole away, 
 and said, " Alas, I am near thirty." Scarron, 
 who waj present, and knew her age, said, " Doj 
 not fret at it, madam, for you will get further from, 
 that frightful epoch every day." J 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 A Turkish ambassador asked Lorenzo de Me- 
 dicis, why there were not so many mad men to be 
 seen at Florence as at Grand Cairo ? " Behold 
 the place," said Lorenzo, pointing to a monastery, 
 44 where we inclose them." 
 
 FRATERNAL LOVE. 
 
 During the period of the persecution of the Pro- 
 testants in France, an English ambassador de- 
 manded of Louis XIV., the liberty of those Who 
 had been sent to the galleys for the cause of reli- 
 gion. The monarch replied to him, " What would 
 the K?ng of England say, if I demanded of him the 
 prisoners of Newgate?" — "Sire," answered the 
 ambassador, " the king, my master, would grant 
 them to your majesty, if your majesty claimed them 
 as brethren." 
 
 ANAGRAM. 
 
 One of the happiest anagrams known, is that 
 which forms an answer to the question which Pi- 
 late put to Christ. "Quid est Veritas?" These 
 three words are rendered letter for letter by the 
 anagram est vir qui adest. 
 
 PRODIGALITY. 
 A petty journalist was boasting in company, 
 that he was a dispenser of fame to those on whom 
 he wrote. " Yes, sir," replied an individual pre- 
 sent, " you dispense it so liberally, that you leave 
 none for yourself." 
 
 PRUDENT RESERVE. 
 
 In the presence of a sarcastic woman, an indi- 
 vidual was praising the wit of a man who had 
 a very limited intellect. " Oh, yes," said the lady, 
 " he must possess a rich fund of it, fcr he never 
 spends any." 
 
 POWER OF HABIT. 
 
 A merchant, who was ordered to sign the bap- 
 tismal register of one of his children, subscribed 
 " Peter and Company," so great was the force of 
 habit. He only perceived his mistake by the ge- 
 neral laugh which was excited. 
 
 235 
 
 GREEK ALPHABET. 
 A great scholar having just married a young 
 lady, in whose virtue he had the most implicit re- 
 liance, tk How does it happen," said a wag, 
 " that a man who is so well acquainted with 
 Greek, has taken an omega for an omicron ?" . 
 
 NEEDLESS PRECAUTION. 
 
 A man had been so often robbed in the streets 
 of Paris, that he declared he dared not go out for 
 fear of being robbed. " Why do not you carry 
 pistols ? s ' said a friend ; " What use would that be, 
 they would be sure to steal them from me." 
 
 MORTAL DISEASES. 
 
 The Paris fishwomeu met the abbe Maury one day 
 as he was going to theassembly. " You talk like an 
 angels abbe," said one of them, " but, in spite of 
 all that, you are a fool." — " As for that, ladies," 
 replied the abbe, " you know very well that is 
 not a mortal disorder." One day the abbe met a 
 man in the street, crjing about the death of Maury, 
 the abbe gave him a tremendous box on the ear, 
 " take that," said he, " if I am dead, you will at 
 least believe in ghosts." 
 
 OCULISTS AND POLITICIANS. 
 
 The present Sir William Adams one day observ- 
 ing to a gentleman, that he sometimes treated on 
 political subjects, and that it would perhaps be 
 thought odd that an eye-doctor should be a politi- 
 cian, " Pardon me, Sir William," said his friend, 
 " I think the very reverse; for you must naturally 
 be expected to see more clearly than other-men." 
 
 EARLY PROFLIGACY. 
 
 Sir Boyle Roche, the blunderer, rose one day 
 in the Irish House of Commons, and said, with a 
 more serious and grave air than usual, " Mr. 
 Speaker, the profligacy of the times is such, Mr. 
 Speaker, that little children, who can neither 
 walk nor talk, may be seen running about the 
 streets cursing their maker." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 AT ST. BENNETTS, PAUl/s WHARF, LONDON 
 
 Here ties one More, and no More than he ; 
 One More and no More; how can that be ? 
 Why one More and no More may well lie here 
 
 alone, 
 But here lies one More, and that's More than one. 
 
 LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN. 
 
 Who has e'er been in London, that overgrown 
 
 place, 
 Has seen " Lodgings to Let'? stare him full in 
 
 the face ; 
 Some are good, and let dearly ; while some, 'tis 
 
 well known, 
 Are so dear and so bad, they are Dest let alone. 
 Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and 
 
 lonely-, 
 Hir'd lodgings that took single gentlemen only ; 
 But Will was so fat, he appeared like a ton, 
 Or like two single gentlemen roll'd into one. 
 He enter'd his rooms, and to bed he retreated ; 
 But, all the night long he felt fever'd and heated ; 
 And, though heavy to weigh as a score of fat 
 
 sheep, 
 He was not, by any means, heavy to sleep. 
 Next night 'twas the same ! — and the next — and 
 
 the next; 
 He perspir'd like an ox; he was nervous and 
 
 vex'd : 
 Week pass'd after week, till by weekly succession, 
 His weakly condition was past all expression. 
 
 In six months his acquaintance began much to 
 
 doubt him; 
 For his skin, "like a lady's loose gown," hung 
 
 about him ; 
 He sent for a doctor, and cry'd, like a ninny, 
 ** I have lost many pounds— make me well — 
 
 there's a guinea." 
 
 The doctor look'd wise. — " A slow fever," he 
 
 said ; 
 Prescrib'd sudorifics, and going to bed ; 
 
 exclaim'd Will, "arebum- 
 
 " Sudorifics in bed, 
 
 bugs ! 
 I've enough of them there, without paying for 
 
 drugs." 
 
 Will kick'd out the doctor; but, when ill indeed, 
 E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed ; 
 So, calling his host, he said, " sir, do you know 
 I'm the fat single gentleman, six months ago?" 
 
 " Look'e, landlord. I think," argued Will with a 
 
 gr«n, 
 " That with honest intentions you first look me in ; 
 But from the first night — and to say it I'm bold— 
 I have been so damn'd hot, that I'm sure I caught 
 
 -cold." 
 Quoth the landlord — "Till now I ne'er had a 
 
 dispute; 
 I've let lodgings ten years — I'm a baker to 
 
 boot : 
 In airing your sheets, sir, my wife is no sloven, 
 And your bed is immediately — over my oven." 
 
 "Theoven!!!" says Will.— Says the host, "why 
 
 this passion ? 
 In that excellent bed died three people of fashion. 
 Why so crusty, good sir?" — "Zounds?" cries 
 
 Will, in a taking, 
 " Who wouldn't be crusty with half a year's 
 
 baking!" 
 
 Will paid for his room — Cried the host with a 
 
 sneer, 
 " Well, I see you've been goin^ away half a 
 
 year." 
 " Friend, we can't well agree — yet no quarrel," 
 
 Will said: 
 " I see one may die where another makes bread." 
 
 NEW YORK ASSEMBLY. 
 
 The assemblies this year have gained a great ac- 
 cession of beauty. Several brilliant stars have 
 arisen from the east and from the north, to bright- 
 en the firmament of fashion ; among the number I 
 have discovered another planet, which rivals even 
 Venus in lustre, and I claim equal honour with 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Herschell for my discovery. I shall take some 
 future opportunity to describe this planet, and the 
 numerous satellite*? which revolve around it. 
 
 At the last assembly the company began to 
 make some show about eight, but the most fa- 
 shionable delayed their appearance until about 
 nine — nine being the number of the muses, and 
 therefore the best possible hour for beginning to 
 exhibit the graces. 
 
 Poor Will Honeycomb, whose memory I hold 
 in special consideration, even with his half cen- 
 tury of experience, wonld have been puzzled to 
 point out the humours of a lady by her prevailing 
 colours ; for the " rival queens" of fashion, Mrs. 
 Toole and Madame Bouchard, appeared to have 
 exhausted their wonderful inventions in the dif- 
 ferent disposition, variation, and combination of 
 tints and shades. The philosopher who maintain- 
 ed that black was white, and that, of course, there 
 was no such colour as white, might have given 
 some colour to his theory on this occasion, by the 
 absence of poor forsaken white muslin. I was, 
 however, much pleased to see that red maintains 
 its ground against all other colours, because red 
 is the colour of Mr, Jefferson's »*'***, Tom 
 Paine's nose, and my slippers.* 
 
 Let the grumbling smellfungi of this world, who 
 cultivate taste among books, cobwebs, and spiders, 
 rail at the extravagance of the age; for my part, 
 I was delighted with the magic of the scene, and 
 as the ladies tripped through the mazes of the 
 dance, sparkling, and glowing, and dazzling, I, 
 like the honest Chinese, thanked them heartily for 
 the jewels and finery with which they loaded them- 
 selves, merely for the entertainment of bystanders, 
 and blessed my stars that I was a bachelor. 
 
 * In this instance, as well as on several other 
 occasions, a little innocent pleasantry is indulged 
 at Mr. Jefferson's expense. The allusion made 
 here is to the red velvet small-clothes with which 
 the President, in defiance of good taste, used to 
 attire himself on levee-days and other public oc- 
 
 237 
 
 The gentlemen were considerably numerous, 
 and being, as usual, equipt in their appropriate 
 black uniforms, constituted a sable regiment, 
 which contributed not a little to the brilliant 
 gaiety of the ball-room. I must confess I am in- 
 debted for this remark to our friend, the cockney, 
 Mr. 'Sbidlikensflash, or 'Sbidlikens, as he is called 
 for shortness. He is a fellow of infinite verbosity 
 — stands in high favour — with himself — and, like 
 Caleb Quotem, is " up to every thing." I re- 
 member when a comfortable plump-looking citi- 
 zen led into the room a fair damsel, who looked 
 for all the world like the personification of a 
 rainbow, 'Sbidlikens observed, that it reminded 
 him of a fable, wh.ich he had read somewhere, of 
 the marriage of an honest painstaking snail — who 
 had once walked six feet in an hour, for a wager, 
 to a butterfly whom he used to gallant by the 
 elbow, with the aid of much puffing and exertion. 
 On being called upon to tell where he had come 
 across this story, 'Sbidlikens absolutely refused to 
 answer. 
 
 It would buc be repeating an old story to say, 
 that the ladies of New York dance well ; and 
 well may they, since they learn it scientifically, 
 and begin their lessons before they have quitted 
 their swaddling-clothes. The immortal Duport 
 has usurped despotic sway over all the female 
 heads and heels in this city ; hornbooks, primers, 
 and pianos, are neglected to attend to his positions, 
 and poor Chilton, with his pots and kettles and 
 chemical crockery, finds him a more potent enemy 
 than the whole collective force of the North river 
 Society. 'Sbidlikens insists that this dancing 
 mania will inevitably continue as long as a danc- 
 ing-master will charge the fashionable price of 
 five-and-twenty dollars a quarter, and all the other 
 accomplishments are so vulgar as to be attainable 
 at "half the money;" — but I put no faith in 
 'Sbidlikens' candour in this particular. Among 
 his infinitude of endowments he is but a poor pro- 
 ficient in dancing; and though he often flounders 
 through a cotillion, yet he never cut a pigeon-wing 
 in hta life. 
 
23S 
 
 In my mind there's no position more positive 
 and unexceptionable than that most Frenchmen, 
 dead or alive, are born dancers. I came pounce 
 upon this discovery at the assembly, and I imme- 
 diately noted if. down in my register of indisput- 
 able facts — The public shall know all about it. 
 As I never dance cotillions, holding them to be 
 monstrous distorters of the human frame, and tan- 
 tamount in their operations to being broken and 
 dislocated on the wheel, 1 generally take occa- 
 sion, while they are going on, to make my remarks 
 on the company. In the course of these obser- 
 vations I was struck with- the energy and eloquence 
 of sundry limbs, which seemed to be flourishing 
 about without appertaining to any body. After 
 much investigation and difficulty, I, at length, 
 traced them to their respective owners, whom I 
 found to be all Frenchmen to a man. Art may 
 have meddled somewhat in these affairs, but nature 
 certainly did more. I have since been consider- 
 ably employed in calculations on this subject; 
 and, by the most accurate computation I have de- 
 termined, that a Frenchman passes at least three- 
 fifths of his time between the heavens and the 
 earth, and partakes eminently of the nature of a 
 gossamer or soap-bubble. One of these jack-o- 
 lantern heroes, in taking a figure, which neither 
 Euclid nor Pythagoras himself could demonstrate, 
 unfortunately wound himself — I mean his foot — 
 — his better part — into a lady's cobweb muslin 
 robe ; but perceiving it at the instant, he set him- 
 self a spinning the other way, like a top, unravel- 
 led his step, without omitting one angle or curve, 
 and extricated himself without breaking a thread 
 pf the lady's dress ! he then sprung up, like a 
 sturgeon, crossed his feet four times, and finished 
 this wonderful evolution by quivering his left leg, 
 as a cat does her paw when she has accidentally 
 dipped it in water. No man " of woman born," 
 who was not a Frenchman, or a mountebank, 
 could have done the like. 
 
 Among the new faces, I remarked a blooming 
 nymph, who has brought a fresh supply of roses 
 from the country to adorn the wreath of beauty, 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 where lilies too much predominate. As I wish 
 well to every sweet face under heaven, I sincerely 
 hope her roses may survive the frosts and dissipa- 
 tions of winter, and lose nothing by a comparison 
 with the loveliest offerings of the spring. 'Sbidli- 
 kens, to whom I made similar remarks, assured 
 me that they were very just, and very prettily ex- 
 pressed ; and that the lady in question was a pro- 
 digious fine piece of flesh and blood. Now could 
 I find it in my heart to baste these cockneys like 
 their own roast-beef — they can make no distinction 
 between a fine woman and a fine horse. 
 
 I would praise the sylph-like grace with which 
 another young lady acquitted herself in the dance, 
 but that she excels in far more valuable accom- 
 plishments. Who praises the rose for its beauty, 
 even though it is most beautiful ? 
 
 The company retired at the customary hour to 
 the supper-room, where the tables were laid o\\t 
 with their usual splendour and profusion. My 
 friend, 'Sbidlikens, with the native forethought of 
 a cockney, had carefully stowed his pocket with 
 cheese and crackers, that he might not be tempted 
 again to venture his limbs in the crowd of hungry 
 fair ones who throng the supper-room door: his 
 precaution was unnecessary, for the company en- 
 tered the room with surprising order and decorum. 
 No gowns were torn — no ladies fainted — no noses 
 bled — nor was there any need of the interference 
 of either managers or peace-officers. 
 
 SCOTCH NATIONALITY. 
 
 Dialogue between an American and a Scotchman. 
 
 American. — Thou seem'st of Scotland, copper- 
 hair! 
 Say, is it a^ thy locks declare ? 
 Art thou descended from Mac Prog, 
 Whose ancestor was fam'd Mac Log? 
 Mac Whisky. — 1 am allied to names as great. 
 A. — But, fallen from thy high estate; 
 An exile from thy home and clan, 
 Thou travel's*, like a gentleman, 
 Though— 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 930 
 
 M. — * Honest men, howe'er ill-fed, 
 Are God's best works,' our bard hath said, 
 (Ramsay, or Pope, I know not which ;) 
 But, sir, I am a Thane, and rich. 
 A.— Was Pope a Scot? 
 
 M.— He had the itch, 
 The symptom national : which I 
 Deem the true cause and reason why 
 We ne'er stand still, or stay at home, 
 But scratch and boo, and fidge and roam. 
 A. — Scotland, indeed, though poor and cold, 
 Is fam'd for brimstone. 
 
 M. — And for gold. 
 A. — Then, is it true that Scotchmen eat 
 Saw-dust on holidays, and treat 
 Invited guests with bracken broth ? 
 M. — r Tis true that I have tasted both. 
 A. — But, living in a frugal way, 
 You touch not dainties every-day. 
 Books have inform'd us, you regale 
 On buttermilk and whey turn'd stale, 
 If bent on being rather merry ; 
 And gude Kail-wash with yeast, if very. 
 Yet Burns beat hemp and flax, 'tis said ; 
 And did not Allan shave for bread ? 
 M. — Our bards are lords and knights, keep 
 
 mustard. 
 Have meat o' Sundays, sometimes custard, 
 And will, till time's long race is run, 
 Be squires and gentlemen at least: 
 See Byron's hand, who roams abroad, 
 And rhymes at ease upon the road ? 
 While in chaste wit he beats, I ween, 
 Our Swift, Saint Andrew's gentle dean. 
 A.— Was Swift a Scot? 
 
 M. — 1 am his brother. 
 A. — Was Locke a Scot ? 
 
 M. — He was the other: 
 Ye ken, mon, we were breethren three. 
 A. — And Locke was bottle-nos'd like thee. 
 Was Shakspeare, who wrote plays by dozens, 
 A Sawney ? 
 
 M. — We were second cousins. 
 ■A. — But Milton never saw Tam-Tallan. 
 
 M. — No, but he stole his thoughts fra' Allan* 
 A. — And Newton was an Englishman. 
 M. — What ! ken ye no' Mie Newton's clan? 
 Beside, all Scotland kens 'tis true, 
 Black taught him more — 
 
 A.— Than both e'er knew. 
 Did your bespaniel'd land give birth 
 To any other men of worth ? 
 M. — The noblest men that glory knows 
 Were true-born Scots, all history shews 
 In proof, I need but name Buchanan, 
 But th' Mantuan bard was born in Annan 
 And, as it was in ancient days, 
 Still Scotland's soil brings crops of praise. 
 My nephew, Chantrey, hath no peer 
 In sculpture: as an engineer, 
 
 Watt hath no rival, no, not any; 
 In time past, present, or to come, 
 
 What architect approaches Rennie ? 
 Who built St. Peter's church at Rome. 
 A. — Land of the never-wearied boo I 
 Sweet Scotland, weel I sniff thee noo. 
 Bless'd clime of purity i' the mire ! 
 What hack of southern breed can tire 
 A Scotchman's tongue, or Scotch Review, 
 When Sawney gars old thoughts look new ; 
 And in thy learned praise exhale 
 Boil'd kail-runts chopp'd, the fresh and stale? 
 In gude Scotch songs, Scotch tracts, Scotch news, 
 Scoth plays, Scotch novels, Scotch reviews, 
 What do thy miekle-cheekit fellows, 
 Thy prudent, booing sages tell us ? 
 That bracken grows i' th' North Countree, 
 That Scotch streams run into the sea, 
 That Scotch worth all worth presupposes, 
 But not that Scotchmen wipe their noses, 
 A. — And was not Walter born in Scotland, 
 Though landless, Scott in England got land? 
 And who like Byron soars and sings ? 
 Ev'n Jeffrey takes his ears for wings; 
 For him the poet, with a feather 
 So thrash'd, that Jeffrey knows not whether 
 The goosequil, which abused him so, 
 Were stolen from Raphael's wing, or no j 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 And while he lauds the " big raon's verse, 
 Swears it out-Ossians Homer's erse 
 Bat who, of all thy sons, bath told 
 That true Scotch itch is rnbb'd with gold ? 
 That there were ODce in Scotland mair 
 Thistles than vines ? and that there are 
 Twa dishclouts, little worse for wear, 
 Three stockings, twa three pair o' breeks, 
 Mair feet than shoon, mair jews than leeks, 
 Just twenty lords in twenty slaves, 
 And thirty saints in fifteen knaves, 
 And sixteen fools in that famed land 
 Where brass i' th' face is bread i' th' hand, 
 And were, save siller, nought will pass 
 For genius, learning, wit, but brass ? 
 M. — The greatest heroes known to fame, 
 Are Scotchmen— Wellington and Grahame? 
 The greatest bard is Cunningharae. 
 The king of critics and of men ; 
 We've Jeffrey, in himself a host. 
 A. — Jeffrey, the seer, whose prophecies 
 We read by th' rule o' contraries ; 
 Impartial Jeffrey, fam'd for giving 
 Scotch praise to all Scotch scribblers living ; 
 M.— We have. 
 
 A. — And for what noble ends ?* 
 M. — We yearly meet, all Scots and friends. 
 A. — To praise skim-whang o'er cheese Taf Stil- 
 ton ? 
 M. To light our pipes wi' drowsy Milton. 
 Proud of our land of godlike men, 
 And if of her, still more of them, — 
 Smith, Spenser, Tasso, Arkwright, Pen, 
 Seth, Deuteronomy, and Shem, 
 Sir! Cassar told the Earl o' Mar 
 He leam'd of Bruce the art of war. 
 There was one Mars, too, a brave fellow, 
 And he had hair of a reddish yellow. 
 Sir, Venus was a Highland dowdie; 
 England invented beef fra' crowdie ; 
 Mean envy of Scotch bracken-wine 
 Gave France the hint to plant her vine. 
 A. — Where is the tomb o' th' famed Scotch bard 
 Called Homer ? 
 
 ifef.— In Dumfries church-yard ; 
 
 His widow lives at Inverness, 
 
 Where his son, Iliad, married Bess. 
 
 A. — There was one Dante, a strange person. 
 
 M. — Of Leith — he had the second sight, 
 
 And fear'd na' ghosts ; but died of fright 
 
 Scar'd out o' life by J y's phiz. 
 
 A. — Is England like a barren waste, 
 
 Compar'd with Scotland ? 
 M. — A mere bog» 
 
 A.— What are the English like ? 
 M.— The hog, 
 
 The rat, the spaniel, and the frog. 
 
 Wallowing through life in sordid mire, 
 
 Still each dull son excels his sire. 
 
 We sell boos, but to get them given, 
 
 Then kick all beggars, and are even : 
 The English pray, 
 And toil, and pay, 
 
 Slaves, without brains, that boo unbought, 
 
 We also boo, but not for nought. 
 
 SPORTING INTELLIGENCE FROM THE SEA- 
 SIDE. 
 
 A partner in a banking-house, who lives near 
 enough to the abode of a facetious alderman to 
 nose his worship's kitchen whenever turtle is the 
 order of the day, was very lately at a small 
 watering-place on the coast of Essex. Being in 
 the country, he determined to partake of its 
 sports; and, for the first time in his life, to have a 
 day's shooting. " When we are at jRom«," said 
 the cit, " we must do as they does at Rome." A 
 vulgar sportsman, such as a country squire, or a 
 rustic nobleman, sets off on foot, or at best on a 
 shooting pony, in pursuit of his game. A city 
 Cressus disdains such simplicity. Accordingly our 
 banker, with a merchant for his companion, got 
 into his phaeton, took the pointers he had bor- 
 rowed in the carriage, and ordered his servants in 
 livery to follow him. The dogs, who had never 
 been used to such a fashionable style of travelling, 
 soon began to shew symptoms of uneasiness, and 
 even of an inclination to desert. They were de- 
 tained, however, in part by caresses, and partly 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 m 
 
 by force, till they had very nearly reached the 
 scene of action ; when, by a violent and unani- 
 mous effort, they all jumped out, and ran home, 
 except one, who was persuaded to follow by the 
 servants behind. But even he might as well have 
 gone with the rest; for hardly had they hunted 
 three fields o?er, when the obstinate brute stopped 
 I all of a sudden, to the great surprise and chagrin 
 ! of the olty sportsmen. They hallooed him on ; 
 I they Whistled to him; but nothing could make 
 ! him move. It was provoking, they said, they 
 i never saw a dog so restive in their lives. So, 
 ' taking a whip from a domestic, they belaboured 
 the refractory Carlo, who darted into the covey, 
 1 and away went the birds. Before the banker 
 could recover from the alarm occasioned by the 
 Sapping of their wings, take up his gun and cock 
 it, the partridges were out of sight. These were 
 all he saw that day; nor could he sufficiently 
 regret the bad behaviour of the dog. " If he had 
 not stopped," said the banker, '' I should have 
 ' flred into the thick of the breed, and killed one 
 ' half of them," His companion made no doubt 
 but he should have killed the rest. Oo his return- 
 ing to his carriage, the man of money determined 
 to try his skill at some sparrows oo a dung-hill. 
 He shut his eyes ; and before he could open them 
 again to count the dead sparrows, a pig, which 
 was lying under the straw, and which he had shot 
 in the head, came running out, and laid itself at 
 his feet, squeaking most horribly in the agonies 
 of death. And out came the farmer's men with 
 Hails and pitchforks; and out came the farmer's 
 dog, and seized him by the coat; and out came 
 the farmer bim»e!f, and seized him by the collar. 
 Perceiving himself thas beset, the banker offered 
 an honourable composition ; but when he found 
 that no less a sum than three guineas was de- 
 manded, he demurred, and said, that a pig of 
 ' equal size might be purchased for less money in 
 {.London. Kis companion, however, observing 
 ! that pig* were more plentiful, in LeadenhaU- 
 | market than in (he country, the money was pro- 
 j duced ; ;md the -fanner, and thefanner's men, and 
 the farmers dog, retired to their r especti v " *** 
 
 nels. It is the quality of a great mind not to be 
 easiiy discouraged. The banker therefore re- 
 loaded his piece; and ere he had proceeded far, 
 hearing a rustling in the hedge, he let fly at a 
 venture. The report of the gun was immediately 
 followed by cries of—*' Good lack ! lam shot! 
 as Got shall have me, I'm shot !" It was a Jew, 
 who had been making a sacrifice, which was not 
 that of the Pascha! Iamb; and who, at the close 
 of it, while employed in pluckingjip grass, *' and 
 shrubs of broader leaf and more commodious," 
 received a large portion of the charge in that 
 part where, according {o Butler, 
 
 " A kick hurts honour move, 
 
 Than deepest wounds received before." 
 As the banker had never s.^en a magpie in thf 
 city that did not speak, he supposed that the 
 whole species was naturally loquacious, and mad* 
 no doubt but he had killed one of those talkative 
 birds. " I have shot a magpie," said he to his 
 companion, anil off he ran to pick up bis game; 
 when, in the passage of the hedge, he was met 
 face to face by the furious Israelite. Seeing him 
 in the nakedness of a sans cutette, and bleeding 
 from Hark to flank, the banker started back in 
 speechless horror. The " circumcised dog'' pur- 
 sued and took him by the throat, shearing, by 
 the God of Moses that he would have blood fer 
 U'ood. The dreadful threat he enforced by the 
 most sanguinary arguments « pssterhri, and pro- 
 bably would have realized it, if the banker's 
 friends had not offered him " egregious ransom." 
 At the first mention of money , the bleeding mem- 
 ber of the half tri be of Manassah relaxed his gripe, 
 examined the paper that was tendered to him by 
 the banker, and retired well satisfied, when he 
 found that it was a check upon Messrs. — ■ » 
 and 
 
 TRIOR'S IPITAFii. 
 
 Nobles and heralds, by your lea e. 
 Here lie the bonds' of Matthew Prior; 
 
 The son of Adam and of Eve ; 
 
 Let Bourbon or Nassau go higher. 
 M 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 DIRECTIONS TO LADIES ON THE SUBJECT OF 
 DRESS. 
 
 If the weather be very cold, a thin muslin gown, 
 or frock, is most advisable — because it agrees 
 t>ith the season, being perfectly cool. The neck, 
 arras, and particularly the elbows bare, in order 
 that they may be agreeably painted and mottled 
 by Mr. John Frost, nose-painter general of the 
 colour of Castile soap. Shoes of kid, the thinnest 
 that can possibly be procured— as they tend to 
 promote colds and make a lady look interesting — 
 (i. e. grizzly.) Picnic silk stockings, with lace 
 clocks — flesh-coloured are most fashionable, as 
 they have the appearance of bare legs — nudity 
 being all the rage. The stockings carelessly bes- 
 pattered with mud, to agree with the gown, which 
 should be bordered about three inches deep with 
 the most fashionably coloured mud that can be 
 found; the ladies permitted to hold up their 
 trains, after they have swept two or three streets, 
 &£ crder to show the clocks of their stockings. 
 "i&s shawl scarlet, crimson, flame, orange, salmon, 
 or any other combustible or brimstone colour, 
 thrown over one shoulder, likean Indian blanket, 
 with one end dragging on the ground. 
 
 N. B. — If the ladies have not a red shawl at 
 band, a red petticoat turned topsy-turvy, over the 
 shoulders, would do just as well. This is called 
 being dressed a-la-drabble. 
 
 When the ladies do not go abroad of a morning, 
 the usual chimney-corner dress is a dotted, spotted, 
 etriped, or cross-barred gown — a yellowish, whit- 
 isn, smokish, dirty-coloured shawl, and the hair cu- 
 riously ornamented with little bits of newspapers, 
 or pieces of a letter from a dear friend. This is 
 called the " Cinderella dress." 
 
 The recipe for a full-dress is as follows: — Take 
 of spider-net, crape, satin, gymp, cat-gut, gauze, 
 whale-boue, lace, bobbin, ribands, and artificial 
 flowers, as much as will rig out the congregation 
 of a village church ; to these add as many 9pangles, 
 beads, and gew-gaws,as would be sufficient to turn 
 the heads of all the fashionable fair ones of Nootka 
 
 Sound. Let Mrs. Toole, or Madame Bouchard, 
 patch all these ancles together, one upon another, 
 dash them plentifully over with stars, bugles, and 
 tinsel, and they will altogether form a dress, 
 which, hung upon a ladies back, cannot fail of 
 supplying the place of beauty, youth, and grace, 
 and of reminding the spectator of that celebrated 
 region of finery, called Rag Fair. 
 IRISH LEARNING. 
 The rector of Fintone, when examining his pa- 
 rishioners in the church, came up to a woman and 
 asked her how many commandments there were? 
 She answered, seven. The rector informed her 
 there were ten, and inquired which was the first. 
 This was too hard for her, and when she was 
 stammering about it, one John Patterson, a tailor, 
 behind her, whispered to her, *' Thou shalt have 
 no other gods but me." — " Do you hear, sir," 
 quoth she, " what Johnny Patterson, a tailor body, 
 here says to me? he says, I shall have no other 
 gods but him; Deel in hell take such gods." 
 
 LEO X. AND HIS BUFFOON. 
 
 Querno, a kind of poetical buffoon, much in 
 favour with Leo X. had been crowned arch-poet 
 by the gay young men of fashion at the court of 
 Rome. The Pope, fond of his burlesque talents, 
 sent him choice dishes from his own table, but 
 expected always some distich in return. Querno, 
 like other bon-vivants, was tortured by the gout, 
 and at one of its most powerful moments, he was 
 obliged to write, in gratitude for a dainty, and 
 sent the following: 
 
 " Archipoeta facit versus pro mille poetis.'* 
 To which the good-humoured Leo added, 
 
 "> Et pro mille aliis archipoeta bibit." 
 Then Querno, resolving to show himself superior 
 to his sufferings, wrote, 
 
 " Porrige ? quod faciat mini carmina docta, 
 Falernum." 
 But the Pope as smartly replied, 
 
 " Hoc vinum cnervat debilitatque pedes '* 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 243 
 
 Tii'ss sarcastic intercourse may be thus translated : 
 
 Qusino. For millions of poets, the arch-poet 
 composes, 
 
 Leo. By millions of bumpers, bepimpled his 
 nose is. 
 
 Querno. A bowl of Falernian, t'enliven my 
 strain, 
 
 Leo. You'll loose i a your feet, what in mea- 
 sure you gain. 
 
 DIVINES OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 When Selden was a member of the famous as- 
 sembly of divines at Westminster, who were ap- 
 pointed to new-model religion, he used to delight 
 in perverting them with curious quibbles. In 
 one of these debates, these venerable sages were 
 -very gravely employed in determining the dis- 
 tance between Jerusalem and Jericho; and one 
 of the brethren, to prove that it could be but a 
 short distance, observed, that "^jA was carried 
 from one place to the other." On which Selden 
 said, " Perhaps it was salt fish." This remark 
 threw the determination again into an uncer- 
 tainty. 
 
 THE VILLAGE POLITICIAN, 
 
 As we approached the inn, we heard some one 
 talking with great volubility, and distinguished 
 the ominous words, " taxes," — " poor's rates," 
 and " agricultural distress." It proved to be a 
 thin loquacious fellow, who had penned the land- 
 lord up in one corner of the porch, with his hands 
 in his pockets as usual, listening with an air of 
 the most vacant acquiescence. 
 
 The sight seemed to have a curious effect on 
 Master Simon, as he squeezed my arm, and alter- 
 ing his course, sheered wide of the porch, as 
 though he had not had any idea of entering. This 
 evident evasion induced, me to notice the orator 
 more particularly. He was meagre, but active 
 in bis make, with a long, pale, bilious face; a 
 black beard, so ill-shaven as to bloody his shirt 
 collar, a feverish eye, and a hat sharpened up at 
 
 the sides, into a most pragmatical shape. He had 
 a newspaper in his hand, and seemed to be com- 
 menting on its contents, to the thorough convic- 
 tion of mine host. 
 
 At sight of Master Simon the landlord was evi- 
 dently a little flurried, and began to rub his 
 hands, edge away from his corner, and make 
 several profound publican bows ; while the 
 orator took no other notice of my companion 
 than to talk rather louder than before, and with, 
 as I thought, something of an air of defiance. 
 Master Simon, however, as I have before said, 
 sheered off from the porch, and passed on, press- 
 ing my arm within his, and whispering as we got 
 by, in a tone of awe and horror, " That's a 
 radical! he reads Cobbett!" 
 
 I endeavoured to get a more particular account 
 of him from my companion, but he seemed un- 
 willing even to talk about him, answering only 
 in general terms, that he was " a cursed busy- 
 fellow, that had a confounded trick of talking, 
 and was apt to bother one about the national 
 debt, and such nonsense; from which I suspected 
 that Master Simon had been rendered wary of him 
 by some accidental encounter on the field of argu- 
 ment; for these radicals are continually roving 
 about in quest of wordy warfare, and never so 
 happy as when they can tilt a gentleman logician 
 out of his saddle. 
 
 On subsequent inquiry my suspicions have been 
 confirmed. I find the radiealhas but recently 
 found his way into the village, where he threatens 
 to commit fearful devastations with his doctrines. 
 He has already made two or three complete con- 
 verts, or new lights; has shaken the faith of 
 several others; and has grievously puzzled the 
 brains of many of the oldest villageis, who had 
 never thought about politics, or scarce any thing 
 else, during their whole lives. 
 
 He is lean and meagre from the constant rest- 
 lessness of mind and body; worrying about with 
 newspapers and pamphlets in his pockets, which 
 he is ready to pull out on all occasions. He has 
 shocked several of the staunchest villagers by talk- 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 re and his family ; and 
 
 244 
 
 Ing lightly of the sc| 
 
 hinting that it would be better the park should be 
 cut up and made into ss?>all farms and kitchen- 
 gardens, or feed good mutton instead of worthless 
 deer. 
 
 He is a great thorn in the side of the squire, 
 who is sadly afraid that he will introduce politics 
 into the village, and turn it into an unhappy, 
 thinking community. He is a still greater griev- 
 ance to Master Simon, who has hitherto been able 
 to sway the political opinions of the place, with- 
 out much cost of learning or logic ; but has been 
 very much puzzled of late to weed out the doubts 
 and heresies already sown by this champion of 
 reform. Indeed, the latter has taken complete 
 command at the tap-room of the tavern, not so 
 much because he has convinced, as because he has 
 oat-talked all the old-established oracles. The 
 apothecary, with all his philosophy, was as 
 naught before hire. He has convinced and con- 
 verted the. landlord at least a dozen times; who, 
 however, is liable to be convinced and converted 
 the other way by the nest person with whom he 
 talks. It is tree the radical has a violent anta- 
 gonist in the landlady ,~ who is vehemently leyal, 
 and thoroughly devoted to the king, Master Simon, 
 and the squire. She now and then comes out on 
 the reformer with all the fierceness of a cat-o'- 
 mountain, and does not spare her own soft-headed 
 husband, for listening to what she terms such 
 "low-lived politics." What makes the good 
 woman the more violent, is the perfect coolness 
 with which the radical listens to her attacks, 
 drawing his face up into a provoking, supercilious 
 smile; and when she has talked herself out of 
 breath, quietly asking her for a taste of her home- 
 brewed. 
 
 The only person that is in any way a match for 
 this redoubtable politician, i3 Ready-money Jack 
 'Iibbets; who maintains his stand in the tap- 
 room, in declines of the radical and all his works. 
 Jack is -one of the most loyal men in the country, 
 without being nble to reason about the matter. 
 He ftes that adiv.iraMe quality for a foug'; nrgucry 
 
 PHILOSOPHESl. 
 
 also, that he nevet knows when he is beat. 
 He has half a dozen old maxims, which he ad- 
 vances on all occasions, and though his antagonist 
 may overturn them never so often, yet he always 
 brings them anew to the field. He is like the 
 robber in Ariosto, who, though his head might be 
 cut off half a hundred times, yet whipped it on 
 his shoulders again in a twinkling, and returned 
 as sound a man as ever to the charge. 
 
 "Whatever does not square with Jack's simple 
 and obvious creed, he sets down for " French 
 politics;" for, notwithstanding the peace, he 
 cannot be persuaded that the French are not still 
 laying plots to ruin the nation, and to get hold of 
 the Bank of England. The radical attempted to 
 overwhelm him one day by a long passage from a 
 newspaper; but Jack neither reads nor believes 
 in newspapers. In reply he gave him one of the 
 stanzas which he has by heart from his favourite, 
 and indeed only author, old Tusser, and which he 
 calls his Goldeu Rules : 
 
 Leave princes' affairs undescanted on, 
 And tend to such doings as stand thee upon; 
 Fear God, and offend not the king nor his laws, 
 And keep thyself out of the magistrate's claws. 
 
 "When Tibbets had pronounced this with great 
 emphasis, he pulled out a well-filled leathern 
 purse, took cut a handful of gold and silver, paid 
 his score at the bar with great punctuality, re- 
 turned his money, piece by piece, into his purse, 
 his purse into his pocket, which he buttoned up; 
 and then, giving his cudgel a stout thump upon 
 the floor, and bidding the radical "good morning, 
 sir!" with the tone of a man who conceive? he 
 has completely done for his antagonist, he walked 
 with lion-Hke gravity out of the house. Two or 
 three of Jack's admirers who were present, and 
 had been afraid to take the field themselves, look- 
 ed upon ibis aa a perfect triumph, and winked at 
 each other when the radical's back was turned. 
 " Ay, ay I 5 ' said mine host, as soon as the radical 
 was out of bearing, "let old Jack alone; I'll 
 warrani he'J! give him his own*" 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 ii-zi) 
 
 FAMILY EPITAPH, 
 At Ncttlebed, in Oxfordshire. 
 Here li?s father and mother, and sister and 1 ; 
 
 •We all died within the short space of one year: 
 They are all buried at "Wimble, except I, 
 And I be buried here. 
 
 THE YOUTH OF PROMISE. 
 
 As old Cockloft was determined his son should 
 be both a scholar and a gentleman, he took great 
 pains with his education, which was completed at 
 our university, where he became exceedingly 
 expert in quizzing his teachers and playing bil- 
 liards. No student made better squibs and 
 crackers to blow up the chemical professor — no 
 one chalked more ludicrous caricatures on the 
 walls of the college— and none were more adroit 
 in shaving pigs-and climbing lightning rods. He 
 moreover learned all the letters of the Greek al- 
 phabet ; could demonstrate that water never " of 
 its own accord" rose above the level of its source, 
 and that air was certainly the principle of life, 
 For he had been entertained with the humane ex- 
 periment of a cat worried to death in un air- 
 pump. He once shook down the ash-house, by 
 an artificial earthquake; and nearly blew his 
 sister -Barbara, and her cat, out of the window 
 with detonating powder. He likewise boasts 
 exceedingly of being thoroughly acquainted Willi 
 the composition of Lacedemonian black broth ; 
 and once made a pot of it, which had well-ni^h 
 poisoned the whole family, and actually threw the 
 cook-maid into convulsions. But, above all, he 
 values himself upon his logic, has the old college 
 conundrum of the cat with three tails at his rin- 
 gers* ends, and often hampers his father with his 
 syllogisms, to the great delight of the old gentle- 
 man ; who considers the major, minor, and con- 
 clusion, as almost equal in argument to the pulley, 
 the wedge, and the lever, in mechanics. 
 
 TH** WIFE OF BATH. 
 Heboid the woes of matrimonial lite, 
 And hear with reverence an experiene'd wife; 
 
 To dear-bought wisdom give tbe.ciedii duo, 
 
 Arid think for once a woman tells you true. 
 
 In-all these trials Lhave borne ft part ; 
 
 I was myself the scourge that caus'd the smai t ; 
 
 For since fifteen in triumph have I led 
 
 Five captive husbands from the church to bed. 
 
 Christ saw a wedding once, (he Scripture says. 
 And saw but one, 'tis thought, in all his days; 
 Whence some infer, whose conscience is too nice, 
 No pious Christian ought to marry twice.- 
 
 But let them read, and solve me if they can, 
 The words address'd to the Samarttan; 
 Five times in lawful wedlock she was jctu'd ; 
 And sure the certain stint was ne'er defin'd. 
 
 " Increase and multiply" was HenvVs com» 
 maud, 
 And that's a text I clearly understand ; 
 This too, " Let men their sires and mothers leave, 
 And to their dearer wives for ever cleave." 
 More wives than one by Solomon were tried, 
 Or else the wisest of mankind's belied. 
 I've had myself foil many a merry fit, 
 And trust in Ileav'n I may have many yet ; 
 For when my transitory spouse, unkind, > 
 
 Shall die, and leave his woeful wife behind, y 
 I'll take the next good Christian I can find. ) 
 
 Paul, knowing one could never serve our turn,, 
 Declar'd 'twas better far to wed than burn. 
 There's danger in assembling fire and tow ; 
 I grant them that, and what it means you know. 
 The same apostle, too, has elsewhere own'd, 
 No precept for virginity he found ; 
 'Tis but a counsel — and we women still 
 Take which we like, the counsel or our will. 
 
 I envy not their bliss, if he or she 
 Think fit to live in perfect chastity : 
 Pure let them be, and free from taint of vice ; 
 I for a few slight spots am not so nice. 
 Heav'n calls us different ways ; on these bestow-* 
 One proper gift, another grants to those, 
 Not every man's oblig'd to sell his store, 
 And give up all his substance to the. poor ; 
 Such as are perfect may I can't deny ; 
 But by your leave?, divine?, so am not f, 
 
246 
 
 Full many a saint since first the world began, 
 Liv'd an unspotted maid in spite of man 5 
 Let such (a God's name) with fine wheat be fed, 
 And let us honest wives eat barley-bread. 
 For me I'll keep the post assign'd by heav'n, 
 And use the copious talent it has giv'n : 
 Let my good spouse pay tribute, dome right, 
 And keep an equal reckoning every night; 
 His proper body is not his, but mine ; 
 For so said Paul, and Paul's a sound divine. 
 
 Know then of those five husbands I have had, 
 Three were just tolerable, two were bad. 
 The three were old, but rich, and fond betide, 
 And toil'd most piteously to please their bride ; 
 But since their wealth (the best they had) was 
 
 mine, 
 The rest without much loss I could resign; 
 Sure to be lov'd, I took no pains to please, 
 Yet had more pleasure far than they had ease. 
 
 Presents fiow'd in apase, with showers of gold 
 They made their court, like Jupiter of old; 
 If I but smil'd a sudden youth they found, 
 And a new palsy seiz'd them when I frown'd. 
 
 Ye sovereign wives! give ear, and undertand, 
 Thus shall ye speak, and exercise command ; 
 I 1 or never was it given to mortal man 
 To lie so boldly as we women can ; 
 Forswear the fact, though seen with both 'his eyes, 
 And rail your maids to witness how he lies, 
 
 '.* Hark, old Sir Paul ! ('twas thus I us'd to say) 
 Whence is our neighbour's wife so rich and gay ? 
 Treated, caress'd where'er she's pleas'd to roam — 
 I sit in tatters, and immur'd at home. 
 Why to her house dost thou so oft repair ? 
 Art thou so amorous ? and is she so fair ? 
 If I but see a cousin or a friend, 
 Lord ! how you swell and rage like any fiend ! 
 But you reel home, a drunken beastly bear, 
 Then preach till midnight in your easy chair; 
 Cry wives are false, and every woman evil, 
 And give up all that's female to the devil, 
 
 " If poor (you say.) she drains her husband's 
 purse; 
 If rich, she keeps her priest, or something worse; 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 If highly born, intolerably vain, 
 
 Vapours and pride by turns possess her brain $ 
 
 Now gaily mad, now sourly splenetic, 
 
 Freakish when well, and fretful when she's sick: 
 
 If fair, then chaste she cannot long abide, 
 
 By pressing youth attack'd on every side; 
 
 If foul., her wealth the lusty lover lures, 
 
 Or else her wit some fool-gallant procures, 
 
 Or else she dances with becoming grace, 
 
 Or shape excuses the defects of face. 
 
 There swims no goose so gray, but soon or late, 
 
 She finds some honest gander for her mate. 
 
 " Horses (thou say'st) and asses men may try, 
 And ring suspected vessels ere they buy ; 
 But wives, a random choice, they siill must take; 
 They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake; 
 Then, nor till then, the veil's remov'd away. 
 And all the woman glares in open day. 
 
 " You tell me, to preserve your wife's good 
 grace, 
 Your eyes must always languish on my face. 
 Your tongue with constant flatteries feed my ear* 
 And tag each sentence with " My life ! my dear V 3 
 If by strange chance a modest blush berais'd, 
 Be sure my fine complexion must be prais'd. 
 My garments always must be new and gay, 
 And feasts still kept upon my wedding-day; 
 Then must my nurse be pleas'd, and favourite maid; 
 And endless treats and endless visits paid 
 To a long train of kindred, friends, allies; 
 All this thou say'st, and all thou say'st are lies. 
 
 " On Jenkins, too, you cast a squinting eye : 
 What ! can your 'prentice raise your jealousy ? 
 Fresh are his ruddy cheeks, his forehead fair, 
 And like the burnish'd gold his curling hair ; 
 But clear thy wrinkled brow, and quit thy sorrow 
 I'd scorn your'prenticeshould you die to-morrow. 
 
 " Why are thy chests all lock'd ? on wha» 
 design ? 
 Are not thy worldly goods aud treasures mine ? 
 Sir, I'm no fool, nor shall you, by St. John, 
 Have goods and body to yourself alone. 
 One you shall quit in spite of both your eyes-*- 
 I heed not, 1, the bolts, the locks, the spies. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 247 
 
 If you bad wit, you'd say, " Go where you will, 
 Dear spouse ! 1 credit not the tales they tell ; 
 Take all the freedoms of a married life ; 
 I know thee for a virtuous faithful wife." 
 
 " Lord ! when you have enough what need you 
 care 
 How merrily soever others fare ? 
 Though all the day I give and take delight, 
 Doubt not sufficient will be left at night. 
 'Tis but a just and rational desire 
 To light a taper at a neighbour's fire. 
 
 a There's danger too you think in rich array, 
 And none can long be modest that are gay. 
 The cat, if you but singe her tabby skin, 
 The chimney keeps and sits content within ; 
 But once grown sleek will from her corner run, 
 Sport with her tail, and wanton in the sun ; 
 She licks her fair round face, and frisks abroad 
 To shew her fur, and to be caterwau'd." 
 
 Lo thus, my friends, I wrought to ray desires 
 These three right ancient venerable sires. 
 I told 'em, Thus you say and thus you do ; 
 I told 'em false, but Jenkins swore 'twas true. 
 I, like a dog, could bite as well as whine, 
 And first complain'd whene'er the guilt was mine. 
 I tax'd them oft with wenching and amours, 
 When their weak legs scarce dragg'd them out of 
 
 doors ; 
 And swore the rambles that I took by night 
 Were all to spy what damsels they bedight ; 
 Tl.-.t colour brought me many hours of mirth ; 
 For all this wit is given us from our birth. 
 Heav'n gave to woman the peculiar grace 
 To spin, to weep, and cully human race. 
 By this nice conduct, and this prudent course, 
 By murmuring, wheedling, stratagem and force 
 I still prevuil'd, and would be in the right ; 
 Or curtain-lectures made a restless night. 
 If ouce my husband's arm was o'er my side, 
 4i What ! so familiar with your spouse?" I crisd. 
 I levied fir?t a tax upon his meed ; 
 Then let him — 'twas a nicety indeed ; 
 Let all mankind this certain maxim hold, 
 Marry who will, our sex is to be sold. 
 
 With empty hands no tassels you can lure, 
 But fulsome love for gain we can endure ; 
 For gold we love the impotent and old, 
 And heave, and pant, and kiss, and cliug, for gold. 
 Yet with embraces curses oft I mixt, 
 Then kiss'd again, and chid and rail'd betwixt. 
 Well, I may make my will in peace and die, 
 For not one word in man's arrears am L 
 To drop a dear dispute L was unable, 
 Ev'n though the Pope himself had sat at table; 
 But when my point was gain'd, then thus I spoke, 
 " Billy, my dear ! how sheepishly you look ! 
 Approach, my spouse, and let me kiss thy cheek ; 
 Thou should'st be always thus, resign'd and meek. 
 Of Job's great patience since so oft you preach, 
 Well should you practice who so well can teach. 
 'Tis difficult to do, I must allow, 
 But I, my dearest! will instruct you how. 
 Great is the blessing of a prudent wife, 
 Who puts a period to domestic strife. 
 One of us two must rule, and one obey ; 
 And since in man right reason bears the sway, 
 Let that frail tiling, weak woman, have her way, 
 The w ives of all my family have rul'd 
 Their tender husbands, and their passions cool'd. 
 Fye! 'tis unmanly thus to sigh and groan ; 
 What ! would you have me to yourself alone ? 
 Why, take me, love ! take all and every part ! 
 Here's your revenge, you love it at your heart. 
 Would I vouchsafe to sell what nature gave, 
 You little think what custom I could have.. 
 But see! I'm all your own — nay hold — for shame! 
 What means my dear? — indeed — you are to 
 blame." 
 Thus with my three first lords I pass'd my life, 
 A very woman and a very wife. 
 What sums from these old spouses I could raise 
 Procur'd young husbands in my riper days. 
 Though past my bloom not yet decay'd was I, 
 Wanton and wild, and chatter'd like a pie. 
 In country dances still 1 bore the beil, 
 And sung as sweet as evening Philomel. 
 To clear my quail-pipe, and refresh my soul, 
 Full oft I drain'd the spicy nut-brown bowl , 
 
 i 
 
248 
 
 Pueh luscious wines, that youthful blood improve, 
 
 A ad warni the swelling veins to feats of love; 
 
 For 'tis as sure as cold engenders hail, 
 
 A liquorish mouth must have a lecherous tail ; 
 
 Wine lets no lover uurewarded go, 
 
 As all true gamesters by experience know. 
 
 But oh, good gods ! whene'er a thought I cast 
 On al! iMe joys of youth and beauty past, 
 To find in pleasures I have had my part, 
 Still w^'ms me to the bottom of my heart. 
 This wicked world was once my dear delight 5 
 Now an my conquests, all my charms, good night ! 
 The flour consum'd, the best that now I can, 
 Is ev'n to make my market of the bran. 
 
 My fourth dear spouse was not exceeding true ; 
 He kept, 'twas thought, a private miss or two ; 
 But all that score I paid.— As how ? you'll sav. 
 Not with my body in a filthy way ; 
 But so Idress , d,anddanc'd > and drank, and din'd, 
 And view'd a friend with eyes so very kind, 
 As stung his heart, and made his marrow fry 
 With burning rage and frantic jealousy. 
 Hia soul, I hope, enjoys eternal glory, 
 For here on earth 1 was his purgatory. 
 Oft, when his shoe the most severely wrung, 
 He put on careless airs, and sgt and sung. 
 How sore I gall'd him only Heav'n could knew, 
 And he that felt, and I that cans'd the woe $ 
 He died when last from pilgrimage I came, 
 With other gossips from Jerusalem; 
 And now lies buried underneath a rood, 
 Fair to be seen, and rear'd of honest wood ; 
 A tomb, indeed, Tvith fewer sculptures graced 
 Than that Mausolus' pious widow plac'd, 
 Or where enshrhi'd the great Darius lay ; 
 But cost on graves is merely thrown away. 
 The pit fill'd up with turf we cover'd o'er ; 
 , So bless the good man's soul i I say no more. 
 
 Now for my fifth lov'd lord, the last and best ; 
 (Kind Heav'n afford him everlasting rest !) 
 Full hearty was his love, and I can shew 
 The tokens on my ribs in black and blue ; 
 Yet with a knack my heart, he could have won, 
 While yet the smart was shooting ia the bone. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 How quaint an appetite in woman feigns ! 
 
 Free gift3 we scorn, and love what costs us pains; 
 
 Let men avoid us, and on them we leap ; 
 
 A glutted market makes provision cheap. 
 In pure good will I took this jovial spark, 
 
 Of Oxford he, a most egregious clerk. 
 
 He boarded with a widow in the town, , 
 
 A trusty gossip, one dame Alison ; 
 
 Full well the secrets of my soul she knew, 
 
 Better than e'er our parish-priest could do. 
 
 To her I told whatever could befal ; 
 
 Had but my husband lean'd against a wall; 
 
 Or done a thing that might have cost his life, 
 
 She — and my niece — and one more worthy wife* 
 
 Had known it all ; what most he would conceal, 
 
 To these I made no scruple to reveal. 
 
 Oft has he blush'd from ear to ear for shame 
 
 That e'er he told a secret to his dame. 
 
 It go befel in holy time of Lent, 
 That of t a day I to this gossip went 3 
 (My husband, thank my stars, was out of town) 
 From house to house we rambled up and down, 
 This clerk, myself, and my good neighbour Aise, 
 To see, be seen, to tell, and gather tales*. 
 Visits to every church we daily paid, 
 And march'd in every holy masquerade; 
 The stations duly and the vigils kept, 
 Not much we fasted, but scarce ever slept. 
 At sermons, too, I shone in scarlet gay ; 1 
 
 The wasting moth ne'er spoil'd my best array ; > 
 The cause was this, I wore it every day. - 3 
 
 'X was when freBh May her early blossoms 
 yields, 
 This clerk and I were walking in the fields. 
 We grew so intimate, I can't toll how, 
 I pawn'd my honour and engag'd my vow, 
 If e'er I laid my husband in his urn, 
 That he, and only he, should serve my turn. 
 We straight struck hands, the bargain was agreed^ 
 I still have shifts against a time of need. 
 The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole 
 Can never be a mouse of any soul. [him, 
 
 I vovv'd I scarce could sleep sii;ce first I knew 
 And durst be sworn he had bewitched me to him $ 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 2*# 
 
 3Wli,> 
 
 If e'er I slept, I dream'd of him alone, 
 And dreams foretell, as learned men have shown 
 All this I said, but dreams, sirs, I had none 
 I follow'd but my crafty crony's lore, 
 Who bid me tell this lie— and twenty more. 
 
 Thus day by day, and month by month we past? 
 It pleas'd the Lord to take my sponse at lasti 
 I tore my gown, I soil'd my locks with dust, 
 And beat my breasts, as wretched widows — must. 
 Before my face my handkerchief I spread, 
 To hide the ijoods of tears I did— not shed. 
 The good man's coffin to the church was borne ; 
 Around the neighbours, and my clerk too, mourn, 
 But as he march'd, good gods ! he show'd a pair 
 Of legs and feet so clean, so strong, so fair I 
 Of twenty winters' age he seem'd to be; 
 -I (to say truth) was twenty more than he; 
 But vigorous still, a lively buzom dame, 
 And had a wondrous gift to quench a flame. 
 A conjuror once, that deeply could divine, 
 Assur'd me Mars in Taurus was my fign. 
 As the stars order'd, such my life has been, 
 Alas, alas ! that ever love was sin ! 
 Fair Venus gave roe fire and sprightly grace, 
 And Mars assurance and a dauntless face. 
 By virtue of this powerful constellation 
 I follow'd always my own inclination. 
 
 But to my tale. — A month scarce pass'd away, 
 With dance and song we kept the nuptial day. 
 All I possess'd I gave to his command, 
 My goods and chattels, money, house, and4and : 
 But oft repented, and repent it still ; 
 He prov'd a rebel to my sovereign will ; 
 Nay once, by Heav'n ! he struck me on the face, 
 Hear but the fact, and judge yourselves the 
 case. 
 Stubborn as any lioness was I, 
 And knew full well to raise my voice on high; 
 As true a rambler as I was before, \ 
 And would be so in spite of all he swore. 
 He against this right sagely would advise, 
 And old examples set before my eyes ; 
 Tell how the Reman matrons led their life, 
 Of Gracchus' mother, and Duilias' wife : 
 
 And close the sermon, as heseem'd his wit, 
 With some grave sentence out of Holy Writ. 
 Oft u'ould he say — Who builds his house on gauds. 
 Pricks his blind horse across the fallow lands, 
 Or lets his wife abroad with pilgrims roam, 
 Deserves a fool's cap and long ears at home. 
 AH this avail'd not ; for whoe'er he be 
 That tells my faults, I hate him mortally ; 
 And so do numbers more, I'd boldly say, 
 Men, women, clergy, regular, and lay. 
 
 My spouse (who was, you know*, to Seasoning 
 bred) 
 A certain treatise oft at evening read, 
 Where divers authors (whom the devil confound 
 For all their lies) were in one volume bound ; 
 Valerius whole, and of St. Jerome part? 
 Chrysippus and Tertullian, Ovid's Art.. 
 Solomon s Proverbs* Eloisa's Loves, 
 And many more than sure the Church approver 
 More legends were there here of wicked wives, 
 Than good in all the Bible and Saints' Lives. 
 Who drew the Lion vanquished ? 'Twas a man ; 
 But could we women write as scholars can, 
 Men should stand mark'd with far more wick- 
 edness 
 Than all the sons of Adam could 'redress. 
 Love seldom haunts the breast where learning lies, 
 And Venus sets ere Mercury can rise. 
 Those play the scholars who can't play the men, 
 And use that weapon which they have — their pen, 
 When old, and past the relish of delight, . 
 Then down they sit, and in their dotnge write 
 That net one wonyin keeps her marriage-vow, 
 (This by the way, but to my purpose now.) 
 
 It chane'd my husband on a winter's night, 
 Read in this book aloud with strange delight, 
 How the first female (as the scriptures show) 
 Brought hor ow*n spouse, and all his race to wo? ; 
 How Samson fell; and he whom Dejanire 
 Wrapp'd in th' envenom'd shirt, and set on lire ; 
 How curs'd Eripbylte her lord betray'd, 
 And the dire ambush Clyteronestra laid 5 
 But what most pieasM him was the Cretan dame 
 And husband-bull, oh, monsjroas ! fy* for M?.ame I 
 H 5 
 
250 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 He had by heart the whole detail of woe 
 Xantippe made her good man underga ; 
 How oft she scolded in a day he knew, 
 How many jordens on the sage she threw, 
 Who took it patiently, and wip'd his head, 
 " Rain follows thunder," that was all he said. 
 He read how Arins to his friend complain'd 
 A fatal tree was growing in his land, 
 On which three wives successively had twin'd 
 A sliding noose, and waver'd in the wind. 
 " Where grows this plant," replied the friend, 
 
 " oh ! where? 
 For better fruit did never orchard bear; 
 Give me some slip of this most blissful tree, 
 And in my garden planted it shall be." 
 
 Then how two wivefr their lords' destruction 
 prove, 
 Through hatred one, and one through too much 
 
 love, 
 That for her husband mix'd a poisonous draught, 
 And this for lust an amorous philtre bought ; 
 The nimble juice soon seir'd his giddy head, 
 Frantic at night, and in the morning dead. 
 
 How some with swords their sleeping lords have 
 slain, 
 And some have hammer'd nails into their brain, 
 And some have drench'd them with a deadly 
 
 potion ; 
 All this he read, and read with great devotion. 
 Long time I heard, and swell'd, and blush'd, 
 and frown'd ; 
 But when no end of these vile tales I found, 
 When still he read, and laugh'd and read again, 
 And half the night was thus consum'd in vain, 
 Provok'd to vengeance, three large leaves I tore, 
 And with one buffet felPd him on the floor. 
 With that my husband in a fury rose, 
 And down he settled me with hearty blow9. 
 1 groan'd, and lay extended on my side ; 
 •* Oh ! thou hast slain me for my wealth, (I cried) 
 Yet I forgive thee — take my last embrace — " 
 He wept, kind soul ! and stoop'd to kiss my face, 
 I took him such a box as turn'd him blue, 
 Then sigh'd and cried, " Adien, my dear, adieu I" 
 
 But after many a hearty riruggle past, 
 I condescended to be pieas'd at last. 
 Soon as he said, u My mistress and my wifej 
 Do what you list the term of all your life;" 
 I took to heart the merits of the cause. 
 And stood content to rule by wholesome laws % 
 Receiv'd the reins of absolute command, 
 With all the government of house and land, 
 And empire o'er his tongue and o'er his hand 
 As for the volume that revil'd the dames, 
 'Twas torn to fragments and condemn'd to flames. 
 
 Now Heav'n on all my husband's gone bestow 
 Pleasures above, for tortures felt below : 
 That rest they wish'd for grant them in the 
 
 grave, 
 And bless those souls ray «onduct help'd to save ! 
 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 What is the world ? a term that men have got, 
 To signify, — not one in ten knows what ; 
 A term with which no more preei;-ion passes, 
 To point out herds of men, than herds of asses. 
 In common use, no more it means we find, 
 Than many fools in One opinion join'd. 
 
 wife's AFFECTION. 
 O cruel Death, why wert thou so unkind 
 To take my hujband, and leave me behind ? 
 Thou shouldst have taken both of us, if either, 
 Which would have been more grateful to the 
 survivor. 
 
 LIVING IN STYLE. 
 In no instance have I seen grasping after stylo 
 more whimsically exhibited than in the family of 
 my old acquaintance Timothy Giblet. I recollect 
 old Giblet when I was a boy, and he was the most 
 surly curmudgeon I ever knew. He was a perfect 
 scarecrow to the small-fry of the day, and inherited 
 the hatred of all these unlucky little shavers ; for 
 never could we assemble about his door of an even- 
 ing to play, and make a little hubbub, but out he 
 sallied from his nest like a spider, flourished lus 
 formidable horsewhip, and dispersed the whole 
 crew in the twinkling of a lamp. I perfectly re- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 251 
 
 member a bill he sent in to my father for a pane of 
 glass I had accidentally broken, which came well 
 nigh getting me a sound Hogging; and I remember, 
 :ib perfectly, that the next night I revenged myself 
 by breaking half-a-dozen. Giblet was as arrant a 
 grub-worm as ever crawled ; and the only rules of 
 right and w rong he cared a button for were the rules 
 of multiplication and addition ; which he practised 
 much more successfully than he did any of the rules 
 of religion or morality. He used to declare they 
 were the true golden rules : and he took special 
 care to put Cocker's arithmetic in the hands of his 
 children, before they had read ten pages in the 
 bible or the prayer-book. The practice of these 
 favourite maxims was at length crowned with the 
 harvest of success; and after a life of incessant 
 self-denial, and starvation, and after enduring all 
 the pounds, shillings, and pence miseries of a 
 miser, he had the satisfaction of seeing himself 
 worth a plum, and of dying just as he had deter- 
 mined to enjoy the remainder of his days in con- 
 templating his great wealth and accumulating 
 mortgages. 
 
 His children inherited his money; but they 
 buried the disposition, and every other memorial 
 of their father in his grave. Fired with a noble 
 thirst for style, they instantly emerged from the 
 retired lane in which themselves and their accom- 
 plishments had hitherto been buried; and they 
 blazed, and they whizzed, and they cracked about 
 town, like a nest of squibs and devils in a fire- 
 work. 
 
 Having once started, the Giblets were deter- 
 mined that nothing should stop them in their ca- 
 reer, until they had run their full course and 
 arrived at the very tip-top of style. Every tailor, 
 every shoemaker, every coachmaker, every milli- 
 ner, every mantua-maker, every paper-hanger, 
 every piano-teacher, and every dancing-master in 
 the city, were enlisted in their service; and the 
 willing wights most courteously answered their 
 call, and fell to work to build up the fame of the 
 Giblets, as they had done that of many an as- 
 piring family be/ore them. In a little time the 
 
 young ladies could dance the waltz, thunder Lo- 
 doiska, murder French, kill time, and commit vio- 
 lence on the face of nature in a landscape in water- 
 colours, equal to the best lady in the land ; and 
 the young gentlemen were seen lounging at corners 
 of streets, and driving tandem ; heard talking loud 
 at the theatre, and laughing in church, with as 
 much ease and grace, and modesty, as if they had 
 been gentlemen all the days of their lives. 
 
 And the Giblets arrayed themselves in scarlet, 
 and in fine linen, and seated themselves in high 
 places ; but nobody noticed them except to honour 
 them with a little contempt. The Giblets made a 
 prodigious splash in their own opinion ; but no- 
 body extolled them except the tailors, and the mil- 
 liners, who had been emplwved in manufacturing 
 their paraphernalia. The Giblets thereupon being, 
 like Caleb Quotem, determined to have '* a place 
 at the review," fell to work more fiercely than 
 ever; — they gave dinners, and they gave balls; 
 they hired cooks, they hired confectioners, and 
 they would have kept a newspaper in pay, had 
 they not been all bought up at that time for the 
 election. They invited the dancing men, and the 
 dancing women, and the gormandizers, and the 
 epicures of the city, to come and make merry at 
 their expense; and the dancing men, and the 
 dancing women, and the epicures, and the gor- 
 mandizers, did come ; and they did make merry 
 at their expense; and they eat, and they drank, 
 and they capered, and they danced, and they 
 — laughed at their entertainers. 
 
 Then commenced the hurry and the bustle, and 
 the mighty nothingness of fashionable life; — such 
 rattling in coaches ! such flaunting in the streets J 
 such slamming of box-doors at the theatre I such a 
 tempest of bustle and unmeaning noise wherever 
 they appeared ! The Giblets were seen here and 
 there and every where ; — they visited every body 
 they knew, and every body they did not know; 
 and there was no getting along for the Giblets. 
 Their plan at length succeeded. By dint of din- 
 ners, of feeding and frolicking the town, the 
 Giblet family worked themselves into notice, and 
 
252 
 
 THS LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 enjoyed the ineffable pleasure of being for ever 
 iiestered by visitors, who cared nothing about 
 them ; of being squeezed, and smothered, and par- 
 boiled at nightly balls, and evening tea-pariies ; 
 they were allowed the privilege of forgetting the 
 very few old friends they oace possessed ; they 
 turned their noses np in the wind at every thing 
 that was not genteel; and their superb manners 
 and sublime affectation at length left it no longer 
 «i matter of doubt that the Giblets were perfectly 
 in the style. 
 
 THE BACKBITER. 
 Ho, Varus hates a thing that's base, — 
 
 I own, indeed, fee's got a knack 
 Of flatt'ring people to their face, 
 But scorns to do't behind their back. 
 
 Bint to travellers. 
 Uyon a black board, besprinkled with white 
 iears, and hung up in a public-house, in England, 
 is the following inscription j — 5 ' This monument is 
 creeled to the memory of Trust, who was some 
 time ago cruelly put to death by Ctedit ; a fellow 
 who is prowling about the country plotting the 
 ruin- of all publicans." 
 
 £IRS. DOBSS AT HOME. 
 " The common chat of gossips when they meet." 
 
 Dryden. 
 He who knows Hackney, needs must know 
 That spot enchanting — Prospect-Row^ 
 So called, because a view it shows 
 Of Shorediich Road, and when there blows 
 No dust, the folks may one and all get 
 & peep — almost to Norton Falgate. 
 Here Mr*. Dobbs, at Number Three, 
 Invited ail her friends to tea. 
 The Row had never heard before 
 Such double knocks -at any door; 
 And heads were popp'd from every^aseineni, 
 Counting the comers "with amazement. 
 
 Some magnified them to eleven, 
 
 While others swore there were but seven i 
 
 A point that's keenly mooted still, 
 But certain 'tis that Mrs. Gill 
 Told Mrs. Grub she reckoned ten ; — 
 Fat Mrs. Hobbs came second — then 
 Came Mesdr.mes Jinkins, Dump, and Spriggins, 
 Tapps, Jacks, Briggs, Hoggins, Crump, and 
 Wiggins. 
 
 Dizen'd in all her best array, 
 Our melting hostess said her say, 
 
 As the souchong repast proceeded, 
 And curtsying and bobbing press'd 
 By turns each gormandizing guest, 
 
 To stuff as heartily as she did. 
 Dear Mrs, Hoggins, what ! — your clip 
 Turn'd in your saucer, bottom up ! — 
 Dear me, how soon you've had your fill, 
 Let me persuade you — one more sup, 
 
 'Twill do you good, indeed it will ;— > 
 Psha now, you're only making game, 
 Or else you teu'd afore you came. 
 
 Stop Mrs. Jenkins, let me stir it, 
 
 Before I pour out any more. — 
 No, ma'am, that's just as I prefer it, — 
 
 O then I'll make it as before. 
 
 Lauk! Mrs. Dump, that toast seems dry, 
 
 Do take and eat this middle bit $ 
 The butter's fresh yon may rely, 
 
 And a fine price I paid for it. — 
 No doubt, roa'm — what a shame it is. 
 And Cambridge too again has ritl 
 You don't deal now with Mrs. Keats ? 
 No, she's a bad one — ma'am she cheats. 
 Hush ! Mrs. Crump's her aunt — Good lack! 
 How lucky she has jtist turn'd her back. 
 
 Don't spare the toast, ma'am, don't say no, 
 I've got another round below ; 
 I give folks plenty when I ax e'm, 
 For cut and come again's my maxim. 
 Nor should I deem it a raisfort'n, 
 If you demolish'd the whole quart'n; 
 Though bread is now a shameful price,-"' 
 Why did they 'bolish the assise! 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 253 
 
 A charming garden, Mrs, Dobbs, 
 for drying, — An't it, Mrs. Hobbs? 
 But though our water-tub runs o'er, 
 A heavy wash is such a bore! 
 Our smalls is all that we hang out — 
 Weil, that's a luxury no doubt. 
 
 La! Mrs. Tapps, do onlj look, 
 Those grouts can never be mistook ; 
 "Well, such a cup ! it can't be worse, 
 See, here's six horses and a hearse ; 
 And there's the church and burying-piace, 
 Plain as the noae opon your face; — 
 Next dish may dissipate your doubts, 
 And give j*ou less unlucky grouts; — 
 One more — you must — the pot has stood, 
 I warrant me it's strong and good. 
 
 -There's Mrs. Spriggin's in the garden ; 
 What a fine gown ! — but begging pardon, 
 It seems to me amazing dingy — 
 D'you think her shawl, ma'am, 's really Inj^ ? 
 Lord love you ! no ;— well, give me clothes 
 That's plain and gnod ma'am, not like those. 
 Though not so tawdry, Mrs. Jacks, 
 We do put chan things 'pon our back?. 
 
 All housekeeping is dear, — perhaps 
 
 You deal, ma'am, still with'William Tapps. — 
 
 Not I : — we know who's gat to pay, 
 
 Whcu butchers drive their one-horse chaj ; 
 
 Well, I pay nine for rumps. — At most 
 
 We pay but eight for boil'd and roast, 
 
 And get our rumps from Leadenhall 
 
 At seven, taking shins and all. 
 
 Yes, meat is monstrous dear all round ; 
 
 But drippings bring a groat a pound. 
 
 Thus on swift wing the moments flew, 
 Until it was time to say adieu ; 
 When each prepared to waddle back 
 Warm'd with a sip of Cogniac, 
 Which was with Mrs. Dobbs a law, 
 Whene'-er the night was cold or raw. 
 Umbrellas, pattens, lanterns, clogs, 
 Were sought— away the party jogs ; 
 
 And silent solitude again 
 O'er Prospect-Row resumed its reign, 
 o T u?t as the watchman crawl'd in sight, 
 To cry — '< Past ten — a cloudy night." 
 
 ROYAL TASTE. 
 The person of one of the mistresses of the second 
 George, Madam Ki'mansegge - (afterwards Coun- 
 tess of Darlington) — is thiuf described by Horace 
 Walpole ; " Lady Darlington, whom I saw at 
 my mother's in my infancy, and whom I remember 
 by being terrified at her enormous figure, was as 
 corpulent and ample as the Duchess of Kendal — 
 (another of the royal mistresses) — was long and 
 emaciated. Two fierce black eyes, large and 
 rolling, beneath two lofty arched eyebrows, two 
 acres of cheeks spread with crimson, an ocean of 
 neck that overflowed and was not distinguished 
 from the lower part of her body, and no part re- 
 strained by stays, — no wonder that a child dreaded 
 such an ogress, and that the mob of London were 
 highly diverted at the importation of so uncommon 
 a seraglio ! — One of the German ladies being 
 abused by Hie mob, was said to have put her 
 head out of the coach, and cried in bad English, 
 '* Good people, why you abuse us ? We came for 
 r.l! your goods." — " Yes, damn ye!" answered a 
 fellow in the crowd, "and for all our chattels too." 
 
 THE END OF THE WORLD. 
 
 One day, the rocks from top to toe shall quiver, 
 The mountains melt and all in sunder shiver ; 
 The heavens shall rent for fear ; the lowly fields, 
 Puft up, shall sweil to huge and mighty hills. 
 Rivers shall dry ; or, if in any flood 
 Rest any liquor, it shall all be blood. 
 The sea shall all be fire, and on the chore 
 The thirsty whales with horrid noise shall roar : 
 The sun no more of light shall grant his boon, 
 But make it midnight when it should be noon : 
 With rusty mask the heavens shall hide their face, 
 The stars shall fall, and all away shall pass : 
 Disorder, dread, horror, and death shall come, 
 Noise, storms, and darkness, shall usurp the room. 
 
TOE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 254t 
 
 And then the CHIEF CHIEF-JUSTICE, verging 
 
 wrath 
 (Which he already often threaten'd hath), 
 Shall make nbon-jire of this mighty ball, 
 As once he made it a vast ocean all. 
 
 SWIFT UPON BURNET. 
 
 In the Lansdown library, there is a copy of 
 ?* Burnet's History of his Own Times," filled with 
 remarks on the margin in the band-writing of 
 Swift. Burnet, it is well known, was no favourite 
 with the Dean. We select a few specimens : — 
 
 Preface, p. 3i Burnet. " Indeed, the peevish- 
 ness, the ill-nature, and the ambition of many 
 clergymen, have sharpened my spirits perhaps too 
 much against them ; so I warn my readers to take 
 all that I say on those heads with some grains of 
 allowance."— Swift. " I will take his warning." 
 
 P. 28. Burnet. " The Earl of Argyle was a 
 more solemn sort of man, grave and sober, and 
 free of all scandalous vices." — Swift. " As a man 
 is free of a corporation, he means." 
 
 P. 49. Burnet. " I will not enter farther 
 into the military part} for I remember an advice 
 of Marshal Schomberg, never to meddle in mili- 
 tary matters. His observation was, ' Some af- 
 fected to relate those affairs in all the terms of 
 war, in which they committed great errors, that 
 exposed them to the scorn of all commanders, 
 who must despise relations that pretend to exact- 
 ness, when there were blunders in every part of 
 them.' " — Swift. ** Very foolish advice, for sol- 
 diers cannot write." 
 
 P. 5. Burnet. " Upon the King's death, the 
 Scots proclaimed his son King, and sent over Sir 
 George Wincan, that married my great aunt, to 
 treat with him while he was in the Isle of Jersey." 
 — Swift. " Was that the reason why he was 
 sent ?" 
 
 P. 63. Burnet. (Speaking of the Scotch 
 preachers in the time of the civil wars.) " The 
 crowds were far beyond the capacity of their 
 churches or the reach of their voices."— Swift. 
 " And the preaching beyond the capacity of the 
 
 crowd. I believe the church has as much capacity 
 as the minister." 
 
 P. 163. Burnet. (Speaking of Paradise Lost. ) 
 " It was esteemed the beautifulest and perfectest 
 poem that ever was writ, at least in our language." 
 — Swift. " A mistake! for it ism English." 
 
 P. 169. Burnet. " Patrick was esteemed a 
 great preacher, '** but a little too severe against 
 those who differed from him. — * He became after- ^ 
 wards more moderate." — Swift. " Yes, for he' 
 turned a rank whig." 
 
 P. 263. Burnet. " And yet, after all, he 
 (King Charles II.) never treated her (Nell Gwyn) 
 with the decencies of a mistress." — Swift. *■ Pray 
 what decencies are those?'' 
 
 P. 327. Burnet. " It seems the French made 
 no great account of their prisoners, for they re- 
 leased 25,000 Dutch for 50,000 crowns."— Swift. 
 " What! ten shillings a-piece ! By much too dear 
 for a Dutchman. 
 
 P. 483. Burnet. " I laid open the cruelties 
 of the church of Rome in Queen Mary's time, 
 which were not then known ; and I aggravated, 
 though very truly, the danger of falling under the 
 power of that religion." — Swift. " A Bull." 
 
 P. 525. Burnet. " Home was convicted on 
 the credit of one evidence. Applications, 'tis 
 true, were made to the Duke of York for saving 
 his life ; but he was not born under a pardoning 
 planet."— Swift. "Silly fop." 
 
 P. 586. Burnet. " Baillie suffered several 
 hardships and fines, for being supposed to be in 
 the Rye-house plot; yet during this he seemed so 
 composed, and even so cheerful, that his behaviour 
 looked like the revival of the spirit of the noblest 
 Greeks and Romans." — Swift. " Take notice, 
 he was our cousin.'* 
 
 Vol. II. p. 669. Burnet. (Speaking of the 
 progress of his own life.) " The pleasures of 
 sense I did soon nauseate." — Swift. " Not so soon 
 with the wine of some elections." 
 
 P. 727. Burnet. " I come now to the year 
 1688, which proved memorable, and produced an 
 extraordinary and unheard of revolution."— Swift. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 255 
 
 *'* The unheard-of! Sure all Europe heard of it." 
 P. 799. Burnet. " When I heard of the ac- 
 count of King James's flight, I was affected with 
 this dismal reverse of fortune in a great Prince, 
 more than I think fit to express." — Swift. " Or 
 than I will bplieve." , 
 
 P. 816. Burnet. " It was proposed that the 
 birth of the pretended Prince might be inquired 
 into, and he was ordered to gather together all the 
 presumptive proofs that were formerly mentioned ; 
 it is true these did not amount to a full and legal 
 proof; yet they seemed to be such violent pre- 
 sumptions, that when they were all laid together, 
 they were more convincing than plain and down- 
 right evidence, for that was liable to the suspicion 
 of subornation, whereas the others seemed to carry 
 on them very convincing characters of truth and 
 conformity."— Swift. " Well said, Bishop." 
 
 PRINTING.— A SONG. 
 
 When learning and science were both sunk in night, 
 And genius and freedom were banish'd outright, 
 The invention of Printing soon brought all to 
 light: 
 
 Then carol the praises of Printing, 
 
 And sing in the noble art's praise. 
 
 Then all who profess this great heaven-taught art, 
 And have liberty, virtue, and knowledge at heart, 
 Come join in these verses, and now bear a part, 
 
 To carol, &c. 
 Tho' every composer a galley must have, 
 Yet judge not from that a composer's a slave, 
 For printing has often dug tyranny's grave. 
 
 Then carol, &c. 
 If correction he needs, all mankind does the same, 
 When he quadrates his matter, he is not to blame, 
 For to justification he lays a strong claim. 
 
 Then carol, &c. 
 Tho' he daily imposes, 'tis not to do wrong, 
 Like Nimrod he follows the chase all day long, 
 And always t« him a good slice does belong. 
 
 Then carol, &c. 
 
 Tho' friendly to peace, yet French cannon he 
 
 loves, 
 Expert in his great and long primer he proves; 
 And with skill and address all his furniture moves. 
 
 Then carol, &c. 
 Tho 1 no antiquary, he deals much in coins, 
 And freedom with loyalty closely combines, 
 And to aid the republic of letters he joins. 
 
 Then carol, &c. 
 Extremes he avoids, and in medium invites, 
 Tho' no blockhead, he often in foolscap delights, 
 And handles his shooting-stick tho' he ne'er fights. 
 
 Then carol, &c. 
 
 But the art to complete, the stout pressmen must 
 
 come, [drum, 
 
 And make use of their balls, their frisket, and 
 
 And to strike the impression the plattin pull home. 
 
 Then carol, &c. 
 But, as the old proverb declares very clear, 
 We're the farthest from God when the church we 
 
 are near, 
 So in all printing chapels do devils appear. 
 
 Then carol , &c. 
 
 On the press, truth, religion, and learning depend, 
 
 Whilst that remains free, slav'ry ne'er gains :fcs 
 
 end, friend, 
 
 Then my bodkin in him who is not Printing's 
 
 And carol the praises of Printing, 
 
 And sing in that noble art's praise, 
 
 THE JUDGE BURIED IN HIS OWN CELLAR. 
 
 One of the judges in King Charles II.'s reign, 
 being in the long vacation, at his country-house, in 
 Holsworth, Suffolk, happened to fall into a deep 
 fit of the hypochondria, insomuch that he fancied 
 himself to be dead; and was so very obstinate 
 under the influence of his whimsical distemper, 
 that he would not be persuaded to stir hand or 
 foot, or receive any sustenance, but by force, till 
 he had brought his body into a very low condi- 
 tion. In this stubborn frenzy he lay upon his 
 back, stretched out at his full length, like a 
 corpie, and motionless ; neither his physician nor 
 
256 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 his family knowing what to do with him. A 
 famous High German doctor coming into the town, 
 attended with fools and rope-dancers, to pick the 
 country people's pockets of a little money, hearing 
 of so eminent a person under this unaccountable 
 indisposition, took an occasion, the first time that 
 he mounted his public theatre, to mention this 
 matter to his country chubs, telling them their 
 country physicians were all fools, and that the 
 judge was only troubled with the mulligrubs; and 
 that if his lady would send for him he would 
 undertake to bring him to his speech, set him upon 
 his legs, make him walk, talk, eat, drink, or do 
 any thing in four and twenty hours time, or else 
 he would desire nothing for his trouble. This 
 large promise of the mountebank was soon com- 
 municated to the judge's lady, who sent immedi- 
 ately for the Dutch tooth-drawer, to consult him 
 about the matter; who told her positively he 
 could soon cure him if she would promise a hun- 
 dred guineas reward, provided he had leave, with- 
 out interruption, to do as he should see fit. Both 
 parties being agreed, the doctor sent his man for 
 a joiner and a coffin. When every thing was in 
 order, the doctor and the lady entered the room 
 where the body lay. No sooner had the doctor 
 cast an eye upon his sullen patient, than he cried 
 out to the lady, " Lord, madam, what makes you 
 send for a physician to a dead man; for shame, 
 keep him not above ground any longer. Upon my 
 word, madam, be has been dead so long that if you 
 do not bury him quickly, the scent of his corpse 
 will breed a plague." — "I have had a coffin in 
 the house for some time, (replied the lady,) but 
 was loth to have him buried too soon." — " By all 
 means, (said the doctor,) let it be brought in, and 
 order him to be nailed up immediately." — "Pray, 
 doctor, (said the lady,) do you stay a little in the 
 room, for fear the rats should disfigure the corpse, 
 and I will step and order some of my servants to 
 bring in the coffin presently." The patient heard 
 all this, but was still too much amused to break 
 silence; the lady came accordingly, and the ser- 
 vants with the coffin, who 6et.it down by the bed- 
 
 side, and having wrapt their master in warat 
 blankets, laid him into (he coffin, put on the lid, 
 and pretended to nail him up. They now ordered 
 the great bell of the church to be tolled, that be 
 might think they were bearing him to his grave 5 
 instead of which, they carried him into bis own 
 wine-cellar, where they set a person to watch him 
 till a good supper was prepared; in the interim 
 the doctor ordered his lady and her servants to 
 disguise themselves in winding-sheets, to represent 
 ghosts or spirits, the doctor making oae of the 
 party. When they were thus equipped, the docior 
 led the van of these hobgoblins, and went into 
 the cellar, where they altered their voices, and fell 
 into a merry, extravagant chat, concerning the 
 affairs of the upper world, rattling the bottles 
 and tbe glasses, extolling their happiness after 
 death, and drinking to the remembrance of those 
 friends they had left behind. In a short time sup- 
 per was laid, and they felt to with seeming jollity ; 
 as they were thus merrily eating and carousing, 
 " What's the matter, (says the doctor,) with (bat 
 melancholy ghost, that he does not rise out of his 
 coffin ? He has been amongst us this fortnight, 
 and has not yet given us any of his company; 
 surely he is sadly tired of his journey out of the 
 other world, for he has a long sleep after it: 
 prithee wake him, and ask him to eat with us." 
 One of the most frightful of the spectres, with a 
 taper in his hand, now opened the lid of the 
 coffin, and bawled in his ears, ** Mag-Dngnum 
 Huggle-Duggle, deputy-governor of the lower 
 regions, desires your company to supper witb 
 him." Upon which he raised his head to the edge 
 of the cofSn, and beholding so many hideous 
 figures feeding heartily, " Pray, (said he,) do 
 dead men eat?" — " Aye, and drink too^ (said the 
 doctor,) or how should they live?" — " Then, (said 
 the judge,) if eating be the custom of this coun- 
 try, I will make my resurreciion, and pick a bit 
 with you." They now conducted him to a scat 
 at the table, i* Truly, (said he,) I am very glad 
 to find that dead men live so merrily^' — M Well 
 may we lire so merrily, (said the doctor,) for we 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER- 
 
 257 
 
 live better here without money than a man in the 
 other world can for 1000/. a-year; for, in short, 
 v*e have every thing, and that for nothing." 
 
 When supper was over they drank a cheerful 
 glass to the memory of their particular friends 
 over their heads, till at la3t the patient (being 
 much weakened with his long fasting) grew very 
 tipsy; they accordingly tarned him again into his 
 ivooden territories, where he soon fell into a 
 sonnd sleep, during which time they carried him 
 up into his own room, and put him again into his 
 bed, where he slept with his lady till the next 
 morning about day-light, when waking, he began 
 to look ab^ut him, strangely surprised, which the 
 lady perceiving, cried, " Prithee, my dear, what's 
 the matter with thee?"— " Lord, love, (said he,) 
 art thou here ? Where are we ?" — *! In our own 
 bed, (replied the lady,) in our own chamber, in 
 your own house. Where do you think we should 
 be?" — " Then, (said the jud^e,) 1 have had one 
 of the most unaccountable dreams that ever was 
 heard of." From that time he was recovered of 
 his melancholy ; the mountebank had his reward, 
 and the judge sat upon the bench for several years 
 after. 
 
 THE TEA-TABLE. 
 
 When the party commences, all starch'd and all 
 
 glum, 
 They talk of the weather, their corns, or sit mum; 
 They will tell you of cambric, of ribands, of lace, 
 How cheap they are sold — and will name you the 
 
 place. 
 They discourse of their colds, and they hem and 
 
 they rough, 
 And complain of their servants to pass their time 
 
 off; 
 Or list to the tale of some doating mamma; 
 How her ten weeks old baby will laugh and say 
 
 taa ! 
 
 But tea, that enlivcner of wit and of soul — 
 More loquacious by far than the draughts of tSie 
 bowl. 
 
 Soon unloosens the tongue, and enlivens the mind, 
 And enlightens their eyes to the faults of mankind. 
 
 In harmless chit-chat an acquaintance they roast, 
 And serve up a friend, as they serve up a toast ; 
 Some gentle faux pas, or some female mistake, 
 Is like sweetmeats delicious, or relished as cake ; 
 A bit of broad scandal is like a dry crust, 
 It would stick in the throat, so they butter it first 
 With a little affected good-nature, and cry 
 *' Nobody regrets the thing deeper than I." 
 Our young ladies nibble a good name in play, 
 As for pastime they nibble a biscuit away 
 While with shrugs and surmises the toothless old 
 
 dame, 
 As she mumbles a crust, she will mumble a name. 
 
 The wives of our cits of inferior degree 
 Will soak up repute in a little bohea ; 
 The potion is vulgar, and vulgar the slang 
 With which on their neighbours' defects they ha- 
 rangue ; 
 But the scandal improves, a refinement in wrong ! 
 As our matrons are richer, and rise to souchong. 
 With hyson — a beverage that's still more refined, 
 Our ladies of fashion enliven their mind $ 
 And by nods, inuendoes, and hints, and what not, 
 Reputations and tea send together to pot. 
 While madam, in cambrics and laces array'd. 
 With her plateand her liveries in splendid parade, 
 Will drink in imperial a friend at a sup, 
 Or in gunpowder blow them by dozens all up. 
 Ah me ! how I groan, when with full swelling sail 
 Wafted stately along by the favouring gale, 
 A China ship proudly arrives in our bay, 
 Displaying her streamers and blazing away. 
 Oh 1 more fell to our pert is the cargo she bears 
 Than grenadoes, torpedoes, or warlike affairs ; 
 Each chest is a bombshell thrown into our town, 
 To shatter repute and bring character down. 
 
 If I, in the* remnant that's left me of life. 
 Am to suffer the torments of slanderous strife, 
 Let me fall, I implore, in the slang-whanger's claw, 
 Where the evil is open, and subject to law ; 
 
258 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 Not nibbled, and mumbled, and put to the rack 
 By the sly underminings of tea-party clack ; 
 Condemn me, ye gods, to a newspaper roasting, 
 But spare me ! O spare me, a tea-table toasting ! 
 
 A CONFERENCE 
 
 Between George Duke of Buckingham and Father 
 Fitzgerald. 
 
 Priest. May it please your grace, I come from 
 his Majesty, who sent me on purpose to wait on 
 you. 
 
 Duke. I am exceedingly beholden to his Ma- 
 je'sty For all his favours. I thought I had long ago 
 been out of his remembrance ; pray, sir, take a 
 chair. And what may your errand be! 
 
 P. His majesty being informed of your grace's 
 illness, and as it becomes a prince who has a true 
 regard for his subjects, compassionating the dan- 
 gerous circumstances you are in at present, com- 
 manded me to use my best endeavours to reclaim 
 your grace from that heretical communion 'tis 
 now your unhappinesss to embrace, and reconcile 
 you to the catholic church, out of which there is 
 no salvation. 
 
 JD. I perceive, sir, you're a priest ; Sam, bring 
 up a bottle of wine, and clean glasses. — Do you 
 smoke, sir? 
 
 P. An't please your grace, I did not come to 
 drink, but 
 
 D. Well, well, a glass now and then won't 
 spoil conversation. But do you say, sir, there's 
 no salvation to be had out of the pale of the ca- 
 tholic church ? 
 
 P. Well then I submit ; his majesty's (drinks 
 oft' his glass) health, and your grace's commands 
 must never be di-puted. 
 
 D. But all this while, father, you take no 
 (playing with the cork) notice of my line gelding 
 here. Do but observe his exquisite shape : what 
 
 fine turned neck is there ? His eyes, how lively 
 and full ? His pace, how majestic and noble ? 
 I'll lay a hundred guineas there's nothing in New- 
 market can compare with him. 
 
 P. An't please your grace, I see no horse. 
 
 D. Why don't you see me play with his mane, 
 stroke him under the belly clap his buttocks, and 
 manage him as I please ? 
 
 P. Either your grace is merrily disposed^ or 
 else your illness has had a very unlucky effect 
 upon your grace's imagination. Upon my sincerity 
 I see nothing but a cork in your hands. 
 
 Z>. How, my horse dwindled into a foolish 
 piece of cork ? Come, father, this is very unkindly- 
 done of you, to turn the finest gelding in Europe, 
 whose sire was a true Arab, and had a better ge- 
 nealogy to show than the best gentleman in Wales 
 or Scotland can pretend to, into a cork. 
 
 P. Not to flatter then this melancholy humour in 
 your grace, which may but serve to confirm and 
 rivet it the more in you, I must roundly and 
 fairly tell your grace, that 'tis a cork, and no- 
 thing but a cork. 
 
 D. "Tis hard that a person of my quality's 
 word won't be taken in such a matter, where I 
 have not the least prospect of getting a farthing 
 by imposing upon you. But, father, how do you 
 make good your assertion ? I say still 'tis a horse, 
 you tell me 'tis a cork ; how shall this difference 
 be made up between us? 
 
 P. Very easily; for instance, I first examine 
 (taking the cork from the duke) it by my smell, 
 and that tells me 'tis cork. I next consult my 
 sight, and that affirms the same; then I judge it 
 by my taste, and still 'tis cork. 
 
 D. Hark you, father, before you proceed a 
 step farther; thou art plaguily mistaken, if thou 
 thinkest to make the Trinity a stepping stone to 
 transubstantiaiion. 
 
 P. Be it so then ; and since your grace has 
 mentioned transubstantiation, we II enter into the 
 merits of that controversy. I need not remind 
 your grace, that no article of our holy religion is 
 so expressly laid down in scripture as that; for 
 what can be plainer than hoc est corpus meum. 
 
 D. I see, father, I must refresh your memory 
 with this piece of cork, which I positively affirm 
 once more to be a horse : just now you would be 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 governed by the senses, in those matters that pro- 
 perly belong to their tribunal ; but now you dis- 
 own the jurisdiction of the court, which is not 
 honestly done. 
 
 P. My lord duke, you must hUmble your 
 reason to reconcile yourself to this holy mystery, 
 which even the angels themselves don't compre- 
 hend. 
 
 D. Well, father, since we have fallen, I don't 
 know how, upon the chapter of miracles, I will 
 take care to entertain you with one that happened 
 but last winter in Northumberland, and comes 
 confirmed from so many hands, both catholic and 
 protestantj that he must be a rank infidel indeed, 
 who dares dispute the credibility of it. But as I 
 have one of the most treacherous memories in the 
 world, I won't pretend to relate it to you myself, 
 
 but one of my servants shall do it Here, (to 
 
 one of his gentlemen coming into the room,) go 
 bid Long John come to me immediately. 
 
 P. Your grace may save yourself that trouble, 
 if you please, for I am as well satisfied as if I had 
 heard it. 
 
 D. Nay, you are no priest for my money if 
 you refuse to hear a miracle, and what is more, a 
 catholic miracle. (Long John enters,) Come 
 John, you must oblige this worthy gentleman here, 
 who is come upon no less errand than the salva- 
 tion of your master's soul, with the relation of 
 that famous miracle that happened last winter in 
 Northumberland. 
 
 John. Your grace has always a right to com- 
 mand me. Why then, sir, you are to understand, 
 that within two miles of my Lord Widrington's 
 house, in the above-mentioned county, there was a 
 small village which wholly belongs to his Lord- 
 ship; by the same token most of the inhabitants, 
 in complaisance, I suppose, to their landlord, are 
 Roman catholics. 
 
 D. Very well, proceed. 
 
 J. An ancient woman of this village was acci- 
 dentally sitting at her door, about three in the 
 afternoon, when my lord's priest happened to I 
 
 259 
 
 and told him, dear father, you must never think 
 of going to his lordship to-night, the ways are 
 slippery and full of sloughs, the days are short, 
 and you'll certainly be benighted before you can 
 have got half the way thither; I tremble to think 
 what would become of you, should you lose the 
 road, or fall into a ditch; therefore, let me per- 
 suade you to accept of a sorry supper and lodging 
 at my house; I am sure my lord will not be 
 offended with you, and to-morrow you'll have the 
 whole day before you. 
 
 D. And what reply made the priest to this ? 
 J. After a little humming and hawing upon 
 (he matter, he considered it would be his wisest 
 way to take up his quarters that night at the old 
 woman's, so he followed her to her house; she led 
 him into a pretty snug warm parlour, made him a 
 fire nose high, (hen going into the yard, slew a 
 barn-door fowl with her own hands, clapt it on 
 the spit, and when it was ready, neatly dished up 
 with egg-sauce, and who so cheerful as she and 
 the priest over their supper ? 
 jD. 'Twas well done. 
 
 J. Resolving to give so worthy a guest the best 
 entertainment her house afforded, after supper 
 she presented him with a dish of nuts of her own 
 gathering, and then thwacked his guts with apples 
 and ale, and was very liberal of her nutmeg and 
 sugar. Thus they passed away the hours merrily: 
 at last bed-time approached, our good old land- 
 lady showed the father the chamber he was to lie 
 in, wished him a happy night and departed ; but 
 being a curious woman, as most of the sex are 
 possessed with the spirit of curiosity, she peeped 
 through the key-hole, to see how the priest ma- 
 naged matters by himself. 
 
 P. Honest friend, you may drop your miracle 
 here, if you please, I'll hear no more on't. 
 
 D. Father, your zeal has got the heels of your 
 discretion. Upon my word here's no trap laid 
 for a jest, but what her majesty and maids of ho* 
 nour may hear. 
 
 J, To her infinite surprise and admiration, she 
 
 brush by her, She immediately ran after him, saw him jump stark naked as ever he was born, 
 
2o0 
 
 . not into th6 sheets, though they smelt most <le- 
 ■liciously of lavendar and roses, but into the 
 . blankets. Down stairs she hurries, full of grief 
 and confusion, which would not let her wink all 
 night; and Lord, cries she, what a wicked age is 
 • this we live in, how cold, and uncharitable, when 
 -a person of such merit and learning, 'who has re- 
 sided too so long in the family, has not a shirt to 
 put on his back ? I could never have thought my 
 Lord so niggardly* These afflicting thoughts, 
 wholly occasioned by her zeal for religion, and 
 the professors of it, made that impression upon 
 her, that she did not enjoy a minute's repose that 
 night. Early she gets up the next morning, and 
 measured out six ells of the finest flaxen linen she 
 had, which was of her own spinning. Presently 
 down comes the father into her parlour; she en- 
 quires of him how he past the night, and was 
 ravished with joy to hear he had slept so well. 
 After this, comes in a thundring toast, with a full 
 •tankard of humming stale beer. The priest and 
 she soon ended it between them, and now she had 
 courage enough to tell him what she had observed 
 the night before. Father, says she, I beg your 
 pardon for being so impudent as to peep through 
 your key-hole last night; and truly I was grieved 
 to the heart to see that a gentleman of your edu- 
 cation and great parts should be without a shirt. 
 Come, never blush for the matter, I know it is so ; 
 but here are six ells of my best liner, which will 
 make you two very good shirts, and I humbly de- 
 sire jou to accept of them. 
 
 « D. Why, father, here is the quintcscence of 
 true Christianity for yoo. 
 
 -j. J. Well, daughter, replies he, I accept of 
 your present in good part (for priests and lawyers 
 are seldom guilty of refunding) not that I shall 
 have any occasion of making use of it myself, for 
 you must understand, I belong to an order which 
 obliges us to wear woollen next our *kin, but it 
 may serve to make towels for the altar, and the 
 like, and therefore I will take it with me. Then 
 ordering the good woman to kneel, he gave her 
 his benediction, and prayed, that whatever -she 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 began to do after he was gone, «he might continue 
 a doing till sun-setting. Our landlady, little ima- 
 gining that a miracle was entailed upon the 
 father's blessing, very innocently went to measure 
 the small remainder of linen she had left, when, to 
 her great astonishment, and that of her family, she 
 continued in this posture till the sun was set, and 
 got such a prodigious quantity of liuen by this 
 means, that next week she was able to buy out 
 her lease, and is now the topping dame of the 
 parish. 
 
 D. What think ycu now, father, of Long 
 John's story ? 
 
 J. This miracle in a moment run through the 
 four northern counties; every village and hamlet 
 rung of it; nay, it crossed the Tweed, and filled 
 the ears of the unbelieving Scots. The priest, 
 wherever he came, was worshipped and respected 
 like a little Divinity, and the woman was mag- 
 nified by all as a true pattern of primitive zeal, 
 piety, and charity, since heaven had been at the 
 pains to reward her inso extraordinary a manner. 
 
 P. Honest friend, let me desire you to be as 
 concise as you can, for in plain truth I am weary 
 of your story already. 
 
 J. At the lower end of this village (where the 
 above-mentioned miraculous scene happened) 
 lived another old woman, a catholic by persuasion, 
 who, hoping to gain as much by her godliness as 
 her neighbour had done before her, looked out as 
 sharply for the father as a Yorkshire attorney 
 does for a purse-proud litigious client. At last, 
 to her mighty satisfaction, she sees him go by her 
 door; immediately she trots after him, tells him 
 of the depth of the ways, and the great danger he 
 ran of being lost, desires him to consult his own 
 safety, and not expose h'mself to those casualties 
 which be might so reasonably expect from the 
 badness of the ways and the darkness of the 
 nights. With these plausible insinuations she 
 wheedles the priest 'into her house, and to secure 
 him entirely to her interest, treats him with a 
 shoulder of mutton, and a couple of capons for 
 sapper. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 261 
 
 D. She took the right course to gain her point, 
 I mast needs own; forever while yon live, father, 
 lic.'de a priest by the belly, if you intend to make 
 him yours. 
 
 J. When the table-cloth was taken away, our 
 cunning hypocrite, who was resolved to out-do 
 her neighbour's entertainment in her provisions, 
 accordingly brings in a double bottle of Ivietheg- 
 lin, fills a bumper, and begins prosperity to the 
 catholic religion. She tells the father, that a ju- 
 dicious person lately told her, that a cardinal was 
 coming from Rome, who was to make his public 
 appearance in Cheapside, in cloth of beaten silver 
 and gold, marry was he, and that he was to con- 
 vert the whole natiou, and then, father (says she) 
 we shall see happy times. The honest priest was 
 so taken up with his pot and pipe, that he neither 
 opposed nor seemed to approve her discourse. In 
 this manner they drank and prattled, until the 
 liquor fouud such a way into their pericraniums 
 they could hardly see one another. The priest, 
 unable to ho!d up his head any longer, desired to 
 be conducted to the room where he was to lie that 
 night; the old woman, with much ado, gets him 
 up stairs, leads him to his bed, wishes him a thou- 
 sand good nights, and so leaves him with a trusty 
 jug of ale by his bed-side, that if he waked in the 
 night he might have something to refresh his con- 
 science and thirst at once. 
 
 D. Well said, John. 
 
 J. By that time the prie.-.-t had rigged himself 
 and was come down into the parlour, cur ancient 
 matron had tossed up a nice breakfast, out of the 
 remainder of the capons, which, being highly sea- 
 soned, proved a very effectually shoeing-horn for 
 the other bumper. And now, with tears in her 
 eyes, she began the same story as her neighbour 
 had done, lamenting the horrid ingratitude of the 
 times, that so learned and devout a man as he 
 6houid want a shirt; to prevent which; for the 
 future, as far as it lay within her small capacity, 
 she made bold to make him a small present of a 
 dozen ells of her hej»i linen cloth. 
 
 P. You'll never have done I'm afraid. 
 
 J. The priest, not being conjuror enough to 
 dive into the bottom of her heart, to know whether 
 she was guided by any mercenary bye-ends, or 
 whether her intentions were real, heartily thanked 
 her for the noble present she had made him, and 
 folded it up under his great-coat; bid her kneel 
 down, and laying his sacerdotal fist upon her 
 head, he gave her a blessing, and prayed, that 
 whatever this good woman began to do after he 
 was gone, she might continue a doing tiil sun- 
 setting. 
 
 D. And what fell out upon this ? 
 
 J. The father was no sooner got over the 
 threshold, but our matron, who had laid all her 
 tackle in readiness, was going to measure the re- 
 mainder of her linen ; but then considering, upon 
 second thoughts, what a large morning's draught 
 she had taken with the priest, and being a wise 
 prudent woman into the bargain, she thought it 
 would be convenient to make a little water be- 
 fore she fell to work. She did so, and continued 
 in mingent circumstances from the morning till 
 night, evacuating so plentiful a 6tream that she in 
 a manner occasioned a second deluge. In short, 
 ail the low lands in Northumberland suffered by 
 it; twenty-four mills, upon strict examination, 
 were found to be overwhelmed by this sudden 
 inundation, besides cottages and hay-ricks num- 
 berless. This old woman, conscious of her own 
 deceit and hypocrisy, has not dared to show her 
 head among her neighbours since this fatal acci- 
 dent. All true catholics rejoice at the just d is* 
 pensation of heaven's favours, and so my story 
 concludes, 
 
 D. Come, John, there's something to make 
 you amends for the pains you have taken. (John 
 bows and quits the room.) Well, father, what's 
 your opinion now of this miracle? 
 
 JP« *Out of respect to your grace, I was content 
 to sit out the whole story; though I guessed at 
 first whereabouts it would end. But since your 
 grace is pleased to demand ray opinion, all I can 
 
262 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 say to (he matter is, that it was contrived on pur- 
 pose to make us poor suffering catholics ridiculous 
 to the people. 
 
 After a few compliments his grace and Fitz- 
 gerald parted. 
 
 RECREATION ON THE VERB TO TWIST. 
 When a twister a twisting, will twist him a twist, 
 With the twisting his twist, he three twines doth 
 
 entwist ; 
 But if one of the twines of the twist do untwist, 
 The twine that untwisteth, untwisteth the twist, 
 Untwisting the twine that entwisteth between, 
 He twists with his twister, the two in a twine; 
 Then twice having twisted the twines of the twine, 
 He twisteth the twine he had twined, in twain. 
 The twain, that in twining before in (he twine, 
 As twins were entwisted, he now doth entwine ; 
 'Twixt the twain, intertwisting a twine more be- 
 tween, 
 The twirling his twister makes a twist ofthetwine. 
 
 THE BIRMINGHAM MAN IN AMERICA. 
 Straddle had just arrived in an importation of 
 hardware, fresh from the city of Birmingham, or 
 rather, as the most learned English would call it, 
 Brummagem, so famous for its manufactories of 
 gimblets, pen-knives, and pepper-boxes, and 
 where they make buttons and beaux enough to in- 
 undate our whole country. He was a young man 
 of considerable standing in the manufactory at 
 Birmingham; sometimes had the honour to hand 
 his master's daughter into a tira-whiskey, was the 
 oraele of the tavern he frequented on Sundays, 
 and could beat all his associates, if you would 
 take his word for it, in boxing, beer-drinking, 
 jumping over chairs, and imitating cats in a gutter 
 and opera-singers. Straddle was, moreover, a 
 member of a catch-club, and was a great hand at 
 ringing bob-majors ; he was, of course, a com- 
 plete connoisseur in music, and entitled to assume 
 that character at all performances in the art. He 
 was likewise a member of a spou ting-club ; had 
 seen a company of strolling actors perform in a 
 
 barn, and had even, like Abel Druggcr, "enacied" 
 the part of Major Sturgeon with considerable ap- 
 plause ; he was consequently a profound critic, 
 and fully authorised to turn up his nose at any 
 American performances. I!e had twice partaken 
 of annual dinners, given to the head manufac- 
 turers of Birmingham, where he had the good 
 fortune to get a taste of turtle and turbot, and a 
 smack of champaign and burgundy; and he had 
 heard a vast deal of the roast beef of Old Eng- 
 land ; — he was therefore epicure sufficient to d — n 
 every dish and every glass of wine he tasted in 
 America ; though, at the same time, he was as vo- 
 racious an animal as ever crossed the Atlantic, 
 Straddle had been splashed half a dozen times by 
 the carriages of nobility, and had once the super- 
 lative felicity "of being kicked out of doors by the 
 footman of a noble duke; he could, therefore, 
 talk of nobility, and despise the untitled plebeians 
 of America. In short, Straddle was one of those 
 dapper, bustling, florid, round, self-important 
 " gemmen" who bounce as half-beau, half-button- 
 maker; undertake to give the true polish of the 
 bun-ton. 
 
 He swaggered about parlours and drawing- 
 rooms with the same unceremonious confidence he 
 used to display in the taverns at Birmingham. He 
 accosted a lady as he would a bar-maid ; and this 
 was pronounced a certain proof that he had been 
 used to better company in Birmingham. He be- 
 came the great man of all the taverns between 
 New-York and Haerlem ; and no one stood a 
 chance of being accommodated until Straddle and 
 his horses were perfectly satisfied. He d — d the 
 landlords and waiters with the best air in the 
 world, and accosted them with true gentlemanly 
 familiarity. He staggered from the dinner-table 
 to the play, entered the box like a tempest, and 
 staid long enough to be bored to death, and to 
 bore all those who had the misfortune to be near 
 him. From thence he dashed off to a ball, time 
 enough to flounder through a cotillion, tear half a 
 dozen gowns, commit a number of other depre- 
 dations, and make the whole company sensible of 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 263 
 
 his infinite condescension in coming amongst tbem. 
 The people of Gotham thought him a prodigious 
 fine fellow ; the young bucks cultivated his ac- 
 quaintance with the most persevering assiduity, 
 and his retainers were sometimes complimented 
 with a seat in his curricle, or a ride on one of his 
 fine horses. The belles were delighted with the 
 attentions of such a fashionable gentleman, and 
 struck with astonishment at his learned distinctions 
 between wrought scissors and those of cast-steel ; 
 together with his profound dissertations on buttons 
 and horse-flesh. The rich merchants courted his 
 acquaintance because he was an Englishman, and 
 their wives treated htm with great deference be- 
 cause he had come from beyond seas. 1 cannot 
 help here observing that your salt-water is a mar- 
 vellous great sharpener of men's wits, and I intend 
 to recommend it to some of my acquaintance in a 
 particular essay. 
 
 Straddle continued his brilliant career for only 
 a short time. His prosperous journey over the 
 turnpike of fashion was checked by some of those 
 stumbling-blocks in the way of aspiring youth 
 called creditors— or duns ; — a race of people who, 
 as a celebrated writer observes, " are hated by 
 gods and men." Consignments slackened, whis- 
 pers of distant suspicion floated in the dark, and 
 those pests of society, the tailors and shoe-makers, 
 rose in rebellion against Straddle. In vain were 
 all his remonstrances; in vain did he prove to 
 them, that though he had given them no money, 
 yet he had given them more custom, and as many 
 promises, as any young man in the city. They 
 were inflexible; and the signal of danger being 
 given, a host of other persecutors pounced upon 
 his back. Straddle saw there was but one way 
 for it; he determined to do the thing genteelly, to 
 go to smash like a hero, and dashed into the limits 
 in high style ; being ihe fifteenth gentleman 1 have 
 known to drive tandem to the — ne plus ultra — the 
 d— I, 
 
 ARTEMISIA. 
 
 Though Artemisia talks by fits 
 
 Of councils, classics, fathers, wits; 
 
 Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke; 
 Yet in some things methinks she fails ; 
 'Tvvere well if she would pare her nails, 
 
 And wear a cleaner smock. 
 
 Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride, 
 Such nastiness and so much pride 
 
 Are oddly join'd by fate : 
 On her large squab you find her spread, 
 Like a fat corpse upon a bed, 
 
 That lies and stinks in state. 
 
 She wears no colours (sign of grace) 
 On any part except her face; 
 
 All white and black beside; 
 Dauntless her look, her gesture proud, 
 Her voice theatrically loud, 
 
 And masculine her stride. 
 
 So have I seen, in black and white, 
 A prating thing, a magpye hight, 
 
 Majestically Stalk j 
 A stately worthless animal, 
 That plies the tongue, and wags the tail, 
 
 All flutter, pride, and talk, 
 
 THE PYRAMID OF DRINK. 
 The operation of drink, in its various degrees, 
 may be represented by a pyramid thus; 
 
 Tipsy 
 * 
 
 Very fresh, ** Very tipsy 
 
 Fresh. **** Drunk. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Lively. ****** Very Drunk. 
 ******* 
 
 Comfortable. ******** Stupidly Drunk. 
 
 #**»***** 
 
 Sober. ********** Dead Drunk. 
 Sobriety. — The sober moments which immedi 
 ately succeed to dinner are the most miserable in 
 existence. The langour, the sense of utter inefli- 
 cacy, mental and bodily, are dreadful. After a 
 few glasses you ascend the first step of the pyra- 
 mid, and become eomfortable. In this state you 
 
264 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 are not much disposed to talk. There -is a tranquil 
 luxury in your feelings, and a reverie comes on, 
 which, if you drink no more, is likely to terminate 
 in sleep. A philosopher seldom passes this point 
 except in company. 
 
 Drink on, and you step up to lively. Now you 
 begin to talk, and your remarks are smart and per- 
 tinent. You have the reasoning power in high per- 
 fection, but aided withal by a happy fertility of 
 illustration. This maybe considered as a mental 
 aurora, announcing that the sua of fancy is about to 
 rise from the (t purple wave." 
 
 Fresh. — There is more fire and colour in your 
 ideas now, for the sun has risen. You grow then 
 eloquent and less logical. Your, jokes are capital — 
 in your own estimation. Your perceptions are still 
 tolerably clear, beyond yourself. 
 
 Very Fresh, — Your conversation is more and more 
 highly coloured. Your eloquence is impassioned, 
 and you overwhelm your companions with a flood of 
 talk. You begin to suit the action to the word. 
 Ideas not auite coherent, but language still tolerably 
 distinct ana correct. 
 
 / Tipsy. — Now on the top of the pyramid you begin 
 to grow giddy. Gestures very vehement, and epi- 
 thets much exaggerated. Argumentative, but not 
 rational. Words considerably abridged, and ideas 
 lamentabty obscured. 
 
 Very Tipsy. — You find out that you have a turn 
 for vocal music, and regale your friends with a song. 
 Speechify in incoherent language, and evince a 
 Jnost decided tendency to mischief and locomotion. 
 Proud as a peacock, stout as a lion, and amorous as 
 a dove. 
 
 D~unk. — Perversely quarrelsome, and stupidly 
 good-natured. Dealing much in shake hands, and 
 knock downs. Tongue stammering and feet un- 
 steady. 
 
 Very Draw&^-Abortive efforts to appear sober. 
 See every thing double. Balance totally lost, you 
 drift about like a ship in a hard gale. Vocabulary 
 reduced to a few interjections. 
 
 Stupidly Drunk.-- Head and stomach topsy-turvy. 
 Eyes fixed and glaring. Utter incapacity o* bpeoch 
 
 and locomotion, accompanied with an indistinct yet 
 horrid consciousness of your situation. 
 
 Dead Drunk. — An apoplectic sleep, and confused 
 dreams of the devil, or your creditors. 
 
 TJEMALE APPAREL. 
 
 What though their garments, light as woven air, 
 Disclose each hidden charm that decks the fair, 
 Why so censorious, friend, what is't to you, 
 If Paradise is open'd to your view ? , 
 Like mother Eve, our maids may stray unblam'd, 
 .For they are naked, and are not asham'd ! 
 
 HORNS TOOKE AND WIX.KES. 
 
 Home Tooke wrote a challenge to Wilkes, who 
 was then high jheriff for the county of Middlesex. 
 Wilkes had signalized himself in a most determined 
 affair with Martin, on account of No. 45 of the 
 North Briton, and he wrote Home Tooke the fol- 
 lowing laconic reply to the challenge. " Sir, I d4 
 not think it my business to cut thu throat of every 
 desperado that may be tired of his life ; but as I am 
 at present High Sheriff for the city of I^ndon, it may 
 happen that I may shortly have an opportunity of at ■ 
 tending you in my official capacity, in which case I 
 will answer for it, that you shall have no ground to 
 complain of my endeavours to serve you." Proba- 
 bly it was about this time that Home Tooke, on 
 being asked by a foreigner of distinction, how much 
 treason an Englishman might venture to write, with- 
 out being hanged, replied, that he could not inform 
 him just yet, but that he was trying. 
 
 love's bath. 
 Love, like the cold bath, is never negative, it sel- 
 dom leaves us where it finds us ; if once we plung* 
 into it, it will either heighten our virtues, or inflame 
 our vices. 
 
 PHYSIOGNOMISTS. 
 
 Pickpockets and beggars are the best practical , 
 physiognomists, without having read a line of Lava- 
 ter, who, it is notorious, mistook- a highwayman 
 for a philosopher, and a philosopher for a highway- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 265 
 
 THE COLLEGE FEAST. 
 
 Hark ! heard ye not yon footsteps dread, 
 That shook the hall with thund'ring tread 1 
 With eager haste 
 The fellows pass'd ; 
 Each, intent on direful work, 
 High lifts his mighty hlade, and points his deadly fork. 
 
 But hark ! the portal's sound, and pacing forth, 
 
 With steps, alas, too slow, 
 The college gyps of high illustrious worth, 
 With all the dishes, in long order, go : 
 In the midst a form divine, 
 Appears the fam'd sir-loin ; 
 And soon with plums and glory crown'd, 
 Almighty pudding sheds its sweets around. 
 Heard ye the din of dinner bray 1 
 Knife to fork, and fork to knife ; 
 Unnumber'd heroes, in the glorious strife, 
 Thro' fish, flesh, pies, and puddings, cut their destin'd 
 way. 
 See, beneath the mighty blade, 
 
 Gor'd with many a ghastly wound, 
 Low the fam'd sir-loin is laid, 
 
 And sinks in many a gulf profound. 
 Arise, arise, ye sons of glory, 
 Pies and puddings stand before ye ; 
 See the ghost of hungry bellies 
 Points at yonder stand of jellies ; 
 While such dainties are beside ye, 
 Snatch the goods the gods provide ye ; 
 Mighty rulers of this state, 
 Snatch before it is too late ; 
 For, swift as thought, the puddings, jellies, pies, 
 Contract their giant bulks, and shrink to pigmy size. 
 
 From the table now retreating, 
 
 All around the fire they meet, 
 And, with wine, the sons of eating, 
 
 Crown at length their mighty treat : 
 Triumphant plenty's rosy graces 
 Sparkle in their jolty faces ; 
 And mirth and cheerfulness are seen 
 In each countenance serene. 
 
 Fill high the sparkling glass, 
 And drink th' accustom'd toast ; 
 Drink deep, ye mighty host, 
 And let the bottle pass. 
 Begin, begin the jovial strain ; 
 
 Fill, fill the mystic bowl, 
 And drink, and drink, and drink again ; 
 
 For drinking fires the soul. 
 But soon, too soon, with one accord, they reel j 
 
 Each on his seat begins to nod ; 
 All conquering Bacchus' pow'r they feel, 
 And pour libations to the jolly god. 
 At length with dinner, and with wine, oppress'd, 
 Down in the chairs they sink, and give themselves 
 to rest. 
 
 Huntington's s. s. 
 
 Huntington, the celebrated preacher, gives the fol- 
 lowing definition of his assumed S. S. 
 
 You know we clergy are very fond of titles of 
 honour ; some are called lords spiritual, though we 
 have no such lords but in the persons of the ever- 
 blessed Trinity ; others are named doctors of divi- 
 nity, and prebends, though God gives no such titles ; 
 therefore I cannot conscientiously add D. D. to my 
 function though some hundreds have been spiritually 
 healed under my ministry j nor have I fourteen 
 pounds to spare to buy the dissenting title of D. D. 
 Being thus circumstanced, I cannot call myself 
 a Lord Spiritual, because Peter, the pope's enemy, 
 condemns it : nor can I call myself Lord High Pri- 
 mate, because supremacy, in the scriptures, is applied 
 only to kings, and never to ministers of the gospel. 
 As I cannot get at D. D. for the want of cash, nei- 
 ther can I get at M. A. for the want of learning ; 
 therefore I am compelled to fly for refuge to S. S. by 
 which I mean Sinner Saved. Own Life. 
 
 PROLOGUE TO THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL. 
 
 A School for Scandal '. — Tell me> I beseech you, 
 Needs there a school this modish art to teach you ? 
 No need of lessons now— the knowing think 
 We might as well be taught to eat and drink. 
 
266 
 
 Caus'dby a dearth of scandal, should the vapours 
 Distress our fair-ones, let them read the papers ; 
 Their pow'rful mixtures such disorders hit, 
 Crave what they will, there's quantum sufficit. 
 " Lord !" cries my lady Wormwood (who loves 
 
 tattle, 
 And puts much salt and pepper in her prattle) 
 Just ris'n at noon, all night at cards when threshing, 
 Strong tea and scandal — bless me, how refreshing ! 
 " Give me the papers, Lisp — how bold and free [sips. 
 Last night lord L. (sips) was caught with lady D. 
 For aching heads, what charming sal volatile ! — (sips) 
 If Mrs. B. will still continue flirting, 
 We hope she'll draw, or we'll undraw the curtain. 
 Fine satire, poz ! in public all abase it ! 
 But, by ourselves; (sips) our praise we can't refuse it; 
 Now, Lisp, read you — there, at that dash and star — " 
 " Yes, Ma'am — A certain Lord had best beware, 
 Who lives not twenty miles from Grosvenor-square. 
 For should he lady W. find willing— 
 Wormwood is bitter." — '* Oh ! that's me — the vil 
 
 lain ! 
 Throw it behind the fire, and never more 
 Let that vile paper come within my door." 
 
 Thus at our friends we laugh, who feel the dart ; 
 To reach our feelings, we ourselves must smart. 
 Is our young bard so young, to think that he 
 Can stop the full spring-tide of calumny ? 
 Knows he the world so little, and its trade ? — > 
 Alas ! the devil's sooner rais'd than laid. 
 So strong, so swift, the monster there's no gagging ; 
 Cut Scandal's head off — still the tongue is wagging, 
 Proud of your smiles, once lavishly bestow'd, 
 Again our young Don Quixote takes the road ; 
 To show his gratitude, he draws his pen, 
 And seeks this hydra, Scandal, in its den ; 
 From his fell grip the frighted fair to save — 
 Tho' he should fall, th' attempt must please the 
 
 brave. 
 For your applause, all perils he would through, 
 He'll fight — 'that's write — a cavaliero true, 
 Till ev'ry drop of blood — that's ink — is spilt for you: 
 
 GARRICK. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 HONEST HORSE. 
 
 An Irish jockey once selling a nag to a gentleman, 
 frequently observed, with emphatic earnestness, that 
 he was an honest horse. Afcer the purchase the gen- 
 tleman asked him what he meant by an honest horse. 
 " Why, sir," replied the seller, " whenever 1 rode 
 him he always threatened to throw me, and he cer- 
 tainly never deceived me." 
 
 HOW TO PLEASE YOUR FRIENDS. 
 
 Go to India — stay there twenty years — work hard 
 — get money— save it — come home — bring with you 
 a store, of wealth, and a diseased liver — visit your 
 friends — make a will — provide for them all — then 
 die : — what a prudent, good, generous, kind hearted 
 soul vou would be ! 
 
 IRISH BILL FOR A PAIR OF SHOES. 
 
 The following bill for a pair of shoes, was sent by 
 a shoemaker to his attorney who had solicited a 
 matter of right for the shoemaker, but had done no- 
 thing effectually for him. 
 
 Timothy Termfee, Esq. to Samuel Snob, Dr. 
 
 £. 
 
 J. 
 
 6 8 
 
 1812 
 
 Nov. 1. Attending you at your chambers, 
 
 consulting and advising on your intended 
 
 pair of shoes 
 3. Attending you' again, when your honour 
 
 did not come to any determination what 
 
 sort of shoes I should make for you 
 6. The like attendance - - 
 
 9. Attendance again at your chambers, 
 
 when I found you were gone to the Lord 
 
 Mayor's show - 
 
 12. Attending your honour, when you de- 
 termined to wear nothing for the future 
 but best black grain, and taking your 
 measure accordingly 
 
 13. Attending you again, when you inform- 
 ed me that as there were no proper cross- 
 ings in the new pavement, for foot pas- 
 sengers, you had determined to have 
 strong wax leather, instead of black grain, 
 
 and taking your instructions accordingly 13 4 
 
 6 8- 
 
 - 13 4 
 
14. Borrowing your honour's last to make 
 them by - - - - 
 
 16. Attending you four different times, 
 consulting and advising on the last, &c. 
 
 20. Cutting out the shoes - - 
 
 To me and my foreman's attendance for 
 three days, making inquiry for a good 
 craft, when we found one with great diffi- 
 culty, the rest having gene to the Plant 
 ations - - 
 
 ■To three sev£ral attendances to fit them 
 on, when your honour was not at home 
 
 28. Attending twice this day to try them 
 on, but they did not fit 
 
 Drawing out this bill and fair copy - 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 fcuNTINGTON AND PRIESTLEY. 
 
 267 
 
 3 4 
 
 - 1 10 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 - 13 
 
 4 
 
 ■ 2 
 
 2 
 
 £6 12 
 
 Mr. Termfee, this is my bill, and I have had it 
 settled by the master of our company. 
 
 I am, yours, 
 
 Samuel Snob. 
 
 Whatever is odious and disagreeable, however 
 lawful and right, constitutes a bore — a great bore — 
 Un uncommon bore — a horrid bore — an intolerable 
 
 and d lish bore. To bore ; to tease incessantly 
 
 1 — to torment — to weary or worry. Thus your " mere 
 mathematician," whom Sir Thomas Overbury, in his 
 " Characters," defines, " an intelligible Asse /" will 
 bore you over a bottle with Newton's Principia. 
 But the most boring of all animals is what is called 
 a dun, one who will stick closer than a brother. It 
 has been proved by quotation from Shakspeare, that 
 the word bore, in the above sense, is not peculiar 
 to the moderns. In the historical play of Henry the 
 Eighth, the Duke of Buckingham says to Norfolk, 
 alluding to Cardinal Wolsey, 
 
 I read in his looks 
 Matters against me, and his eye revil'd 
 Me, as his object : at this instant 
 He bores me with some trick. 
 n2 
 
 Timothy Priestley was one of Huntington's bitterest 
 antagonists. He and the S. S. had met in private life, 
 and, as it seems, upon amicable, if not fraternal terms. 
 Timothy, however, gave offence by opposing Antino- 
 mianism in a treatise called " The Christian's Look- 
 ing Glass, or the Timorous Soul's Guide ; being a 
 description of the work of the Holy Spirit upon the 
 heart : intended for the relief of the Disconsolate." 
 The reply to this was sent forth under a title in the 
 genuine old fashion of puritanical polemics — " The 
 Barber ; or Timothy Priestley shaved, as reflected 
 from his own Looking Glass. The Operator, Wil- 
 liam Huntington, S. S." The texts also, which were 
 affixed as mottos, were selected in the same temper : 
 " Thou son of man, take thee a sharp knife, take thee 
 a barber's razor." Ezekiel, v. 1. " And the Lord 
 shall shave with a razor the head, and the hair of the 
 feet, and it shall consume the beard." The reply 
 itself was in the Martin Marprelate style which such 
 a title indicates. The Coalheaver had treated Row- 
 land Hill with some degree of deference,, but in en- 
 gaging with Timothy Priestley, he laid aside all en- 
 cumbrances of courtesy or decorum, and closed with 
 him at once for a rough-and-tumble. All wise per- 
 sons were at a loss, he said, whether to call his pro- 
 ductions the effects of insanity, or intoxication : but 
 for his own part, if he might be allowed " to give his 
 judgment, as one that had obtained mercy of the 
 Lord to be faithful," he believed they were a com- 
 position of both. ". This Timothy," said he, " is a 
 snake in the grass ; he is rotten at bottom and empty 
 throughout ; but by the help of God I will uncase 
 him, and expose his secret treasures' of darkness. 
 Blessed be God, we are not ignorant of Satan's 
 devices ; for there is no more imitation or comparison 
 between the regenerating work of God in the soul, 
 and the account of it in this book by Timothy Priest" 
 ley, than between light and darkness, Christ and 
 Belial. Satan is no more hid under the gown and 
 wig of Timothy Priestley, than he was under the 
 petticoat of the witch of Endor. The devil is the 
 devil still, whether he comes in long clothing, a rough 
 
268 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 garment to deceive, or in the attire of a harlot. 
 Yea, the scripture character of him appears in this 
 very book. It is his business to draw ignorant souls 
 into sin, and then to father it upon the instruments 
 instead of himself ; and it is verified in this Looking 
 Glass: Timothy Priestley's name stands affixed to 
 it, whereas any discerning Christian may see, with 
 half an eye, that the devil, and none but the devil, 
 was the sole and whole author of it." Timothy 
 Priestley had said that the change in regeneration is 
 " from darkness to light, from enmity to love, from 
 sin to holiness, and from death to life." " All this," 
 says the S. S. " Tim took from my writings : I will 
 not say he stole them, because it may be he bought 
 the book. But I know my own doctrines, and I know 
 they are badly applied here. How Tim's Christian 
 should have light without the candle of the Lord 
 searching the innermost parts of the belly ; and how 
 he should get love without dwelling in God and God 
 dwelling in him, I know not ; and how he should 
 have life without the Lord of life and glory living in 
 him, is what I cannot get at, and it is what Timothy 
 cannot bring out. A sinner, sensibly in the tor- 
 menting hands of the devil, can no more fill his belly 
 with Timothy's doctrines, which is nothing but the 
 east wind, than the man in hell could satisfy his 
 drought with devouring flames." 
 
 ON AN IRISH MISER. 
 
 Here crumbling lies, beneath this mould, 
 A man, whose sole delight was gold ; 
 Content, was never once his guest, 
 Though thrice ten thousand filPd his chest ; 
 For he, poor man, with all his store, 
 Died in great want — the want of more. 
 
 THE LAW'S DELAY. 
 
 The son-in-law of a chancery barrister having 
 succeeded to the lucrative practice of the latter, came 
 one morning in breathless ecstasy to inform him that 
 he had succeeded in bringing nearly to its termi- 
 nation, a cause which had been pending in the court 
 of scruples for several years. Instead of obtaining 
 the expected congratulations of the retired veteran of 
 
 the law, his intelligence was received with indigna- 
 tion. " It was by this suit," exclaimed he, " that 
 my father was enabled to provide for me, and to 
 portion your wife, and with the exercise of common 
 prudence it would have furnished you with the means 
 of providing handsomely for your children and grand- 
 children." 
 
 BUCKS HAVE AT YE ALL. 
 
 Ye social friends of claret and of wit, 
 Where'er dispers'd in merry groups you sit;' 
 Whether below ye gild the"glitt'ring scene, 
 Or in the upper regions oft have been ; 
 Ye bucks assembled at your ranger's call, 
 Dam'me, I know ye — and have at ye all. 
 The motive here that sets our bucks on fire, 
 The gen'rous wish, the first and last desire ; 
 If you with plaudits echo to renown, 
 Or urg'd with fury, tear the benches down ; 
 Tis still the same — to one bright goal we haste, 
 To showjour judgment, and approve your taste. 
 'Tis not in nature for ye to be quiet, 
 No, damJme ! bucks exist but in a riot. 
 
 For instance now—to please the ear and charm the 
 
 admiring crowd 
 Your bucks o' th' boxes sneer and talk aloud ! 
 To the green-box next with joyous speed you run, 
 Hilly ho ! ho ! .my bucks ! well, d— n it, what's the 
 
 fun ? 
 
 Tho' Shakspeare speaks regardless of the play, 
 
 Ye laugh and loll the sprightly hours away : 
 
 For to seem sensible of real merit, 
 
 Oh, darn'mej it's low — its vulgar — beneath us I&ds-of 
 
 spirit. 
 
 Your bucks o' th' pit are miracles of learning,. 
 Who point out faults to show their own discerning j 
 And critic-like bestriding martyr'd sense, 
 Proclaim their genius and vast "consequence, 
 The side long row, whose keener views of bliss,. 
 Are chiefly center'd in some favourite miss ; 
 A set of jovial bucks who here resort, 
 Flush from the tavern, reeling ripe for sport , 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 269 
 
 Wak'd from their dream oft join the gen'ral roar, 
 With bravo, bravo-^bravissimo, etdam'me, encore. 
 
 Or skipping that, behold another row, 
 Supplied by citizens, or smiling beau ; 
 Addressing miss, whose cardinal protection, 
 Keeps her quite safe from ranc'rous detraction, 
 Whose lively eyes beneath a down drawn hat, 
 Gives hint she loves a little you know what. 
 
 Ye bucks above who range like gods at large, 
 Nay, pray don't grin, but listen to your charge, 
 You who design to change this scene of raillery, 
 And out-talk players in the upper gallery : 
 Oh, there's a youth, and one o' ttf sprightly sort, 
 I don't mean you — dam'me, you've no features for't : 
 Who slily skulks to hidden station, 
 While players follow their vocation, 
 Whistle, off, off, off! Nosee, Roast Beef— there's 
 education. 
 
 Now I've explor'd this mimic world quite thro', 
 And set each country's little faults to view ; 
 In the right sense receive the well-meant jest, 
 And keep the moral still within thy breast ; 
 Convinc'd I'd not in heart or tongue offend, 
 Your hands acquit. me, and I've gain'd my end. 
 
 A TRUE SPORTSMAN. 
 
 Sheridan, a few years before his death, paid a 
 visit to an old sportsman in the sister kingdom, at 
 the commencement of the shooting season, and, in 
 order to avoid the imputation of being an ignoramus, 
 he was under the necessity of taking a gun, and at 
 the dawn of day, setting forth in pursuit of game. 
 Unwilling to expose his want of skill, he took an 
 opposite course to that of his friend, and was accom- 
 panied by a game-keeper, provided with a bag to 
 receive the birds which might fall victims to his 
 attacks, and a pair of excellent pointers. - The game- 
 keeper- was a true Irishman, and possessed of all those 
 arts which are known to belong to his countrymen : 
 and thinking it imperative on him to be particularly 
 attentive to his master's friend, he lost no opportunity 
 in praising his powers. The first covey (and the birds 
 
 were abundant) rose within a few yards of the states' 
 man's nose, but the noise they made was so unex- 
 pected, that he waited till they were " out of harm's 
 way" before he fired. Pat, who was on the look-out, 
 expressed his surprise, and immediately observed, 
 " Faith, sir, I see you know what a gun is; it's well 
 you was'nt nearer, or them chaps would be sorry you 
 ever came into the country." Sheridan re-loaded, 
 and went on, but his second shot was not more suc- 
 cessful. " Oh !" cried Pat, " what an escape. I'll 
 be bound you rumpled some of their feathers." The 
 gun was loaded again, and on went our senator ; but 
 the third shot was as little effective as the two for- 
 mer. "Hah!" exclaimed Pat, although astonished 
 at so palpable a miss, " I'll lay a thirteen you don't 
 come near to us to-day again. Master was too near 
 you to be pleasant." So he went on shot after shot, 
 and always had something to say to console poor 
 Sheridan, who was not a little amused with his in- 
 genuity. At last, on their return home, without a 
 bird in the bag, Sheridan perceived a covey quietly 
 feeding on the other side of a hedge, and unwilling 
 to give them a chance of flight, he resolved to have a 
 slap at them on the ground. He did so ; but to his 
 mortification, they all flew away untouched. Pat, 
 whose excuses were now almost exhausted, still had 
 something to say, and he joyfully exclaimed, looking 
 at Sheridan very significantly, "By J — s you made 
 them lave that, any way !" and with this compli- 
 ment to his sportsmanlike qualities, Sheridan closed 
 his morning's amusement, laughing heartily at his. 
 companion, and rewarding him with half-a- crown for 
 his patience and encouragement. — 
 
 ENGLISH UNIVERSALITY. 
 
 The Spaniard loves his ancient slop, 
 
 The Lombard his Venetian, 
 
 And some like breechless women go, 
 
 The Buss, Turk, Jew, and Grecian. 
 
 The thrifty Frenchman wears small waist, 
 
 The Dutch his belly "boasteth, 
 
 The Englishman is for them all, 
 
 And for each fashion coasteth, 
 
270 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 The Turk in linen wraps his head, 
 The Persian his in lawn too, 
 The Russ with sables furs his cap, 
 And change will not be drawn to : 
 The Spaniard's constant to his block, 
 The French inconstant ever, 
 But of all felts that can be felt, 
 Give me the English beaver. 
 
 The German loves his conej'-wool, 
 
 The Irishman his shag too, 
 
 The Welsh his Monmouth loves to wear, 
 
 And of the same will brag too. 
 
 Some love the rough, and some the smooth. 
 
 Some great, and others small things. 
 
 But the free-hearted Englishman, 
 
 He loves to deal in all things. 
 
 The Russ drinks quass ; Dutch, Lubeck beer, 
 
 And that is strong and mighty, 
 
 The Briton he metheglln quaffs, 
 
 The Irish aqua vita. 
 
 The French affects the Orleans grape, 
 
 The Spaniard tastes his sherry, 
 
 The English none of these lets slip, 
 
 But with them all makes merry. 
 
 The Italian in her high chopine, 
 
 Scotch lass and lovely frow too, 
 
 The Spanish Donna, French Madame, 
 
 He will not fear to go to, 
 
 Nothing so full of hazard dread, 
 
 Nought lives above the centre, 
 
 No fashion, health, no wine, nor wench, 
 
 On which he will not venture. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE BEDMAKEKS. 
 
 This office is not confined to sex. In justice to 
 the women, they have not only been reckoned adepts 
 at making a bed, secundum artem, as the phrase is — 
 but, when they have had a mind to it, have shown 
 themselves very alert in helping to un-make the bed 
 they have made, secundum naturam ! Indeed, these 
 their natural parts and endowments were at one time 
 so notorious, or generally known, that, by a most mer- 
 
 ciless and unmanly decree of the senate, the whole 
 sex was rusticated ! 
 
 " It is enacted, that no woman, of whatever age or 
 condition, be permitted in any college to make any 
 one's bed, or to go to the hall, kitchen, or buttery, 
 to carry the provision to any one's chamber, unless 
 she be sent for as a nurse ; which nurse must be of 
 mature age, good fame, and either wife or widow ; 
 but upon no account young maids be permitted to 
 attend the students' chambers." This' statute was 
 made in 1625. O tempora ! O mulieres! There 
 is no scruple in the present Saturnian age, respecting 
 the admission of " young maids" into " the students' 
 chambers." 
 
 GAZETTED AND IN THE GAZETTE. 
 
 These terms imply very different things. The son 
 of a nobleman is gazetted, as a cornet in a regiment, 
 and all his friends rejoice, John Thomson is in the 
 Gazette, and all his friends lament. 
 
 BENEFITS OF 3IARBIAGE. 
 
 Jacobus de Voragine, in twelve arguments, pa- 
 thetic, succinct, and elegant, has described the bene- 
 fits of marriage, as follows : 
 
 1. Hast thou means 1 Thou hast one to keep and . 
 increase it. 
 
 2. Hast none t Thou hast one to help to get some. 
 
 3. Art thou in prosperity ? She doubles it. 
 
 4. Art in adversity ] She'll comfort, assist, bear 
 part. 
 
 5. Art thou at home \ She'll drive away melan- 
 choly. 
 
 6. Art thou abroad ? She prays for thee, wishes 
 thee at home, welcomes thee with joy. 
 
 7. Nothing is delightsome alone. No society is 
 equal to marriage. 
 
 8. The bond of conjugal love is adamantine. 
 
 9. Kindred is increased, parents doubled, brothers, 
 sisters, families, nephews. 
 
 10. Thou art a father by a legal and happy issue. 
 
 11. Barren matrimony is cursed by Moses. How 
 much more a single life ! 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 271 
 
 12. If nature escape not punishment, thy will 
 shall not avoid it, as he sung it, that, without mar- 
 riage, 
 
 " Earth, air, sea, land, eftsoon will come to nought, 
 Tl:e world itself would be Jo ruin brought." 
 
 LINES WRITTEN OX THE WINDOW OF AN IRISH INN. 
 
 When I have cash, I mount a gig, 
 When I have none I hop the twig. 
 When I have cash its hurly-burly, 
 When I have none, I'm dull and surly. 
 When I have cash, why then I roof it, 
 When I have none, I'm glad to hoof it. 
 
 HOW TO BREAK ILL-NEWS, 
 
 -Ha ! Jervas, how are you, my 
 
 old boy ' 
 
 Mr. G, 
 
 how do things go on at home 1 
 
 Stcivard. — Bad enough, your honour. The mag- 
 pie's dead. 
 
 Mr. G. — Poor mag ! so he is gone, How came 
 he to die ? 
 
 Steward. — Over-ate himself, sir. 
 
 Mr. G. — Did he, faith ! a greedy dog ! Why, what 
 did he get that he liked so well 1 
 
 Steward. — Horse-flesh, sir; he died of eating horse- 
 flesh ! 
 
 Mr. G. — How came he to get so much horse-flesh 1 
 
 Steward. — All your father's horses, sir. 
 
 Mr. G. — What ! are they dead too 1 
 
 Steward. — Aye, sir, they died of over-work. 
 
 Mr. G. — And why were they over-worked, pray ? 
 
 Steioard. — To carry water, sir. 
 
 Mr. G. — To carry water ! and what were they 
 carrying water for 1 
 
 Steward. — Sure sir, to put out the fire. 
 
 Mr. G.— Fire ! what fire \ 
 
 Steioard. — Oh, sir ! your father's house is burnt 
 down to the ground. 
 
 Mr. G. — My father's house burnt down ! and how 
 came it set on f.ie ? 
 
 Steward. — I think, sir, it must have been the 
 torches — 
 
 Mr. G.— Torches ! what torches ? 
 
 Steward. — At your mother's funeral. 
 
 Mr. G. — My mother dead. 
 
 Steward. — Ah ! poor lady ! she never looked up 
 after it. 
 
 Mr. G.— After what 1 
 
 Steivard. — The loss of your father. 
 
 Mr. G. — My father gone, too ! 
 
 Steward — Yes, poor gentleman ! he took to his 
 bed as soon as he heard of it. 
 
 Mr. G. — Heard of what ! 
 
 Steward. — The bad news, sir, an' please your 
 honour. 
 
 Mr. G. — What ! more miseries ? — more bad news 1 
 
 Steward. — Yes, sir, your bank has failed, your 
 credit is lost, and you are net worth a shilling in the 
 world ; I made bold, sir, to come to wait on you to 
 tell you about it, for I thought you would like to hear 
 the news. 
 
 In Cambridge, this title is not confined to the dig- 
 nitaries of the church ; but port wine, made cojriously 
 potable by being mulled and burnt, with the addenda 
 of roasted lemons all bristling like angry hedge-hogs 
 (studded with cloves,) is dignified with the appella- 
 tion of Bishop. 
 
 Beneath some old oak, come and rest thee, my 
 hearty ; 
 
 Our foreheads with roses, oh ! let us entwine ! 
 And, inviting young Bacchus to be of the party, 
 
 We'll drown all our troubles in oceans of wine ! 
 And, perfumed with Macassar or Otto of roses, 
 
 We'll pass round the bishop, the spice-breathing 
 cup, 
 And take of that medicine such wit-breeding doses, 
 
 We'll knock down the god, or he shall knock us 
 up. 
 
 Huntington's leather breeches. 
 The remarkable circumstance which occurred con- 
 cerning a certain part of Huntington's dress, has 
 made the S. S. known beyond the little sphere of hia 
 own followers. 
 
272 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 A light heart and a thin pair of breeches, 
 Go through the world, my brave boys ;" 
 
 but the latter qualification is better for going through 
 the world on foot than on horseback ; so uncle Toby 
 found it, and so did Huntington, who must be his own 
 historian : no language but his own can do justice to 
 such a story ; and it is in itself so pithy, that to use the 
 words of Fuller the Worthy, all compendium would 
 be dispendium thereof. 
 
 " Having now had my horse for some time, and 
 riding a great deal every week, I soon wore my 
 breeches out, as they were not fit to ride in. I hope 
 the reader will excuse my mentioning the word 
 breeches, which I should have avoided, had not this 
 passage of scripture obtruded into my mind, just as I 
 had resolved in my own thoughts not to mention this 
 kind providence of God. " And thou shalt make 
 them linen breeches to cover their nakedness ; from 
 the loins even unto the thighs shall they reach. And 
 they shall be upon Aaron and upon his sons when 
 they come into the tabernacle of the congregation, or 
 when they come near unto the altar to minister in 
 the holy place ; that they bear not iniquity and die. 
 It. shall be a statute for ever unto him and his seed 
 after him," Exod. xxviii. 42, 43. By which, and 
 three others, namely, Ezek. xliv. 18; Lev. vi. 10; 
 and Lev. xvi. 4 ; I saw that it was no crime to men- 
 tion the word breeches, nor the way in which God 
 sent them to me • Aaron and his sons being clothed 
 entirely by Providence ; and as God himself con- 
 descended to give orders what they should be made 
 of, and how they should be cut. And I believe the 
 same God ordered mine, as I trust it will appear in 
 the following history. 
 
 " The scripture tells us to call no man master, for 
 one is our master, even Christ. I therefore told my 
 most bountiful and ever-adored Master what I 
 wanted ; and he, who stripped Adam and Eve of 
 their fig-leaved aprons and made coats of skins and 
 clothed them ; and who clothes the grass of the field, 
 which to-day is and to-morrow is cast into the oven ; 
 must clothe us, or we shall soon go naked ; so Israel 
 found it, when God took away his wool and his flax, 
 
 which he gave to cover their nakedness, and which 
 they prepared for Baal ; for which iniquity were their 
 skirts discovered, and their heels made bare, Jer. 
 xiii. 22. 
 
 " I often made very free in my prayers with my 
 invaluable Master for this favour ; but. he still kept 
 me so amazingly poor that I could not get them at 
 any rate. At last I was determined to go to a friend 
 of mine at Kingston, who is of that branch of busi- 
 ness, to bespeak a pair; and to get him to trust me 
 until my Master sent me money to pay him. I 
 was that day going to London, fully determined to 
 bespeak them, as I rode through the town. However, 
 when I passed the shop I forgot it ; but when I came 
 to London I called on Mr. Croucher, a shoemaker 
 in Shepherd's Market, who told me a parcel was left 
 there for me, but what it was he knew not. I opened 
 it, and behold there was a pair of leather breeches, with 
 a note in them ! the substance of which was, to the 
 the best of my remembrance, as follows : 
 
 " Sir, — I have sent you a pair of breeches, and 
 hope they will fit. I beg your acceptance of them ; 
 and, if they want any alteration, leave in a note what 
 the alteration is, and I will call in a few days and 
 alter them. " J. S." 
 
 " I tried them on, and they fitted as well as if I 
 had been measured for them ; at which I was amazed, 
 having never been measured by any leather breeches- 
 maker in London. I wrote an answer to the note to 
 this effect : 
 
 " Sir, — I received your present, and thank you for 
 it. I was going to order a pair of leather breeches 
 to be made, because I did not know till now that my 
 Master had bespoke them of you. They fit very well, 
 which fully convinces me that the same God who 
 moved thy heart to give, guided thy hand to cut : 
 because he perfectly knows my size, having clothed 
 me in a miraculous manner for near five years. "When 
 you are in trouble, sir, I hope you will tell my Master 
 of this, and what you have done for me, and he will 
 repay you with honour." 
 
 " This is as near as I am able to relate it, and I 
 added, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 " I cannot make out I. S. unless I put I. for Israelite 
 ; indeed, and S. for Sincerity ; because you did not 
 j Sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do." 
 
 HOW TO OBTAIN THE DEGREE OF BACHELOR OF ARTS 
 IN CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 The aspiring student who may be ignorant of the 
 course of study he - is to pursue at the University, 
 will find ample information in the pages of the Cam- 
 bridge Calendar ; but as he cannot be expected to 
 . devote every hour of his undergraduateship to read- 
 i ing, he must find out amusements for his leisure mo- 
 I ments, and a few agreeable friends to be- the com- 
 ; panions of his mirth, and his exercises, as well as his 
 I studies. To obtain companions, he must be inducted, 
 i and to pass his leisure time in conviviality and mirth, 
 he must give or be invited to entertainments. At 
 these entertainments he will meet with other promis- 
 ing young men of various descriptions, and he will 
 naturally be inducted to, and make acquaintances 
 amongst, a portion of these young men. Now it is 
 undeniable that a young man for his improvement, 
 mental as well as coporeal, must see society ; and 
 I he will naturally copy the manners of his college 
 acquaintances, in order that he might not seem a 
 different being amongst them. He will enter into 
 their pursuits, do the same as they do, and, in short, 
 proceed to the degree of B. A. in the regular varmint 
 manner. 
 
 Now the varmint way to proceed to B. A. degree 
 is this — Cut lectures, go to chapel as little as possi- 
 ble, dine in hall seldom more than once a week, give 
 Gaudies and Spreads, keep a horse or two, go to 
 Newmarket, attend the six-mile bottom, drive a 
 drag, wear varmint clothes and well-built coats, be 
 up to smoke a rum one at Barnwell,* a regular go at 
 New Zealand,* a staunch admirer of the bottle, and 
 care a damn for no man. " At lucre or renown let 
 others aim," for a varmint-man spurns a scholarship, 
 would consider it a degradation to be a fellow, and 
 as for taking an honour, it would be about the very 
 last idea that could enter his head. What cares he 
 * Celebrated as the residences of the Cyprian tribes. 
 N 3 
 
 273 
 
 for tutors or proctors, for masters or vice-chancel- 
 lors, since his whole aim is pleasure and amusement, 
 since a day's hard reading would drive him half mad 
 or give him the blue devils ; since subordination is a 
 word of the meaning of which he professes to be 
 ignorant ; and since rows and sprees are the delight 
 of his soul. He is never seen in academicals till hall 
 time, or towards evening, and then only puts them 
 on for " dacency's sake," or because it is a custom 
 throughout the " varsity." But in the day, he is seen 
 in a Jarvey tile, or a low-crowned-broad-brim, a pair 
 of white swell tops, varmint inexpressibles, a regular 
 flash waistcoat, and his coat of a nameless cut ; his 
 " cloth" of the most uncommon pattern, tied after his 
 own way, and a short crookt-stick or bit o' plant in his 
 hand ; and thus he goes out riding : or he may dress 
 differently, and lounge through the streets, always in 
 company with a friend or two, visiting saddlers, mil- 
 liners, barbers, bootmakers, and tailors ; or looking in 
 at a friend's rooms, and to arrange matters for the 
 day : or, if fine, he may make up a water-party, if in 
 the summer term, and go down the Camus in a six- 
 oar, dine at Clay-hive, or Ditton, or take a snack at 
 Chesterton, and return in the evening ; or he may 
 walk out to Chesterton to play at billiards, and 
 return plus or minus the sum he started with ; or he 
 may drive out in a buggy ; or do fifty other things, 
 and enter into fifty other schemes, all productive of 
 amusement. In the evening he dines at his own rooms, 
 or at those of a friend, and afterwards blows a cloud, 
 puffs at a segar, and drinks copiously. He then 
 sings a song, tells a story, comments on the events 
 of the day, talks of horses, gives his opinion on the 
 ensuing race between Highflyer and Emilius, or 
 makes bets on the late fight between Spring and 
 Langan. After this the whole party sit down to 
 unlimited loo, and half-guinea, or guinea points, and 
 here again he comes off plus or minus 40/. or 50/. 
 If he has lost, he is no way concerned at it, for he 
 is sure of winning as much the succeeding night j he 
 therefore takes his glass or sits down to supper, and 
 gets to bed about two or three in the morning. De- 
 termined to sleep a few, after haying cast off his 
 
274 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 habiliments, he hops into bed, and snores — somno 
 vinoque gravatus, till about six in the evening, and 
 then gets up more sleepy than ever. He dresses ; but 
 having no appetite, eats nothing, drinks a glass of 
 soda-water, and walks to a friend's rooms, where he 
 relates his adventures and excites the risibility of his 
 auditors. He then resolves on a ride, and without 
 togging for the occasion, just puts on his tile and 
 mounts his prad. Determining to be very steady and 
 sober for the future, i. e. for the next twelve hours, 
 he urges his steed along the Trumpington Road, goes 
 out by the Shelford Common, an<Treturns home be- 
 tween eight and nine. He then feels as if he could 
 eat something, and accordingly he does, by way of 
 supper, and retires to his rooms, with an intention of 
 being quiet, and in order to go early to bed. But lo ! 
 he is told by his gyp that the master or dean has 
 sent a message desiring to see him the next morning. 
 Well knowing what this is for, he goeth to bed and 
 cons over in his own mind what to say in extenuation 
 of his irregularities, and he so falleth to sleep. Next 
 day, he calls at the appointed time, when the M. C. 
 with a countenance not to be surpassed in gravity, 
 informs him for the last week he has been very irre- 
 gular, and requires an account of the circumstances 
 which occasioned the said irregularity. For the 
 gate-bill thus standeth : Monday night, out till three 
 o'clock; Tuesday half past four; Wednesday half 
 past two ; Thursday half past three ; Friday half past 
 four ; Saturday — all night. His excuses are that he 
 has been at different parties, where he was detained 
 late, and where he has fourfd the society so agreeable, 
 and the time fly so imperceptibly fast, that morning 
 has broke in upon him ere he imagined it was an hour 
 past midnight. This draws down a very heavy in- 
 vective against parties altogether, and a still longer 
 and more tedious lecture on the dangerous tendency 
 of such conduct, so directly opposite to the laws and 
 discipline of the University ; and a conclusive para- 
 graph containing (amongst other things) a pardon for 
 past offences, but with an assurance that a repetition 
 of similar conduct cannot but meet with a concomi- 
 tant cheque in proportion to its enormity, in either 
 
 rustication or expulsion. Thus dismissed the august 
 presence, he recounts this jobation to his friends, and 
 enters into a discourse on masters, deans, tutors, and 
 proctors, and votes chapel a bore, and gates a com- 
 plete nuisance. But is this all? no. He has resolved 
 to treat -Me dons with contempt, and go on more gaily 
 than ever. Accordingly he cuts chapel, and issues 
 forth at night sine cap and gown, with a segar in his 
 mouth. He is determined to have a lark witKtwo or 
 three more, and away they go. While they are pull- 
 ing the girls about in the street, up comes the proc- 
 tor : " Pray, sir, may I ask if you are a member of 
 the University I" — " Yes, sir, I am.'' — " Your name 
 and college, sir, if you please." It is given without 
 the least hesitation. The next morning a bull-dog 
 calls on Mr. Varmint to deliver a message from the 
 proctor, viz : — That he is fined 6s. 8d. for being in the 
 streets without his cap and gown, and that he would 
 be glad to see him at twelve o'clock that day. Now 
 he has to call on the proctor, and in he goes with a 
 very surly countenance. The proctor puts on one of 
 his most severe phizzes, and informs him that his 
 conduct in the streets last night was most ungentle- 
 man-like and improper, against every rule of order 
 and propriety, and in open opposition to the Academic 
 discipline, and contempt of him and his office. That 
 such conduct deserved much severer chastisement 
 than he was willing to inflict, but that he should be 
 neglecting the duty he owed to his office and the 
 University if he overlooked it. He therefore desires 
 him to get three hundred verses of Isomer's Iliad, 
 Bock second, by heait, and requests he will by no 
 means leave the University until it is said. After 
 a great deal of opposition, excuses, and protestations, 
 he finds himself not a bit better off, for the proctor 
 will not mitigate a syllable, and he is obliged to 
 stomach the inipos. and retire. For the first hour or 
 two afterwards he makes himself very uneasy about 
 this, but he at length resolves not to learn it, what- 
 ever should be the consequence. " He therefore goes 
 out to a party, makes himself very merry, and cares 
 not a fig about the matter. Next morning he hap- 
 pens, unlucky wig v * ' to meet with the dean, who 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 275 
 
 accosts him, " Pray, Mr. Varmint, why have you 
 not been to chapel lately? I have very seriously to 
 complain of your non-attendance. You. have_ not 
 attended for nearly a fortnight, excepting Sundays, 
 and you cannot expect that I, or any ma-""'^Li the 
 capacity I hold, can overlook such gross irregularity. 
 However, you may think what you like, but I am 
 determined to do my duty towards the college, and to 
 see that you attend regularly. But as that has by no 
 means been the case, and as you have so disrespect- 
 fully absented yourself, I really must take notice of it 
 in a severe way. T am very sorry for it, nobody more 
 so, but it is an imperative duty T must fulfil. You 
 will get by heart 500 lines of Virgil, the 7th ^Eneid, 
 and I expect it will be said with alacrity and promp- 
 titude. Good morning, sir." So here is" Mr. Varmint 
 with two impositions in hand which must be very 
 soon in head: one, if not said, will beget rustication ; 
 and the other, if neglected, will cause the dean to tell 
 him to take his name ofT the boards of the college. 
 He debates in his own mind as to whether it is better 
 to get them or not ; but at length determines to see 
 proctors, deans, and in short the whole University at 
 Old Nick, rather than look at a word ; and 
 
 " — to take arms against a sea of troubles, - 
 And, by opposing, end them." 
 
 Alas! how soon do mortals change their firmest 
 and most fixed resolutions ! How many circum- 
 stances occur to induce them to act contrary to their 
 resolves. Mr. Varmint, by drinking too much wine 
 for the last two days, rather prematurely finds him- 
 j self very much the worse from his late Cyprian ad- 
 ventures, and in fact is compelled to send for a sur- 
 geon. In short, Varmint is obliged to get an aegrotat, 
 to confine himself to his rooms, and lie still on the 
 sofa. On his table are draughts, powders, and lo- 
 tions ; the surgeon visits him daily. What is he to 
 do all day by himself on the sofa 1 His friends are 
 with him a great deal to drive away melancholy ; but 
 still he has an immensity of leisure time on his hands. 
 He must read ; but what 1 Waiter Scott ? No, he 
 hates novels, and all that kind of trash. Lord Byron? 
 He has read him fifty times, and he wants something 
 
 new. He thought of every thing ; but at last resolved 
 to spend his time in learning the three hundred lines 
 of Greek, and the five hundred lines of Virgil, for the 
 proctor and Mr. Dean. In the mean time the term 
 divides ; and his companions, or the majority of 
 them, leave the University for their several hemes. 
 He, of course, wishes to leave likewise ; but he is ill, 
 and cannot depart before he is better, which the sur- 
 geon does not choose should be the case for some 
 time ; and even if he were well, he could not go be- 
 fore the dean signed his " exeat " which he would not 
 do before the imposition was said \ so he is hemmed 
 in on all sides, and has the blue devils, besides a 
 prospect of growing hippish. He, therefore, spends 
 the time he would have passed in pleasure at home, 
 in the shady court of a college, and stuffs himself 
 with Greek and Latin hexameters, and lives entirely 
 on barley-water and medicine, for the space of three 
 weeks. At the end of this time, we will suppose him 
 getting again convalescent, and recovering his wonted 
 spirits. He satisfies the proctor and the dean by 
 saying a part of each impos., and after bitterly curs- 
 ing the place, leaves it for the country. This is the 
 way that many men spend their three years at the 
 University. But, Mr. Freshman, whoever you may 
 be, I write this for your especial benefit, and leave it 
 to yourself to copy or avoid such conduct, as you may 
 think proper. 
 
 After the long vacation, Mr. Varmint comes up 
 again to reside. His sprees of his first year, and 
 their consequences, have gained him experience, and 
 he knows how to manage in a scientific way. To 
 avoid gate-bills, he will be out at night as late as he 
 pleases, and will defy any one to discover his ab- 
 sence ; for he will climb over the college walls, and 
 fee his gyp well, when he is out all night. To avoid 
 impositions from the dean, he will attend more regu- 
 larly at chapel ; which, though a great bore, must yet 
 be endured : and to get clear from the clutches of the 
 prcjtors, he will scud when there is need ; and if fol- 
 lowed, will floor the bull-dogs, and bolt. He now is 
 twice as gay as before, rides, courses, hunts, shoots, 
 fishes, drives, drinks, fights, swears, rows, and gam- 
 
276 
 
 bles, more than ever. He dresses still more like an 
 eccentric fancy man, and acts yet more unlike what 
 he ought to do, and thus he passes his terms. But 
 bow comes the time when he is to be examined for 
 the Little-go ; and about three weeks before the exa- 
 mination he begins to read. He finds himself un- 
 equal to the task, without cramming. He in conse- 
 quence engages a common tutor, and buys all the 
 cram-books published-ibr the occasion. After read- 
 ing himself ill, he goes in ; and by the greatest luck 
 in the world happens to pass. This puts him in high 
 spirits again, and he gives a large Spread, and gets 
 drunk on the strength of it. He continues to have a 
 private tutor for the remainder of his residence, and 
 reads with him about one day in a term, until the last 
 term in his third year, when he is obliged to read for 
 his degree of Bachelor of Arts. Accustomed to mirth 
 and gaiety, and to all kinds of sporting pursuits, never 
 having opened a single mathematical book since his 
 residence, knowing Euclid only byname, and Algebra 
 still less, if possible ; not being a dab at Latin or 
 Greek ; in short, never having professed to be a read- 
 ing man, Mr. Varmint begins to encounter all the 
 difficulties attending on such a career, when near its 
 termination in severe study. He has now recourse 
 to his private tutor, who finds him miserably defi- 
 cient ; and to work they both go, the one cramming, 
 and the other unable to swallow a mouthful. He falls 
 ill by reading hard, being so unused to it, and gives 
 it up for a week, then sets to again, and so goes on till 
 the day of examination, when he may perhaps muster 
 up resolution enough to go into the Senate-house* If 
 he does go in, and is well enough crammed, he gets 
 a station amongst the apostles ; if not, he may per- 
 chance be plucked. But if he does not think he shall 
 be able to go through, he reads on a little longer, and 
 goes out at a by-term. This is his career at college ; 
 ■what it may be in after-life, is quite another affair. 
 When he has got his degree in either of these ways, 
 with the rest of his companions, he sits down with all 
 of them, about forty or fifty, to a most glorious spread, 
 ordered from the college cook, to be served up in the 
 most swell style possible. They are about two hours 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 and a half at dinner ; and afterwards set to, and get 
 most awfully drunk, each man having floored upwards 
 of three bottles of port, independent of champagne 
 and^adeiva at dinner, or burgundy and claret. Thus 
 they exclude the last feast they shall ever have to- 
 gether at college, and another fortnight sees them 
 all, perhaps, wafted far from the University, some of 
 them for ever. 
 " Farewell to the towers ! farewell to the bowers ! 
 
 Where the sage wizard Art all his charms hath 
 display'd ; 
 And sweet science eoWers, amongst blooming flowers, 
 
 In gay robes of glory majestic array 'd. 
 Farewell, banks of Camus ! ye fair scenes of blisses, 
 
 The Muse, Loves', and Graces' invincible seat ! 
 Your silver soft stream, like the tide of Illyssus, 
 
 Aye, fresher than airs of Hygeia's retreat. 
 Ye cloisters low bending, and proudly extending, 
 
 To cherish young Genius and Taste in your gloom ; 
 The spirit befriending, as softly descending, 
 
 It mounts in pure incense to Heav'n's vaulted doom. 
 From you I must sever; then farewell for ever 
 
 Each heart-honour'd object that swell my last 
 theme ; 
 The world is a field I must enter, but never 
 
 Can ought charm my soul like your shade Academe ! 
 
 This is one way of proceeding to the degree of 
 B. A. The " reading man 1 ' goes to work in quite 
 another style. He attends lectures regularly, never 
 misses chapel, dines nearly always in hall, takes 
 moderate exercise, is rarely out of college after the 
 gates are shut, reads twelve hours a day, strives hard 
 to get prizes and medals, alwaj^s obtains a scholar- 
 ship, seldom gets " a little the worse for liquor," 
 gives no swell parties, runs very little into debt, takes 
 his cup of bitch at night, and goes quietly to bed, and 
 thus he passes his time in a way a Varmint man 
 would despise. These are the men who run off with 
 all the prizes and obtain wranglers' degrees, who get 
 made fellows and tutors, and who become eventually 
 the principal men in the University. But these are 
 by no means the most gifted men, the men of the 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 most brilliant talent, or greatest genius. But they 
 are the steady men, who owe all their knowledge to 
 hard reading, and desperate perseverance in study. 
 Of course there are many — very many exceptions ; 
 but what I state is for the most part the case. I con- 
 clude this account by stating, that many things in it 
 are extenuated, but " nought set down in malice ;" 
 and the observant student of a twelvemonth's stand- 
 ing in the University, if his acquaintance is at all 
 extensive, will find the truth of my assertions. 
 
 THE MISER'S DEATH-BED. 
 
 An old gentleman was on his death-bed. The 
 whole family, and Dick among the number, gather- 
 ed around him. lc I leave my second son, Andrew," 
 said the expiring miser, " my whole estate, and desire 
 him to be frugal." Andrew, in a sorrowful tone, as 
 is usual on these occasions, prayed heaven to prolong 
 his life and health to enjoy it himself. " I recom- 
 mend Simon, my third son, to the care of his elder 
 brother, and leave him beside four thousand pounds." 
 " Ah, father," cried Simon, (in great affliction to be 
 sure) " may heaven give you life and health to enjoy 
 it yourself." At last, turning to poor Dick, "As for 
 you, you have always been a sad dog ; you'll never 
 come to good ; you'll never be rich ; I'll leave you a 
 shilling to buy a halter." "Ah, father," cried Dick, 
 without any emotion, " may heaven give you life and 
 health to enjoy it yourself." goldsmith. 
 
 EXERCISE TOR YOUNG LOGICIANS. 
 
 No cat has two tails, 
 
 A cat has one tail more than no cat, 
 
 Ergo. A cat has three tails. 
 
 EPIGRAM ON A CANTAB WHO WAS PLVCK'd FOR 
 
 ORDERS. 
 
 Ned cut off his queue, and was powder'd with care, 
 
 Yet sadly mistaken was Ned, 
 For tho' he had taken such pains with his hair. 
 
 The bishop found fault with his head. 
 
 A GREAT BOOK A GREAT EVIl. 
 
 The late Duke of Cumberland, when Gibbon tri- 
 umphantly presented the last volume of his Roman 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 277 
 
 Empire to his Royal Highness, exclaimed, to the no 
 small mortification of the historian, " What another 
 d— d big book, Mr. Gibbon 1 hey V 
 
 KNOWING A MAN. 
 
 To know, is a word which is very liable to mis- 
 construction. " Do you know such a one V r i. e. Are 
 you upon terms of great intimacy ? — and, Do you 
 wish to acknowledge him as your friend ? Though a 
 buck and a quiz, or raff, were to dine together at the 
 same table every day — to meet together, continually, 
 at wine parties — nay, keep together in the same stair- 
 case ; — yet, if the former were asked, — Whether he 
 knew either of the latter 1 he would answer with all 
 imaginable coolness and composure, in the negative' 4 
 " There is such a man, but I don't know him." 
 
 ADVICE TO A POOR GENTLEMAN. 
 
 To ward off the gripe of poverty, you must pretend 
 to be a stranger to her, and she will at least use you 
 with ceremony. If you be caught dining upon a 
 halfpenny porringer of peas- soup and potatoes, praise 
 the wholesomeness of your frugal repast. You may 
 observe, that Dr. Cheyne has prescribed pease-broth 
 for the gravel ; hint that you are not one of those who 
 are always making a deity of your belly. If, again, 
 you are obliged to wear a flimsy stuff in the midst of 
 winter, be the first to remark, that stuffs are very 
 much worn at Paris ; or, if there be found some irre- 
 parable defects in any part of your equipage, which 
 cannot be concealed by all the arts of sitting cross- 
 legged, coaxing, or darning, say, that neither you nor 
 Sampson Gideon were ever very fond of dress. If you 
 be a philosopher, hint that Plato or Seneca are the 
 tailors you choose to employ ; assure the company 
 that man ought to be content with a bare covering, 
 since what now is so much his pride, was formerly 
 his shame. In short, however caught, never give out ; 
 but ascribe to the frugality of your disposition what 
 others might be apt to attribute to the narrowness of 
 your circumstances. To be poor, and to seem poor, 
 is a certain method never to rise : pride in the great 
 is hateful . in the wise, it is ridiculous ; but beggarly 
 pride is a rational vanity, which I have been taught 
 to applaud and excuse. goldsmith. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 278 
 
 ART OF CUTTING. 
 
 To cut, is to look an old friend in the face, and 
 affect not to know him ; which is the cut direct ! 
 
 To look any where but at him — which is the cut- 
 modest or cut-indirect J 
 
 To " forget names with a good grace" — as, instead 
 of Tom, Dick, or Harry, to address an old friend, 
 " Sir," or, " Mister, — What's your name ?" This is 
 the cut- courteous. 
 
 " Good den Sir Richard."—" God-a-mercy fellow!" 
 And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter ;- 
 For new made honour doth forget men's names. 
 
 Shakspeare's King John. 
 
 To be intentionally engaged on the phenomena of 
 the heavenly bodies, when an old friend passes, is 
 the cut-celestial. 
 
 Lastly, to dart up an alley, dash across a street, 
 •whip into a shop, or do any thing to avoid the trouble 
 and mortification of nodding the head to some one, 
 whom, perhaps, you have as much reason to dislike, 
 as the man in the epigram — 
 
 Non amo te — nee possum dicere quare — This is the 
 cut-circumbendibus- ! 
 
 The art of cutting an acquaintance is of very con- 
 siderable antiquity. In a comedy which was pub- 
 licly acted by the students of St. John's College, 
 Cambridge, in 1606, the following dialogue occurs, 
 which is very sma>t and cutting .' 
 
 Acad. — God save you, sir. 
 
 Amor. [Aside.} By the mass, I fear me I saw this 
 genus et species in Cambridge, before now. I'll take 
 no notice of him. By the faith of a gentleman, this 
 is pretty elegy. Of "what age is the day, fellow'? — 
 Sirrah, boy, hath the groom saddled ray hunting- 
 hobby ? Can Robin Hunter tell-where a hare sits 't 
 
 Acad. See a poor old friend of yours of S- 
 
 College, in Cambridge. 
 
 Amor. Good faith, sir, you must pardon me. / 
 have forgotten you. 
 
 Acad. My name is Academico, sir ; one that made 
 an oration for you once on the Queen's day, and a 
 show that you got some credit by. - 
 
 Amor. It maybe soj it may be so; but / have 
 
 forgotten it. Marry, yet I remember there was such 
 a fellow that I was very beneficial unto in my time. 
 But, however, Sir, I have the courtesy of the town 
 for you. I am sorry you did not take me at my fa- 
 ther's house ; but now I am in exceeding great haste ; 
 for I have vowed the death of a hare that was found 
 this morning musing on her raeaze. 
 
 Acad. Sir, I am emboldened by that great ac- 
 quaintance that heretofore I had with you, as likewise 
 it hath pleased you heretofore — 
 
 Amor. Look, Sirrah, if you see my hobby come 
 hitherwards, as yet, &c. &c. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE DECLAMATION. 
 
 The youth, perhaps may declamation prize, 
 
 If to such glorious height he lifts his eyes. 
 
 But lo ! no common orator can hope 
 
 The envied silver cup within his scope ; 
 
 Not that our heads much eloquence require, 
 
 Th' Athenian's glowing style, or Tully's fire. 
 
 A manner clear and warm, is useless, since 
 
 We do not try by speaking to convince j 
 
 Be other orators of pleasing proud, 
 
 We speak to please ourselves, not move the crowd : 
 
 Our gravity prefers the muttering tone, 
 
 A proper mixture of the squeak and groan j 
 
 No borrowed grace of action must be seen, 
 
 The slightest motion would displease the dean ; 
 
 Whilst every staring graduate would prate 
 
 Against what he coald never imitate. 
 
 The man who hopes to obtain the promised cup, 
 
 Must in one posture stand, and ne'er look up, 
 
 Nor stop, but rattle over every word, 
 
 No matter what so it can«o# be heard ; 
 
 Thus let him hurry on nor think to rest, 
 
 Who speak the fastest sure to speak the best ; 
 
 Who utters most within the shortest space 
 
 May safely hope to win the wordy race. 
 
 RULES FOR BEHAVIOUR, DRAWN UP BY THE INDIGENT 
 PHIXOSOPHER. 
 
 If you be a rich man, you may enter the room 
 with three loud hems; march deliberately up to the 
 chimney, and turn your back to the fire. If you be a 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 poor man, I would advise you to shrink into the room 
 as fast as you can, and place yourself, as usual, upon 
 the corner of a chair in a remote corner. 
 
 When you are desired to sing in company, I 
 would advise you to refuse ; for it is a thousand to 
 one but that you torment us with affectation, or a 
 bad voice. 
 
 If you be young, and live with an old man, I 
 would advise you not to like gravy ; I was disinhe- 
 rited myself for liking gravy. 
 
 Don't laugh much in public ; the spectators that 
 are not as merry as ycu, will hate you, either because 
 they envy your happiness, or fancy themselves the 
 subject of your mirth. goldsmith. 
 
 COLLEGE SONG. 
 
 Come, ye good College lads, and attend to my lays, 
 , I'll show you the folly of poring o'er books ; 
 For all ye get by it is mere empty praise, 
 
 Or a poor meagre fellowship, and sallow looks. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Then lay by your books, lads, and never repine ; 
 And cram not your attics 
 With dry mathematics, 
 But moisten your clay with a bumper of wine. 
 The first of mechanics was old Archimedes, 
 
 Who play'd with Rome's ships, as he'd play cup 
 and "ball ; 
 To play the same game, I can't see where the need 
 is — 
 Or why we should fag mathematics at all? 
 Chorus. — Then lay by your books, lads, &c. 
 Great Newton found out the Binomial law, 
 
 To raise x + y to the power of b ; 
 Found the distance of planets that he never'saw, 
 And which we most probably never shall see. 
 Chorus. — Then lay by your books, lads, &c. 
 Let Whiston and Ditton star-gazing enjoy, 
 
 And taste all the sweets mathematics can give ; 
 Let us for our time find out better employ, 
 
 And knowing life's sweets, let us learn how to live. 
 Chorus, — Then lay by your books, lads, &c. 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 279 
 
 These men ex absurdo conclusions may draw •, 
 
 Perpetual motion they never could find : 
 Not one of the set, lads, could balance a straw— 
 
 And longitude-seeking is hunting the wind. 
 Chorus. — Then, lay by your books, lads, 6cc. 
 If we study at all, let us study the means 
 
 To make ourselves friends, and to keep them when 
 made ; 
 Learn to value the blessings kind Heaven ordains— 
 
 To make other men happy, let that be our trade. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Let each day be better than each day before ; 
 
 Without pain or sorrow, 
 
 To-day, or to-morrow, 
 May we live, my good lads, to see many days more . 
 
 RULES FOR RAISING THE DEVIL. 
 
 The person who desires to raise the devil, is to 
 sacrifice a dog, a cat, and a hen, all of his own pro- 
 perty, to Beelzebub. He is to swear an eternal obe- 
 dience, and then to receive a mark in some unseen 
 place, either under the eye-lid or in the roof of the 
 mouth, inflicted by the devil himself. Upon this he 
 has power given him over three spirits ; one for 
 earth, another for air, and a third for the sea. Upon 
 certain times the devil holds an assembly of magicians, 
 in which each is to give an account of what evil he 
 has done, and what he wishes to do. At this assem- 
 bly he appears in the shape of an old man, or often 
 like a goat with large horns. They, upon this occa- 
 sion, renew their vows of obedience ; and then form 
 a grand dance in honour of their false deity. The 
 devil instructs them in every method of injuring man- 
 kind, in gathering poisons, and of riding upon occa- 
 sion through the air. He shows them the whole 
 method, upon examination, of giving evasive answers ; 
 his spirits have power to assume the form of angels 
 of light, and there is but one method of detecting 
 them ; viz. to ask them, in proper form, What method 
 is the most certain to propagate the faith over all the 
 world 1 To this they are not permitted by the Superior 
 Power to make a false reply, nor are they willing to 
 
280 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 give the true one, wherefore they continue silent, and 
 are thus detected. goldsmith. 
 
 LAUGHTER. 
 
 Democritus, who was always laughing, lived one 
 hundred and nine years ; Heraclitus, who never ceased 
 crying, only sixty. Laughing then is best ; and to 
 laugh at one another is perfectly justifiable, since we 
 are told that the gods themselves, though they made 
 ns as they pleased, cannot help laughing at us. 
 
 THE OATH OF LOVE. 
 
 " Do you ; " said Fanny, t'other day, 
 
 " In earnest love me as you say 1 
 
 " Or are these tender words applied 
 
 " Alike to fifty girls beside ?" 
 
 " Dear, cruel," said I, " forbear — 
 
 '* For by those cherry lips I swear" — 
 
 She stopp'd me as the oath I took, 
 
 And said, " You've sworn — so kiss the book." 
 
 LEGAL DIFFICULTY. 
 
 Judge Garrow, in the cross-examination of a pre- 
 varicating old female witness, by which it was essen- 
 tial to prove that a tender of money had been made, 
 had a scrap of paper thrown to him from a counsel on 
 the other side, on which was written, 
 
 Garrow, — submit ; — that tough old jade, 
 
 Can never prove — a tender maid! 
 
 GRIMALDl's LAMENT ON HIS RETIREMENT FROM 
 THE STAGE, ADDRESSED TO HIS SON 
 
 Adieu to Mother Goose ! — adieu — adieu 
 
 To spangles, tufted heads, and dancing limbs, 
 Adieu to Pantomime — to all — that drew 
 
 O'er Christmas' shoulders a rich robe of whims ! 
 Never shall old Bologna — old, alack !— 
 
 Once he was young and diamonded all o'er, 
 Take his particular Joseph on his back 
 
 And dance the matchless fling, so loved of yore. 
 Ne'er shall 1 build the wondrous verdant man, 
 
 Tall, turnip-headed, — carrot-finger'd, — lean ;— 
 Ne'er shall I, on the very newest plan, 
 
 Cabbage a body ; — old Joe Frankenstein. 
 
 Nor make a fire, nor eke compose a coach, 
 
 Of saucepans, trumpets, cheese, and such sweet 
 fare; 
 " Sorrow hath ta'en my number ;" — I encroach 
 
 No more upon the chariot ; — but the chair. 
 Gone is the stride, four steps, across the stage ! 
 
 Gone is the light vault o'er a turnpike gate ! 
 Sloth puts my legs into this tiresome cage, 
 
 And stops me for a toll, — I find, too late ! 
 How Ware would quiver his mad bow about 
 
 His rosin'd tight ropes — when I flapp'd a dance 
 How would I twitch the Pantaloon's good gout 
 
 And help his fall— and all his fears enchance ! 
 How children shriek'd to see me eat ! — How I 
 
 Stole the broad laugh from aged sober folk ! 
 Boys pick'd their plums out of my Christmas pie,— 
 
 And people took my vices for a joke. 
 Be wise, — (that's foolish) — troublesome! be rich — ■ 
 
 And oh, J. S. to every fancy stoop ! 
 Carry a ponderous pocket at thy breech, 
 
 And roll thine eyes, as thou wouldst roll a hoop. 
 Hand Columbine about with nimble hand, 
 
 Covet thy neighbour's riches as thy own : 
 Dance on the water, swim upon the land, 
 
 Let thy legs prove themselves bone of my bone. 
 Cuff Pa?italoon, be sure — forget not this : 
 
 As thou beats him, thou'rt poor, J. S. or funny \ 
 And wear a deal of paint upon thy phiz, 
 
 It doth boys good, and draws in gallery money. 
 Lastly, be jolly ! be alive ! be light ! 
 
 Twitch, flirt, and caper, tumble, fall, and throw ! 
 Grow up right ugly in thy father's sight ! 
 
 And be an " absolute Joseph," like old Joe ! 
 
 THE BOAR'S HEAD TAVERN, IN EASTCHEAP. 
 
 Here by a pleasant fire, in the very room where old 
 Sir John Falstaff cracked his jokes, in the very chair 
 which was sometimes honoured by prince Henry, 
 and sometime polluted by his immoral merry com- 
 panions, I sat and ruminated on the follies of youth ; 
 wished to be young again ; but was resolved to make 
 the best of life while it lasted, and now and then 
 compared past and present times together. I con- 
 sidered myself as the only living representative of the 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 old knight, and transported my imagination back to 
 the times when the prince and he gave life to the 
 revel, and made even debauchery not disgusting. The 
 room also conspired to throw my reflections back into 
 antiquity : the oak floor, the gothic windows, and the 
 ponderous chimney-piece, had long withstood the 
 tooth of time ; the watchman had gone twelve : my 
 companions had all stolen off, and none now remained 
 with me but the landlord. From him I could have 
 wished to know the history of a tavern that had such 
 a long succession of customers : I could not help 
 thinking that an account of this kind would be a 
 pleasing contrast of the manners of different ages ; 
 but my landlord could give me no information. He 
 continued to doze and sot, and tell a tedious story, 
 as most other landlords usually do ; and, though he 
 said nothing, yet was never silent : one good joke 
 followed another good joke ; and the best joke of all 
 was generally begun towards the end of a bottle. I 
 found at last, however, his wine and his conversation 
 operate by degrees : he insensibly began to alter his 
 appearance. His cravat seemed quilled into a ruff, 
 and his breeches swell out into a fardingale. I now 
 fancied him changing sexes : and, as my eyes began 
 to close in slumber, 1 imagined my fat landlord ac- 
 tually converted into as fat a landlady. However, 
 sleep made but few changes in my situation : the 
 tavern, the apartment and the table, continued as 
 before ; nothing suffered mutation but my host, who 
 was fairly altered into a gentlewoman, whom I knew 
 to be dame Quickly, mistress of this tavern in the 
 days of Sir John ; and the liquor we were drinking 
 seemed converted into sack and sugar. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Quickly," cried I, (for I knew 
 her perfectly well at first sight) " I am heartily glad 
 to see you. How have you left Falstaff, Pistol, and 
 the rest of our friends below stairs 1 Brave and hearty, 
 I hope 1" " In good sooth," replied she, " he did 
 deserve to live for ever; but he maketh foul work 
 on't where he hath flitted. Queen Proserpine and he 
 have quarrelled for his attempting a rape upon her 
 divinity ; and were it not that she still had bowels 
 of compassion, it more than seems probable he might 
 have been now sprawling in Tartarus," 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 281 
 
 " I now found that spirits still preserve the frail- 
 ties of the flesh ; and that, according to the laws of 
 criticism and dreaming, ghosts have been known to 
 be guilty of even more than platonic affection : 
 wherefore as I found her too much moved on such 
 a topic to proceed, I was resolved to change the 
 subject ; and desiring she would pledge me in a 
 bumper, observed, with a sigh, that our sack was 
 nothing now to what it was in former days. Ah, 
 Mrs. Quickly, those were merry times when you 
 drew sack for prince Henry : men were twice as 
 strong, and twice as wise, and much braver, and ten 
 thousand times more charitable than now. Those 
 were the times! The battle of Agincourt was a 
 victory indeed ! ever since that we have only been 
 degenerating ; and I have lived to see the day when 
 drinking is no longer fashionable. When men wear 
 clean shirts, and women show their necks and arms, 
 all are degenerated, Mrs. Quickly ; and we shall 
 probably, in another century, be flittered away into 
 beaus or monkeys. Had you been on earth to see 
 what I have seen, it would congeal all the blood in 
 your body (your soul, I mean.) Why, our very no- 
 bility now have the intolerable arrogance, in spite 
 of what is every day remonstrated from the press ; 
 our very nobility, I say, have the assurance to fre- 
 quent assemblies, and presume to be as merry as the 
 vulgar. See, my very friends have scarce manhood 
 enough to sit to it till eleven j and I only am left to 
 make a night on't. Pr'ythee do me the favour to 
 console me a little for their absence by the story of 
 your own adventure, or the history of the tavern 
 where we are now sitting : I fancy the narrative may 
 have something singular." 
 
 " Observe this apartment," interrupted my com- 
 panion ; of neat device and excellent workmanship 
 — In this room I have lived, child, woman and ghost, 
 more than three hundred years : I am ordered by 
 Pluto to keep an annual register of every transaction 
 that passeth here ; and I have wilhom compiled three 
 hundred tomes, which eftsoon may be submitted to 
 thy regards," " None of your wilhoms or eftsoons's, 
 Mrs. Quickly, if you please," I replied : " I know 
 you can talk every whit as well as I can ; for, as you 
 
282 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 have lived here so long, it is but natural to suppose 
 you should learn the conversation of the company. 
 Believe me, dame, at best, you have neither too much 
 sense, nor too much language, to spare ; so give me 
 ioth as well as you can ; but, first, my service to you : 
 old women should water their clay a little now and 
 then ; and now to your story." 
 
 " The story of my own adventures," replied the 
 vision, " is but short and unsatisfactory ; for, believe 
 me, Mr. Rigmarole, believe me, a woman with a 
 butt of sack at her elbow, is never long-lived. Sir 
 John's death afflicted me to such a degree, that I 
 sincerely believe, to drown sorrow, I drank more 
 liquor myself than I drew for my customers : my 
 grief was sincere, and the sack was excellent. The 
 prior of a neighbouring convent (for our priors then 
 nad as much power as the Middlesex justice now) 
 he, I say, it was who gave me a licence for keeping 
 a disorderly house ; upon condition, that I should 
 never make hard bargains with the clergy, that he 
 should have a bottle of sack every morning, and the 
 liberty of confessing which of my girls he thought 
 proper in private every night. I had continued, for 
 several years to pay this tribute ; and he, it must be 
 confessed, continued as rigorously to exact it. I 
 grew old insensibly ; my customers continued, how- 
 ever, to compliment my looks while I was by, but 
 I could hear them say I was wearing when my back 
 was turned. The prior, however, still was constant, 
 and so were half his convent : but one fatal morning 
 he missed the usual beverage ; for I had incautiously 
 drank over night the last bottle myself. What will 
 you have on't ? — The very next day Doll Tearsheet 
 and I were sent to the house of correction, and ac- 
 cused of keeping a low bawdy-house. In short, we 
 were so well purified there with stripes, mortification 
 and penance, that we were afterwards utterly unfit 
 for worldly conversation : though sack would have 
 killed me, had I stuck to it, yet I soon died for want 
 of a drop of something comfortable, and fairly left 
 my body to the care of the beadle. 
 
 " Such is my own history ; but that of the tavern, 
 where I have ever since been stationed, affords 
 greater variety. In the history of this, which is one 
 
 of the oldest in London, you may view the different 
 manners, pleasures, and follies, of meu at different 
 periods. You will find mankind neither better nor 
 worse now than formerly : the vices of an uncivilized 
 people are generally more detestable, though not so fre- 
 quent, as those in polite society. It is the same luxury 
 which formerly stuffed your alderman with plum- 
 porridge, and now crams him with turtle. It is the 
 same low ambition that formerly induced a courtier 
 to give up his religion to please his king, and now 
 persuades him to give up his conscience to please his 
 minister. It is the same vanity that formerly stained 
 out ladies cheeks and necks with woad and now 
 paints them with carmine. Your ancient Briton 
 formerly powdered his hair with red earth, like 
 brick-dust, in order to appear frightful : your modern 
 Briton cuts his hair on the crown, and plasters it 
 with hog's-lard and flour $ and this to make him look 
 killing. It is the same vanity, the same folly, and 
 the same vice, only appearing different, as viewed 
 through the glass of fashion. In a word, all mankind 
 are a—. 
 
 " Sure the woman is dreaming," interrupted I. 
 "None of your reflections, Mrs. Quickly, if you 
 love me; they only give me the spleen. Tell me 
 your history at once. I love stories, but hate rea- 
 soning." 
 
 " If you please then, sir," returned my companion, 
 " I'll read you an abstract, which I made of the three 
 hundred volumes I mentioned just now." 
 
 " My body was no sooner laid in the dust, than 
 the prior and several of his convent came to purify 
 the tavern from the pollutions with which they said 
 I had filled it. Masses were said in every room, re- 
 lics were exposed upon every piece of furniture, 
 and the whole house washed with a deluge of holy- 
 water. My habitation was soon converted into a mo- 
 nastery ; instead of customers now applying for sack 
 and sugar, my rooms were crowded with images, re- 
 lics, saints, whores, and friars. Instead of being 
 a scene of occasional debauchery, it was now filled 
 with continual lewdness. The prior led the fashion, 
 and the whole convent imitated his pious example. 
 Matrons came hither to confess their sins, and to 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 commit new. Virgins came hither who seldom went 
 virgins away. Nor was this a convent peculiarly 
 wicked ; every convent at that period was equally 
 fond of pleasure, and gave a boundless loose to 
 appetite. The laws allowed it ; each priest had a 
 right to a favourite companion, and a power of dis- 
 carding her'as often as he pleased. The laity grum- 
 bled, quarrelled with their wives and daughters, hated 
 their confessors, and maintained them in opulence 
 and ease. These, these were happy times, Mr. Rig- 
 marole ; these were times of piety, bravery, and sim- 
 plicity !" "Not so very happy, neither, good madam ; 
 pretty much like the present ; those that labour 
 starve ; and those that do nothing, wear fine clothes 
 and live in luxury." 
 
 " In this manner the fathers lived, for some years, 
 without molestation ; they transgressed, confessed 
 themselves to each other, and were forgiven. One 
 evening, however, our prior keeping a lady of dis- 
 tinction somewhat too long at confession, her husband 
 unexpectedly came in upon them, and testified all 
 the indignation which was natural upon such an oc- 
 casion. The prior asured the gentleman that it was 
 the devil who had put it into his heart ; and the lady 
 was very certain, that she was under the influence 
 of magic, or she could never have behaved in so un- 
 faithful a manner. The husband, however, was not 
 to be put off by such evasions, but summoned both 
 before the tribunal of justice. His proofs were fla- 
 grant, and he expected large damages. Such, indeed, 
 he had a right to expect, were the tribunals of those 
 days constituted in the same maimer as they are now. 
 The cause of the priest was to be tried before an as- 
 sembly of priests ; and a layman was to expect re- 
 dress only from their impartiality and candour. 
 What plea then do you think the prior made to ob- 
 viate this accusation] He denied the fact, and 
 challenged the plaintiff to try the merits of their cause 
 by single combat. It was a little hard, you may be 
 sure, upon the poor gentleman, not only to be made 
 a cuckold, but to be obliged to fight a duel iuto the 
 bargain ; yet such was the justice of the times. '. The 
 piior threw down his glove, and the injured husband 
 
 2S3 
 in token of his accepting 
 
 was obliged to take it up 
 the challenge. 
 
 " Upon this, the priest supplied his champion, for it 
 was not lawful for the clergy to fight ; and the de- 
 fendant and plaintiff, according to custom, were put 
 in prison ; both ordered to fast and pray, every 
 method being previously used to induce both to a 
 confession of truth. After a month's imprisonment, 
 the hair of each was cut, the bodies anointed with 
 oil, the field of battle appointed and guarded by 
 soldiers, while his majesty presided over the whole 
 in person. Both the champions were sworn not to 
 seek victory either by fraud or magic. They prayed 
 and confessed upon their knees; and after these 
 ceremonies, the rest was left to the courage and con- 
 duct of the combatants. As the champion whom the 
 prior had pitched upon, had fought six or eight times 
 upon similar occasions, it was no way extraordinary 
 to find him victorious in the present combat. In 
 short, the husband was discomfited ; he was taken 
 from the field of battle, stripped of his shirt, and 
 after one of his legs was cut off, as justice ordained 
 in such cases, he was hanged as a terror to future 
 offenders. These, these were the times, Mr. Rig- 
 marole ! you see how much more just, and wise, and 
 valiant, our ancestors were than us." " I rather 
 fancy, madam, that the times then were pretty much 
 like our own ; where a multiplicity of laws give a 
 judge as much power as a want of law ; since he is 
 ever sure to find among the number some to coun- 
 tenance his partiality." 
 
 " Our convent, victorious over their euemies, now 
 gave a loose to every demonstration of joy. The 
 lady became a nun, the prior was made bishop, and 
 three Wickliffites were burned in the illuminations 
 and fire-works that were made on the present occa- 
 sion. Our convent now began to enjoy a very high 
 degree of reputation. There was not one in Lon- 
 don that had the character of hating heretics so 
 much as ours. Ladies of the first distinction chose 
 from our convent their confessors ; in short, it flou- 
 rished, and might have flourished to this hour, but 
 for a fatal accident which terminated in its over- 
 
284 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 throw. The lady whom the prior had placed in a 
 nunnery, and whom he continued to visit for some 
 time with great punctuality, began at last to perceive 
 that she was quite forsaken. Secluded from conver- 
 sation, as usual, she now entertained the visions of 
 a devotee; found herself strangely disturbed; but 
 hesitated in determining, whether she was possessed 
 by an angel or a daemon. She was not long in sus- 
 pence ; for, upon vomiting a large quantity of crooked 
 pins, and finding the palms of her hands turned out- 
 wards, she quickly concluded that she was possessed 
 hy the devil. She soon lost entirely the use of speech ; 
 and, when she seemed to speak, every body that was 
 present perceived that her voice was not her own, 
 but that of the devil within her. In short, she was 
 bewitched ; and all the difficulty lay in determining 
 who it could be that bewitched her. The nuns and 
 monks all demanded the magician's name, but the 
 devil made no reply ; for he knew they had no au- 
 thority to ask questions. By the rules of witchcraft, 
 when an evil spirit has taken possession, he may re- 
 fuse to answer any questions asked him, unless they 
 are put by a bishop, and to these he is obliged to re- 
 ply. A bishop, therefore, was sent for, and now the 
 whole secret came out : the devil reluctantly owned 
 that he was a servant of the prior ; that, by his com- 
 mand, he resided in his present habitation ; and that, 
 without his command, he was resolved to keep in 
 possession. The bishop was an able exorcist ; he 
 drove the devil out by force of mystical arms ; the 
 prior was arraigned for witchcraft ; the witnesses 
 were strong and numerous agaiust him, not less than 
 fourteen persons being by, who had heard the devil 
 talk Latin. There was no resisting such a cloud of 
 witnesses ; the prior was condemned ; and he who 
 had assisted at so many burnings, was burned him- 
 self in turn. These were times, Mr. Rigmarole ; the 
 people of those times were not infidels, as now, but 
 sincere believers!" " Equally faulty with ourselves ; 
 they believed what the devil was pleased to tell 
 them ; and we seem resolved, at last, to believe nei- 
 ther God nor devil." 
 
 " After such a stain upon the convent, it was not 
 
 to be supposed it could subsist any' longer ; the fa- 
 thers were ordered to decamp, and the house was 
 once again converted into a tavern. The king con- 
 ferred it on one of his cast mistresses ; she was con- 
 stituted landlady by royal authority ; and as the 
 tavern was in the neighbourhood of the court, and 
 the mistress a very polite woman, it began to have 
 more business than ever ; and sometimes took not 
 less than four shillings a day. 
 
 " Under the care of this lady, the tavern grew 
 into great reputation ; the courtiers had not yet 
 learned to game, but they paid it off by drinking ; 
 drunkenness is ever the vice of a barbarous, and 
 gaming of a luxurious age. They had not such fre- 
 quent entertainments as the moderns have, but were 
 more expensive and more luxurious in those they 
 had. All their fooleries were more elaborate, and 
 more admired by the great and the vulgar than now. 
 A courtier has been known to spend his whole for- 
 tune at a single feast, a king to mortgage his domi- 
 nions to furnish out the frippery of a tournament. 
 There were certain days appointed for riot and de- 
 bauchery, and to be sober at such times was reputed 
 a crime. Kings themselves set the example. ; and I 
 have seen monarchs in this room drunk before the 
 entertainment was half concluded. These were the 
 times, sir, when kings kept mistresses, and got drunk 
 in public ; they were too plain and simple in those 
 happy times to hide their vices, and act the hypocrite, 
 as now. 
 
 " Upon this lady's decease the tavern was succes- 
 sively occupied by adventurers, bullies, pimps and 
 gamesters. Towards the conclusion of the reign of 
 Henry VII. gaming was more universally practised in 
 England than even now. Kings themselves have been 
 known to play off, at Primero, not only all the money 
 and jewels they cTmld part with, but the very images 
 in churches. The last Henry played away, in this 
 very room, not only the four great bells of St. Paul's 
 cathedral, but the fine image of St. Paul, which stood 
 upon the top of the spire, to Sir Miles Partridge, who 
 took them down the next day, and sold them by auc- 
 tion. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 28i 
 
 " The last hostess of note I find upon record was 
 Jane Rouse. She was born among the lower ranks 
 of the people ; and by frugality and extreme com- 
 plaisance, contrived to acquire a moderate fortune : 
 this she might have enjoyed for many years, had she 
 not unfortunately quarrelled with one of her neigh- 
 bours, a woman who was in high repute for sanctity 
 through the whole parish. In the times of which I 
 speak, two women seldom quarrelled, that one did 
 not accuse the other of witchcraft, and she who first 
 contrived to vomit crooked pins was sure to come off 
 victorious. The scandal of a modern tea-table dif- 
 fers widely from the scandal of former times ; the 
 fascination of a lady's eyes at present, is regarded as 
 a compliment ; but if a lady, formerly, should be 
 accused of having witchcraft in her eyes, it were much 
 better both for her soul and body, that she had no 
 eyes at all. 
 
 " In short, Jane Rouse was accused of witchcraft ; 
 and though she made the best defence she could, it 
 was all to no purpose ; she was taken from her own 
 bar to the bar of the Old Bailey, condemned and ex- 
 ecuted accordingly. These were times, indeed ! when 
 even women could not scold in safety. 
 
 " Since her time the tavern underwent several re- 
 volutions, according to the spirit of the times, or the 
 disposition of the reigning monarch. It was this day 
 a brothel, and the next a conventicle for enthusiasts. 
 It was one year noted for harbouring whigs, and the 
 next infamous for a retreat to tories. Some years 
 ago it was in high vogue, but at present it seems de- 
 clining. This only may be remarked in general, that, 
 whenever taverns flourish most, the times are then 
 most extravagant and luxurious." — " Lord ! Mrs. 
 Quickly," interrupted I, " you have really deceived 
 me ; I expected a romance, and here you have been 
 this half hour giving me only a description of the spirit 
 of the times ; if you have nothing but tedious remarks 
 to communicate, seek some other hearer ; I am de- 
 termined to hearken only to stories." 
 
 I had scarce concluded, when my eyes and ears 
 seemed opened to my landlord, who had been all this, 
 while giving me an account of the repairs he had made 
 
 in the house, and was now got into the story of the 
 cracked glass in the dining-room. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. 
 ARTICLES FOUND IN A KITCHEN DRAWER. 
 
 Written in the age of Shakspeare. 
 Three aprons, two dusters, the face of a pig, 
 A dirty jack towel, a dish -clout and wig ; 
 A foot of a stocking, three caps and a frill, 
 A busk and six buttons, mouse-trap and a quill ; 
 A comb and a thimble, with Madona bands, 
 A box of specific for chops in the hands ; 
 Some mace and some cloves tied up in a rag, 
 An empty thread paper and blue in a bag ; 
 Short pieces of ribbon, both greasy and black, 
 A grater and nutmeg, the key of the jack ; 
 An inch of wax candle, a steel and a flint, 
 A bundle of matches, a parcel of mint ; 
 A lump of old suet, a crimp for the paste, 
 A pair of red garters, a belt for the waist ; 
 A rusty bent skewer, a broken brass cock, 
 Some onions and tinder, and the draw'r lock ; 
 A bag for the pudding, a whetstone and string, 
 A penny cross-bun, and a new curtain ring ; 
 A print for the butter, a dirty chemise, 
 Two pieces of soap, and a large slice of cheese ; 
 Five teaspoons of tin, a large lump of rosin, 
 The feet of a hare, and corks by the dozen ; 
 A card to tell fortunes, a sponge and a can, 
 A pen without ink, and a small patty-pan ; 
 A rolling-pin pasted, and common prayer book, 
 Are the things which I found in the drawer of the 
 cook. 
 
 A LONG TASK. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Milne, in a Report of the Missionary 
 Society for China, says, " We want, sir, fifty millions 
 of New Testaments for China ; and after that about 
 one-sixth of the population only would be supplied. 
 I would ask no higher honour on earth, than to dis- 
 tribute the said number." Now, if Mr. Milne had 
 commenced the distribution of the said number at 
 the time the Ark rested on Mount Ararat, and had 
 
286 
 
 continued to distribute forty-three Testaments per 
 day, Sundays excepted, he would have on hand, 
 April 4, 1817, seven hundred and thirteen thousand, 
 seven hundred and forty-seven. Or, should he now 
 begin his work, and distribute ten each hour during 
 ten hours per day, he would end his labour on the 
 27th day of January, 341 1, at one o'clock in the fore- 
 noon ! ! 1 
 
 PARALLEL BETWEEN CHURCHILL, DUKE OF MARL- 
 BOROUGH, AND CHURCHILL, THE POET, 
 
 In Anna's wars immortal Churchill rose, 
 And, great in arms, subdued Britannia's foes ; 
 A greater Churchill now commands our praise, 
 And the palm yields her empire to the bays ; 
 Tho' John fought nobly at his army's head, 
 And slew his thousands with the balls of lead, 
 Yet must the hero to the bard submit, 
 Who hurls, unmatch'd, the thunderbolts of wit. 
 love's verdict. 
 A coroner's jury having sat on the body of a young 
 lady in Baltimore, America, who had hung herself in 
 a fit of love frenzy, brought in their verdict— ~Z)jec? 
 by. the visitation of Cupid. A reasonable novelty. 
 
 PETITION OF LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 To the King's most excellent Majesty, the humble 
 
 Petition of Philip, Earl of Chesterfield, Knight of 
 
 the most noble Order of the Garter, &c. 
 
 Sheweth, — That your petitioner, being rendered 
 
 bv deafness as useless and inefficient as most of his 
 
 contemporaries are by nature, hopes in common with 
 
 them, to share your majesty's royal favour and bounty, 
 
 whereby he may be enabled to save or to spend, as he 
 
 may think proper, a great deal more than he possibly 
 
 can at present 
 
 That your petitioner having had the honour to serve 
 your majesty in several very lucrative employments, 
 seems thereby entitled to a lucrative retreat from 
 business, and to enjoy otium cum dignitate, that is, 
 leisure and a large pe?isio?i. 
 
 Your petitioner humbly apprehends, that he 
 has a justifiable claim to a considerable pension, 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 as' he neither wants, nor deserves, but only desire 
 (pardon, dread sir, an expression you are pretty much 
 used to) and insists upon it. 
 
 Your petitioner is little apt, and always unwilling, 
 to speak advantageously of himself; but as som« 
 degree of justice is due to one's self, as well as to 
 others, he begs leave to represent, that his loyalty to 
 your majesty has always been unshaken, even in the 
 worst of times ; that particularly in the late unua- 
 tural rebellion, when the young Pretender had ad- 
 vanced as far as Derby, at the head of an army of at 
 least three thousand men, composed of the flower of 
 the Scotch nobility and gentry, who had virtue 
 enough to avow, and courage enough to venture their 
 lives in support of, their real principles, your peti- 
 tioner did not join him, as unquestionably he might 
 have done, had lie been so inclined ; but, on the 
 contrary, raised at the public expense* sixteen com- 
 panies of one hundred men each, in defence of your 
 majesty's undoubted right to the imperial crown of 
 these realms, which service remains to this hour 
 unrewarded. 
 
 Your petitioner is well aware that your majesty's 
 civil list must necessarily be in a very weak and 
 languid condition, after the various and profuse eva- 
 cuations it has undergone ; but at the same time he 
 humbly hopes, that an argument which does not seem 
 to have been urged against any other person what- 
 soever, will not in a singular manner be urged against 
 him, especially as he has some reasons to believe that 
 the deficiencies in the pension list will by no means 
 be the last to be made good by parliament. 
 
 Your petitioner begs leave to observe that a small 
 pension is disgraceful, as it intimates opprobrious in- 
 digence en the part of the receiver, and a degrading 
 sort of dole or charity on the part of the giver ; but, 
 that a great one implies dignity and affluence on the 
 one side : on the other, esteem and consideration ; 
 which doubtless your majesty must entertain in the 
 highest degree for those great personages whose repu- 
 table names glare in capitals upon your Eleemosy- 
 nary list. Your petitioner humbly flatters himself, 
 that upon this principle less than three thousand 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 pounds a year will not be proposed to him, and if 
 made gold, the more agreeable. 
 
 You.- petitioner persuades himself that your ma- 
 jesty will not impute this his humble application to 
 any mean interested motive, of which he has always 
 had the utmost abhorrence. — No, sir ! he confesses his 
 weakness : honour alone is his object ; honour is his 
 passion ; that honour which is sacred to him as a peer, 
 and tender to him as a gentleman ; that honour, in 
 short, to which he has sacrificed all other consider- 
 ations.— It is upon this single principle that your 
 petitioner solicits an honour, which at present in so 
 extraordinary a manner adorns the British Peerage ; 
 and which, in the most shining periods of ancient 
 Greece, distinguished the greatest men, who were 
 fed in the Prytarseum at the expense of the public. 
 
 Upon this honour, far dearer to your petitioner 
 than his life, he begs leave, in the most solemn 
 manner, to assure your majesty, that in case you 
 shall be pleased to grant this his most modest request, 
 he will honourably support and promote, to the ut- 
 
 287 
 
 most of his abilities, 
 
 the very worst measures, that 
 at the 
 
 the very worst ministers can suggest ; but 
 same time, should he unfortunately, and in a singu- 
 lar manner, be branded by a refusal, he thinks him- 
 self obliged in honour to declare, that he will, with 
 the utmost acrimony, oppose the very best measures 
 which your majesty yourself shall ever propose cr 
 promote. And your petitioner, &c. 
 
 EXTRACTS FBOM AN ODE TO SCANDAL. 
 
 Now, now indeed, I burn with sacred fires, 
 "lis Scandal's self that every thought inspires ! 
 I feel all potent Genius ! now I feel 
 Thy working magic through each artery steal ; 
 
 Each moment to my prying eyes 
 Some fresh disfigur'd beauties rise ; 
 Each moment I perceive some flaw 
 That e'en ill-nature never saw> 
 But hush ! some airy whisperer hints, 
 
 In accents wisely faint, 
 " Divine Cleora rather squints : 
 
 " Maria uses paint ! 
 
 " That though some fops of Celia prate, 
 
 " Yet be not hers the praise ; 
 " For, if she should be passing straight, 
 
 " Hem ! she may thank her stays. 
 " Each fool of Delia's figure talks, 
 
 " And celebrates her fame, 
 " But for my part, whene'er she walks, 
 
 " I vow I think she's lame. 
 " And see Ma'am Harriet toss her head, 
 
 " Lawk, how the creature stares : 
 "Well, well, thank heaven, it can't be said, 
 
 " I give myself such airs ! " 
 The Ode concludes with the following stanzas : 
 To woman every charm was given, 
 Design'd by all indulgent heaven, 
 
 To soften grief .or care ; 
 Tor ye were form'd to bless mankind, 
 To harmonize and soothe the mind : 
 
 Indeed, indeed, ye were. 
 But when from those sweet lips we hear 
 111 nature's whisper, Envy's sneer, 
 
 Your power that moment dies : 
 Each coxcomb makes your name his sport, , 
 And fools when angry will retort 
 
 What men of sense despise,. 
 Leave then such vain disputes as these, 
 And take a nobler road to please, — 
 
 Let Candour guide your way ; 
 So shall you daily conquests gain, 
 And captives, happy in your chain, 
 Be proud to own your sway. 
 
 SHERIDAN. 
 ECCENTRIC HOSPITALITY. 
 
 During the late American war, a soldier, who had 
 been wounded and honourably discharged, (but, per- 
 haps, not paid,) being destitute and benighted, 
 knocked at the door of an Irish farmer, when the fol- 
 lowing dialogue ensued : 
 
 Patrick — And who the devil are you now ? 
 
 Soldier — My name is John Wilson. 
 
 Patrick — And where the devil are you going from; 
 John Wilson? 
 
288 
 
 Soldier — From the American army at Erie, sir. 
 
 Patrick— And what in the devil do you want here ? 
 
 Soldier — I want shelter* to-night ; will you permit 
 me to spread my blanket on your floor and sleep to- 
 night 1 
 
 Patrick — Devil take me if I do, John Wilson, that's 
 flat. 
 
 Soldier — On your kitchen floor, sir 1 
 
 Patrick — Not I, by the Hill e'Howth— that's flat. 
 
 Soldier — In your stable then ? 
 
 Patrick— I'm d— d if I do that either— that's flat. 
 
 Soldier — I am dying with hunger : give me but a 
 bone and a crust ; I ask no more. 
 
 Patrick — The devil blow me if I do, sir — that's 
 flat. 
 
 Soldier — Give me some water to quench my thirst, 
 I beg of you. 
 
 Patrick — Beg and be hanged, I'll do no such 
 thing — that's flat. 
 
 Soldier — Sir, I have been fighting to secure the 
 blessings you enjoy ; I have assisted in contributing 
 to the glory and welfare of the country which has 
 hospitably received you, and can you so inhospitably 
 reject me from your house 1 
 
 Patrick — Reject you, who in the devil talked a 
 word about rejecting you 1 May be I am not the 
 scurvy spalpeen you take me to be, John Wilson. 
 You asked me to let you lie on my floor, my kitchen 
 floor, or in my stable ; now, by the powers, d'ye think 
 I'd let a perfect stranger do that, when I have half a 
 dozen soft feather beds all empty ? No, by the Hill 
 o'Howth, John, that's flat. In the second place 
 you told me you were dying with hunger, and 
 wanted a bone and a crust to eat ; now, honey, d'ye 
 think I'll feed a hungry man on bones and crust, 
 when my yard is full of fat pullets, and turkeys, and 
 pigs ? No, by the powers, not I — that's flat. In the 
 third place, you asked me for some simple water to 
 quench your thirst ; now as my water is none of the 
 best, I never give it to a poor traveller without mixing 
 it with plenty of wine, brandy, whiskey, or something 
 else wholesome and cooling. Come into my house, 
 my honey ; devil blow me, but you shall sleep in the 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 best feather bed I have ; you shall 'have the best 
 supper and breafast that my farm- can supply, which, 
 thank the Lord, is none of the worst ; you shall drink 
 as much water as you choose, provided you mix it 
 with plenty of good wine or spirits, and provided 
 also you prefer it. Come in my hearty, come in, and 
 feel yourself at home. It shall never be said, that 
 Patrick O 'Flaherty treated a man scurvily who has 
 been fighting for the dear country which gave him 
 protection — that's flat. - 
 
 PROSE V. POETRY. 
 
 Mr. Gifford to Mr. Hazlitt. 
 What we read from your pen we remember no more , 
 
 Mr. Hazlitt to Mr. Gifford. 
 What we read from your pen we remember before. 
 
 THE TWO HERVEYS. 
 
 Two Herveys had a mutual wish 
 
 To plsase in separate stations ; 
 The one invented " Sauce for Fish," 
 
 The other '* Meditations." 
 Each has his pungent powers applied, 
 
 To aid the dead and dying ; 
 That relishes a " Soal," when fried, 
 
 This saves the " Soul" from frying. 
 
 P.IVAL LOVERS. 
 
 The following, said to be from the pen of the author 
 of Palestine, was circulated in MS. some years since 
 in the University of Oxford. It was occasioned by 
 the elopement and marriage of a daughter of one of 
 the Professors with her father's footman ; the lady, 
 whose name was Arabella, choosing this step, rather 
 than be constrained to receive the addresses of an 
 elderly gentleman, who, from a peculiarity in his 
 gait, was nicknamed Dr. Toe. 
 
 Twixt /oof-man John and Dr. Toe, 
 
 A rivalship befell ; 
 Which should prove the favour'd beau, 
 
 To bear away the Belle. 
 The /ooMnan won the lady's heart, 
 
 And who can blame her 1 no man ; 
 The whole prevail'd against a part, 
 'Twas foot-man versus Toe-man. 
 
THE LAUGHING EHliOSOPHBli. 
 
 .2^9 
 
 NOVEL CRIM C0>. 
 
 A young officer, a cornet in a regiment, being hos- 
 pitably entertained by a neighbouring fanner, formed 
 a deliberate plan to seduce his wife. The usual 
 siege was laid, and such assiduity preserved, that it 
 could not escape the eye of the farmer; but, de- 
 pending on his wife's constancy, he did not forbid 
 the military advances of his guest. In -process of 
 time, however, the lady, who despised the advances 
 of the captain, took an opportunity of stating the 
 whole case to her husband : inconsequence of which 
 a plan was laid, and the execution nearly proved 
 fatal to the lover. The farmer one day invited all 
 die officers of the regiment to dine with him, except 
 the captain ; and the captain was not a little rallied 
 upon the neglect at the mess-room, where he had 
 often said he should make the farmer's wife one of 
 his regimental followers. However, the day previous 
 to the dinner, the captain received a letter from the 
 lady, intimating that if he would attend at the garden 
 gate at half-past ten the same night, he should be 
 conducted to a much more delicate entertainment 
 than eating and drinking. All things were prepared 
 — the officers dined with the farmer — and the cap- 
 tain, true to his appointment, met an Abigail, who 
 conducted him to her mistress's bed-room. He was 
 soon under the bed-clothes, and scarcely there before 
 he received such a pressing hog as obliged him to 
 call out for help ; the alarm was given — the company 
 ran up stairs with lights, and found the captain fast 
 locked in the arms of a great she dancing bear. The 
 proprietor of the beast holding the chain of his bear 
 on the left-hand side of the bed : the first business 
 wai to release the poor lover from his hugging mis- 
 tresa, which, with the assistance of the keeper, was 
 soon effected, but at the expense of three broken ribs 
 and a violent contusion on the temple : such was the 
 winding ap of his expected felicity. 
 
 THE UNDERTAKER^ BILL. 
 
 .An undertaker waited on a gentleman with the 
 
 bill for the burial of his wife, amounting to 671. 
 
 * That's a va^.t sum," said the widower, " for laying 
 
 a silent female horizontally ! 3-011 must have made 
 some mistake i" — " Not in the least,'' answered the 
 coffin-monger, " handsome hearse — three coaches 
 and six — well-dressed mutes — handsome pall — no- 
 body, ycur honour, could do it for less." The gen- 
 tleman rejoined : " It is a large sum, but, as I am 
 satisfied the poor woman would have given twice as 
 much to bury me, I mast not be behind her in an 
 act of kindness : therr is a check for the amount." 
 
 THE OPERA. 
 
 An Opera, like a pill'ry may be. said, 
 
 To nail our Ears down, but expose oar Head. 
 
 MUSICAL PERFECTION. 
 
 After one of the first musicians had been playing 
 a solo, and shown a great many tricks upon his in- 
 strument, and was receiving applause for his g~eat 
 execution, a Lady observed to Dr. Johnson, how 
 amazingly difficult the performance must be. 
 " Madam," said the doctor, " I wish it had been 
 impossible.*' 
 
 T!»E PEER AND THE PEDLAR. 
 
 A Member of the modern great 
 
 Pass'd Sawney with his budget: 
 The peer was in his car of state, 
 
 The tinker fore'd to trudge it. 
 But Sawney shall receive the praise 
 
 His Lordship would parade for; 
 One's debtor for his dapple greys, 
 
 The other' ■ shoes are paid for. 
 
 POLITE FORBEARANCE. 
 
 A nobleman being seated with a party of ladies in a 
 stage-box, a sprig of fashion came in booted and 
 spurred. At the end of the act, the peer rose, and 
 making the young man a low bo«v, said, " I beg 
 leave. Sir, in the name of these ladies, and for myself, 
 to offer you our thanks for your forbearance." — "I 
 don't understand you ; what do you mean V said 
 the stranger. " I mean," repeated the other. " as 
 you have come with your boots and spurs, to thank 
 you that you have not brought youi horse." 
 
290 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 A Scotchman giving evidence at the bar of the 
 Hoiise of Lords ia the affair of Captain Porteus, and 
 telling of the variety of shots which were fired upon 
 that unhappy occasion, was asked by the Duke of 
 Newcastle, what kind of shot it was ? " Why," said 
 the man, in his broad dialect, " such as they shoot 
 fools ffowlsj with, and the like." " What kind of 
 fools V says the duke, smiling at the word. " Why, 
 my lord, dukes, (ducks) and sic kin' o y fools." 
 
 AURICULAR TELFSCOPE. 
 
 A gentleman remarked one day to an Irish ba- 
 lonet, that the science of optics was now brought to 
 the highest perfection ; for that, by the aid of a tele- 
 scope, which he had just purchased, ie could discern 
 objects at an incredible distance. " My dear fel- 
 .ow," replied the barone f , '* I have one at my lodge 
 that will be a match for it ; it brought the church so 
 near to my view, that I could hear the whole congre- 
 gation singing Psakns." 
 
 HEAR BOTH SIDES. 
 
 Hodge held a farm, and smil'd content, 
 While one year paid another's rent ; 
 But if he ran the least behind, 
 Vexation stung his anxious mind ; 
 For not an hour would landlord stay, 
 But seize the very quarter day. 
 How cheap soe'er or scant the grain, 
 Though urg'd with truth, was urg'd in vain. 
 The same to him if false or true, 
 "^or rent must come when rent was due. 
 Yet that same landlord's cows and steeds 
 Broke Hodge's fence and cropt his meads 
 In hunting, that same landlord's hounds' 
 See ! how they spread his new-sown grounds ! 
 Dog, horse, and man, alike o'erjoyed, 
 'While half the rising crop's destroy'd, 
 Yet tamely was tire loss sustain' d — 
 v Hs said, the suff'rer once complain d ; 
 The Squire laugh'd loudly while he spoke, 
 And paid the bumpkin— with a joke. 
 
 But luckless still poor Hodge's fate * 
 His worship's bull has fore'd a gate. 
 And gor'd his cow, the last and best ; 
 By sickness he had lost the rest. 
 Hodge felt at heart resentment strong : 
 The heart will feel that suffers long. 
 A thought that instant took his head, 
 And thus within himself he said . 
 " If Hodge, for once, don't sting the Squire, 
 May people post him for a liar.'* 
 He said — across his shoulder throws 
 His fork, and to his landlord goes. 
 
 " I come an't please you to unfold 
 What, soon or late, you must be told. 
 My bull (a creature tame till nowj, 
 My bull has gor'd your worship's cow. 
 'Tis known what shifts I make to live 
 Perhaps your honour may -forgive.'' 
 " Forgive !" the Squire replied, and s wore, 
 " Pray cant to me, forgive, no more. 
 The law my damage shall decide ; 
 And know, that I'll be satisfied." 
 " Think, Sir, I'm poor, poor as a rat.'* 
 « Think, I'm a justice, think of that'.'' 
 Hodge bow'd again, and scratch' d bis head, 
 And, recollecting, archly said, 
 " Sir, I'm so struck w lien here before ye, 
 I fear I've blunder' d in the story. 
 'Fore George ! but L'll not blunder now ; 
 Your's was the bull, Sir, mine the cow ;'' 
 His worship found his rage subside, 
 And with calm accent thus replied : 
 " I'll think upon your case to-night— 
 But I perceive 'tis alter'd quite !'' 
 Hodge shrugg'd, and made another bow, 
 ''' An please ye, where's the Justice now ?" 
 
 TRUMP CAR0S. 
 
 George III. once noticed a Mr. Blanchard's house 
 on Richmond Hill ; and, being told it belonged to 
 a card-maker, he observed, " What! what! what! 
 a card-maker! all his cards must have turned up 
 trumps." 
 
TOE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 .91 
 
 SERMON ON THE WORD MALT, PREACHED BY THE 
 REV. MR. DODD IN A HOLLOW TREE. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Dodd, a very worthy minister, who 
 lived a few miles from Cambridge, had rendered 
 himself obnoxious to many of the Cantabs by fre- 
 quently preaching against drunkenness. Several of 
 these meeting him on a journey, they determined to 
 make him preach in a hollow tree, which was near 
 the roadside. Accordingly, addressing him with 
 great apparent politeness, they asked him if he had 
 not lately preached much against drunkenness. On 
 his replying in the affirmative, they insisted that he 
 should now preach from a text of their choosing. In 
 vain did he remonstrate on the unreasonableness of- 
 expecting him to give them a discourse without 
 study, and in such a place : they were determined to 
 take no denial, and the word MALT was given him 
 by way of text , on which he immediately delivered 
 himself as follows : — 
 
 " Beloved, let me crave your attention. I am a 
 little man, come at a short warning, to preach a 
 short sermon, from a small subject, in an unworthy 
 pulpit, to a small congregation. Beloved, my text is 
 MALT : I cannot divide it into words, it being but 
 one ; nor into syllables, it being but one ; I must, 
 therefore, of necessity divide it into letters, which I 
 find to be these four, M, A, L, T. 
 
 " M, my beloved, is Moral ; A, is allegorical ; 
 L, is Literal; T, is Theological. The Moral is set 
 forth to teach you drunkards good manners; there- 
 fore, M, Masters; A, all of you; L, listen; T. to my 
 Text. The Allegorical is when one thing is spoken, 
 and another thing is meant. The thing spoken of is 
 Malt; the thing meant is the Juice of Malt; which 
 you Cantabs make — M, your Master; A, your Ap- 
 parel ; L, your Liberty ; and T, your Trust. The 
 Literal is, according to the Letter— M, Much, 
 A, Ale ; L, Little ; T, Trust. The Theological is ac- 
 cording to the effects that it works ; and these I find 
 to be of two kinds : first in this world ; secondly, 
 in the world to come. The effects that it works in 
 this world are, in some, M, Murder ; in others, A, Adul- 
 
 tery ; in all, L, Looseness of Life ; and in some 
 T, Treason. The effects that it works in the world 
 to come, are — M, Misery ; A, Anguish ; L, Lamen- 
 tation; and T, Torment, and so much f.r this time 
 and text. 
 
 '* I shall improve this, first by way of exhortation 
 — M, Masters , A, All of you ; L, Leave off; T 
 Tipling; or secondly, by way of excommunication — ■ 
 M, Masters; A, All of you; L, Look for; T, Tor- 
 ment. Thirdly, by way of caution take this. A 
 drunkard is the annoyance of modesty, the spoil 
 of civility, the destruction of reason, the brewer's 
 agent, the alehouse benefactor, his wife's sorrow, his 
 children's trouble, his own shame, his neighbour's 
 scoff, a walking swill-bowl, the picture of a beast, 
 and the monster of a man." 
 
 CHARITY AND GALLANTRY 
 
 The Bishop of Exeter having established a poor- 
 house for twenty-five old women, asked Lord Mans- 
 field for an inscription; upon which his Lordship 
 wrote : 
 
 Under this roof the Lord Bishop of Exeter 
 
 keeps 
 
 Twenty-five women. 
 
 THE LATE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE. 
 
 This nobleman was so accustomed to promises, 
 that no applicant whatever left his presence without 
 an assurance of having what he solicited for. A 
 major in the army once waited upon him on his 
 return from abroad. " My dear major," said his 
 grace, rnnning up to him, and embracing him, " I 
 am heartiiy glad to see you ; I hope all things 
 go well with you."—" I can't say they do, my lord 
 duke," returned he ; " I have had the misfortune to 
 
 lose my — " — " Say no more, my d»ar major," 
 
 returned be, " say no more, I entreat you, I'll give 
 you a better. w — " Better, my lord," returned the 
 major, u that cannot be!" — "How so, my dear 
 friend? how so?' replied the duke. "Because," 
 rejoined the major, " I have lost my leg," 
 
292 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 At the first masquerade wKieh George the Second 
 honoured with his presence in England, a lady in- 
 vited him to drink a glass of wine. With this he 
 readily complied : and the lady, filling a bumper, 
 said "Here, mask, the Pretender's health;" then 
 filling another glass, she presented it to the king, 
 who, receiving it with a smile, replied, " I drink with 
 all my heart to the health of unfortunate princes.*' 
 
 fox's paY-day. 
 
 Mr. Fox, on one of his. occasions for borrowing 
 money, met with a good-natured Jew, who told him 
 thathe might take his own time for payment. " Then," 
 said Charles, " we'll make it the day of judgment; 
 or, as that will be rather a busy day, suppose we say 
 the day after." 
 
 AN ERROIt IN GRAIN 
 
 A woman having fallen into a river j her husband 
 went to look for her, proceeding up the stream from 
 the place where she fell in. The bye-standers said 
 ihe could not have gone against the stream. The 
 man answered, she was obstinate and contrary in her 
 life, and he therefore supposed for certain, that she 
 was the same at her -death. 
 
 LOUIS XIV. 
 
 Killigrew, jester at the court of Charles II. being 
 taken to see the <jallery at Versailles, was desired to 
 observe particularly a picture of the crucifixion. He 
 was then asked if he knew whom it represented. -He 
 said " No."— " Wiry/' said Louis XIV., who was 
 present, " it is our Saviour on the cross, and the 
 picture on the right side is the pope's, and that on 
 the left my own." Upon which Killigrew replied 
 u I thank your majesty for your information ; I have 
 heard our Saviour was crucified between two thieves, 
 hut I did not know before who they were." 
 
 CURE FOR DISSIPATION, 
 
 A dissipated nobleman was one day reproved by 
 hb mother, who advised him to take example by a 
 particular gentleman, whose constant food was vege- 
 
 tables, and his drink pure water. " Good heaven, 
 
 madam," said his lordship, " do yon wish me to 
 
 imitate a man who eats like a beast and drinks like a 
 fish." 
 
 CHURCH-YARD ACCOUNT. 
 
 A poor labourer having been obliged to undergo 
 the operation of having his leg cut off, was charged 
 sixteen pence by the sexton for burying it. The 
 poor fellow applied to the rector for redress, who 
 told him, he could not relieve him at that time ; but 
 that he should certainly consider it in his fees, when 
 the rest of his body came to be buried." 
 
 ELEGANT WIT 
 
 As in smooth oil, the razor best is whet, 
 So wit is by politeness sharpest set 
 Their want of edge from their offence is seen, 
 Both pain us least when exquisitely keen. ; 
 
 EPITAPH ON A TALKATIVE OLD MAID. 
 
 Beneath this silent stone is laid 
 A noisy antiquated maid, 
 ^ Who from her cradle talk'd till death 
 And ne'er before was out of breath 
 Whither she's gone we cannot tell ; 
 For, if she talks not, she's in Hell . 
 If she's in Heav'n, she's tjiere unblest ; 
 Because she hates a place of rest. 
 
 A HOME ARGUMENT. 
 
 By one decisive argument 
 
 Giles gain'd his lovely Kate's consent 
 
 To fix the bridal day, 
 " Why in such haste, dear Giles, to wed ? 
 I shall not change my mind," she said ; 
 
 '* But then," says he, "I may." 
 
 SPOKEN BY VENUS, ON SEEING HER STATUE DONE 
 BY PRAXYTELES. 
 
 Anchy&is, Paris, and Adonis too, 
 Have seen me naked, and 'expos'd to view % 
 All these I freely own, without denying. 
 But where*ha^ this Praxiftties been pryingi 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 293 
 
 1AMES II. AM» MILTON. 
 
 James II., when Duke of York, one day asked 
 Milton, the poet, if he, did not think his loss of 
 sight was a judgment upon him for what lie had 
 written against his lather, Charles I. The poet 
 answered, " if his highness thought his loss of s-ight 
 a judgment upon him, he v ished to know what he 
 thought of his father's losing his head-," 
 
 NAUTICAL LEARNING* 
 
 Two sailors happening to join a crowd gathered 
 around a preacher, just in time to hear him say, 
 after he had exclaimed against the sins of his 
 audience, " And I your pastor and teacher shall be 
 forced to bear witness against you at the day 
 of judgment." " Hollo! Jack," cries one of them, 
 '* if it is not just as it is at the Old Bailey : tht 
 greatest rogue always turns king's evidence." 
 
 VOLTAIRE AND CH ESTER FIELD. 
 
 Voltaire, when in London, being at a rout with Lord 
 Chesterfield, a lady in company, very much painted, 
 engrossed his conversation. Chesterfield. tapped him 
 on the shoulder, saying, " Take care you are not 
 captivated. 5 ' "My Lord," replied Voltaire, "I 
 scorn to be taken by an Etiglish bottom under 
 French colours." 
 
 keeping one's word. 
 
 Thus, with kind words, Sir Edward cheer'd his 
 
 friend 
 " Dear Dick, thou on my friendship may'st depend ; 
 I know thy fortune is but very scant, 
 Bnt be assur'd I'll ne'er see Dick in want." 
 Dick soon confin'd, his friend, no doubt, would free 
 
 him ; 
 No : but he kept his word — he would not see him ! 
 
 MAJESTY. 
 
 Take the externals (M — y) from Majesty, and 
 what is it? a jest. 
 
 CHOICE OF A FAULT 
 
 Dean Swift having a shoulder of mutton too much 
 
 done brought up'for his dinner, sent for the cook, and 
 told her to take the mutton down and do it less. 
 " Please your honour, I cannot do it less.'' " But," 
 said the Dean, u if it had not been done enough 
 you could have done it more, could y«u not?" 
 " Oh, yes! very easily." " Why, then," said the 
 Dean, " for the future, when you commit a fault, let 
 it be such a one as can be amended." 
 
 CHANGING THE SUBJECT 
 
 Alcibiades finding his irregularities had become 
 the genera! topic of conversation at Athens, took 
 a very fine dog, for which he had given a 
 large sum of money, he cut off his tail. His friends 
 told him the whole city blamed him for so foolish an 
 action, and talked of nothing else. " That is what 
 I wished,'' said he. " I had rather they should 
 talk of my dog's tail than of me." 
 
 QUICKSILVER. 
 
 Sir Thomas Moore examining a prot.'star.t on the 
 charge of heresy, whose name was Silver, told him, 
 in his jesting way, " that silver must be tried in the 
 fire." " Ay !" said Silver, "but quicksilver will not 
 abide it." 
 
 LOOSE THOUGHTS. 
 
 When Mrs. Macauley published her Loose Thoughts, 
 Garrick, who was in company with Foote, said it 
 was a very improper title for a lady to adopt: to 
 which Foote replied, he Was quite of a different 
 opinion, for the sooner a woman got rid of her loose 
 thoughts the better. 
 
 THE PERMANENT MASK. 
 
 At Ranelagh, when Lady Grace 
 
 Unmask'd to put my poor heart in a pother, 
 So very hideous was her face. 
 
 I was deceiv'd, and begg'd she'd pull off t'other. 
 
 A WOMAN'S SECRET. 
 
 A married couple, coming over in the packet 
 from Dublin to F.ngland, a storm arose, when every 
 one expected the vessel would be lost. The gentle- 
 
294 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 man lamented with his wife the dreadful situation 
 they were in, and begged her to answer him one 
 question. She bade him name it. " Tell me, my 
 dear," said he, " as perhaps we have not long to 
 live, have you been always true to my bed ?" " Sink 
 or swim," she replied, " that is the only secret that 
 shall go to the grave with me." 
 
 BISHOP WARBURTON. 
 
 When the first volume of the " Divine Legation," 
 oy Warburton, was shewn to Dr. Bentley, he looked 
 it over, and then observed of the author, " This man 
 has a monstrous appetite, with a very bad digestion.' 
 
 RELATIONSHIP 
 
 A ludicrous mistake happened some time ago at a 
 funeral in Mary-le-bone. The clergyman had gone 
 on with the service, until he came to that part 
 ■which says, u Our deceased brother or sister," 
 without knowing whether the deceased was male or 
 female. He turned to one of the mourners, and 
 asked whether it was a brother or sister. The man 
 very innocently replied, " No relation at all, Sir, 
 only an acquaintance.' 1 '' 
 
 THE DYING CITIZEN. 
 
 A citizen dying greatly in debt, " Farewell,'* 
 said one of his creditors, " there is so much of mine 
 gone with him." li And he carried so much of mine," 
 said another. A person hearing them make their se- 
 veral complaints, said, " Well, I see now, that 
 though a man can carry nothing of his own out of 
 the world, yet he may carry a great deal of other 
 mens." 
 
 . HANGING IN CHAINS 
 
 Two Irish labourers being at the execution of the 
 malefactors on the new scaffold before Newgate, one 
 says to the other, " Arrah, Pat, now! but is there 
 any difference between being hanged here and 
 being hanged in chains !'' " No, honey !" replied 
 he, " no great difference : only one hangs about 
 an hour, and the other bangs all the days of his 
 life." 
 
 The footman of a gentleman possessed of a most 
 irritable temper, desired to be dismissed. " Why do 
 you leave me ?'' said the master. " Because, to 
 speak the truth, I cannot bear your temper." "To 
 be sure, I am passionate, but my passion is no sooner 
 on than it is off." " Yes,'' replied the servant, " bat 
 then it is no sooner off than it is on.'' 
 
 KILL AND CURE. 
 
 The following is the literal copy of a Farrier's biJi. 
 sent to a gentleman:— 
 
 10824 
 
 " Maay Too qureing your honors Ors till he 
 dide Vifteen Zillings.' 
 
 THE BRAINLESS TOPER. 
 
 " Brother bucks your glasses drain.'' 
 
 'Tom, 'tis strong and sparkling red.' ■ 
 
 " Never fear — 'twont reach my brain :" 
 " No — that's true — but 'twill your head." 
 
 PREACHING AND BREWING. 
 
 A country vicar, giving his text out of Hebrews, 
 pronounced it, He brews, 10 and 12, (meaning the 
 chapter and verse.) An old toper, who sat half 
 asleep under the pulpit, . thinking he talked of 
 brewing so many bushels to the hogshead, said, 
 " By the Lord, and no such bad liquor neither." 
 
 A DEAR WIFE. 
 
 A gentleman just married told Foote he had that 
 morning laid out three hundred pounds for his dear 
 wife. if Faith, Sir," says Foote, " I see you are no 
 hypocrite, for she is truly your dear wife." 
 
 THE LAST FOLLY. 
 
 A volatile young lord, whose conquests in 
 the female world were numberless, at last married . 
 " Now, my lord," said tne countess, " I hope you'll 
 mend." " Madam," says he, " you may depend 
 on it, this is my iast folly." 
 
THK LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 295 
 
 FRENCH \aNITTT 
 
 A French nobleman shewing Matthew Prior, the 
 poet, the King's Palace at Versailles, and desiring 
 him to observe the many trophies of Lewis the Four- 
 teenth's victories, asked Prior if King William the 
 Third, his master, had many such trophies in his 
 palace. " No," said Prior, " the monuments of my 
 master's victories are to be seen every where but in 
 his own house." 
 
 AVDICE TO AN AUTHOR. 
 
 A learned doctor having printed two heavy vo- 
 lumes of Natural History^ a friend remarked to him, 
 that his publication was, in several particulars, -.ex- 
 tremely erroneous ; and when the other defended his 
 volumes, replied, '■' Pray, Dr. are you not a justice of 
 the peace ?" " 1 am, Sir," was the reply. " Why, 
 then, Sir,'' added his critic, " I advise 3 r ou to send 
 your work to the same place you send your vagrants 
 to, that is, to the house of correction." 
 
 AN IMPROMPTU. 
 
 A manager having played several nights to an 
 almost empty barn, in a country town, neglected to 
 perfect himself in the part of Lorenzo, in the Mer- 
 chant of Venice. He however bustled through it 
 tolerably well, till he got to the part where he should 
 address Jessica on the subject of Leander's being 
 drowned in crossing the Hellespont ; where he made 
 a monstrous boggle, which was so intolerable to the 
 audience, that a general hiss from all parts expressed 
 their disapprobation, and he retired, as he called it, 
 in a blaze. As soon as silence was obtained by his 
 exit, he returned on the stage, leading Jessica 
 forward, with whom he addressed the audience 
 thus : — 
 
 u O Jessica, in such a night as this we came to 
 town, 
 And since that night have touched but half-a- ! 
 
 crown ; 
 Let you and I, then, bid these folks good ni^ht, 
 .Lest we, by longer stay, arc starved outright. 
 
 TO A GENTLEMAN ABOUT TO MARRY. 
 
 Bob says, his spouse that is to be 
 
 Has all the requisites to bless. 
 Has wit, I know, in repartee, 
 
 A taste for letters, play, and dress. 
 Yet were I, Bobby, (entre nous) 
 
 Bound to three such in marriage bands, 
 I'd bribe the Devil with^thanks and two, 
 
 To take the other off my hands. 
 
 TWO DIFFERENT CASES. 
 
 Charg'd with writing obscenely this was F — tig's 
 
 reply ; 
 1'ia what Dryden and Congrcve have done as well as I. 
 
 Tis true — but they did it with this good pretence, 
 
 With an ounce of obsceneness went a pound of good 
 sense. 
 
 But thou hast proportion'd, in thy judgment pro- 
 found, 
 
 Of good sense scarce an ounce, of obsceneness a 
 pound 
 
 SHINING HONESTY. 
 
 ' Aye! Honesty's a jewel,'' Richard cry'd, 
 '* That shines the clearer still, the. more 'tis try'd." 
 ' True Dick,' quoth Jeremy — ' yourself may show it, 
 
 ' Your Honesty's so clear — we all see through it.' 
 
 CHARLES II. 
 
 The Duke of Buckingham was one day entertain* 
 ing Charles II., when the King said, " Buckingham, 
 I think you are the greatest rogue in all my domi- 
 nions ;' upon which Buckingham immediately re- 
 plied, " of a subject I believe I am.'' 
 
 WIT AND HONESTY. 
 
 The late King of Prussia used to say, that he 
 preferred the company of a man who could amuse 
 him, though ever so great a rascal, to that of a 
 stupid honest fellow, wl>o would suffer him tofali 
 asleep 
 
296 
 
 THE LAUGHINQ PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 MOTTO S. 
 
 For an undertaker — " Grave undertakings," or, 
 " I undertake grave subjects." 
 
 For a first-rate singer—" I've cash'd my notes " 
 
 For a lamplighter — "Exalted Ishine;" or, "Bril- 
 liant exaltation." 
 
 For a news-crier — " My fame makes a noise!"' 
 
 For a tobacconist — '■* Smoke ascends?' or, " Sub- 
 stantial smoke." + 
 
 For a watchmaker — " Wound to the highest 
 pitch :" or, " Take note of Time. " 
 
 For a carpenter — '■' Plain dealings, or, " Augur 
 well/' 
 
 For a resurrection man — " Mors janua vita? ;'' or, 
 " Death is life to me.'' 
 
 For an auctioneer — " Repeated knockings down 
 jet me on my legs" 
 
 ' *' For a tailor — * Suit your measures to all men ;" 
 or, " My goose laid golden eggs." 
 
 Officers of Excise, Sec. — " Collections and self- 
 recollections." 
 
 For a distiller—" My spirits rise !" or, " Spirit3at 
 full proof." 
 
 For a cider merchant — "How sweet is expres- 
 sion.'* 
 
 For a navy agent — " Commissions, but no self- 
 omissions." 
 
 For a lawyer — ''The suit that fit* me besf is a 
 Chancery suit." 
 
 For a manufacturer of looking-glasses — " The 
 true mirror of f ashion." 
 
 For a distributor of handbills- ** A literary cha- 
 racter.'' 
 
 For a banker — " Count Discount.'' 
 
 For the Master of the Hummums— a Knight of the 
 Bath." 
 
 For the keeper of Bedlam—" Knight of the Cres- 
 cent,'" 
 
 For a merchant—" No change like exchange." 
 
 For a coachmaker — -" The Wheel of Fortune." 
 
 For a butcher—" Killing brings me to life.'* 
 
 For a paper manufacturer — " I've turned over 
 a new leaf." 
 
 For a curate— " A good living is a cure for all 
 souls." 
 
 PRISE NTS. 
 
 A Hamper I receiv'd of wine, 
 
 As good, Dick says, as e'er was tasted— 
 And Dick may be suppos'd to know, 
 For he contriv'd his matters so, 
 As every day with me to dine 
 
 Much longer than the liquor lasted : 
 
 If such are presents— while I live 
 Oh ! let me not receive, but give. 
 
 TilK COMBAT. 
 
 A Chimney-sweep and baker went to fight ; 
 The baker beat the chimney-sweeper whites. 
 The chimney-sweep, tho' laid upon his back. 
 Took wind, and quickly beat the baker black. 
 In came a brickdust-mun, with porter fed 
 And beat both chimney- sweep and baker red. 
 Thus red, black, white, in clouds together lay, 
 And none could tell which party had the day. 
 
 TWO STRINGS TO YOUR BOW. 
 
 As fiddlers and archers who cunningly know 
 
 The way to procure themselves merit 
 Will always provide them two strings to their bow 
 
 And manage their bus'ness with spirit. 
 So likewise the provident maiden should do, 
 
 Who would make the best use of her beauty ; 
 If her mark she would hit, or her lesson play through 
 
 Two lovers must still be on duty. 
 Thus arm'd against Chance, and secure of supply, 
 
 Thus far our revenge we may carry- 
 One spark for our sport, we may jilt and set by j 
 
 And t'other, poor soul, we may marry. 
 
 THE SECOND BHUTWS. 
 
 Brutus unmov'd heard how his Portia fell, 
 ( Should Jack'i wife die, he would behave as well. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOFHER. 
 
 297 
 
 TESTS OF TVII. 
 
 It) 1809, Sir Richard Phillips, the publisher, being 
 about to print anew edition of the " Encyclopedia 
 of Wit," resolved to test the whole by two separate 
 minds, and gave to two very ingenious men a copy of 
 the work, requesting each to erase the articles 
 which did not strike him as piquant. They per- 
 formed their tasks, and on returning their copies, the 
 publisher fouud, to his utter astonishment, that, with 
 few exceptions, each had erased what the other had 
 retained, so that by their joint erasures, not a twen- 
 tieth part of the original book remained. Confounded 
 by the result, be now submitted the book to a third 
 person, and he retained nearly every article which 
 the others had erased, and struck out all that they 
 had retained. He was now reminded of the fable of 
 " The Man, his Son, and the Ass," and perc-iving 
 that it was vain to endeavour to please every one, he 
 reprinted his book without alteration, leaving it to his 
 several readers to seek pleasure from the mass, each 
 according to his own fancy. 
 
 IRISH COURAGE. 
 
 In 1563, the Earl of Desmond, a fierce and powerful 
 chieftain, made*an inroad on the possession of But- 
 ler, Earl of Orniond, when in the course of the war, 
 the former was wounded and taken prisoner. As the 
 Ormondierians conveyed him from the field, stretched 
 on a bier, his supporters exclaimed, with natural 
 triumph, " Where now is the great lord of Des- 
 mond?" " Where," replied Desmond, " but in his 
 proper place? — Still on the necks of the Butlers." 
 
 ETIQDE'ITK 
 
 A country 'squire asked a Judge, while he was | 
 delivering his charge, if he bad seen the rhinoceros ? j 
 Upon which the JudL-e paused. The esquire went | 
 on," Not seen the rhinoceros, my lord !'' To which j 
 his lordship replied, " that the etiquette was not yet 
 settled between them, as they both had their trum- I 
 pets, which should visit the first, whether he should j 
 wait upon the rhinoceros or the rhinoceros upon 
 hira/> ' 
 
 D H \ i> E N S W J ¥ K . 
 
 This lady one day complained to hei husband, 
 that he was always reading, and took little notice of 
 her, and finished by saying she wished that she was 
 a book, and then she should enjoy his company. 
 '-' Yes, my dear/' says Dryden, " J wish you were a 
 book* — but an Almanack I mean, for then 1 should 
 change you every year." 
 
 ON THE MARRIAGE OF AN OLD MAID. 
 
 Chloe, a coquet in her prime. 
 
 The vainest ficklest thing alive ; 
 Behold the strange effects of time! 
 
 Marries and doats at forty-five. 
 Thus, weather-cocks, who for awhile 
 
 Have turn'd about v..jth every blast, 
 Grown old, and destitute of oil, 
 
 Rust to a point, and fix at last. 
 
 ON MISS FURY, BY LORD CHESTERFIELD, 
 
 To look like an angel, the ladies believe, 
 Is the greatest of blessings that Heaven can give; 
 But on earth, believe me, fair nymphs, I assure ye, 
 The blessing's far greater to look like a Fury. 
 
 TASTE FOR WIT. 
 
 Foote was rattling one evening, in the green- 
 room, when a nobleman, who seemed highly" 
 entertained, cried out, " well, Foote, you see I 
 swallow all the good things.'' •" Do you, my Lord 
 Duke," says the other, " then I congratulate you on 
 your digestion, for I believe you never threw up one 
 of them in your life." 
 
 A RHAPSODY. 
 
 As I walk'd by myself, I said to myself, 
 
 And myself said again to me ; 
 Look to thyself, take care of thyself, 
 
 For nobody cares for thee. 
 Then I said to myself, and then answered myself: 
 
 With the self-same repartee ; 
 Look to thyself, or look not to thyself; 
 • " ; Tis th<; self-same thing to me. 
 
298 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER- 
 
 ZEAL FOB PUBLIC WORSHIP 
 A feAv years ago the Isle of Sheppey being an in- 
 considerable parish, and the income not very large, 
 their vicar came there but once a month. The pa- 
 rishioners being much displeased with this, desired 
 their clerk to remind him of his duty. The clerk 
 told the vicar the sense of the parishioners ; and the 
 reply was, " Well, well, tell them, if they will give 
 me ten pounds a year more, I will come to them once 
 a fortnight ; and be sure, Jonathan, to let me know 
 their answer the next time I come." The next time 
 he did come, he accordingly asked, and Jonathan 
 answered, '- Sir, they say, if you will excuse them 
 ten pounds a year in their tithes, they will dispense 
 with your coming at all." 
 
 THE TOUCHSTONE- 
 
 A Fool and Knave, with different views 
 
 For Julia's hand apply ; 
 The Knave to mend his fortune sues, 
 
 The Fool to please his eye. 
 Ask you how Julia will behave ? 
 
 Depend on't for a rule, 
 If she's a Fool, she'll wed the Knave 
 
 If she's a Knave, the Fool. 
 
 HUMAN FRAILTY. 
 
 It was once observed to Lord Chesterfield, in the 
 course of conversation, that man is the only creature 
 that is endowed with the power of laughter. I* True," 
 said the earl, " and you may add, perhaps, he is the 
 only creature that deserves to be laughed at.'* 
 
 ON A WELSHMAN. 
 
 A Man of Wales, betwixt St. David's day and 
 
 Easter, 
 Ran in his hostess' score, for cheese great store 
 
 a tester.: 
 His hostess chalks it up behind the door ; 
 And says, for cheese, come, Sir, discharge this 
 
 score • 
 Cot zounds, quoth he, what meaneth these? 
 D'je think, hur know not chalk from cheess f 
 
 TOO CIVIL BT HALF. 
 
 The Duke of Grafton was one day fox-hunting, 
 near Newmarket, when a quaker, at some distance, 
 upon an adjoining eminence, pulled off his hat and 
 gave a loud halloa ! The hounds immediately ran 
 to him, and being drawn off the scent, were conse- 
 quently at fault, which so enraged the duke, that 
 gallopping up to the offender, he asked, in an angry 
 tone, "Are you a quaker?" "I am, friend,'' was 
 the reply. " Well, then," rejoined his grace, "as 
 you never pull off your hat to a Christian, I will 
 thank you in future not to pay that -compliment to a 
 fox." 
 
 a goose's reason 
 
 A Goose, my grannum one day said 
 Entering a barn pops down its head ; 
 
 I begg'd her then the cause to show : 
 She told me she must waive the task, 
 For nothing but a goose would ask, 
 
 What nothing but a goose could know. 
 
 a doctor's revenge. 
 A physician being in a tavern one evening, a gen- 
 tleman entered in great haste, exclaiming/ " Doctor, 
 my wife is at the point of death, make haste, come 
 with me." " Not till I have finished my bottle, 
 however " replied the Doctor. The man happened to 
 be a fine athletic fellow, and finding the entreaty 
 useless, snatched up the Doctor, hoisted him on his 
 back, and carried him out of the tavern — the mo- 
 ment he set the Doctor upon his legs, he received 
 from him the following threat : " Now, you rascal> 
 I'll cure your wife in spite of vou." 
 
 HIGH PLAY. 
 
 A gentleman once playing at cards, was guilty of 
 an odd trick ; on which the company, in the warmth 
 of their resentment, threw him out of the windo.v of 
 a one pair of stairs room. The sufferer meeting a 
 friend some time after, was loudly complaining of 
 this usage, and asked what he should do. " Do i" 
 said the other, " why never play so high again. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 299 
 
 NOBLE BOXING. 
 
 The late Lord Peterborough having been grossly 
 insulted by a carman, deliberately stripped, and gave 
 the fellow such a drubbing, that he could scarcely 
 move a limb. A man seeing the transaction, came 
 up at the conclusion of the affray, and asked the 
 man if he knew the person with whom he had been 
 boxing was a lord ? "A lord I*' says the fellow, •' a 
 lord! — they may call him what they please, and he 
 may be what he will, but I am sure, from the weight 
 of that leaden fist of his that his father must have 
 been a drayman." 
 
 AGED GALLANTRY. 
 
 A gallant old gentleman of the name of Page, find- 
 ing a young lady's glove at a watering place, pre- 
 sented it to her with the following words : — 
 
 " If from your glove you take the letter G 
 Your glove is love, which I devote to thee :" 
 
 To which the lady returned the following neat 
 answer : — 
 
 " If from your Page you take the letter P,. 
 Your Page is age, and that won't do for me." 
 
 DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 
 
 Father Petre endeavoured to convert the Duke of 
 Buckingham. " Out of our Church," says the 
 priest, " none can be saved.'' — " And all in it will 
 be damned, 5 ' said his grace. " You want charity," 
 says the priest. " Quite as much as your reverence," 
 replied the duke. 
 
 charon's gratitude. 
 
 A Quack to Charon would his penny pay — 
 The grateful ferryman was heard to say, 
 Return, Hell's friend ! and live for ages more, 
 Or I must bawl my useless boat ashore. 
 
 OVER POLITENESS. 
 
 The Earl of Rochester meeting Isaac Barrow in 
 the park, told his companions that he would have 
 some fun with the rusty old put. Accordingly, he 
 went up w'tb. great gravity, and, taking off bis hat, 
 
 made the Doctor a profound bow, saying, " Doctor, 
 I am yours to my shoe time." The Doctor, seeing 
 his drift, immediately pulled off his beaver, and re- 
 turned (he bow, with, " My lord, I am yours to the 
 ground." Rochester followed up his salutation by a 
 deeper bow, saying, " Dr. I am yours to the centre." 
 Barrow, with a very lowly obeisance, replied, " My 
 lord, I am yours to the Antipodes." His lordship, 
 nearly gravelled, exclaimed, " Doctor, I am yours 
 to the lowest pit of Hell." — «« There, my lord," said 
 Barrow, sarcastically, '• I leave you,'" and walked off. 
 
 ORATOR HENLEY. 
 
 " I never," said a person, who knew little about 
 the doctor, "saw Orator Henley but once, and that 
 was at a Coffee house, where a gentleman he 
 was acquainted with coining in, and seating himself 
 in the same box, the following dialogue passed be- 
 tween them : 
 
 .• »<* 
 
 Henley. Pray what is become of our old friend 
 
 Smith ? I have not seen him for several years. 
 
 Gentleman. I really don't know. The last time 
 I heard of him he was at Ceylon, or some of our 
 settlements in the West Indies. 
 
 Henley (with some surprise). At Ceylon, or sonu* 
 of our settlements in the West Indies'. My good 
 Sir, in one sentence there are two mistakes. Ceylon 
 is not one of our settlements, it belongs to the 
 Dutch ; and it is situated not in the West but the 
 East Indies ! 
 
 Gentleman (with some heat), That I deny. 
 
 Henley. More shame for you '. I will engage to 
 bring a boy of eight years of age who will confute 
 you. 
 
 Gentleman (in a cooler tone of voice). Well, be 
 it where it will, I thank God I know very little about 
 these sort of things. 
 
 Henley. What, you thank God for your igno- 
 rance, do you ? 
 
 Gentleman (in a violent rage). I do, Sir ; what 
 then ? 
 
 Henletf. Sir, you have a great deal to be thank- 
 ful for. 
 
300 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 VBU HUNGRY DISPUTE. 
 
 A hungry Frenchman one day went into a cook's 
 *hop, and there staid till his stomach was satisfied 
 with the smell of the victuals. The cook insisted on 
 his paying for a dinner, which the Frenchman refused 
 to do ; and the dispute growing high, it was agreed 
 to refer the decision of it to the first man who passed 
 that way. This happened to be a chimney sweeper, 
 who, or! hearing the case, determined that the French- 
 man's money should be shaken between two empty 
 dishes, and the cook be satisfied with the gingling 
 of it, as the poor man was content with the smell of 
 the cook's meat. 
 
 CEREMONY. 
 
 A lady once invited Dean Swift to dinner, and as 
 »ihe had heard he was not easily pleased, she had 
 taken a month to provide for it : every delicacy was 
 accordingly procured. The Dean was scarcely 
 seated before the lady said she was sincerely sorry 
 that she had not a more tolerable dinner, since she 
 Teas apprehensive there was not any thing fit for him 
 to eat. " The deuce take you," said the Dean, 
 " why did you not provide a better, surely you had 
 time enough; but since you say it is so bad, Tl' 
 e'en go home and eat a herring.** 
 
 DOG LATIN 
 
 As Lady Mary Wortley Montague was walking 
 through the gardens at Stow with a party, she was 
 much teased by an impertinent young coxcomb, who 
 was continually making some foolish observations- to 
 her. On coming to one of the temples, over which 
 there was an inscription, she said, " he kind enough 
 to explain that inscription to" us."~'< Madam," said 
 the fop, '* I really do not know what it means, for I 
 eee it is dog Latin.''— " How very extraordinary it 
 is," said Lady Mary, '* that puppies do not under- 
 stand their own language I" 
 
 THE MAN OF FASHION'S DIARY. 
 
 1 laugh, joke, quarrel, fiddle, dance, game, drink, 
 Do all that mortal man can do -but think 
 
 GOLDEN 0OOSB. 
 
 When an English lady was some years ago on the 
 continent, she stopped at an inn in French Flandere, 
 which was the sign of the Golden Goose; but, ar- 
 riving late, she ordered but a slight repast for herself 
 and suite, which consisted of onJy five servants. In 
 the morning, when the landlord presented his bill, 
 she was much surprised at one general item, of— 
 " Expenses for the night, fourtften Louis D'ora." In 
 vain did she remonstrate ; the artful Fleming knew 
 her generous character, and was positive. The 
 money was accordingly paid. When she was pre- 
 paring to depart, the landlord attended her to her 
 carnage? and, expressing many thanks, hoped hr. 
 should have the honour of her company on her re- 
 turn. " Why, possibly you may," said the lad/, 
 " but it must be on one condition — that you do not 
 again mistake me for your sign." 
 
 TIT FOR TAT. 
 
 Old Time kills us all 
 
 Rich, poor, great and small, 
 
 And 'tis therefore we rack our invention, 
 Throughout all our days, 
 In finding out ways, 
 
 To kill him, by way of prevention. 
 
 BltOTHERLY LOVE. 
 
 An avaricious divine seeing ?■ poor boy in a de- 
 plorable condition, called him to the door ; .and 
 giving him a mouldy piece of bread, asked him if 
 he could read, to which he answered in the. negative ; 
 to the questions, whether he could say the Belief 
 and the Lord's Prayer, the answer was the same. 
 " Well," said the divine, " I will teach you that, 
 say after me : Our father," said the instructor. 
 "■ Our father !" repeated the poor boy. " What 
 your father as well as mine?" " Yes, ceitaioly." 
 " Then we are brothers !" u To be sure we are," 
 was the reply. " Why then,'' replied the boy, 
 pulling the crust from under his coat, " how could 
 you give your poor brother this mouldy piece of 
 bread ?" 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 301 
 
 GRATITUDE. 
 
 A parson, well known in his neighbourhood as a 
 man of great oddity, humour, and equally great 
 extravagance, once wanting a new wig, his old 
 one defying all farther assistance of art, he applied 
 to a barber, 3*cung in the business, to make him 
 one. The tradesman, who was just going to dinner, 
 begged the honour of his new customer's company at 
 his meal, to which the parson readily consented. 
 After dinner a large bowl of punch was produced, 
 and the happy guest, with equal readiness, joined in 
 its demolition. When it was out the barber was 
 proceeding to business, and began to handle his mea- 
 sure, when his guest desired him to desist, saying he 
 should not make his wig. '* Why not !" exclaimed the 
 honest host; "have I done any thing to offend 
 you, Sir V " Not in the least," replied the guest ; 
 " I find you are a very honest, good-natured fellow ; 
 so I will take somebody else in. Had you made it, 
 you would never have been paid for it." 
 
 WHOLESOME DOCTRINE. 
 
 A Welch parson, after divine service, used to 
 play at cudgels with his parishioners in the church- 
 yard, which being told to the bishop of the diocese, he 
 was severely reprimanded : in his defence the parson 
 said, that he took pains to instil the word of God 
 into them in the church, but as that would not do, he 
 endeavoured to beat it into them in the church-yard. 
 
 THE MOUNTEBANK AND THE DEVIL. 
 
 A mountebank once, i-t is said, at a fair, 
 To make the wise gentry that crowded it stare, 
 Protested, in spite of the Church's decree, 
 That whoever chose it the devi! should see- 
 So uncommon a sight -who would think to forego ? 
 The devil seem'd in them, they all scrambled so ! 
 While, with mouth very wide, an old purse, very long, 
 Was held out by this sore'rer, and shook to the 
 
 throng — 
 ,-< Good people," he holloa'd, •' your eyes now 
 
 unfold, 
 And say if within any thing you behold ?'' 
 
 When one who stood next, straight replied, with 
 
 some gall — 
 " What is there to see, where there's nothing at all? 
 '■' Ah ! thai is the Devil !" ihe wag said, " I swear } 
 To open one's purse, and to see- — nothing there !" 
 
 SARAH DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH. 
 
 When the proud Duke of Somerset, a little time 
 before his death, paid a visit to Sarah Duchess of 
 Marlborough, she insisted on his drinking with her 
 glass of tokay, which had been presented to her hu» 
 band by the emperor. He assented, and she ad- 
 dressed him as follows : " My lord, I consider you* 
 grace drinking a glass of wine with me as a very 
 high honour, and I will beg leave to propose two 
 healths, the most unpopular imaginable, and whiclr 
 nobody in the three kingdoms, except ourselves 
 would drink : here is your health and mine." 
 
 EPITAPH ON CHARLES It. 
 
 Charles once said over his bottle, that he supposes 
 some stupid peasant would write a nonsensical epitaph 
 on him when he was gone,— " Now,'' says his 
 Majesty, " I should like to have something appro- 
 priate and witty, --Rochester, let's have a touch of 
 your pen on the subject." His Lordship obeyed 
 the command, and produced the following :- 
 " Here lies our Sovereign Lord the King, 
 
 Whose promise none relied on ; 
 Who never said a foolish thing, 
 And never did a wise one." 
 
 DR. FRANKLIN'S GRACE 
 
 The Doctor when a child found the long graces 
 used by his father before and after meals very te- 
 dious. One day after the winter's provision had 
 been salted, " 1 think, Father," said Benjamin, *' if 
 you were to say grace over the whole cask once for 
 all, it would be a great saving of time." 
 
 THREE l-OOLS. 
 
 A proud parson and his man, riding over a com- 
 mon, saw a shepherd tending his Mock in a new coa«: 
 the parson asked in a haughty tone,- who gave him 
 
302 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 that coat ? " The same people," said the shepherd, 
 " that elothe you, the parish." The parson, nettled 
 a little, sent his man back to ask the shepherd if he 
 would come and live with him, for he wanted a fool. 
 The man went to the shepherd, and delivered his 
 master's message. " Are you going away then ?'' 
 •aid the shepherd. " No,'' answered the other. 
 " Then you may tell your master," replied the 
 shepherd, " his living wont maintain three of us».' 
 
 CHARLES II. AKD MR. PENff. 
 
 When Mr. Penn went to pay hia respects to 
 Charles II. that King observing that the Quaker 
 did not remove his hat, took off his own hat, and 
 stood uncovered before Penn ; who said, f< prithee, 
 friend Charles, put on thy hat." " No," says tho 
 King, " friend Penn, it is usual for only one man to 
 be covered here." 
 
 A PRAYER TOO QUICKLY GRANTED. 
 
 With folded hands, and lifted eyes, 
 
 " Have mercy, Heaven !" the parson cries 
 
 And on our sun-burnt, thirsty plains, 
 
 Thy blessings send in genial rains !" 
 
 The sermon ended and the prayers, 
 
 The parson to be gone prepares ; 
 
 When with a look of brighten'd smiles — 
 
 ' Thank Heaven, it rains,' cries farmer Giles.— 
 
 ' Rains !' quoth the parson, '. Sure you joke ' 
 
 Rain ! Heav'n forbid ! I've got no cloak. 
 
 THE FORGETFUL MAN. 
 
 When Jack was poor, the lad was frank and free ; 
 
 Of late he's grown brim full of pride and pelf : 
 No wonder that he don't remember me; 
 
 Why so ? you see he has forgot himself. 
 
 TAKING AT A WORD. 
 
 A country rector one day gave his curate a list 
 of the sick persons in the parish, in order that he 
 might visit them. Soon after the rector inquiring 
 about a poor woman, the curate replied that she 
 was dead. The rector said that he had just then 
 met her in the street j the curate, in his defence, 
 
 answered, that she told him the night before she 
 could not live till the morning, and he supposed a 
 woman going out of th^ world would not tell an 
 untruth. 
 
 AN EMPTY HEAD. 
 
 James I. King of England, asking Lord Bacon 
 what he thought of the French ambassador ; he 
 answered, that he was a tall, proper man. " Ay,'* 
 replied the king, " what think you of his headpiece ? 
 Is he a proper man for an ambassador ?" " Sir," 
 said Bacon, " tall men are like high houses, wherein 
 commonly the uppermost rooms are worst furnished.'* 
 
 LIVING TOO LONG 
 
 A person who had just two thousand a year, being 
 unwilling to leave any thing to his heirs, resolved to 
 spend, not only the annual income, but also the 
 principal. He accordingly made a calculation, that 
 he could not possibly live longer than fourscore 
 years ; but, happening to survive all, he found him- 
 self reduced to beggary during the last half-dozen 
 years of his life ; and actual^ begged charity from 
 door to door, whining out, " Pray give something to 
 a poor man, who has lived longer than he expected." 
 
 JESOP IN SLAVERY 
 
 jEsop went with a number of slaves to be sold, 
 and being questioned as to their respective talents, 
 one said he could do this thing, another that, and a 
 third could do every thing. When it came to 
 .iEsop's turn, his master asked him what he could 
 do, he answered "Nothing." ''How can that 
 possibly be," said his master. " Why," replied 
 ^Esop, " as the man before me says he will do every 
 thing, there can be nothing left for me to do." 
 
 CONTRABAND INTELLECT. 
 
 A Scotch nobleman, chatting with an English 
 lady, she asked, hoff it happened that the Scots in 
 general made a much better figure from home than in 
 Scotland. "Oh," said he, " nothing is so easily ac- 
 counted for. For the honour of the nation, persons 
 are stationed at every egress, to see that none leave 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 303 
 
 the country but men of abilities." — " Then," an- 
 swered she, " I suspect your lordship was smuggled." 
 
 PAINTER, POTS AND ALL. 
 
 A painter was employed in painting a West 
 India ship in the river, suspended on a stage under 
 the ship's stern. The captain, who had just got 
 into, the boat alongside, for the purpose of going 
 ashore, ordered the boy to let go the painter (the 
 rope which makes fast the boat) : the boy instantly 
 went aft, and let go the rope by which the painter's 
 stage was held. The captain surprised at the boy's 
 delay, cried out, '* You lazy dog, why don't you 
 let go the painter ?" The boy replied, " He's gone, 
 Sir, pots and all/' 
 
 DEAN SWIFT'S DEAFNESS. 
 
 Deaf, giddy, helpless, left alone, 
 To all my friends a burthen grown, 
 No more I hear my church's bell 
 Than if it rang out for my knell : 
 At thunder now no more I start, 
 Than at the rumbling of a cart : 
 Nay, what's incredible, alack ! 
 I hardly hear a woman's clack. 
 
 FI9H AND FLESH. 
 
 Cardinal Wolsey, being one day in company with 
 his courtiers, the conversation fell on the institution 
 of Lent, when the Cardinal said the reason it took 
 place was, that the Apostles were fishermen and it 
 promoted the fish trade. — One of the courtiers an- 
 swered, " Well, Cardinal, when you are Pope you 
 will certainly strike it out of the calendar, for you 
 remember yow father was a butcher." 
 
 PERSECUTION PREVENTED. 
 
 At the end of Queen Mary's reign, a commission 
 was granted to one Dr. Cole, a bigoted papist, to go 
 over to Ireland, and commence a fiery persecution 
 against the Protestants of that kingdom. On coming 
 to Chester, the doctor was waited upon bv the mayor, 
 to whom he shewed his commission with great triumph, 
 saying, " Here is what shah lash the heretics of 
 
 Ireland." The landlady of the inn, hearing these 
 words, when the doctor went down stairs with the 
 mayor, hastened into the room, opened the box, took 
 out the commission, and put a pack of cards in its 
 place. When the doctor returned, he put his box 
 into the portmanteau without suspicion, and the 
 next morning sailed for Dublin. On his arrival he 
 wailed upon the Lord Lieutenant and Privy Council, 
 to whom he made a speech relating to his business, 
 and then presented the box to his Lordship ; but on 
 opening it, there appeared a pack of cards witli the 
 knave of clubs uppermost. The doctor was petrified, 
 and assured the company that he had a commission, 
 but what was become of it he could not tell. The 
 Lord Lieutenant answered, " Let us have another 
 commission, we will shuffle the cards the meanwhile." 
 Before, ho /vever, the doctor could get his commission 
 renewed, the Queen died. 
 
 FLYING FROM CHURCH. 
 
 A famous aeronaut once applied to a certain dean 
 to grant him leave to ascend in an air balloon from 
 the top of his cathedral. The prelate answered, 
 that he could not comply with his request, it beiDg 
 contrary to his profession ; as the tenor of his dis- 
 course was to induce people to come to church, and 
 not to encourage them to fly from it 
 
 LIVING HIGH. 
 
 A physician ordered a patient to live higher (i . t. 
 more freely) : the poor man mistook the doctor, and 
 removed to the garret, where, unfortunately, he ex- 
 pired before his next visit. 
 
 NEGRO WIT. 
 
 A West Indian, with a remarkably fiery nose, 
 having fallen asleep in his chair, a negro-boy, who 
 was in waiting, observed a musquito hovering round 
 his face. Quashi eyed the insect very attentively ; 
 at last he saw him alight on his master's nose, and 
 immediately fly off. "Ah, d — n your heart," ex- 
 claimed the negro, " me d— n glad to see you burn 
 your foot." 
 
304 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 SINCERITY VERSUS MANNERS 
 
 Mr. Fox, on his canvass, having solicited a trades- 
 man for his vote, the blunt elector replied, " I -can- 
 not give you my support; I admire your abilities, 
 but d — n your principles!'' Mr. Fox instantly re- 
 torted, " My friend, I applaud your sincerity, but 
 ,d— n your manners.'' 
 
 MODERN CRITICISM. 
 
 When Churchill's Prophecy of Famine made its 
 appearance, the sale was rather dull. Meeting his 
 publisher in the pit of one of the theatres, Churchill 
 asked him if he heard how it sold. The other told 
 him the sale was extensive since the Reviewers 
 d — ned it. "Aye," says the poet, "that is" ful- 
 filling the Scripture, * Out of the mouths of babes and 
 sucklings I have ordained strength.' '' 
 
 CUTTING MISTAKE. 
 
 A Frenchman, on landing at Dover, went into a 
 barber's shop to be shaved. The poor man's cheeks 
 were so much collapsed, that the barber was under 
 the necessity of thrusting his fingers into his customer's 
 mouth to assist the operation. " O nion Dieu, mon 
 Dieu !" exclaimed the Frenchman, whilst the barber 
 was dashing away, " me bo damnably cut." " Con- 
 found your thin lantern jaws,' 1 replied Strop, " I have 
 cut my fingers cursedly through your cheek. ' 
 
 THE TYTHE HEART. 
 
 A witty divine received an invitation to dinner 
 written on the ten of hearts, by a young lady of 
 great beauty, merit, and fortune ; ou which the gen- 
 tleman thought he had now a good opportunity to 
 give the lady a distant hint of his hopes : he wrote 
 therefore, the following fines on the same card : — 
 '* Your compliments, lady, I pray you forbear, 
 Fur old English service is much more sincere ; 
 You've sent »e ten hearts, but the tythe's only mine, 
 So give me one heart, and take back t'other nine." 
 
 CHRISTIAN FORGIVENESS. 
 
 A Cantab having been affronted by the mayor, 
 who was a butcher, resolved to take an opportunity 
 
 of being even with him ; accordingly, when it caice 
 to his turn to preach before the corporation, in the 
 prayer before the sermon he mad© use of the follow- 
 ing expressions : " And since, O Lord ! thou hast 
 commanded us to pray for our enemies, herein wo 
 beseech thee for the right worshipful the mayor : 
 trive him the strength of Sampson, and the courage of 
 David ; that he may knock down sin like an ox,- and 
 cut the throat of iniquity like a sucking-calf ; and let 
 his horn be exalted above his brethren.'' 
 
 FAMILY WIT. 
 
 The celebrated Lady Wallace, when a very young 
 girl, was romping near a mill-dam, and had often very 
 incautiously approached the brink of the water, when 
 her mother called to her — "For God's sake, girl, be 
 more cautious, or you will most certainly tumble into 
 the water and be drowned." — " I'll be damm'd if I 
 do, mamma," replied the young punster. '•' Oh! 
 child," remarked her mother, " that wit of yours will 
 one day prove your ruiu." — " I'm sure, then, it wont 
 be mother-wit, " retorted the minx. 
 
 DANGEROUS PRIZE 
 
 An Irishman purchased the sixteenth of a lottery 
 ticket-, for which he paid a guinea and a half. In a 
 few days it came up a prize of twenty pounds,, and 
 on application at the lottery office, he received three- 
 and-tweuty shillings for his share. " Well," says 
 Pat, " I'm glad it's no worse ; as it was but a twenty 
 pound, I have only lost eight and sixpence ; but if it 
 had been a twenty thousand I must have been ruined.'' 
 
 lawyers' wigs. 
 A late attorney- general receiving a client, who was 
 "intimate with him, in his library, the gentleman ex- 
 pressed surprise at the number of wigs that were 
 hanging up. " Yes, there are several," replies fhe 
 lawyer ; '* that" pointing to a scratch, is my com- 
 mon business wig; that iny chancery wig; that ray 
 house of lords wig ; and that my court wig." " And 
 pray, Sir, where is your honest nn in s wig ? " " O,'' 
 replied the lawyer, u that's not professional.'" 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 S05 
 
 SCOTCH TENACITY. 
 
 When the affair of Lord Melville was brought for- 
 ward in the House of Commons, a gentleman men- 
 tioned in company that his Lordship had quitted his 
 place. " Did you ever,'' said a lady present, i( hear 
 of a Scotchman quitting his place ? ; ' " Yes, Madam," 
 rcpfi-jd the gentleman, " his native place.'' 
 
 IRISH ECONOMY. 
 
 An Irish officer having lost a parcel of silk stock- 
 ings, sent a bellman about to offer a reward for them, 
 which was so small, that a friend observed he could 
 
 not expect to recover them ; " Ah ! by J -," says 
 
 Paddy, " I advertised them as worsted ones." 
 
 " THROW PHYSIC TO THE DOCS.'' 
 
 A doctor coming to see his patient, inquired if he 
 had followed his prescription. '• No, truly, Doctor,*' 
 said the man, u If I had, I should have broken my 
 neck, for I threw it outof a two-pair of stairs window.*' 
 
 ROYAL PREROGATIVE. 
 
 George the First complained, on his arrival in 
 England, that the people did not understand property. 
 " This is a strange country," said his Majesty, u the 
 first morning after my arrival at St. James's, I looked 
 out at the window, and saw a park with walks ; a 
 canal, &c. which they told me were mine. The next 
 day Lord Chetwynd, the ranger of my park, sent me 
 a fine brace of carp out of my canal ; and 1 was told, 
 I must give rive guineas to Lord Chetwynd's servant 
 for bringing me my own carp out of my own canal, in 
 my own park !" 
 
 NOTE O* INTERROGATION. 
 
 Mi. Pope, sneering a! the ignorance of a young 
 man, asked thim if he knew w at an interrogation 
 was? "Yes, Sir," said he, " 'lis a little crooked 
 thing that asks questions." 
 
 ONE TOO MANY. 
 
 A Quaker, remarkable for his gallantry to the fair 
 sex, was one day walking with a handsome young. 
 lady, who remarked to hiiu, that the rt of the day 
 
 was oppressive ; on which the Quaker recommended 
 her to throw off a petticoat. The lady replied, 
 K Between you and I, friend, I have but one' on. 7 ' 
 " And between thee and me," replied Broad Brim, 
 fi even that is one too many. >y 
 
 AN EQUIVALENT. 
 
 When Quin was one day lamenting his growing 
 old, a pert young fellow asked him what he would 
 now give to be as young as he. " I would be con- 
 tent/' replied Quin, " to be as foolish." 
 
 THE MISER'S DEATH-DED. 
 
 The old gentleman was on his death-bed. The 
 whole family, and Dick among the number, gathered 
 around him. — ■ — (t I leave my second son, Andrew, 5 ' 
 said the expiring miser, " my whole estate, and 
 desire bim to be frugal." Andrew, in a sorrowful 
 tone, as is usual on these occasions, prayed heaven 
 to prolong Ills life and health to enjoy it himselfV- 
 " I recommend Simon, my third son, to the care of 
 his elder brother, and leave him beside four thou- 
 sand pounds." " Ah ! father," cried Simon, (in 
 great affliction to be sure) "may heaven give you 
 life and haalth to enjoy it yourself." At last, turn- 
 ing to poor Dick, " As for you, you have always 
 been a sad dog ; you'll nevisr come to good ; you'll 
 never be rich ; I'll leave you a shilling to buy an 
 halter." " Ah ! father," cries Dick, without any 
 emotion, " may heaven give you life and health to 
 enjoy it yourself." goldsmith 
 
 ONLY BELIEVE HALF A REPORT. 
 
 When Miss Chudleigh, afterwards Duchess of 
 Kingston, once met Lord Chesterfield in the rooms 
 at Bath, they began to talk of the company present, 
 and the lady was very communicative in her narra- 
 tive of things said of Lady Caroline, Miss Languis- 
 ness, &c. &c. and concluded by remarking, " ^ et 
 much of this may be scandal ; for, do you know, my 
 lord, that since I was lately confined to my chamber 
 by illness, they have spread an infamous report of 
 • my being brought to bed of twins.''' '* O, my Aeu 
 
306 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 lady, do not be uneasy," replied the peer, " for 
 my part, I have long made up my mind only to 
 believe half of what the town says." 
 
 LACONIC LETTER AND ANSWER. 
 
 Lord Bulkeley, on the morning subsequent to his 
 marriage, communicated his happiness to his friend 
 the Duke of Dorset in the following laconic epistle : 
 xi Dear Dorset, 
 
 I am the happiest dog alive. 
 
 Yours, Bulkeley." 
 To which the answer was, 
 
 " Dear Bulkeley, 
 
 Every dog has his day. 
 
 Yours, Dorset." 
 
 AN EYE KNOCKED OUT. 
 
 Mr. Curran, the late celebrated Irish advocate, 
 v/as walking one day with a friend, who was ex- 
 tremely punctilious in his conversation ; hearing a 
 person near him say curosity for curiosity, he ex- 
 claimed, " How that man murders the English 
 language!" "Not so bad," replied Curran, "he 
 has only knocked an I out." 
 
 IRISH HIND BILL. 
 
 This is to certify, that I Daniel O'Flanaghan, am 
 not the person that was tarred and feathered by the 
 Liberty Mob on Tuesday last ; and that I am ready 
 to give twenty guineas to any one that will bet me 
 fifty that I am the other man who goes by my name. 
 Witness my hand, this 30th July. 
 
 Daniel O'Flanaghan 
 LONDON clubs, in 1760. 
 
 The first club I entered, upon coming to town* 
 was that of the Choice Spirits. The name was 
 entirely suited to my taste ; I was a lover of mirth, 
 good-humour, and even sometimes of fun, from my 
 childhood. 
 
 As no other passport was requisite but the pay- 
 ment of two shillings at the door, I introduced 
 myself without farther ceremony to the members, 
 who were already assembled, and had for some 
 time begun upon business. The Grand, with a I 
 
 mallet in his hand, presided at the head of the table. 
 I could not avoid, upon my entrance, making use 
 of all my skill in physiognomy, in order to discover 
 that superiority of genius in men who had taken a 
 title so superior to the rest of mankind. I expected 
 to see the lines of every face marked with strong 
 thinking j but though I had some skill in this 
 science, I could for my life discover nothing but a 
 pert simper, fat, or profound stupidity. 
 
 My speculations were soon interrupted by the 
 Grand, who had knocked down Mr. Spriggins for a 
 song. I was, upon this, whispered by one of the 
 company who sat next me, that I should now see 
 something touched off to a nicety, for Mr. Spriggins 
 was going to give ut Mad Tom in all its glory. 
 Mr. Spriggins endeavoured to excuse himself; for, 
 as he was to act a madman and a king, it was im- 
 possible to go through the part properly without a 
 crown and chains. His excuses were over-ruled by 
 a great majority, and with much vociferation. The 
 president ordered up the jack-chain, and, in- 
 stead of a crown, our performer covered his brows 
 with en inverted Jordan. After he had rattled his 
 chain, and shook his head, to the great delight cf 
 the whole company, he began his song. As I have 
 heard few young fellows offer to sing in company 
 that did not expose themselves, it was no great 
 disappointment to me to find Mr. Spriggins among 
 the number ; however, not to seem an odd fish, I 
 rose from my seat in rapture, cried out, Bravo ! 
 Encore ! and slapped the table as loud as any of 
 the rest. 
 
 The gentleman who sat next mc seemed highly 
 pleased with my taste and the ardour of my appro- 
 bation ; and whispering told me that I had suffered 
 an immense loss ; for, had I come a few minutes 
 sooner, I might have heard Gee-bo Dobbin sung in 
 a tip-top manner by the pimple-nosed s-pirit at the 
 president's right elbow: but he was evaporated 
 before I came. 
 
 As I was expressing my uneasiness at this dis- 
 appointment, I found the attention of the company 
 employed upon a fat figure, who, with a voice more 
 
THB LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 307 
 
 tough than the Staffordshire giant's, was giving us 
 " The Softly Sweet, in Lydian measure," of Alexan- 
 der's Feast. After a short pause of admiration, to 
 this succeeded a Welch dialogue, with the humours 
 of Teagne and Taffy ; after that came on Old Jack- 
 son, with a story between every stanza ; next was 
 sung the Dust-cart, and then Solomon's song. The 
 glass began now to circulate pretty freely ; those who 
 ■were silent when sober, would now be heard in their 
 turn ; every man had his song, and he saw no reason 
 why he should not be heard as well as any of the 
 rest: one begged to be heard while he gave Death 
 and the Lady ia high taste ; another sung to a plate 
 which he kept trundling on the edges ; nothing was 
 now heard but singing ; voice rose above voice, and 
 the whole became one universal shout, when the 
 landlord came to acquaint the company that the 
 reckoning was drunk out. Rabelais calls the mo- 
 ments in which a reckoning is mentioned the most 
 melancholy of our lives. Never was so much noise 
 so quickly quelled, as by this short but pathetic 
 oration of our landlord. Drunk out ! was echoed 
 in a tone of discontent round the table : drunk 
 out already ! that w as very odd ! that so much 
 punch could be drunk out already ! impossible ! 
 The landlord, however, seeming resolved not to 
 retreat from his first assurances, the company 
 were dissolved, and a president chosen for ^ihe 
 night ensuing. 
 
 A friend of mine, to whom I was complaining 
 some time after of the entertainment I have been 
 describing, proposed to bring me to the club that he 
 frequented, which, he fancied, would suit the gravity 
 of my temper exactly. " We have at the Muzzy 
 Club," says he, " no riotous mirth nor awkward 
 ribaldry ; no confusion or bawling ; all is conducted 
 with wisdom and decency : besides, some of our 
 members are worth forty thousand pounds ; men of 
 prudence and foresight every one of them : these 
 are the proper acquaintance, and to such I will to- 
 night introduce you." I was charmed at the pro- 
 posal. To be acquainted whh men worth forty 
 thousand pounds, and to talk wisdom the whole 
 ni^ht, were offers that threw me into rapture. 
 
 At seven o'clock I was accordingly introduced by 
 my friend, not indeed to the company ; for though 
 I made my best bow, they seemed insensible of my 
 approach, but to the table at which they were 
 sitting. Upon my entering the ro«m, I could not 
 avoid feeling a secret veneration from the solemnity 
 of the scene before me ; the members kept a pro- 
 found silence, each with a pipe in his mouth and a 
 pewter pot in his hand, and with faces that might 
 easily be construed into absolute wisdom. Happy 
 society! thought I to myself, where the members 
 think before they speak, deliver nothing rashly, but 
 convey their thoughts to each other pregnant with 
 meaning, and matured by reflection. 
 
 In this pleasing speculation I continued a full 
 half hour, expecting each moment that somebody 
 would begin to open his mouth ; every time the pipe 
 was laid down I expected it was to speak ; but it 
 was only to spit. At length, resolving to break the 
 charm myself, and overcome their extreme diffidence, 
 (for to this I imputed their silence) I rubbed my 
 hands, and, looking as wise as possible, observed 
 that the nights began to grow a little coolish at this 
 time of the 3 ear. This, as it was directed to none 
 of the company in particular, none thought himself 
 obliged to answer ; wherefore I continued still to 
 rub my hands and look wise. My next effort was 
 addressed to a gentleman who sat next me, to whom 
 I observed, that the beer was extremely good : my 
 neighbour made no reply, but by a large puff of 
 tobacco smoke. 
 
 I now began to be uneasy at this dumb society, 
 till one of them a little relieved me by observing, 
 that bread had not risen these three weeks. " Ay," 
 says another, still keeping the pipe in his mouth, 
 " that puts me in mind of a pleasant story about 
 that — hem — very well ; you must know — but, be- 
 fore 1 begin — Sir, my service to you— where was I?" 
 
 My next club goes by the name of the Harmonical 
 Society ; probably from that love of order and 
 friendship which every person commends in insti- 
 tutions of this nature. The landlord vzas himself 
 founder.. The money spent is four pence each; and 
 they sometimes whip for a double reckoning. Tq 
 
80S 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 this club few recommendations are requisite, except 
 the introductory four pence and my landlord's good 
 word, which, as he gains by it, he never refuses. 
 
 We all here talked and behaved as every body 
 else usually does on his club-night ; we discussed 
 the "topic of the day, drank each others healths, 
 snuffed the candles with our fingers, and filled our 
 pipes from the same plate of tobacco. The com- 
 pany saluted each other in the common manner. 
 Mr. Bellows-mender hoped Mr. Curry-comb-maker 
 had not caught cold going home the last club-night ; 
 and he returned the compliment by hoping that 
 young Master Bellows-mender had got well again of 
 the chin-cough. Doctor Twist told us a story of a 
 parliament- man with whom he was intimately ac- 
 quainted ; while a bug man, at the same time, was 
 telling a pretty story of a noble lord, with whom he 
 could do any thing. A gentleman in a black wig 
 and leather breeches, at the other end of the table, 
 was engaged in a long narrative of the Ghost in 
 Cock- lane : he had read it in the papers of the 
 day, and was telling it to some that sat next him, 
 who could not read. Near him Mr. Dibbins was 
 disputing on the old subject of religion with a Jew 
 pedlar over the table, while the president in s-ain 
 knocked down Mr. Leathersides for a song. Besides 
 the combinations of these voices, which I could hear 
 altogether, and which formed an upper part to the 
 concert, there were several others playing under- 
 pays by themselves, and endeavouring to fasten on 
 some luckless neighbour's ear, who was himself bent 
 upon the same design against some other.- 
 
 We.have often heard of the speech of a corpora- 
 tion, and this induced me to transcribe a speech of 
 this club, taken in short-hand, word for word, as it 
 was spoken by every member of the company. It 
 may be necessary to observe, that the man who 
 told of the ghost had the loudest voice, and the 
 longest story to tell, so that his continuing narrative 
 fiiled every chasm in the conversation. 
 
 H So, Sir, d'ye perceive me, the ghost giving 
 three loud raps at the bed- post— Says my lord to 
 me, my dear Smokeurn, you know there is no man 
 upon the face of the yearth for whom 1 have so 
 
 high — A. daranabic false heretical opinion of all 
 sound doctrine and good learning; for I'll tcil it 
 aloud, and spare not that — Silence for a song ; 
 Mr. Leathersides for a song — ' A-s I was a walking 
 upon the highway, I met a young damsel'— Then 
 what brings you here? says the parson to the 
 ghost — Sancoruathon, Manetho, and Berosus — The 
 whole way from Islington-turnpike to Doghouse- 
 bar— Dam— As for Abel Drugger, Sir, he's damn'd 
 low in it ; my 'prentice boy has more of the gen- 
 tleman than he — For murder will out one. time or 
 another ; and none but a ghost, you know, gentle- 
 men, can — Damme if I don't; for my friend, whom 
 you know, gentlemen, and who is a pailianfent-man, 
 a man of consequence, a dear honest creature, to be 
 sure ; we were laughing last night at — Death and 
 damnation upon all his posterity by simply barely 
 tasting— Sour graper, as tlie fox said once, when he 
 could not reach them ; and I'll, I'll tell you a story 
 about that, that will make you burst your sides with 
 laughing: A fox once— Will no body listen to tlie 
 song— * As I was a walking upon the highway, I 
 met a young damsel both buxom and gay" — No 
 ghost, gentlemen, can be murdered : nor did I ever 
 hear but of one ghost killed in all my life, and that 
 was stabbed in tlie belly with a — My blood and 
 soul if I don't— Mr. Bellows-mender, I have the 
 honour of drinking your very good health — Blast 
 me if I do — dam — blood— bugs — fire— whizz — blid 
 
 — tit — rat— trip" —The rest all riot, nonsense, 
 
 and rapid confusion. 
 
 The last club in which I was enrolled a member, 
 was a society of moral philosophers, as they called 
 themselves, who assembled twice a week in order 
 to she tv the absurdity of the present mode of reli- 
 gion, and establish a new one in its stead. 
 
 I found the members very warmly disputing when 
 I arrived j not indeed about religion cr ethics, but 
 about who had neglected to lay down his preliminary 
 six-pence upon entering the room. The president 
 swore t'hat he had~laid his own down, and so swore 
 all the company. 
 
 During this contest, I had an opportunity of ob- 
 serving the laws and aho the members of the 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 309 
 
 society. The president, wiio had been, as I was 
 told, lately a bankrupt, was a tall, pale figure, with 
 a long black wig; the next to h'uii was dressed in a 
 large white wig, and a black cravat; a third, by the 
 brownness of his complexion, seemed a native of 
 Jamaica ; and a fourth, by his hue, appeared to be 
 a blacksmith. But their rules will give the most 
 just idea of their learning and principles. 
 
 I. We being a laudable society of moral philo- 
 sophers, intends to dispute twice a week about 
 religion and priestcraft. Leaving behind us old 
 wives' tales, and following good learning and sound 
 sense ; and if so be, that any other persons has a 
 jnind to be of the society, they shall be entitled so 
 to do, upon paying the sum of three shillings, to 
 be spent by the company in punch. 
 
 Tl. That no member get drunk before nine of the 
 clock, upon pain of forfeiting three-pence, to be 
 spent by the company in punch. 
 
 TIL That, as members are sometimes apt to go 
 away without paying, every person shall pay six- 
 pence upon his entering the room; and all disputes 
 shall be settled by a majority ; and all fines shall be 
 paid in punch. 
 
 IV. That six-pence shall be every night given to 
 the president, in order to buy books of learning for 
 the good of the society. The president has already 
 put himself to a good deal of expence in buying books 
 for the club, particularly the works of Tully, Socrates, 
 and Cicero, which he will soon read to the society. 
 
 V. All them who brings a new argument against 
 religion, and who, being a philosopher, and a man 
 of learning, as the rest of us is, shall be admitted to 
 the freedom of the society, upon paying six-pence 
 only, to be spent in punch. 
 
 VI. Whenever we are to have an extraordinary 
 meeting, it shall be advertised by some outlandish 
 name in the newspapers. 
 
 Saunders Mac Wild, president. 
 Anthony Blewit, vice-president, 
 
 his -f- mark. 
 William Turpin, secretary 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 VALUABLE. ACQUISITION. 
 
 A gentleman having, a prad that started and broke 
 his wife's neck, a neighbouring squire told him ho 
 wished to purchase it for his wife to ride upon. " No,'* 
 says the other, " I will not sell the little fellow, be- 
 cause I intend to many again. >' 
 
 GENTEEL ECONOMY. 
 
 A lady whose taste equalled her economy, was 
 under the necessity of asking a friend to dinner ; the 
 following is au actual copy of the bill of fare, with 
 the expence of each dish. 
 
 £ s. d. 
 Top. — Two herrings ... . . 002 
 
 Middle. — l£ounce butter melted . . 1{ 
 Bottom.— 3 mutton chops cut very thin 4| 
 One side. — lib. of small potatoes . . 1 
 Opposite. — Pickled cabbage .... OJ 
 Fish removed. — 2 larks roasted, plentv 
 
 of crumbs 003 
 
 Mutton removed. — French roll boiled for 
 
 pudding 1 
 
 Parsley for garnish 0£ 
 
 12 
 
 The dinner was served up on China; looked tasty 
 and pretty ; the table smali and well proportioned : 
 it is worth knowing how to serve up seven dishes, 
 consisting cf fish, meat, fowls, pudding, vegetables, 
 and sauce, for fourteen pence. 
 
 J DDGJS BURNET. 
 
 Judge Burnet, son of the famous Bishop (when 
 young,) is said to have been of a wild and dissipated 
 turn. Being one day found by his father in a very 
 serious humour, lt What is the matter with you, 
 Tom?" said the Bishop ; ,( what are you ruminat- 
 ing en V> "A. greater work than your Lordship'* 
 History of the Reformation,'' answered the son. 
 « Ay 1 what is that ?" asked the father. " Th« 
 reformation of myself , my Lord, 5 ' replied the son. 
 
310 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 GOOD EYES. 
 
 As the late o d Lord Nugent was riding out in the 
 eoach of the Dachess of Kingston, whose family he 
 Weil knew, and whose prudery he liked to expose, 
 he put his head out of the window, on the Surrey side 
 of the Thames, and after looking earnestly for some 
 time, exclaimed, " Good God, that I should live 
 to see this !" " Why, my lord ! what is it tbat you 
 see?" rejoined the duchess, casting her eyes the 
 same way. " Why, my lady, a group of women 
 bathing at broad noon day '." " Women," said she, 
 looking more inquisitively ; u Why, my lord, they 
 are all men!" "Well," replied his lordship, "it 
 may be so ; for your grace's eyesight is much better 
 than mine !" 
 
 INSCRIPTION FOB AN APOTHECARY 
 
 The following was, in consequence of an even- 
 ing's frolic, inscribed by some wags of Oxford, over 
 an apothecary's door : 
 
 Hie venditur 
 
 Catharlicum, Emeticum, Narcoticum, 
 
 Et omne quoci exit in um 
 
 Pr&ter, 
 
 B,emedium. 
 
 GIVING THE DEVIL HIS DUE 
 
 Swift preached an assize sermon, and in the course 
 of it was severe upon the lawyers for pleading against 
 their consciences. After dinner a young counsel said 
 some severe things upon the clergy, and did not 
 doubt were the devil to die, a parson might be found 
 to preach his funeral sermon. " Yes," said Swift : 
 " I would, and would give the devil his due, as I did 
 his children this morning." 
 
 ANTIPATHIES. 
 
 A gentleman, who for some misdemeanor had 
 been expelled the House of Commons, one day 
 meeting with Archbishop Tillotson, cried out, *' I 
 hate to see an atheist in the shape of a churchman." 
 " And I," replied the good bishop, " hate to see a 
 knave in any shape." 
 
 THE TRAGIC BAJIBER, 
 
 A hair-dresser, in a considerable town, once 
 made an unsuccessful attempt in tragedy. To silence 
 an abundant hissing, he stepped forward with the 
 following speech : " Ladies and gentlemen, yester- 
 day I dressed you j to-night I Andress you ; and to- 
 morrow, if you please, I will Redress you. While 
 there is virtue in powder, pomatum, and horse-tails, 
 I find it is easier to make an actor than to be one. 
 Vive la bagatelle !" 
 
 PARISH RECORD. 
 
 In the church-books of Tewkesbury, which have 
 been preserved for a long time back, are the follow- 
 ing entries : '' A. D. 1578. Payd for players geer, 
 six sheep skins for Christ's garmeyit.'' And in an in- 
 ventory recorded in the same book, 1585, are these 
 words : " And order eight heads of hair for the apos- 
 tles, and ten beards, and a face or visor for the devil.'* 
 
 IMITATED FROM THE GREEK 
 
 A Miser traversing his house, 
 Espy'd, unusual there, a Mouse, 
 And thus his uninvited guest 
 Inquisitively he addrest : 
 u Tell me, Sir Mouse, to what cause is it, 
 " I owe this unexpected visit ?" 
 The Mouse her host obliquely ey'd, 
 And, smiling, pleasantly reply 'd, 
 * Fear not, Old Square Toes, for your hoard p. 
 1 I came to lodge— and not to board ! 
 
 DR. JOHNSON AND MILLAR. 
 
 When Dr. Johnson had finished the copy of his 
 Dictionary, which had wearied Millar, the bookseller, 
 exceedingly, the latter sent the following note to the 
 doctor ; — " Andrew Millar sends his compliments to 
 Mr. Samuel Johnson, with the money for the last 
 sheet of the copy of the Dictionary, and thanks God 
 he has done with bim." The doctor sent the follow- 
 ing brief reply : " Dr. Samuel Johnson sends his 
 compliments to Andrew Millar; he has received his 
 note, and is happy to find, that Andrew Millar has 
 the grace to thank God for any thing." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 an 
 
 LETTER FROM A " FIRST-FLOOR LODOER." 
 There are two lodged together.— Shakspe are; 
 Nee hospes ab hospite tutus. — Ovid. 
 
 " An Englishman's house is his castle" — I grant 
 it ; but, for his lodging, a comparison remains to be 
 found. An Englishman's house may be his castle ; 
 but that can only be where he consents to keep the 
 whole of it. Of all earthly alliances and partner- 
 ships into which mortal man is capable of being tre- 
 panned, that which induces two interests to place 
 themselves within four walls, is decidedly the most 
 unholy. It so happens that, throughout my life, I 
 have had occasion only for half a house, and, from 
 motives of economy, have been unwilling'to pay rent 
 for a whole one ; but — there can be, on earth, I find, 
 no resting-place for him who is so unhappy as to 
 wantonly "half a house !" In the course of the 
 last eight years, I have occupied one hundred and 
 forty-three different lodgings, running the gauntlet 
 twice through all London and Westminster, and 
 oftener than I can remember, the " out-parishes" 
 through ! As two '/ removes are as bad as a fire, it 
 follows that I have gone 71 times and a half through 
 the horrors of conflagration ! And, in every place 
 where I have lived, it has been my fate to be domiciled 
 with a monster ! But my voice shall be heard, as a 
 voice upon the house-top, crying out until I find re- 
 lief. I have been ten days already in the abode 
 that I now write from, so I can't, in reason, look to 
 stay more than three or four more. I hear people 
 talk of " the grave" as a lodging (at worst) that a 
 man is " sure of ; M but, if there be one resurrection- 
 man alive when I die, as sure as quarter-day, I shall 
 be taken up again. 
 
 The first trial I endured when I came to London, 
 was making the tour of all the boarding-houses — 
 being deluded, I believe, seriatim, by every per- 
 spective form of " advertisements." 
 
 First, I was tried by the pretence modest — this 
 appeared in The Times all the year round. •« De- 
 sirable circle" — " Airy situation" — " Limited num- 
 ber of guests" — u Every attention"— and "no chil- 
 dren." 
 
 Next, was the commanding — at the very " head 
 and front" of The Morning Post. " Vicinity of the 
 fashionable squares !"-." Two persons, to increase 
 society" — '« Family of condition" — and " Terms, at 
 Mr. Sams's, the bookseller's.'^ 
 
 Then came the irresistible. " " Widow of an offi- 
 cer of rank"—" Unprotected early in life" — " De- 
 sirous to extend family circle"— " Flatters herself," 
 &c. 
 
 Moonshine all together ! 
 
 " Desirable circle" — A bank clerk, and five 
 daughters who wanted husbands. Brandy and water 
 after supper, and booby from Devonshire snapt up 
 before my eyes. Little boy too in the family, that 
 belonged to a sister who " had died." I hate scan- 
 dal ; but I never could find out where that sister had 
 been buried. 
 
 " Fashionable square'' — The fire, to the frying- 
 pan ! The worst item — (on consideration) — in all 
 my experience. Dishes without meat, and beds 
 without blankets. " Terms," " two hundred gui- 
 neas a-year," and surcharges for night-candle. 
 And, as for dinner ! as I am a Yorkshireman, I never 
 knew what it meant while I was in Manchester 
 Square ! 
 
 I have had two step-mothers, and I was six months 
 at Mrs. Tickletoby's preparatory school, and I never 
 saw a woman since I was born cut meat like Lady 
 Catharine Skinflint ! There was a transparency 
 about her slice which (after a good luncheon) one 
 could pause to look at. She would cover you a 
 whole plate with fillet of veal and ham, and not in- 
 crease the weight of it half an ounce. 
 
 And then the Misses Skinflints— for knowledge of 
 anatomy — their cutting up a fowl ! — In the puniest 
 half-starved chicken that ever broke the heart of a 
 brood hen to look at, they would find you side-bone, 
 pinion, drumstick, liver, gizzard, rump, and merry- 
 thought ; and, even beyond this critical acquaint- 
 ance with all admitted and apocryphal diviiions 
 and distinctions, I have caught the eldest of them 
 actually inventing new joints, that, even in specoli- 
 tion, never before existed ! 
 
312 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 I now understand the meaning of the Persian sa- 
 lutation — "'May your shadow never be less !" I lost 
 mine entirely in about a fortnight that I staid at 
 L'idy Skinflint's. 
 
 Two more hosts took me " at livery " (besides the 
 " widow" of the " officer of rank") — an apothe- 
 cary, who made patients, of his boarders, and an 
 attorney, who looked for clients. among them. I got 
 away from the medical gentleman rather hastily, for 
 I found that the pastry-cook who served the house 
 was his brother; and the lawyer was so pressing 
 about discounts," and " investments of property," 
 that I never ventured to sign my name, even to a 
 washing-bill, during the few days I was in his house : 
 On the quitting which, I took courage, and resolved 
 to become my own provider, and hired a " First 
 Floor," accordingly (" unfurnished 1 ') in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Bloomsbury Square. 
 
 " Mutatio loci, iron icgenii." 
 
 The premier coup of my new career amounted to an 
 escape. I ordered a carte blanche outfit from an 
 upholsterer of Piccadilly, determined to have my 
 apartments unexceptionable before I entered them ; 
 and discovered, after a hundred pounds laid out in 
 painting, decorating, and curtain fitting, that the 
 " ground landlord" had certain claims which would 
 be liquidated when my property " went in." 
 
 This miscarriage made me so cautious, that, before 
 I could choose again, I was the sworn horror of 
 every auctioneer and house-agent (so called) in 
 London. I refused twenty offers, at least, because 
 they had the appearance of being " great bargains.'' 
 Eschewed all houses, as though they had the plague, 
 in which 1 found that " singfe gentlemen were pre- 
 ferred.'' Was threatened with three actions of de- 
 famation for questioning the solvency of persons in 
 business. And, at length, was so lucky as to hit 
 upon 4 really desirable mansion! The "family" 
 perfectly respectable ; but had " more room >' than 
 was. necessary for them. Demanded the "strictest 
 references," and accepted no inmate for " less than 
 a year." Tnto this most unexceptionable abode I 
 
 conveyed myself and my property. Sure I should 
 stay for ever, and doubted whether I ought not to 
 secure it at once for ten years instead of one. And, 
 before I had been settled in the house three quarters 
 of an hour, I found that the chimneys — every one 
 of them', smoked from tiie top to the bottom! 
 There was guilt in the landlord's eye, the moment 
 the first puff drove me out of my drawing-room. He 
 made an sifort to say something like " damp day ;" 
 but the " amen" stuck in his throat. He could not 
 say " amen" when I did cry " God bless us !" The 
 whole building, from the kitchen to the garret, was 
 infected with the malady. I had noticed the dark 
 complexions of the family, and had concluded they 
 were from the West Indies, —they were smoke- 
 dried 1- 
 
 " Blow high, blow low!" 
 
 I suffered six weeks under excuses, knowing them 
 to be humbug all the while. For a whole month it 
 was " the wind ;" but I saw " the wind" twice all 
 round the compass, and found, blow which way it 
 would, it still blew down my chimney. Then we 
 came to " Cures." First, there were alterations at 
 the top — new chimney-pots, cowls, hovels — and all 
 making the thing worse. Then we tried at the bot- 
 torn— grates reset, and flues contracted— still to no 
 purpose. Then we came to burning chare al ; and 
 in four days I was in a decline. Then we kept the 
 doors and windows open ; and in one day 1 got a fit 
 of the rheumatism. And in spite of doors or win- 
 dows, blowers, registers, or Count Rumford — pre- 
 caution in putting on coals, or mathematical manage- 
 ment of poker — down the enemy would come to our 
 very faces, — poof! poof ! — as if in derision! till I 
 prayed. Heaven that smoke had life and being, thai 
 I might commit murder on it at once, and so be 
 hanged ; and, at length, after throwing every movea- 
 ble I could command at the grate and the chimney 
 by turns, and paying "ho cure no pay" doctors by 
 dozens, who did nothing but make dirt and mischief, 
 I sent for a respectable surveyor, paid him for his 
 opinion beforehand, and heard that the fault in the 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 313 
 
 chimnies was " radical," and not to be remedied 
 without pulling the house down '. 
 
 I paid my twelvempnth's rent, and wished only 
 that my landlord might live through his lease. I 
 heard afterwards, that he had himself been imposed 
 upon ; and that the house, from the first fire ever 
 lighted in it, had been a scandal to the neighbour- 
 hood. But whole volumes would not suffice to enu- 
 merate the variety of wretchedness — and smoky 
 ehiranies the very least of them ! — which drove me 
 a second time to change my plan of life ; the num- 
 berless lodgings that I lived in ; and the inconre- 
 niences, greater or lesser, attending each. In one 
 place, my servants quarrelled with the servants 
 of " the people of the house." In another, " the 
 people of the house's" servants quarrelled with mine. 
 Here, my housekeeper refused to stay, because " the 
 kitchen was damp." There, my footman begged I 
 would " provide myself," as there were " rats in his 
 cockloft." Then somebody fell over a pail of 
 water, left upon " my stairs ;" and " my maid" de- 
 clared, it was " the other maid" had put it there. 
 Then the cats fought ; and I was assured that mine 
 had given the first scratch. On the whole, the dis- 
 putes were so manifold, and always ending to my 
 discomfiture,— for the lady of the mansion would 
 assail me, — I never could get the gentleman to be 
 dissatisfied, (and so concluded the controversy by 
 kicking him down stairs,) — that seeing one clear ad- 
 vantage maintained by the ground-possessor, viz. 
 that I, when we squabbled, was obliged to vacate, 
 and he remained where he was, I resolved, once for 
 all, to turn the tables upon mankind at large, and 
 become a " landlord," and a "housekeeper," in my 
 own immediate person. 
 
 " Sir, the grey goose hath laid an egg. — Sir, the 
 old bam doth need repair. — The cook sweareth, the 
 meat doth burn at the fire. — John Thomas is in the 
 slocks ; and every thing stays on your arrival." 
 
 I would not advise any single gentleman hastily 
 to conclude that he is in distress. Bachelors are 
 discontented, and tak<*. wives ; footmen are ambitious, 
 and take eating-houses. What does either party i 
 
 gain by the change? "We know," the wise man 
 has said, " what we are j but we know not what we 
 may be." 
 
 In estimating the happiness of householders, I had 
 imagined all tenants to be like myself — mild, for- 
 bearing, punctual, and contented ; but I " kept 
 house" three years, and was never out of hot water 
 the whole time ! I did manage, after some trou- 
 ble, to get fairly into a creditable mansion— just 
 missing one, by a stroke of fortune, which had a 
 brazier's shop at the back of it, and was always 
 shewn at hours when the workmen were gone to din- 
 ner — and sent a notice to the papers, that a bachelor 
 of sober habits, having " a larger residence than he 
 wanted," would dispose of half of it to a family of 
 respectability. But the whole world seemed to be, 
 and I think is, in a plot to drive me out of my 
 senses. In the first ten days of my new dignity, I 
 was visited by about twenty tax-gatherers, half of 
 them with claims that I had never heard of, and the 
 other half with claims exceeding my expectations. 
 The householder seemed to be the minister's very 
 milch cow — the positive scape-goat of the whole 
 community ! I was called on for house-tax, window- 
 tax, land-tax, servant's-tax ! Poor's-rate, sewers*- 
 rate ! I had to pay for watering streets or. which 
 other people walked — for lighting lamps which other 
 people saw by — for maintaining watchmen who slept 
 all night — and for building churches that 1 never 
 went into. And — I never kt.ew that the country 
 was taxed till that moment ! — these were but a few 
 of the "dues" to be sheared off from me. There 
 was the clergyman of the parish, whom I never saw, 
 sent to me at Easter for " an offering." There was 
 the charity-school of the parish, solicited " the 
 honour" of my "subscription and support." One 
 scoundrel came to inform me that. I was drawn for 
 the militia ; and otFered to " get me off," on pay- 
 ment of a sum of money. Another rascal insisted 
 that I was " chosen constable ;" and actually brought 
 the insignia of office to my door. Then I had peti- 
 tions to read (in writing) from all the people v\ ho 
 chose to be in distress—personal beggars, who pene- 
 
314 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 trated into my parlour, to send to Bridewell, or 
 otherwise get rid of. Windows were broken, and 
 " nobody" had u done it." The key of the street- 
 door was lost, and " nobody" had " had it.'' Then 
 my cook stopped up the kitchen " sink j and the 
 bricklayers took a month to open it. Then my gut- 
 ter ran over, and flooded my neighbour's garret ; and 
 I was served with notice of an action for dilapida- 
 tion. 
 
 And, at Christmas ! — Oh! it was no longer deal- 
 ing with ces and twos! — The whole hundred, on 
 the day after that festival, rose up, by concert, to 
 devour me ! 
 
 Dustmen, street-keepers, lamplighters, turncocks, 
 —postmen, bead'ies, scavengers, chimney-sweeps — 
 the whole pectus of parochial servitorship was at my 
 gate before eleven at noon. 
 
 Then the " waits" came— two sets ! — and fought 
 which should ha\e " my bounty,." Paval patroles 
 disputed whether I did or did not lie within their 
 " beat. 5 ' Atone time (here was a doubt as to which, 
 of two parishes, I belonged to ; and I fully expected 
 that (to make sure) I should have been visited by 
 the collectors from both ! Meantime the knocker 
 gToaned, until very evening, under the dull, stun- 
 ning, single thumps — each villain would have struck, 
 although it had been upon the head of his own grand- 
 father ! — of bakers, butchers, tallowchandlers, grocers, 
 fishmongers, poulterers, and oilmen! Every ruffian 
 who made his livelihood by swindling me through 
 the whole year, thought himself entitled to a peculiar 
 benefaction (for his robberies) on this day. And 
 '-' Host ! Now by my life I scorn the name !" 
 , All this was child's play> — bagatelle, I protest, and 
 " perfumed," to what I had to go through in the 
 ''letting oft'" of my dwelling! The swarm of cro- 
 codiles that assailed me, on every fine day — three- 
 fourths of them, to avoid an impending shower, or to 
 pass away a stupid morning— in the shape of stale 
 dowagers, city coxcombs, " professional gentlemen," 
 and "single ladies V And all (except a few that 
 
 were swindlers) finding something wrong about 
 arrangements ! Gil Bias' mule, which was nothing 
 but faults, never had half so many faults as my house. 
 Carlton Palace, if it were to be "let" to-morrow, 
 would be objected to by a tailor. One man found 
 my rooms " too small ;" another thought them rather 
 " too large ;?' a third wished that they had been lof- 
 tier; a fouTth, that there had been more of them. 
 One lady hinted a sort of doubt, " whether the 
 neighbourhood was quite respectable ;'' another asked, 
 '" If I had any children;" and, then, " whether I 
 would bind myself not to have any during her stay !" 
 Two hundred, after detaining me an hour, had called 
 only " for friends." Ten thousand went through all 
 the particulars, and would " call again to-morrow." 
 At last there came a lady who gave the coup de-grace 
 to my "house-keeping," she was a clergyman's wi-. 
 dow, she said, from Somersetshire — if she had been 
 an "officer's," I had suspected her; but, in an evil 
 hour, I let her in ; and — she had cume for the ex- 
 press purpose of marrying me ! 
 
 Every reader who has bowels, will yearn for ray 
 situation. 
 
 Nolo conjugari! 
 I exclaimed in agony ; but what could serve against 
 the ingenuity of woman? She seduced me — escape 
 was hopeless— morning, noon, and night! She heard 
 a mouse behind the wainscot, and I was called in to 
 scare it. Her canary bird got loose — would I be so 
 good as to catch it? I fell sick, but was soon glad 
 to get well again ; for she sent five times a day to 
 ask if 1 was better ; besides pouring in plates of 
 blanc-mangc, jellies, cordials, raspberry vinegars, 
 fruits fresh from the country, and hasty-puddings 
 made by her own hand. And at last, after I had re- 
 sisted all the constant borrowing of bouks, the eternal 
 interchange of newspapers, and the daily repair of 
 crow-quills, the opinions upon wine, the corrections 
 of hackney coachmen, and the recommendation of a 
 barber to the poodle dog; — at last— Oh ! the devil 
 take all wrinkled stair carpets, stray pattens, and bits 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER* 
 
 315 
 
 of orange-peel dropped upon the ground ! Mrs. F 
 
 sprained her ankle, and fell down at my very draw- 
 ing-room door ! 
 
 All the women in the house were bribed — there 
 was not one of them in the way ! My footman, my 
 only safeguard — was sent off that minute for a doc- 
 tor ! — I was not married ; for so much, let Provi- 
 dence be praised ! 
 
 Animua meminisse horret. 
 I can t go through the affair ! But, about six months 
 
 after, I presented Mrs. F with my house, and 
 
 every thing in it, and determined never again — as a 
 man r s only protection against female cupidity — to 
 possess even a pair of small clothes that I could 
 legally call my own. 
 
 Uliimuivi Supplicium. 
 
 This resolution compelled me to shelter myself in 
 " furnished lodgings," where the most of accommo- 
 dation, (sublunary !) after all, I believe is to be 
 found. I had sad work, as you may imagine, to 
 find my way at first. Once I ventured to inhabit 
 (as there was no board in the case) with a surgeon. 
 But, what between the patients and the resurrection 
 men, the " night bell" was intolerable ; and he or- 
 dered the watchman too, I found, to pull it pri- 
 vately, six or seven times a-week, in order to im- 
 press the neighbourhood with an opinion of his prac- 
 tice. From one place I was driven away by a 
 music master, who gave concerts opposite to me j and, 
 at a second, after two days abiding, I found that a 
 madman was confined on the second floor! Two 
 houses I left, because my hostesses made Jove to 
 me. Three, because parrots were kept in the streets. 
 One, because a cock (who would crow all night) 
 came to live in a yard at the back of me ; and 
 another, in which I had staid two months (and 
 should perhaps have remained till now) because a 
 boy of eight years old— thert is to me no earthly 
 creature so utterly intolerable as a boy of eight years 
 old ! — came home from school " to pass the holidays.'' 
 I had thoughts, I don't care who knows it — of taking 
 him off by poison ; and bought two raspberry tarts, 
 to give him arsenic in, as I met him on the stairs, 
 
 where he was, up a:)d down, all day. As it is 
 I have sent an order to Seven Dials, to have an 
 " early delivery" of all the " Dying Speeches" for 
 the next ten years. I did this, in order that I may 
 know when he is hanged — a fact I wish particularly 
 to ascertain, because his father and I had an alter- 
 cation about it. 
 
 Experience, however, gives lights ; and a n fur- 
 nished lodging" is the best arrangement among the 
 bad. I had seven transitions last month, but that 
 was owing 'to accidents; a man who chooses well 
 may commonly sta}' a fortnight in a place. Indeed, 
 as I said in the beginning, 1 have been ten days 
 where I am ; and I don't, up to this moment, see 
 clearly what point I shall go away upon. The mis- 
 tress of the house entertains a pet monkey — failing 
 all issue of her own - } and I have got a new footman, 
 who, I understand, plays upon the fiddle. The 
 matter, I suspect, will lie between these two. 
 
 I am most nervous myself about the monkey. 
 He broke loose the other day. I saw him escape 
 over the next garden wall, and drop down by the 
 side of a miduJe-aged gentleman, who was setting 
 polj-anthuses ! The respectable man, as was pru- 
 dent, took refuge in a summer-house ; end then he 
 pulled up all the polyanthuses ; and then tried to get 
 in at the summer-house window ! I think that 
 
 Eh !— Why, what the deuce is all this ? — Why, 
 the room is full of smoke!- -Why, what the devil 
 — Thomas [I ring the bell violently] Thomas!— [I 
 call my new footman.'] — Tho-o-mas! — Why, some 
 rascal has set the house on fire. 
 
 Enter Thomas. 
 
 Indeed no, your honour — indeed — no — it's only 
 the chimney 
 
 The chimney ! you dog! — get away this moment 
 and put it out.— Stay '.—Thomas ! — The villain's 
 <<one! — Come back, I say, — what chimney is it? 
 
 Thomam, Only the kitchen chimney, sir. 
 
 Only the kitchen chimney! you rascal, how did 
 you do it' 
 
 Thomas. I was only tuning my fiddle, your ho- 
 nour ; and Mary, housemaid, flung the rosiu in the fire. 
 
316 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 His riddle !— The wretch, I knew it would happen. 
 ' — Where's the landlord, sirrah ? 
 Thomas. He's not at home, sir ? 
 Where's his wife? 
 Thomas. She's in fits, sir. 
 
 You scoundrel, you'll be hanged, to a certainty ! 
 — There's a statute for you, caitiff! there is. — Come, 
 sir, — come — strip, and go up the chimney directly.— 
 Strip! or I'll kill you with the toasting fork, and 
 bury your body in the dust hole. 
 
 [Enter the cat toith a tail as thick as my arm, gal- 
 topping round the room.] 
 Zounds and death, what's to be done? — My life's 
 not insured ! — I must get out of the house. [Rattling, 
 of wheels, and cries of" Fire!" in the street.] Oh, 
 the devil! here comes the parish engine, and as 
 many thieves with it as might serve six parishes ! 
 — Shut the doors, below, 1 say. [Calling down 
 stairs.] Don't let 'em in. — Thomas ! — the house 
 will he gutted from top to bottom! — Thomas! 
 — Where is that rascally servant of mine ! — ■ 
 Thomas ! [Catling i?i all directions.] — I — I must see, 
 myself. 
 
 [Scene changes to the kitchen. The housemaid 
 
 in hysterics under the dresser.] 
 Pooh ! what a smell of sulphur ! — Thomas ! — 
 Thomas ! — Thomas ! I remember it was on a Friday I 
 hired him ! — Thomas ! — [I find him in the jack- 
 low el.] — Take a wet blanket, you rascal, and get 
 through the garret window. Crawl up the tiles, you 
 wretch, and muffle the chimTiey-pot ! 
 
 Madam [.—[The landlady clings round my neck.] — 
 Madam ! — for Heaven's sake !— There is no danger, 
 1 assure you.— [She clings tighter.] — Or, if there is, 
 we had better embrace after it's over. — You'll "die 
 by me ?" — No, no ; not for the world. — Throw some 
 pails of water on the grate, for Heaven's sake ! — 
 Damn the monkey ! how he gets between one's 
 Jegs ! Thomas ! Thomas ! — [The tumult iricreases.] 
 Thomas ! 
 
 Thomas. — [Down the chimney.] — Sir ! 
 One more peep [I run up stairs] from the window. 
 —Hark, how they knock without! — Rat-tat-tat! 
 
 As I live, here are a dozen engines, fifty firemen, 
 and four thousand fools ! — I must be off! — Thomas! 
 — [Reenters.] — I must escape. — Thomas! I'll se- 
 pulchre you — but not yet. — Shew me the back-door. 
 Thomas. — There is none, sir. — I've been trying to 
 get_oi.it myself. 
 No back-door! 
 [Enter the Cook, with the monkey on her back. The 
 
 knocking continues.] 
 Cook. Oh laws, sir! We shall all be destructed, 
 sir ! — Oh laws ! where is your honour's double- 
 barrelled gun ? 
 
 My gun ? — up stairs. What d'ye want with the 
 gun? 
 
 Conk. Oh _aws, sir ! if it was to be shot off up the 
 chimbley, it would surely put it out. 
 
 She's right. Run, Thomas ! At the head of the 
 bed. Away with you. Mind — it's loaded — take 
 care what you are about. 
 
 There they go ! — They have found it. — Now they 
 are down stairs — Why, zounds! the woman has got 
 the gun ! — Taice it from her! — He don't hear me. 
 — Thomas ! — She's going to fire it, as 1 live ! — Yes, 
 she's sitting down in the grate! — Thomas _— With 
 her body half way up the chimney ! — Thomas ! 
 Death! the woman's a fool. — Bang! bang ! [Report 
 heard.] Ah! there she goes backwards! — its all up! 
 Here comes the soot in cart-loads, all over hei ! — 
 Thomas! you rascal! — She's killed! — No, egad! 
 she's up and running. — Don't let her come near me. 
 — Margery ! Pshaw! What's her name ? — She's run- 
 ning towards the street door ! — Margery ! — Why 
 she's all on fire, and as black as a soot bag! — Why, 
 stop her, I say. — Ah! she gets into the s\reet. — 
 Thomas! — Margery! — Every body! The woman will 
 be burned to death! [Shouts without, and noi.e of 
 water.] Ha! — [Iran to the window.] — Huzzah ! — 
 The engines are playing upon her ! ! ! 
 
 That infernal footman ! he is my fate — and I 
 thought it would be the monkey ! 
 Enter Thomas. 
 Come in, you sneaking scoundrel,— Is the woman 
 burnt r 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 317 
 
 Tliomas. No, sir, — she's only singed. 
 
 Singed ! you Beelzebub's bastard .'—Curse the 
 monkey— stop him — lie's gone off with my gold 
 spectacles ' 
 
 If you have compassion, hear a man of five-and- 
 forty's prayer! 1 cant stay here! — where am I to go 
 to ? — If you should think — Thomas ! — I must get in- 
 to a hackney coach ! — If you should think — Call me 
 a hackney coach, sirrah — and ask the man what he 
 charges for it (d'ye hear) by the week. — If you 
 should think, that there is any chance of my dcing 
 well in Edinburgh — I shouldn't like to be above the 
 fifth story, (f understand most of their houses run 
 ten.) — A line, by return would oblige. As 1 have no 
 home at present, except my hackney coach that I've 
 sent for, I can't say exactly in what place of suffer- 
 ing your letter will find me ; but, by addressing to 
 the coffee-house in Rathbone Place, it will some- 
 where or otiier come to the hands of 
 
 Your very humble servant, 
 Wrinkleton Fidget. 
 
 thf wig-block. 
 
 A barber was lately brought before a justice, on a 
 charge of having stolen a wig-block. In his defence, 
 he confessed to the magistrate, that he had no occa- 
 sion to steal one, as his worship himself knew that 
 the parish abounded with wig-blocks." 
 
 SIXES AND SEVENS. 
 
 " Be particular to observe that the name on the door 
 is ." 
 
 Morning Chronicle. 
 
 It is a point which has often been advanced and 
 contested by the learned, that the world grows worse 
 as it grows older ; arguments have been advanced, 
 and treatises written, in support of Horace's opinion. 
 
 JEtas parcntum pejor avis tulit 
 
 Ac? nequiores, mo.v daturot 
 
 Progeniem vitiosiorem. 
 
 The supporters of this idea rest their sentence upon 
 various grounds ; they mention the frequency of 
 crim. con. cases, the increase of the poor-rate, the 
 
 licentiousness of the press, the celebrity of range et 
 noir. There is, however, one circumstance corro- 
 borative of their judgment, to which we think the 
 public opinion has not yet been sufficiently called. 
 We mean the indisputable fact, that persons of all 
 descriptions are growing ashamed of their own 
 names. YYe remember that when we were dragged 
 in our childhood to walk with cur nurse, v>e were 
 accustomed to beguile our sense of weariness and 
 disgust by studying the names, which, in their neat 
 biass plates, decorated the doors by which we passed. 
 Now the case is altered I the tradesmen ha\e le- 
 nioved their signs ; it is equally true that the gen- 
 tlemen have removed their names. The simple nu- 
 merical distinction, which is now alone emb.azoned 
 upon the doors of our dwellings, but ill replaces that 
 more gratifying custom, which, in a literal sense, 
 held up great names for our emulation, and made the 
 streets of the metropolis a muster-roll of examples 
 for our conduct. 
 
 But a very serious inconvenience is also occasioned 
 by this departure from ancient observances. How is 
 the visitor from the country to discover the patron 
 of his fortunes, the friend of his bosom, or the mis- 
 tress of his heart, if, in lieu of the above-mentioned 
 edifying brass plates, his eye glances upon the un- 
 satisfactory information contained in 1, 2, or 3 ? In 
 some cases even this assistance is denied to him, and 
 he wanders upon his dark and comfortless voyage, 
 like an ancient manner deprived of the assistance of 
 the stars. 
 
 Mr. Nichol Loaming, has written a long and elo- 
 quent dissertation upon this symptom of degene- 
 racy ; and certainly, if the advice " experto crede" 
 be of any weight, Mr. Nichol's testimony ought to 
 induce all persons to hang out, upon the exterior of 
 their residences, some more convincing enunciation 
 of their name and calling, than it is at present the 
 fashion to produce. 
 
 Nichol came up to town with letters of introduc- 
 tion to several friends of his family, whom it was his 
 duty and wish to discover. But his first ad>enture 
 so dispirited him, that, after having spent two morn- 
 
318 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 ings at a hotel, he set out upon his homeward voyage, 
 and left the metropolis an unexplored region. 
 
 He purposed to make his first visit to Sir William 
 Knowell, and having with some difficulty discovered 
 the street to w hich he had been directed, he pro- 
 ceeded to investigate the doors, in order to find out 
 the object of his search.' The doors presented 
 nothing but a blank ! He made inquiries ; was di- 
 rected to a house ; heard that Sir William was at 
 home, was shewn into an "empty room, and waited 
 for some time with patience. 
 
 The furniture of the house rather surprised him. 
 It was handsomer than he had expected to find it; 
 and o!.- the table were the Morning Chronicle and the 
 Edinburgh Review, although Sir William was a vio- 
 lent Tory. At- length the door opened, and a gen- 
 tleman made his appearance. Nichol asked, in a 
 studie I speech, whether he had the honour to ad- 
 dress Sir William Knowell ? The gentleman replied,, 
 that he believed there had been a little mistake, but 
 that he was an intimate friend of Sir W. Knowell's, 
 and expected him in the course of a few minutes. 
 Nichol resumed his seat, although he did not quite 
 perceive what mistake had taken place. He was 
 unfortunately urged by his evil genius to attempt 
 conversation. 
 
 He observed that Sir W. Knowell had a delight- 
 ful house, and inquired whether the neighbourhood 
 was pleasant. " His next neighbour," said the 
 stranger, with a most incomprehensible smile, " is Sir 
 William Morley." Nichol shook his head ; "was 
 surprised to hear Sir William kept such company, — 
 had heard strange stories of Sir W. Morley, — hoped 
 there was no foundation, — indeed had received no 
 good report of the family ! — The mother rather weak 
 in the head, — to say the truth under confinement ; — 
 the sister a professed coquette, — went off to Gretna 
 last week with a Scotch Officer, — Sir William him- 
 self a gambler by habit, a drunkard by inclination ; 
 —at present in the King's Bench, without the pos- 
 sibility of an adjustment — " 
 
 Here he was stopped by the entrance of an el- 
 derly lady leaning on the arm of an interesting girl 
 
 of sixteen or seventeen. Upon looking up, Nichol 
 perceived the gentleman he had been addressing 
 rather embarrassed ; and " hoped that he had not 
 said any thing which could give offence."—" Not in 
 the least," replied the stranger, "lam more amused 
 by an account of the foibles of Sir W. Morley than 
 any one else can be ; and of this I will immediately 
 convince you. Sir William Knowell resides at No. 
 Six„ — you have stepped by mistake into ]>io. Seven. 
 — Before you leave it, allow me to introduce you to 
 Lady Morley — who is rather weak iu the head, and 
 to say the truth under confinement ; — to Miss Ellen 
 Morley^ a professed coquette, who went off to Gretna 
 last week with a half-pay Officer ; finally," (with a 
 very low bow) " to Sir William Morley himself, a 
 gambler by habit, and a drunkard by inclination — 
 who is at present in the King's Bench, without the 
 possibility' of an adjustment !" 
 
 PBOVIDENCE. 
 
 The late Lord Holland was one morning condoling 
 with Dr. Campbell on their mutual infirmities, and 
 lamenting the inconveniences to which the want of 
 health subjected mankind, when advanced iu years. 
 The door opened, and a contractor entered the room, 
 florid and full of health. They congratulated him 
 on his looks. " Yes," he said, " Providence has 
 been very good to me, for I have never known a 
 moment's sickness in my life." This declaration by 
 no means softened the asperity of Lord Holland's 
 countenance. The contractor saw all was not right, 
 and took his leave. " There now, Campbell, there 
 now," said the angry peer, pointing to the door, 
 " You see what Providence has been about, taking 
 care of that scoundrel's health, forsooth ! and not 
 minding what becomes of your dropsical belly, or of 
 my ringworm." 
 
 WRITTEN ON A GLASS, 
 
 By a Gentleman who borrowed the Earl of Chester- 
 field's diamond pencil. 
 
 Accept a miracle, instead of wit ; 
 
 See two dull lines by Stanhope's pencil writ. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 319 
 
 CHARACTERS AT A COUNTY BALL. 
 
 I pity all whom Fate unites 
 To vulgar Belles ou Gala Nights 
 But chiefly him <vho haply sees 
 The day-star of his destinies— 
 The Beauty of his fondest dreaming 
 Sitting in solitude, and seeming 
 To lift her dark capricious eye 
 Beneath its fringe reproachiugly. 
 Alas ! one luckless friend is tied 
 To a fair Hodden by his side, 
 Who opens, without law or rule, 
 The treasures of the boarding-school ; 
 And she is prating learnedly 
 Of logic and of chemistry, 
 Describing chart and definition 
 "With geographical precision, 
 Culling her words, as bid by chance, 
 From England, Italy, or France, 
 Until, like many a clever dunce, 
 She murders all the three at once. 
 Sometimes she mixes by the ounce 
 Discussion deep on frill and flounce, 
 Points out the stains, that stick, like burrs 
 To ladies' gowns, — or characters ; 
 Talks of the fiddles, and the weather, 
 Of Laura's wreath, and Fannia's feather 
 All which obedient Edmund hears 
 With passive look, and open ears, 
 And understands about as much 
 As if the Lady spoke in Dutch j 
 Until, in indignation high, 
 She finds the youth makes no reply, 
 And thinks he's grown as deaf a stock 
 As Dido, — or Marpesian rock. 
 
 Ellen, — the lady of his love, 
 Is doom'd the like distress to prove, 
 Chain'd to a Captain of the wars, 
 Like Venus by the side of Mars. 
 Hark ! Valour talks of conquer'd towns, 
 See ! silent Beauty frets and frowns'; 
 
 The man of fights is wondering now 
 
 That Gills won't speak when Dandies bow ; 
 
 And Ellen finds, with much surprise, 
 
 That Beaux will speak when Belles despise. 
 
 " Ma'am," says the Captain, "I protest 
 
 I come to ye a stranger guest, 
 
 Fresh from the dismal dangerous land, 
 
 Where men are blinded by the sand, 
 
 Where undiscover'd things are hid 
 
 In owl-frequented pyramid, 
 
 And mummies with their silent looks 
 
 Appear like memorandum-books, 
 
 Giving a hint of death, for fear 
 
 We men should be too happy here. 
 
 But if upon my native land 
 
 Fair ones as still as mummies stand, 
 
 By Jove — I had as lieve be there V'=z 
 
 (The lady looks — " I wish you were.") 
 
 " I fear I'm very dull to-night" — 
 
 (The lady looks — **■ You're very right. ') 
 
 " But if one smile — one cheering ray" — 
 
 (The Lady looks another way.) 
 
 " Alas ! from some more happy man — " 
 
 (The Lady stoops and bites her fan,) 
 
 " Flattery, perhaps, is not a crime," 
 
 (The Lady dances out of time,) 
 
 " Perhaps e'en now, within your heart, 
 
 Crutl ! you wish us leagues apart, 
 
 And banish me from Beauty's presence ! ** 
 
 The Lady bows in acquiescence, 
 
 With steady brow, and studied fa:e. 
 
 As if she thought, in such a case, 
 
 A contradiction to her Beau 
 
 .Neither polite— nor a-prcpos 
 
 Poor Reuben ! o'er his infant head 
 Her choicest bounties Nature shed ; 
 She gave him talent, humour, sense, 
 A decent face, and competence, 
 And then to mar the beauteous plan, 
 She bade him be — an absent man. 
 Eye* offending, ever fretting, 
 Ever explaining, and forgetting, 
 
320 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 He blunders on from day to day, 
 And drives his nearest friends awa}'. 
 Do Farces meet with flat damnation ? 
 He's ready with " congratulation." 
 Are friends in office not quite pure ? 
 He owns " he hates a sinecure." 
 
 Was Major in foreign strife 
 
 Not over prodigal of life ? — 
 
 He talks about " the coward's grave : 
 
 And " who so base as be a slave }" 
 
 Is some fair cousin made a wife 
 
 In the full autumn of her life ?— 
 
 He's sure to shock the youthful bride 
 
 With <f forty years, come Whitsuntide." 
 
 FEMALE VANITY 
 
 George III. was asked one day by Lord North, 
 •when he had seen the old Duchess of Bedford, who 
 M'as well known to use an uncommon quantity of 
 paint, to which his majesty replied — " He had not 
 teen her face, nor had any other person, he believed, 
 for more than twenty years past." 
 
 .. HUMOURS OF A VILLAGE FAIR. 
 
 It was a Village Wake, or Fair, one of Nature's 
 holidays ; where she throws aside jerkin and spade 
 to indulge in uncurbed festivity ; or rather, where 
 all the inhabitants of a village meet annually to 
 feast, drink, play, make love,, and break heads. 
 Such was the scene I now entered upon, though not 
 quite unexpectedly, as I had gained some notice of 
 it before hand by several noisy groups of peasants 
 basteninii; past me to this attracting point of all that 
 is pre-eminent, beautiful, or interesting in the coun- 
 try circle. For this is the emporium of village 
 fashion ; the Hyde Park of the rustics ; where the 
 farmer doffs his leather buskins and nail-studded 
 boots for decent worsted hose, set off by shoes orna- 
 mented with the same gleaming buckles that be- 
 spangled the legs of his foiefathers. The huge 
 shaggy coat, the faithful companion of his labours 
 through all weathers, is ejected this one day for ver- 
 cant green, or russet brown. In addition to this, the 
 
 rarely-used red waistcoat rises in roseate splendor 
 across his muscular chest, leaving just room enough 
 at the neck to permit the snow-white cravat to be 
 seen; which his good Dame herself has adjusted 
 with the utmost care. He is not less metamorphosed 
 than his neighbours, who all start forth from their 
 cottages on this anxiously expected day, arra3'ed in 
 their best habiliments. The scene of these rural Sa- 
 turnalia was a fine verdant lawn, extending like an 
 amphitheatre towards a wood skirting the village. I 
 was not long in finding an eminence from whence 
 I might reconnoitre this motley scene, as well as the 
 tumultuous hubbub of showmen and visitors would 
 allow. I found, to my sorrow, that I had come too 
 late for donkey-racing, and various other sports; and 
 at present, the most conspicuous objects consisted of 
 some youths breaking each other's heads with true 
 English courage, and certain parties in swings, hang- 
 ing between heaven and earth, at what appeared to 
 me no very pleasant height. But, doubtless, they 
 were as ambitious to soar as some of our superiors ; 
 and, I am afraid, as liable to fall to the dust. To 
 those who were tired of their sports delicacies were 
 not wanting, from the new-made gingerbread to the 
 inviting plum ; amongst the booths also were seen 
 some few decorated most splendidly with toys, where 
 the rustic gallant might purchase a thimble or pair of 
 garters for his fair adorable. One or two showmen 
 might be observed amongst the crowd, offering their 
 cap for contributions to the by-standers ; some of 
 whom shrunk from it as if it contained a pestilence 
 within its shattered carcase. At another time they 
 made the skies re-echo as they shouted out the mur- 
 dered names of the grandees, displayed through a 
 glass hole to their visitors. The latter always ap- 
 peared to retire with great satisfaction from having 
 seen the mighty potentates of the world in embryo, 
 and reduced from their thrones to a ricketty caravan. 
 Alas ! poor crowned heads, what scurvy tricks For- 
 tune plays with you! what a pity it is you cannot 
 exterminate rascally showmen at the edge of the 
 bayonet, who hawk your High Mightinesses about 
 like so many baboons in kingly robes ! Turning a 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 321 
 
 moment from the sports of the Fair, I beheld, be- 
 neath the shade of some gigantic oaks, a band of 
 venerable fathers that might remind us of the patri- 
 archs of old. Too old lo engage in more robust ex- 
 ercises, these contented elders reclined there to view 
 the activity of their sons; and, as they applauded 
 the skill of the present generation, waxed strong in 
 tales of former times ; previously clearing their 
 throats with a jug of the best village ale. At some 
 distance from these a circle of aged dames were 
 seated round a polished deal table to indulge in a 
 dish of the best green tea. Like their lords and mas- 
 ters, they were arrayed in their best gowns and bod- 
 dices, that had lain in the neatly-composed drawer 
 at home for many a da}', and were now drawn forth 
 in all their rustling splendor and profusion of puck- 
 ers. There were some healthy fat-looking souls 
 laughing at some good joke till the tears came in their 
 eyes ; while a few steadier matrons turned one eye 
 to the tea-table, and, with the other, watched the 
 motions of their daughters, who seized this opportu- 
 nity to flirt with their lovers. Cupid, indeed, must 
 have. emptied his quiver; for the various love-pre- 
 sents I saw borne off in triumph, must have had a 
 powerful effect on hearts hitherto impregnable. At 
 this moment my e3'e was caught by some smoke that 
 rose curling over the tops of the trees in another part 
 of the wood, and throwing a dusky hue over the sur- 
 rounding foliage ; and, on a more curious inspection, 
 I diicovered a group of gypseys stationed there, like 
 the tutelar deities of the forest, to utter their oracles 
 from the native oak. These wanderers, equally with 
 many others, had come to take advantage of the Fair, 
 and were dealing out pottery-ware and fortunes by 
 wholesale. They were bargaining pots and pans, 
 killing some damsels and marrying others, in quick 
 succession ; and, urged by my innate spirit of curio- 
 sity, I approached to take a nearer view of them. 
 In the midst sat two sibyls hanging over the fumes of 
 a pet, containing their evening's repast, and feeding 
 the tender fire from time to time with sticks they had 
 gathered in the wood. Near them were playing two 
 
 or three bareheaded and barefooted urchins, that had 
 perhaps known a better fate and better living. But 
 the most conspicuous figures were two black-eyed 
 lasses, with red cloaks flung over their shoulders, 
 while their sun-burnt, though impressive and hand- 
 some features, were partly shrouded by a capacious 
 hood and bonnet. They were apparently the pro- 
 phetesses of the party, and doubtless no unpleasing 
 ones to their rustic customers. At this moment one 
 of them, stretching out her long uncovered arm, was 
 accurately inspecting the hand of an antiquated 
 maiden, and promising her connubial felicity and a 
 numerous offspring. It was amusing enough to see 
 the one, who might be nearly called a dame, chuck- 
 ling at this promise, and secretly admiring her own 
 obselete charms, and already captivating the hearts 
 of youth in her imagination ; while the other as- 
 sumed a pretended appearance of mystic gravity, as 
 her laughing eye betrayed her inward ridicule of the 
 object standing before her. Her sister prophetess 
 was unrolling the page of his destiny to a half-witted 
 countryman, who seemed fearful of trusting his hand 
 within that of the gipsey, thinking perhaps she 
 might carry him to the Devil in a high wind. His 
 doubting idiotic look was powerfully contrasted by 
 the half scornful fiery glance of the maiden, who 
 seemed to regard him much in the same manner as a 
 hawk eyes a trembling pigeon ere he pounces on it. 
 Doubtless he considered her oracles infallible ; but 
 whether he returned to his farm-yard with a giggle 
 of gladness, or a presentiment of approaching death, 
 I stayed not to unravel, but I suspect the black- 
 browed damsel was inclined to play some severe joke 
 upon him. The other members of the gipsey settle- 
 ment bore nothing very remarkable in their appear- 
 ance ; there were two or three men engaged in sell- 
 ing knives, &c, whose countenances seemed to havt 
 manfully endured and opposed every extremity of 
 weather, and might perhaps, to a better physiogno- 
 mist than myself, have borne a sinister cast of ex- 
 pression, indicative of a mind capable of foraging 
 in the neighbouring hen-roosts. But leaving these, 
 
 ukdiul Ml 
 
322 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 the prophetess, and a tattered old man, apparently 
 the ruler of the tribe, to their profitable avocations, 
 I once more returned to the Fair itself. Here there 
 were decisive marks of ihe approach of even, and 
 of the finishing of this grand gala. The swings, re- 
 laxing in their rapid motion, moved heavily and 
 . slowly to and fro, like the pendulum of a huge fa- 
 mily clock, that may be seen in the corner of some 
 fsagrant kitchen, gleaming in all its rich japannery, 
 i and, with one mighty well-known tick, informing the 
 ruddy-faced perspiring scullion, that tbe potatoes 
 have boiled enough. The lately stentorian voices of 
 the showmen died away in their throats, with a gur- 
 gling murmur resembling the sound of distant waters. 
 The venerable patriarchs were rising one by one, 
 with slow gravity^ from their verdant seats, and with 
 one last look at ihe empty jug, each buttoned up his 
 capacious flowing doublet, raised with a shrug the 
 waistband of his breeches, shouldered his club stick, 
 the trusty supporter of his steps, and wended on his j 
 way homeward. The tea-pot of the merry dames, 
 drained to its lees, stood idly on the table, the cups 
 and saucers ceased to rattle, and silence was reigning 
 over that festive board, that had lately resounded 
 •with the laugh of pleasure and delight, as some well- 
 fraught tale was ended, or some acute observation 
 burst forth with a wink and a nod from the lips of 
 the company. The bustling matrons themselves were 
 reclining on the still stout arms of their spouses, or 
 dragging away their giggling daughters, who on every 
 possible opportunity turned their heads to catch one 
 last glance of, or blow a kiss to, their affianced 
 lovers. There might be seen too, some with an air 
 of merriment, others with an expression which strove 
 to be genteelly melancholy, wandering back to their 
 humble cots, with thoughts divided between the hard- 
 ship of to-morrow's ploughing, and the enumeration 
 of how many pigs, how many fowls, and how much 
 stock, they must possess, ere they can hope to have 
 their ardent passion rewarded, and their liberty .sub- 
 jected to .the bonds of Hymen. The cudgels lay 
 shattered on the grass ; their owners had retired to 
 meditate on the broken head which they had given 
 
 or received. The birds were slumbering in the 
 woods, the sheep^bells tinkled no more over the 
 plain, and I was Jeft alone unregarded under the 
 shade of the forest-trees, that waved with a hollow, 
 tremulous murmur, as if admonishing me to be gone, 
 lest by loitering I should disturb the nocturnal gam- 
 bols of Mab and her fairy train 
 
 NEW PICKPOCKET. 
 
 A gentleman, who saw Wilkes's coach drawn by 
 men, the horses being taken off, told the lord mayor 
 he had lost his handkerchief in the crowd. " Very 
 possibly," said his lordship, " 1 fancy one of W.'s 
 coach horses has picked your pocket." 
 
 POVERTY A VIRTUE. 
 
 A gentleman maintaining that poverty was a vir- 
 tue. " That," said his friend, " is literally making 
 a virtue of necessity." 
 
 THE PRINTING OFFICE. 
 
 Chorus of Devils. 
 " All's lost ! All's lost ! 
 Not a penn'orth o' copy is come per post ! 
 
 Not a line in hand, 
 
 The Press at a stand ! 
 
 And we're coming so close to the First of May 
 That the Number will never be out to its day 
 
 I'm certain and sure, 
 
 Though he looks so demure, 
 
 Mr. a deuce of a cool one ; 
 
 For, day after day, 
 
 He blarneys away, 
 
 And feeds up our hopes, 
 
 With his figures and tropes ', 
 
 Promises making, 
 
 And promises breaking, 
 As if he delighted to fool one. 
 Sulphur and nitre ! all's lost, all's lost'. 
 Not a penn'orth o' copy is come per post !" 
 
 First Compositor. 
 " Oh ! dear • what can the matter be ? 
 Dear ! dear ! what can the matter be ?- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 323 
 
 Good lack ! what can the matter be 
 Mr. P. is so late With his pen ! 
 We can never go on ! why, he gets worse and worse ! 
 He promis'd to send me a budget of Verse> 
 And a morsel of Prose, which he calls ' The Old 
 Nurse ;' 
 And see — ha'n't he chous'd us again ?" 
 Second Compositor. 
 
 * Good Mr. C , Sir, you see, 
 
 Has but a drowsy head ; 
 Why wasn't Mr. 13- 
 
 The Editor instead ? 
 He writes so quick, so wondrous quick, 
 He'd till a volume very thick, 
 
 While C nibs bis pen \ 
 
 Ay ! sure as I expect to dine, 
 
 C can write but half a line 
 
 While B writes ten." 
 
 Chorus. 
 " Well, well, we needn't make a fuss, 
 We needn't now be bother'd thus, 
 For sure the Number's nought to us, 
 
 Whether its out or not ; 
 And so, instead of all this noise, 
 Suppose we hold our tongues, my Boys 
 And pass about the Pot !" 
 
 (Enter the Editor, booted and spurred, icith a long 
 face and a bundle; Devils stare and put down the 
 Beer. — A pause. J 
 
 editor. 
 " What is't you do ? 
 All idling here, 
 And drinking of beer, 
 When our Number's so late, 
 And our hurry so great, 
 And our moments of leisure so few ? " 
 First Compositor. 
 
 u Oh Lord ! Mr. C , I vow and profess 
 
 You're worse than a Turk or a Jew 
 For look ye, you wont give a line to the Press, 
 And you wont give the Devil his due," 
 
 Chorus. 
 ('crowding round.) 
 
 " And where are all the papers, Sir 
 
 You promis'd you would send , 
 For how can any Printer stir 
 
 When his copy's at an end ?" 
 
 (Devils speak alternately, the Editor looking 
 miserable.) 
 
 " And where's ' The Bachelor ?' — and where 
 
 Good Mr. Sterling's 'Thoughts on Prayer}' 
 " And ' Burton's Verses on the Stocks ?' — 
 " And ' Lozell's Prose on Weathercocks ? ' 
 " And where is 'Martin on the Martyrs?'" 
 " And 'The Mistake ?' — and 'Changing Quar- 
 ters ? » 
 " 'Those Sonnets:' and ' The Welcome Guest?' 
 " ' On Calumny ? ' 'On Interest ? ' 
 " How ail ^our vast professions fall 
 
 You speak us soft and fair ; 
 But when we ask, ' Where are they all ?' 
 And Echo answers — ' Where. ' " 
 
 Editor. 
 
 " Abus d and maltreated in this sort of fashion, 
 By his Majesty's crown I shall be in a passion : 
 Shall I work till my head 
 
 Has a marvellous ache ? 
 Shall I dine on dry bread 
 
 When I sigh for a steak ? 
 Shall I sport ' midnight tapers ?' 
 
 And fly from Quadrille ! Oh I 
 Betimes at my papers, 
 
 And late on my pillow ? 
 Shall I write till my eyes 
 
 Grow drowsy, and blinks 
 To be harassed with lies, 
 
 And bespatter'd with ink ? 
 Ay ! this is the way ! 
 
 If a man is of use, 
 He has for his pay 
 
 Little else but abuse ! 
 
324 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Why '• I've been writing like a Turk, 
 So, pray ye, set your types to work, 
 
 Here's copy in my sack ! — 
 Nay, nay, — paws oiF, good Master Gruff! 
 I find Blue Devils quite enough, 
 
 And may be spared the Black ! " 
 Chorus. 
 
 41 Hurra '.—Hurra ! — 
 The Number is sure to be out to its day. 
 
 Mr. Peregrine C is come out of the west, 
 
 Through all the wide country his pens are the best ; 
 And he's brought a fresh stock of his puffing and 
 
 puns, 
 To be laugh'd at by all but the Vandals and Huns ; 
 Let us laugh and hurra ! put our heart in our -voice — 
 "With our Long Primer, Small Pica, Mignon, Bour- 
 geois ! 
 
 Hurra ! — Hurra! 
 The Number is sure to be out to its day ! " 
 
 BEAU TIBBS. 
 
 Our pursuer now came up, and joined us with all 
 the familiarity of an old acquaintance. " My dear 
 Charles," cries he, shaking my friend's hand, " where 
 have you been hiding this half a century ? Positively 
 I had fancied you were gone down to cultivate ma- 
 trimony, and your estate in the country." During 
 the reply, I had an opportunity of surveying the ap- 
 pearance of our new companion. His hat was pinched 
 up with peculiar smartness; his looks were pale, 
 thin, and sharp; round his neck he wore a broad 
 black ribbon, and in his bosom a buckle studded 
 with glass ; his coat was trimmed with tarnished twist; 
 he wore by his side a sword with a black hilt; and 
 his stockings of silk, though newly washed, were 
 grown yellow by long service. I was so much en- 
 gaged with the peculiarity of his dress, that I attend- 
 ed only to the latter part of my friend's reply ; in 
 which he complimented Mr. Tibbs on the taste of his 
 clothes, and the bloom in his countenance. " Pshaw, 
 pshaw, Charles," cried the figure, " no more of that if 
 you love me ; you know I hate flattery ; on my soul 
 I do ; and yet to be sure an intimacy with the great 
 will improve one's appearance, and a course of 
 
 venison will fatten; and yet faith I despise the great 
 as much as you do; but there are a great many 
 damned honest fellows among them ; and we must 
 not quarrel with one half, because the other wants 
 breeding. If they were all such as my lord Mudler, 
 one of the most good-natured creatures that ever 
 squeezed a lemon, I should myself be among the 
 number of their admirers. I was yesterday to dine 
 at the duchess of Piccadilly's. My lord was there. 
 ' Ned,' says he to me, * Ned,' says he, ' Pll hold 
 gold to silver I can tell where you were poaching last 
 night.' ' Poaching, my lord,' says I ; ' faith you have 
 missed already ; for I staid at home, and let tie 
 girls poach for me. That's my way ; 1 take a fine 
 woman as some animals do their prey • stand still, 
 and swoop they fall into my mouth.' " 
 
 " Ah, Tibbs, thou art a happy fellow," cried my 
 companion with looks of infinite pity, "I hope your 
 fortune is as much improved as your understanding 
 in such company. '' " Improved V\ replied the other, 
 " you shall know, — but let it go no further, — a great 
 secret — five hundred a 3'ear to begin w'ith. My 
 lord's word of honour for it. — His lordship took me 
 down in his own chariot yesterday, and we had a 
 tete-a-tete dinner in the country ; where we talked 
 of nothing else." (i I fancy you forgot, sir,'' cried 
 I, " you told us but this moment of your dining yes- 
 terday in town !'' " Did I say so }" replied he coolly. 
 "To be sure if I said so it was so.— Dined in town? 
 egad, now I do remember I did dine in town ; but I 
 dined in the country too : for you must know, my 
 boys, I eat two dinners. By the bye, I am grown 
 as nice as the devil in my eating. I'll tell you a 
 pleasant affair about that: we were a select party of 
 us to dine at lady Grogram's, an affected piece, but 
 let it go no farther ; a secret . Well, says I, 111 
 hold a thousand guineas, and say done first, that — 
 But, dear Charles, you are an honest creature, lend 
 me half-a-cro n for a minute or two, or so, just 
 till — But hark'ee, ask me for it the next time we 
 meet, or it may be twenty to one but I forget to 
 pay you." 
 
 My little beau ye$terday overtook me again in 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 325 
 
 one of the public walks, and slapping me on the 
 shoulder, saluted me with an air of the most perfect 
 familiarity. His dress was the same as usual, except 
 that he had more powder in his hair ; wore a dirtier 
 shirt, and had on a pair of temple spectacles, and his 
 hat under his arm. 
 
 The oddities that marked his character, however, 
 soon began to appear ; he bowed to several well 
 dressed persons, who, by their manner of returning 
 the compliment, appeared perfect strangers. At in- 
 tervals he drew out a pocket-book, seeming to take 
 memorandums before all the company with much 
 importance and assiduity. In this manner he led me 
 through the length of the whole mall, fretting at his 
 absurdities, and fancying myself laughed at, as well 
 as he, by every spectator. 
 
 When we were got to the end of our procession, 
 " Blast me," cries he, with an air of vivacity, " I 
 never saw the Park so thin in rny life before ; there's 
 no company at all to-day. Not a single face to be 
 seen." " No company !" interrupted I peevishly ; 
 " no company where there is such a crowd ! Why, 
 man, there is too much. What are the thousands 
 that have been laughing at us, but company !" 
 " Lord, my dear,'' returned he, with the utmost good 
 humour, " yon seem immensely chagrined ; but, 
 blast me, when the world laughs at me, I laugh at 
 the world, and so we are even. My lord -Trip, Bill 
 Squash, the Creolian, and I. sometimes make a 
 party at being ridiculous ; and so we say and do a 
 thousand things for the joke's sake. But 1 see you 
 are grave ; and if you are for a fine grave senti- 
 mental companion, you shall dine with my wife to- 
 day ; I must insist on't ; I'll introduce you to Mrs. 
 Tibbs, a lady of as elegant qualifications as any fn 
 nature; she was bred, but that's between ourselves, 
 under the inspection of the countess of Shoreditch. 
 A charming body of voice ! But no more of that, 
 she shall give us a song. You shall see my little 
 girl too, Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Tibbs, a sweet 
 pretty creature, I design her for my lord Drumstick's 
 eldest son ; but that's in friendship, let it go no far- 
 ther ; she's but six years old, and yet she walks a 
 
 minuet, and plays on the guitar, immensely already. 
 I intend she shall be as perfect as possible in 
 every accomplishment. In the first place, I'll 
 make her a scholar; I'll teach her Greek myself, 
 and I intend to learn that language purposely to in- 
 struct her, bu* let that be a secret." 
 
 Thus saying, without waiting for a reply, he took 
 me by the arm and hauled me along. We passed 
 through many dark alleys and winding ways ; for, 
 from some motives to me unknown, he seemed to 
 have a particular aversion to every frequented street; 
 at last, however, we got to the door of a dismal look- 
 ing house in the outlets of the town, where he in- 
 formed me he chose to reside for the benefit of the air. 
 We entered the lower door, which seemed ever to 
 lie most hospitably open; and I began to ascend an 
 old and creaking staircase ; when, as he mounted to 
 shew me the way, he demanded, whether I delighted 
 I in prospects ; to which answering in the affirmative, 
 i " Then,'' says he, " I shall shew you one of the most 
 charming out of my windows ; we shall see the sh"irs 
 | sailing, and the whole country for twenty miles round, 
 tip top, quite high. My lord Swamp would give 
 ten thousand guineas for such a one ; but, as I 
 sometimes pleasantly tell him, I always love to keep 
 my prospects at home, that my friends may come to 
 see me the oftener." 
 
 By this time we were arrived as high as the stairs 
 wouid permit us to ascend, till wc came to what he 
 was facetiously pleased to call the first floor down 
 the chimney ; and knocking at the door, a voice, 
 with a Scotch accent, from within, demanded " Wha's 
 there?" My conductor answered, that it was he. 
 But this not satisfying the querist, the voice again re- 
 peated the demand ; to which he answered louder 
 than before, and now the door was opened by an 
 old maid-servant with cautious reluctance. 
 
 When we were got in, he welcomed me to his house 
 with great ceremony, and turning to the old woman, 
 asked her where her lady was. " Good troth,'' re- 
 plied she, in the northern dialect, " she's washing your 
 twa shirts at the next door, because they have taken an 
 oath against lending out the tub any longer.'' '* My 
 
325 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 two shirts ! " cries be, in a tone that faltered with 
 confusion, " what does the idiot mean ? " " I ken 
 what I mean well enough," replied the other ; 
 f< she's washing your twa shirts at the next door, he- 
 cause" — " Fire and fury, no more of thy stupid ex- 
 planations," cried he. — " Go and inform her we 
 have got company. Were that Scotch hag," con- 
 tinued he, turning to me, " to be forever in my fa- 
 mily, she would never learn politeness, nor forget that 
 absurd poisonous accent of her's, or testify the 
 smallest specimen of breeding or high-life ; and yet 
 it is very surprising too, as I had her from a parlia- 
 ment man, a friend of mine, from the Highlands, 
 one of the politest men in the world j but that's a 
 secret." 
 
 We waited some time for Mrs. Tibbs' arrival, 
 during which interval I had a full opportunity of 
 surveying the chamber and all its furniture ; which 
 consisted of four chairs with old wrought bottoms, 
 that he assured me were his wife's embroidery ; a 
 square table that had been once japanned, a cradle 
 in one corner, a lumbering cabinet in the other; 
 a broken shepherdess, and a mandarin without a 
 head, were stuck over the chimney ; and round the 
 walls several paltry, unframed pictures, which he 
 observed were all of his own drawing: "What 
 do you think, Sir, of that head in the comer, done 
 in the manner of Griosni ? There's the true keeping 
 in it; it is my own face ; and, though there is 
 no likeness, a countess offered me a hundred for its 
 fellow : I refused her, for, hang it, that would be 
 mechanical, you know." 
 
 The wife, at last, made her appearance ; at once a 
 slattern and a coquet ; much emaciated, but still 
 carrying the remains of beauty. She made twenty 
 apologies for being seen in such an odious deshabille, 
 but hoped to be excused, as she had staid out all 
 night at Vauxhall Gardens with the countess, who 
 was excessively fond of~the horns. " And, indeed, 
 my dear," added she, turning to her husband, " his 
 lordship drank your health in a bumper." " Poor, 
 Jack," cries he, " a dear good-natured creature, 
 I know he loves me; but I hope my dear, you have 
 
 given orders for dinner ; yon need make no great 
 preparations neither, there are but three of .is, some- 
 thing elegant and little will do ; a turbot, an orto- 
 lan, or a — " " Or what do you think, my dear," 
 " of a nice- pretty bit of ox -cheek, piping hot, and 
 dressed with a little of my own sauce?" — "The 
 very thing," replies he 3 " it will eat best with some 
 smart bottled beer ; but be sure to let's have the 
 sauce his grace was so fond of. I hate vour im- 
 mense loads of meat, that is country all over; ex- 
 tremely disgusting to those who are in the least 
 acquainted with high-life." 
 
 By this time my curiosity began to abate, and 
 my appetite to increase ; the company of fools may 
 at first make us smile, but at last never fails of ren- 
 dering us melancholy. J therefore pretended to 
 recollect a prior engagement, and, after having shewn 
 m} 7 respect to the house, by giving the old servant a 
 piece of money at the door, I took my leave ; Mr. 
 Tibbs assuring me that dinner, if I staid, would be 
 ready at least in less than two hours. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. 
 
 ON TWO BAD WRITERS COMPLIMENTING EACH/ 
 OTHER. 
 
 Carthy, you say writes well — suppose it true 
 You pawn your word for him — who'll vouch for you. 
 So, two poor knaves, who find their credit fail, 
 To cheat the world, become each other's bail. 
 
 LOVE AMONG THE LAW BOOKS. 
 
 Mrs. Culpepper's " uncle the Sergeant," .has 
 fallen in love ! He felt a slight vertigo in Tavistock- 
 square, of which he took little notice, and set off on 
 the home circuit , but imprudently venturing out 
 with the widow Jackson in a hop-field, at Maidstone, 
 before he was well cured", the complaint struck in- 
 ward, and a mollities cordis was the consequence. 
 Mr. Sergeant Nethersole had arrived at the age of 
 fifty-nine ; heart-whole ; his testamentary assets were 
 therefore looked upon by J\Jrs. Culpepper as the 
 unalienable property of her and hers. Speculations 
 were often launched by Mr. and Mrs. Culpepper as 
 to the quantum. _ It could not be less than thirty 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 327 
 
 thousand pounds ; Bonus the broker had hinted as 
 much to the old slopseller in the bow-window of 
 Batson's, while they were eyeing " the learned in 
 the law " in the act of crossing Cornhill to receive 
 his dividends. Hence may be derived the annual 
 turtle and turbot swallowed by " my uncle the 
 -Sergeant" in Savage-gardens : hence Mrs. Culpep- 
 per's high approbation of the preacher at the Temple 
 Church: and hence her horse- laugh at the Sergeant's 
 annually repeated jest about " Brother Van and 
 Brother Bear." As far as appearances went, Plutus 
 was certainly nearing point Culpepper : Nicholas 
 Nethersole, Esq. Sergeant-at-law, was pretty regu- 
 larly occupied in the Court of Common Pleas from 
 ten to four. A hasty dinner swallowed at five at the 
 Grecian, enabled him to return to Chambers at half- 
 past six, where pleas, rejoinders, demurrers, cases, 
 and consultations occupied him till ten. All this 
 (not to mention the arrangement with the bar-maid 
 at Nando's) seemed to ensure a walk through this 
 vale of tears in a state of single blessedness. •< I 
 have no doubt he will cut up well/' said Culpepper 
 to his consort. " I have my eye upon a charming 
 villa in the Clapham Road : when your uncle the 
 Sergeant is tucked under a daisy quilt, we'll ruralize : 
 it's a sweet spot : not a stone's throw from the Swan 
 at Stockwell V Such were the Alnascar anticipa- 
 tions of Mr. Jonathan Culpepper. But, alas ! as 
 Doctor Johnson said some forty years ago, and even 
 then the observation was far from new, " What are 
 the hopes of man 1" Legacy-hunting, like hunting 
 of another sort, is apt to prostrate its pursuers, and 
 they who wait fur dead men's shoes, now and then 
 walk to the church-yard barefooted. Mr. Sereeant 
 Nethersole grew fat and kicked : he took a house in 
 Tavistock-square, and he launched an olive-coloured 
 chariot with iron-grey horses. There is an office in 
 Holborn where good matches are duly registered and 
 assorted. Straightway under the letter N. appears 
 the following entry, " Nethersole, Nicholas, Ser- 
 geant-at-law, Tavistock-square, Bachelor, aged 59. 
 Income 3500/. Equipage, olive-green chariot and 
 iron-grey horses. — Temper, talents, morals, — blank !" 
 That numerous herd of old maidens and widows 
 
 that feed upon the lean pastures cf Guildford-street, 
 Queen-square, and Alfred- place, Tottenham-court- 
 ruad, was instantly in motion. Here was a jewel of 
 the first water and magnitude, to be set in the crown 
 of Hymen, and the crowd of candidates was com- 
 mensurate. The Sergeant was at no loss for an even- 
 ing rubber at whist, and the ratifia cakes which came 
 in with the Madeira at half-past ten, introduced cer- 
 tain jokes about matrimony, evidently intended as 
 earnests of future golden rings. 
 
 The poet Gay makes his two heroines in the 
 Beggar's Opera, thus chaunt in duet : 
 
 A curse attends that woman's love 
 Who always would be pleasing ? 
 
 And in all cases where the parties are under thirty, 
 Polly and Lucy are unquestionably right. No 
 young woman can retain her lovers long if she uses 
 them well. She who would have her adorer as faithful 
 as a dog, must treat him like one. But when mid- 
 dle aged ladies have exceeded forty, and middle- 
 aged gentlemen have travelled beyond fifty, the case 
 assumes a different complexion. The softer sex is 
 then allowed, and indeed necessitated to throw off 
 a little of that cruelty which is so deucedly killing 
 at eighteen. What says the Spanish poet ? 
 
 Ceaae then, fair one, cease to shun me, 
 Here let all our difference cease ; 
 
 Half that rigour had undone me, 
 AH that rigour gives me peace. 
 
 Accordingly it may be observed that women 
 make their advances as Time makes his. At twenty, 
 when the swain approaches to pa}' his devoirs, they 
 exclaim with an sir of languid indifference, " Who 
 is he?" At thirty, with a prudent look towards the 
 ways and means, the question is, " What is he ?*' 
 At forty, much anxiety manifests itself to make the 
 Hymeneal selection, and the query changes itself 
 into " Which is he ?" But at the ultima Thule of 
 fifty, the ravenous expectant prepares to spring upon 
 any prey, and exclaims, " Where is he?" Be that 
 as it may, the numerous candidates for a seat in 
 Sergeant Nethersole's olive-green chariot gradually 
 grew tired of the pursuit, and took wing to prey 
 upon some newer benedict. Two only kept the field, 
 
328 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 Prances Jennings, spinster, and Amelia Jackson, 
 widow ; both of whom hovered on the verge of 
 forty. '.* It appears to me," said Miss Jennings to 
 a particular friend in Bedford-place, " that Mrs. 
 Jackson does not conduct herseif with propriety: 
 she is never out of Mr. Nethersole's house, and 
 jangles that old harpsichord of his with her ' Love 
 among the Roses,' till one s head actually turns 
 giddy." — " I will mention it to you in confidence," 
 said Mrs. Jackson, on the very same day, to another 
 particular friend at the Bazaar in Soho-square, " I 
 don't at all approve of Miss Jennings's going on in 
 Tavistock-square : she actually takes her work 
 there : I caught her in the act of screwing her pin- 
 cushion to the edge of Sergeant Nethersole's maho- 
 gany table — what right has she to net him purses ?" 
 The contest of work-table versus harpsichord now 
 grew warm : betting even : Miss Jennings threw in 
 a crimson pufje and the odds were in her favour : 
 the widow Jackson sang, " By heaven and earth I 
 love thee," and the crimson purse kicked the beam. 
 The .spinster now hemmed half-a-dozen muslin cra- 
 vats, marked N. N. surmounted with a couple of 
 red hearts : this was a tremendous body blow ; but 
 the widow, nothing daunted, drew from under the 
 harpsichord a number of the Irish Melodies, and 
 started off at score with " Fly not jet, 'tis now the 
 hour." This settled the battle at the end of the 
 first stanza ;, and I am glad it did, for really the 
 widow was growing downright indecent. 
 
 About this time Love, tired of his aromatic sta- 
 tion " among the roses," of all places in the world 
 began to take up his abode among the dusty Law 
 Books in the library of Mr. Sergeant Nethersole's 
 chambers. Certain amatory worthies had long slept 
 on the. top shelf, affrighted at the black coifs and 
 white wigs of the legal authors, who kept "watch 
 and ward" below, in all the dignity of octavo, quar- 
 to, and folio. But now, encouraged thereto by the 
 aforesaid Sergeant, they crept from their upper gal- 
 lery, and mixed themselves with the decorous com- 
 pany in the pit and boxes. One Ovidius Naso, 
 with his Art of Love in his pocket, . presumed to 
 shoulder Mr. Espimtese at Nisi Prius: Tubulins got 
 
 astride of Mr. Justice Blackstone : Propertius lolled 
 indolently against Bacon's Abridgment, and " the 
 industrious Giles Jacob could not keep his two 
 quartos together from the assurance of one Waller, 
 who had taken post between them. In short, the 
 Sergeant was in love ! Still, however, I am of opi- 
 nion, that " youth and an excellent constitution, '* as 
 the novelists have it, would have enabled the pa- 
 tient to struggle with the disease, if it had not been 
 for the incident which I am about to relate. 
 
 The home circuit hud now commenced, and Ser- 
 geant Nethersole had quitted London for Maidstone. 
 Miss Jennings relied with confidence upon the occur- 
 rence of nothing particular till the assizes were over, 
 and in that assurance had departed to spend a fort- 
 night with a married sister at Kingston-upon-Thames. 
 Poor innocent! she little knew what a widow is 
 equal to. No sooner had the Sergeant departed in 
 his olive-green chariot, drawn by a couple of post- 
 horses, than the widow Jackson, aided by Alice 
 Green, packed her portmanteau, sent for a hackney- 
 coach, and bade the driver adjourn to the Golden 
 cross, Charing-cross. There was one vacant seat in 
 the Maidstone coach: the widow occupied it at 
 twelve at noon, and between five and six o'clock in 
 the afternoon was quietly dispatching a roasted fowl 
 at the Star inn, with one eye fixed upon the egg- 
 sauce, and the other upon the Assize Hall opposite. 
 The pretext for this step was double : the first count 
 alleged that her beloved brother lived at Town Mai- 
 ling, a mere step off, and the second averred an 
 eager desire to hear the Sergeant plead. On the 
 evening which followed that of the widow's arrival, 
 the Sergeant happened not to have any consultation 
 to attend ; and, what is more remarkable, happened 
 to be above the affectation of pretending that lie had. 
 He proposed a walk into the country : the lady con- 
 sented : they moralised a few minutes upon the hie 
 jacels in the church-yard, and thence strolled into 
 the adjoining fields where certain labourers had 
 piled the wooden props of the plant that feeds, or 
 ought to feed, the brewer's vat, in conical (qua?re, 
 conical) shapes, not unlike the spire of All Saints 
 Church in Langham-place. The rain now began to 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 329 
 
 fall : one of these sloping recipients stood invitingly 
 open to shelter them from the storm: " Speluncam 
 Dido dux et Trojanus." Ah! those pyramidal hop- 
 poles ! The widow's brother from Town Mailing 
 ■was serving upon the Grand Jury: his sister's repu- 
 tation was dear to him as his own : " he'd call him 
 brother, or he'd call him out," and Nicholas Nether- 
 sole and Amelia Jackson were joined together in 
 holy matrimony. 
 
 The widow Jackson, now Mrs. Nethersole, was a 
 pruden* woman, and wished, as the phrase is, to 
 have every body's good word. It was her advice 
 that her husband should write to his niece, Mrs. Cul- 
 pepper, to acquaint her with what had happened. 
 She had in fact drawn up a letter for his signature, 
 in which she tendered several satisfactory apologies 
 for the step, namely, that we are commanded to in- 
 crease and multiply : that it is not good for a man to 
 be alone: but chiefly that he had met with a wo- 
 man possessed of every qualification to make the 
 marriage state happy. " Why, no, my dear,'' an- 
 swered tlte Sergeant, " with submission to you, (a 
 phrase prophetic of the fact) it has been my rule 
 through life, whenever I had done a wrong or a foolish 
 deed (here the lady frowned), never to own it : ne- 
 ver (o suffer judgment to go by default, and thus 
 remain 'in mercy,' but boldly to plead a justification. 
 I have a manuscript note of a case in point, in which 
 I was concerned. In my youth I mixed largely 
 in the fashionable world, and regularly frequented 
 the Hackney assemblies, carrying my pumps in my 
 pocket. Jack Peters (lie is now at Bombay) and 
 myself, went thither, as usual, on a moonshining 
 Monday, and slept at the Mermaid. The Hackney 
 stage on the following morning was returned non est 
 inventus, without giving us notice of set off; the 
 Clapton coach was therefore engaged to hold our 
 bodies in safe custody, and then safely deposit at 
 the Flower pot in Bishopsgate-street. Hardly had 
 we sued out our fust cup of Souchong, when the 
 Clapton coach stopped at the door. Here was a 
 demurrer ! Jack was for striking out the breakfast, 
 and- joining issue with the two other inside passen- 
 gers. But I said no; finish the muffins: take an 
 
 order for half an hour's time ; and then plead a jus- 
 tification! We did so, and then gave the coachman 
 notice of set off, entering the vehicle with a hey- 
 damme sort of aspect, plainly denoting to the two 
 impatient insiders, that if there was any impertinence 
 in their Bill, we would strike it out without a refer- 
 ence to the Master. The scheme took, and before 
 we reached St. Leonard's, Shoreditch, egad! they 
 were as supple as a couple of candidates for the In- 
 dia direction. Now that case, my dear, must go- 
 vern this. Don't say a civil word to the Culpeppers 
 about our marriage ; if you do, there will be no end 
 to their remonstrances : leave thein to find it out in 
 the Morning Chronicle." 
 
 "This is a very awkward affair, Mrs. Culpepper," 
 said that lady's husband, with the Morning Chroni- 
 cle in his hand. " Awkward ?" echoed Mrs. Cul- 
 pepper, " it's abominable : a nasty fellow ; he ought 
 to be ashamed of himself! And as for his wife, she 
 is no better than she should be!'' — " That may he,'' 
 said the husband, "but we must give them a dinner 
 notwithstanding." — " Dinner or no dinner," said the 
 wife, " I'll not laugh any more at that stupid old 
 story of his about Brother Van aud Brother Bear;?* 
 — " Then I will,'' resumed the husband, " for there 
 may possibly be no issue of the marriage." Miss 
 Jennings, the outwitted spinster, tired two pair of 
 horses in telling all her friends from Southampton- 
 street, Bloomsbury, to Cornwall-terrace, in the Re- 
 gent's-Park, how shamefully Mrs. Jackson had be- 
 haved. She then drove to the Register-office above- 
 mentioned, to transfer her affections to one Mr. 
 Samuel Smithers, another old bachelor barrister, an 
 inseparable crony of Nethersole's, whom, she opined, 
 must now marry from lack of knowing what to do 
 with himself. Alas ! she was a day too late : he had 
 that very morning married the vacant bar-maid at 
 Nando's. 
 
 When tne honey-moon of Mr. Serjeant Nether- 
 sole was on the wane, 
 
 My sprite, 
 Popp'd through the key-hole swift as lights 
 
 of his chambers, in order to take a survey of hi» 
 
330 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 library. All was once more as it should be. Ovid 
 had quitted Mr. Espinasse, Tibullus and Mr. Justice 
 Blackstone were two, Propertius and Lord Bacon did 
 not speak, and, as for Giles Jacob, Waller desired 
 none of his company. The amatory poets were re- 
 fitted to their upper shelf, the honey-moon was over, 
 and love no longer nestled in the Law Books. 
 
 ON JOHN DENNIS. 
 
 Should D s print, how once yoxx robb d your 
 
 brother, 
 
 Traduc'd your monarch, and debauch'd your mo- 
 ther; 
 
 Say, what revenge on D s can be had j 
 
 Too duil for laughter, for reply too mad? 
 
 Of one 60 poor you cannot take the law ; 
 
 On one so oid your sword you cannot draw. 
 
 UncagM then let the harmless monster rage, 
 
 Secure in dullness, madness, want, and age 
 
 ALL HUMBUGS. 
 
 When Stephen Kerable was manager at New- 
 castle, and the house was rather thin, no less a per- 
 sonage arrived in the town than prince Annamaboo, 
 who offered his services for a very moderate consi- 
 deration. Accordingly, the bills of the day an- 
 nounced, " that between the acts of the play, prince 
 Annamaboo would give a lively representation of the 
 scalping operation ; he would likewise give the In-, 
 diau war-whoop in all its various tones, the toma- 
 hawk exercise, and the mode of feasting at an Abys- 
 sinian banquet." The evening arrived, and many 
 people attended to witness these princely imitations. 
 At the end of the third act his highness walked for- 
 ward, with dignified step, flourishing his tomahawk, 
 and cut the air, exclaiming, " ha ha — ho ho !" next 
 entered a man with his face blackened, and a piece 
 of bladder fastened to his head with gum ; the prince 
 with a large carving knife, commenced the scalping 
 operation, which he performed in a style truly im- 
 perial, holding up the skin in token of triumph — 
 Next came the war-whoop, which was a combination 
 of dreadful and discordant sounds: lastly, the Abys- 
 sinian banquet, consisting of raw beef-steaks ; these 
 
 1 he made into rolls, as large as his mouth would ad- 
 mit, and devoured them in a princely and dignified 
 manner. Having completed his cannibal repast, he 
 flourished his tomahawk, exclaiming, " ha ha— ho 
 ho !" and made his exit. Next day, the manager, 
 in the middle of the market-place, 'espied the most 
 puissant prince of Annamaboo selling pen-knives, 
 scissars, and quilb, in the character of a Jew pedlar, 
 " What!" said Kemble, " my prince, is that vou ? 
 are not you a pretty Jewish scoundrel to impose 
 upon us in this manner ?" Moses turned sound, and 
 
 with an arch look replied, rt Prince be d -d, I 
 
 vash no priuce, 1 vash acting like you— you vash 
 kings, princes, emperor to-night, Stephen Kembies to- 
 morrow ; I vash humpugs, you vash humpngs, and 
 all vash humpugs," 
 
 6EBICON ON MAN. 
 
 Man is born unto trouble as the sparks jiy upwards ! 
 
 Job, chap. v. verse 7 
 
 I shall divide the discourse into, and consider it 
 under, the three following heads : first man's ingress 
 into the world; secondly his progress through" the 
 world ; third and lastly, his egress out of the world. 
 — And first, man's ingress into the world is naked and 
 bare: secondly, his progress through the world is 
 trouble and care ; thirdly and lastly, his egress out of 
 
 the world is — nobody knows where. To close.— 
 
 If we do well here, we shall be well there, 
 I can tell you no more, if I preach for a vear. 
 
 NOSE AND EYES, 
 
 OR THE REPORT OF AN ADJUDGED CASE, NOT 
 
 TO BE FOUND IN ANY OF THE BOORS. 
 
 Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose — 
 The Spectacles set them unhappily wrong : 
 
 The point in dispute was as all the world knows, 
 To which the said spectacles ought to belong. 
 
 So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause, 
 With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of 
 learning, 
 
 While chief baron Ear, sat to balance the laws, 
 So fam'd for his talent in nicely discerning. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 331 
 
 In behalf of the Nose it will quickly appear, 
 
 And jour lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find, 
 
 That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear,, 
 Which amounts to possession time oat of mind. 
 
 Then holding the Spectacles up to the court — 
 
 Your lordship observe* they are made with a 
 straddle, 
 As wide as the ridge of the Nose is ; in short, 
 
 Design'd to sit close to it, just like a saddle. 
 Again, would your lordship a moment suppose, 
 
 ('Tisa case that has happen'd, and may be again;) 
 That the visare or countenance had not a Nose, 
 
 Pray who would or who could wear Spectacles then ? 
 On the whole it appears — and my argument shows, 
 
 With a reasoning the court will never condemn, 
 That the Spectacles plainly were made for the Nose, 
 
 And the Nose was aspiainly intended for them. 
 
 Then, shifting his side, (as a lawyer knows how,) 
 He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes ; 
 
 But what were his arguments few people know, 
 For the court did not think they were equally wise. 
 
 So his lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tone, 
 Decisive and clear, without one if or but, 
 
 That, -whenever the ]\ose put his Spectacles on, 
 By day-light or candle-light — Eyes should be shut ! 
 
 cowriR. 
 
 THE OLD SOLDIER, 
 
 I was born in Shropshire, ni}" father was a la- 
 bourer, and died when I was five years old ; so I 
 was put upon the parish. As he had been a wan- 
 dering sort of a man, the parishioners were not able to 
 tell to what parish I belonged, or where I was born, 
 to they sent me to another parish, and that parish 
 sent me to a third. I thought in my heart, they 
 kept sending me about so long, that they would not 
 let me be born in any parish at all ; but, at last, how- 
 ever, they fixed me. I had some disposition to be 
 a scholar, and was resolved, at least, to know my 
 letters, but the master of the workhouse put me to 
 business as soon aa I was able to handle a mallet ; 
 and here I lived an easy kind of life for five years. 
 
 I only wrought ten hours in the day, and had my; 
 meat and drink provided for my labour. It is true, 
 I was not suffered to stir out of the house, for fear, 
 as they said, I should run away ; but what of that ? 
 I had the liberty of the whole house, and the yard 
 before the door, and that was enough for me. I was 
 then bound out to a farmer, where I was up both 
 early and late ; but I ate and drank well, and liked 
 my business well enough, till he died, when I was 
 obliged to provide for myself; go I was resolved to 
 go and seek my fortune. 
 
 In this manner I went from town to town, worked 
 when I could get employment, and starved when I 
 could get none : when happening one day to go 
 through a field belonging to a justice of peace, I spied 
 a hare crossing the path just before me ; and 1 be- 
 lieve the devil put it in my head to fling my stick, 
 at it : — Well, what will you have on't ? I killed 
 the bare, and was bringing it away in triumph, when 
 the justice himself met me ; he called me a poacher 
 and a villain, and collaring me, desired I would givo 
 an account of myself. I fell upon my knees, 
 begged his worship's pardon, and began to give a 
 full account of all that I knew of my breed, seed, 
 and generation ; but, though I gave a very good 
 account, the justice would not believe a syllable I 
 had to say ; so I was indicted at sessions, found 
 guilty of being poor, and sent np- to London to New- 
 gate, in order to be transported as a vagabond." 
 
 People may say this and that of being in jail ; 
 but, for my part, I found Newgate as agreeable a 
 place as ever I was in all my life. I had my belly 
 full to eat and drink, and did not work at all. This 
 kind of life was too good to last for ever; so I was 
 taken out of prison, after five months, put on board 
 a ship, and sent off, with two hundred more, to the 
 plantations. We had but an indifferent passage, 
 for, being all confined in the hold, more than a 
 hundred of our people died for want of sweet air; 
 and those that remained were sickly enough, God 
 knows. When we came ashore we were sold to the 
 planters, and I was bound for seven years more. 
 As I was no scholar, for I did not know my letters, 
 
332 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 I was obliged to work, among the negroes ; and I 
 served OHt my time, as in duty bound to do. 
 
 When my time was expired, I worked my pas- 
 sage home, and glad I was to see Oid England again, 
 because I loved ray country. I was afraid, how- 
 ever, that I should be indicted for a vagabond once 
 more, so did not much care to go down into the 
 country, but kept about town, and did little jobs 
 •when 1 could get them. 
 
 I was very happy in this manner for some time, 
 till one evening, coming home from work, two men 
 knocked me down, and then desired me to stand. 
 They belonged to a press-gang ; I was carried be- 
 fore the justice, and, as I could give no account of 
 myself, I had my choice left, whether to go on board 
 a man of war, or list for a soldier. I chose the latter ; 
 and in this post of a gentleman, I served two cam- 
 paigns in Flanders, was at the battles of Val and 
 Fonienoy, and received but one wound, through the 
 breast here; but the doctor of our regiment soon 
 znade me well again. 
 
 When the peace came on I was discharged; and, 
 .as I could not work, because my wound was some- 
 times troublesome, I listed for a landsman in the East 
 India company's service. I here fought the French 
 in six pitched battles ; and I verily believe, that, if 
 I could read or write, our captain would have made 
 me a corporal. Bat it was not my gcod fortune to 
 have any promotion, for I soon fell sick, and so got 
 leave to return home again with forty pounds in my 
 pocket. This was at (he beginning of the present 
 war, and I hoped to be set on shore, and to have 
 the pleasure of spending my money; but the govern- 
 ment wanted men, and so I was pressed for a sailor 
 before ever I could set foot on shore. 
 
 The boatswain found me, as he said, an obstinate 
 fellow; he swore he knew that I understood my 
 business well, but that 1 shammed Abraham, merely 
 to be idle ; but God knows, I knew nothing of sea- 
 business, and he beat me, without considering what 
 he was about. I had still, however, my forty pounds, 
 and that was some comfort to me under every beat- 
 ing ; and the money I might have had to this day 
 
 but that our ship was taken by the French, and so I 
 lost all. 
 
 Our crew was carried into Brest, and many of 
 them died, because they were not used to live in a 
 jail ; but, for my part, it was nothing to me, for I 
 was seasoned. One night, as I was sleeping on the 
 bed of boards, with a warm blanket about me,, for I 
 always loved to lie well, I was awakened by the 
 boatswain, who had a dark lanthorn in his hand ; 
 ' Jack,' says he to me, ' will you knock out the 
 French sentry's brains ?' * I don't care,' says I, 
 striving to keep myself awake, ' if I lend a hand. 
 ' Then follow me,' says he, ' and I hope we shall do 
 business.' So up I got and tied my blanket, which 
 Avas all the clothes I had, about my middle, and 
 went with him to fight the Frenchmen. I hate the 
 French, because they are slaves, and wear wooden 
 shoes. 
 
 Though we had no arms, one Englishman is able 
 to beat live French at any time ; so we went down 
 to the door, where both the sentries w^re posted, 
 and rushing upon them, seized their arms in a mo- 
 ment, and knocked them down. From thence, nine 
 of us ran together to the quay, and, seizing the first 
 boat we met, got out of the harbour and put to sea. 
 We had not been here three days before we were' 
 taken up by the Dorset privateer, who were glad of 
 so many good hands ; and Ave consented to run our 
 chance. However, we had not so much luck as we 
 expected. In three days we fell in with the Pompa- 
 dour privateer, of forty guns, while wc had hut 
 twenty-three; so to it we went, yard-arm and yard- 
 arm. The fight lasted for three hours, and I verily 
 believe we should have taken the Frenchman, had 
 we but had some more men left behind ; but, un- 
 fortunately, we lost all our men just as were going to 
 get the victory. 
 
 I was once more in the power of the French, and 
 1 believe it would have gone hard with me, had I 
 been brought back to Brest ; but by good fortune, 
 we were retaken by the Viper. I had almost forgot 
 to tell you, that, in that engagement, I was wounded 
 in two places; 1 lost four fingers of the left hand, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 333 
 
 and my leg was 'shot off. If I had had the good 
 fortune to have lost my leg and use of my hand on 
 board a king's ship, and not aboard a privaieer, 
 I should have been entitled to clothing and main- 
 tenance during the rest of my life ; but that was not 
 my chance; one man is born with a silver spoon in 
 his mouth, and another with a wooden ladle. How- 
 ever, blessed be God, 1 enjoy good health, and will 
 for ever love liberty and Old England. Liberty, 
 property, and Old England, for ever, huzza ! 
 
 Goldsmith, 
 singular distinction 
 
 A Scotch minister, preaching on the sin of taking 
 God's name in vain; made this singular distinction : 
 *' O Sirs, this is a very great sin; for my own part I 
 would sooner steal all the horned cattle in the pa- 
 rish, than once take God's name in vain." 
 
 ANTICIPATIONS IN LOW LIFE. 
 
 Tn the early part of the reign of George II., the 
 footman of a lady of quality, under the infatuation of 
 a dream, disposed of the savings of the last twenty 
 years of his life in two lottery tickets, which proving 
 blanks, after a few days he put an end to his life. 
 In his box was found the following plan of the man- 
 ner in which he would spend the 50001. prize, which 
 his mistress reserved as a curiosity :— " As soon as I 
 have received the money, I will marry Grace Towers ; 
 but as she has been cross and coy, 1 will use her as 
 a servant. Every morning she shall get me a mug of 
 strong beer, with a toast, nutmeg, and sugar in it ; 
 and I will sleep till ten, after which I will have a 
 large sack posset. My dinner shall be on table bv 
 one, and never without a good pudding. I will have 
 a stock of wine and brandy laid in. About five in the 
 afternoon I will have tarts and jellies, and a gallon 
 bowl of punch, at ten a hot supper of two dishes. If 
 I am in a good humour, and Grace behaves herself, 
 she shall sit down with me.— To bed about twelve." 
 
 NECESSITY . 
 
 A dull barrister once got the nickname of Pieces- 
 iity — because Necessity has no law. 
 
 QUID PItO QUO. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Foote, brother to the actor of that 
 name, being once in a coffee-house, swearing 
 and drinking pretty freely, a Quaker near him said,, 
 " Friend, thou art a scandal to thy cloth." " No, 
 Friend," replied Foote, " my cloth is a scandal to> 
 me" — raising his arm, and shewing a great hole ar 
 two in his coat. 
 
 TINKER AND GLAZIER 
 
 Two thirsty souls met on a sultry day, 
 
 One Glazier Dick, the other Tom the Tinker 
 
 Both with light purses, but with spirits ga} r , 
 
 And hard it were to name the sturdiest drinker. 
 
 Their ale they quaff d ; 
 And as they swigg'd the nappy 
 Tho' both agreed, 'tis said, 
 That trade was wond'rous dead, 
 They jok'd, sung, laugh'd, 
 And were completely happy. 
 
 The landlord's eye, bright as his sparkling ale, 
 Glisten'd to see them the brown pitcher hug, 
 
 For every jest, and song, and merry tale 
 Had this biythe ending — 
 " Bring us t'other mug." 
 
 Now Dick the Glazier feels his bosom burn 
 To do his friend Tom Tinker, a good turn; 
 And where the heart to friendship feels inclin'd, 
 Occasion seldom loiters long behind. 
 
 The kettle singing gaily on the fire, 
 Gives Dick a hint just to his heart's desire ; 
 And while to draw more ale the landlord goes, 
 Dick, in the ashes all the water throws, 
 Then puts the kettle on the fire again, 
 And at the Tinker winks, 
 As " trade's success!" he drinks, 
 Nor doubts the wish'd success Tom will obtain. 
 
 Our landlord ne'er could such a toast withstand : 
 
 So, giving each kind customer a hand, 
 His friendship too display 'd, 
 And drank—*' Success to trade ! " 
 
334 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 But O, how pleasure vanish'd from his eye. 
 
 How long and rueful his round visage grew ; 
 Soon as he saw the kettle's bottom fly, 
 Solder the only fluid he could view ! 
 
 He rav'd, he caper'd, and he swore, 
 
 And curs'd the kettle's bottom o'er and o'er, 
 
 " Come, come ! " says Dick, " fetch us, my friend, 
 more ale ; 
 
 All trades, you know, must live : 
 Let's drink — ' May trade with none of us ne'er fail. 
 
 The job to Tom then give ; 
 And, for the ale he drinks, our lad of mettle, 
 Take my word for it, soon will mend your kettle.'' 
 
 The landlord yields, but hopes 'tis no offence, 
 
 To curse the trade that thrives at his expence. 
 Tom undertakes the job, to work he goes. 
 And just concludes it with the evening's close. 
 
 ioouls so congenial, had friends Tom and Dick, 
 They might be fairly call'd brother and brother ; 
 
 Thought Tom, " to serve my friend I know a trick, 
 And one good turn deserves another ! " 
 
 Out now he slily slips, 
 But not a word he said ; 
 The plot was in his head, 
 
 And off he nimbly trips. 
 Swift to a neighbouring church, his way he takes; 
 
 Nor, in the dark, 
 
 Misses his mark, 
 But every pane of glass he quickly breaks : 
 
 Back as he goes, 
 
 His bosom glows, 
 To think how great will be his friend Dick's J03- 
 At getting so much excellent employ ! 
 
 Return'd, he, beckoning, draws bis friend aside, 
 
 Importance in his face, 
 And, to Dick's ear his mouth applied, 
 
 Thus hriefly states the case— 
 " Dick ? I may give you joy, you're a made man, 
 I've done jour business most complete, my friend 
 I'm off ! the devil catch me if he can ; 
 
 Each window in the church you've got to mend ; 
 
 Ingratitude's worst curse on my head fall, 
 If for your sake I have not broke them all !" 
 
 Tom, with surprise sees Dick turn pale, 
 
 Who deeply sighs—" O, la 1" 
 
 Then drops his under jaw, 
 And all his pow'rs of utt'rance fail ; 
 
 While horror in his ghastly face 
 
 And bursting eyeballs, Tom can trace, 
 Whose sympathetic muscles, just and true, 
 
 Share with the heart, 
 
 Dick's unknown smart, 
 And two such phizzes ne'er met mortal view. 
 
 At length friend Dick his speech regain'd, 
 And soon the mystery explain' d — > 
 
 '• You havo indeed my business done, 
 
 And I, as well as you, must run ; 
 
 For, let me act the best I can, 
 
 Tom ! Tom! I am a ruin'd man 
 Zounds! zounds! this friendship is a foolish act, 
 You did not know with the parish I contract ; 
 Your wish to serve me, then, will cost me dear, 
 I always mend those windows by the year." 
 
 THE ROYAL SHIPWRIGHT. 
 
 King Charles IL was reputed to be a great con- 
 noisseur iti naval architecture. Being once at Chat- 
 ham, to view a ship, just finished, on the stocks, he 
 asked Killegrew, " if he did not think he should 
 make an excellent shipwright :" Killegrew in- 
 stantly replied, " he always thought his Majesty 
 would have done better at any trade than his own.'* 
 
 TRUE WIT. 
 
 True wit is like the brilliant stone 
 
 Dug from Golconda's mine ; 
 W r hich boasts two various powers in one, 
 
 To cut as well as shine. 
 Genius, like that, if polish 'd right, 
 
 With the same gifts abounds; 
 Appears at once both keen and bright^ 
 
 And sparkles white it wounds. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 335 
 
 GETTING INTO DEBT. 
 
 There are three ways of getting into debt ; first, 
 by pushing a face ; as thus : tl You, Mr. Lutestring, 
 send me home six yards of that paduasoy, dammee; 
 but, hearkye, don't think I ever intend to pay you 
 for it, dammee." At this, the mercer laughs 
 heartily : cuts off the paduasoy, and sends it home ; 
 nor is he till too late, surprised to find the gentleman 
 had said nothing but truth, and kept his word. 
 
 The second method of running into debt is called 
 fineering ; which is getting goods made up in such a 
 fashion as to be unfit for every other purchaser, and 
 if the tradesman refuses to give them upon credit, 
 then threaten to leave them upon his hands. 
 
 But the third and best method is called, " Being 
 the good customer." The gentleman first buys some 
 trifle, and pays for it in ready money : he comes a 
 few days after with nothing but bank bills, and buys, 
 we will suppose, a sixpenny tweezer case ; the bills 
 are too great to be changed, so he promises to return 
 punctually the day after, and pays for what he has 
 bought. In this promise he is punctual, and this is 
 repeated for eight or ten times, till his face is well 
 known, and he has got, at last, the character of a good 
 customer. By this means he gets credit for some- 
 thing considerable, and then never pays for it. 
 
 garrick's avarice. 
 Foote often rallied Garrick on his avarice. Gar- 
 rick called upon him one day, and was surprised to 
 see a bust of himself placed upon the bureau. " Is 
 this intended as a compliment to me ?" said Garrick. 
 " Certainly," replied Foote. " And can you trust 
 me so near your cash and your bank-notes ?" ** Yes, 
 very well," said Foote," for you are without hands." 
 
 CLERICAL PREFERMENT. 
 
 Among the daily inquiries after the health of an 
 aged bishop of D****m, during his indisposition, no 
 one was more sedulously punctual than the bishop 
 of E****r, and the invalid seemed to think, that 
 other motives than these of anxious kindness might 
 contribute to this solicitude. One morning he or- 
 dered the messenger to be shown into his room, and 
 thus addressed him : " Be so good as present my 
 
 compliments to my Lord Bishop, and tell him that I 
 am better, much better ; but that the Bishop 01 
 
 W , has got a sore throat arising from a bad 
 
 cold, if that wilt do." 
 
 king's bench practice. — chap. 10th. 
 
 OF JUSTIFYING BAIL. 
 
 Baldwin. Hewit, call Taylor's bail,- -for I 
 
 Shall now proceed to justify. 
 
 Hewit. Where's Taylor's bail? 
 
 1st Bail. I can't get in. 
 
 Hewit. Make way. 
 
 Lord Mansfield. For Heaven's sake begin. 
 
 Hewit. But where's the other ? 
 
 <2d Bail. Here I stand. 
 
 Mingay. I must except to both, — command 
 
 Silence ; — and if your Lordships crave it, 
 
 Austen shall read our affidavit. 
 
 Austen. Will Priddle, late of Fleet-street, gent. 
 
 Makes oath and saith, That late he went 
 
 To Duke's-place, as he was directed 
 
 By notice, and he there expected 
 
 To find both bail — but none could tell 
 
 Where the first bail lived.— 
 
 Mingay. Very well. 
 
 Austen. And this deponent further says, 
 
 That asking what the second was, 
 
 He found he'd brankrupt been, and yet 
 
 Had ne'er obtain'd certificate. 
 
 When to his house deponent wcnt„ 
 
 He full four stories high was sent, 
 
 And found a lodging almost bare ; 
 
 No furniture but half a chair, 
 
 A table, bedstead, broken fiddie, 
 
 And a bureau, (signed) William Priddle. 
 
 Sworn at my chambers, Francis Buller. 
 
 Mingay. No affidavit can be fuller. 
 
 Well, friend, you've heard this affidavit ; 
 
 What do you say ? 
 
 c Zd Bail. Sir, by your leave, it 
 
 Is all a lie. 
 
 Mingay. Sir, have a care 
 
 What is your trade? 
 
 2d Bail, A scavenger. 
 
336 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Mina«V And pray, Sir, we?e you never found a 
 Bankrupt ? 
 
 Srf Bail. I'm worth a thousand pound. 
 Mingay. A thousand pound, friend? Boldly said ! 
 In what consisting ? 
 2d Bail. Stock in trade. 
 
 Mingay. And pray, *Viend, tell me, do you know 
 What sum you're bail for ? 
 2d Bail. ' Truly no. 
 
 Minguy. My Lords, you hear, — no oaths have, 
 check'd him. 
 
 I hope your Lordships will ■ 
 
 Willes. Reject him. 
 
 Mingay. Well, friend, now tell me where you dwell. 
 
 1st Bail. Sir, I have liv'd in Clerkenwell 
 
 These ten years. 
 
 Mingay. ' Haifa guinea dead, (aside) 
 
 My Lords, if you've the notice read, 
 
 It says Duke's-place. So I desire 
 
 A little further time t'enquire. 
 
 Baldwin. Why, Mr. Mingay, all this vapour. 
 
 Willes. Take till to-morrow. 
 
 Lord Mansfield. Call the Paper. 
 
 JOHN BAYNES. 
 SIU THOMAS MORE. 
 
 A lady, in whose favor Sir Thomas More had 
 made a decree in Chancery against a nobleman, 
 having, as a token of her gratitude, presented him 
 with a pair of gloves, and in them forty pounds in 
 angels, as a new years gift, More took the gloves, 
 hut pouring out the money, and returning it, said 
 with a smile, " Since it would be contrary to good 
 manners to refuse a new year's gift from a lady, 
 I am content to take your gloves, but as for the 
 lining, I utterly refuse it." 
 
 STB IKING A BARGAIN. 
 
 A Highlander who sold brooms, went into a bar- 
 ber's shop in Glasgow, a few days since, to get 
 shaved. The barber bought one of his brooms, and, 
 after having shaved him, asked the price of it. 
 " Two- pence,'' said the Highlander. "No, no," 
 said the barber, " Til give you a penny ; if that does 
 not satisfy you, take your broom again." The 
 Highlander took it, and asked what he had got to 
 
 pay 
 
 A penny," said strap. 
 
 give you a 
 
 baubee," said Duncan, " and if that dinna satisfy ye, 
 ye may put on my beard again." 
 
 TRANSLATION BLUNDERS. 
 
 Du Fresnel translated Pope's Essay on Man ; but 
 upon this verse, 
 
 Then, looking up, from sire to sire, explored 
 One great first father, and that first adored — 
 unluckily mistook the term of great first father, and 
 made it great grandfather! Voltaire rendered the 
 words of Shakespeare, " Not a mouse is stirring,' 
 " not a mouse trots!" 
 
 PIOUS SHAVING. 
 
 A sturdy beggar, entered a French tonsor*s shop the 
 eve of Corpus Christi, besought him to take off his 
 beard for God's sake. — " Willingly," replied tiie 
 barber: " here, boy," says he, " whip off this man's 
 beard gratis, in honour of the festival,'' cries, one 
 of his apprentices, to another : " Hack that fellow's 
 chin there.'' The patient made strange wry faces; 
 when seeing a water spaniel come in, mangled in a 
 miserable manner, for having plundered the kitchen, 
 " Poor dog/' says he, " I see by your air that you 
 have been shaved for God's sake." 
 
 MURRAY AND THE BISHOP. 
 
 The publisher of the Quarterly Review one day 
 received a letter, dated Chelsea, signed ** Thomas 
 Winton," proposing to him to publish a " Life of 
 Pitt,'' which he had written in several volumes. 
 He scornfully put it into his pocket, and in a few days 
 mentioned it as a good joke to some literary persons 
 at dinner, that some fellow of the name of Winton, 
 had actually been wasting his time on such a work, 
 and now had the modesty to propose to him to publish 
 it. " Winton," exclaimed a Wykhamist, " whence 
 did he date ?" " Oh ! from Chelsea," said the book- 
 seller. The other suspecting an error of ignorance, 
 desired to see the letter, and on its being produced, 
 it was discovered to be from the Bishop of Winchester, 
 written at the Palace at Chelsea. The bookseller 
 overwhelmed with chagrin, flew to Chelsea, pleaded 
 many excuses for neglect, and was put into possession 
 of the MS. of a work which soon ran .through several 
 large and profitable editions. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 337 
 
 SIMPLICITY. 
 
 A ceuatryroan giving evidence at court, was asked 
 by the counsel if he was born in Wedlock ? " No, 
 «ir," answered the man, " I was born in Devonshire .'" 
 
 ON THE MARRIAGE OF A MISS BROWN TO A 
 MR. FLINT. 
 
 Mary, I thought within your breast, 
 The gentle passions once did rest, 
 Humane and good I deem'd your heart, 
 Inciin'd to take th' unhappy 's part ; 
 I thought for others' woes you felt, 
 Could at a tale of misery melt, 
 And, had it been within your power, 
 Would on distress your bounty shower ; 
 But, now what sudden news I hear ' 
 (You're strangely chang'd, I greatly fear) 
 That after all your goodness past 
 Your heart can turn to Flint at last 
 Well — if the news should e'en prove true, 
 Some good from evil may ensue ; 
 For if affection should increase 
 With downy hours domestic peace, 
 Before that many years are past, 
 You may perhaps strike out at last, 
 (Some lucky moment in the dark) 
 Between you both, a brilliant spark. 
 
 WELSH. GENTILITY. 
 
 "When James I. was en the road near Chester, he 
 was met by such numbers of the Welsh, who came 
 out of curiosity to see him, that the weather being 
 dry, and the roads dusty, he was nearly suffocated, 
 lie was completely at a loss in which manner to rid 
 himself of them civilly ; at last one of his attendants, 
 putting his head out of the coach, said, " It is his 
 majesty's pleasure that those who are the best gen- 
 tlemen shall ride forwards." — Away scampered the 
 Welsh, and but one solitary man was left behind. 
 " And so. sir," says the king to him. " you are not a 
 gentleman, then 1" '"' O yes, and please your ma- 
 jesty, hur is as good a sherrtleman as the rest ; but 
 hue ceffyl, (horse,) God help hur, is not so good." 
 
 LYING. 
 
 I do confess in many a sigh 
 
 My lips have breath'd you many a lie, 
 
 And who, with such delights in view, 
 
 Would lose them for a lie or two 1 
 
 Nay, look not thus with brow reproving, 
 
 Lies are, my dear, the soul of loving. 
 
 If half we tell the girls were true ; 
 
 If half we swear to think or do, 
 
 Were aught but lying's bright illusion '. 
 
 The world would be in strange confusion. 
 
 If ladies' eyes were every one, 
 As lovers swear, a radiant sun, 
 Astronomy should leave the skies 
 To learn her lore from ladies' eyes. 
 Oh no ; believe me ! lovely girl, 
 When nature turns your teeth to pearl, 
 Your neck to snow, your eyes tojlre, 
 Your yellow locks to golden wire, 
 Then only then, can Heaver! decree, 
 That you should live for only me — 
 Or I for you : as night and morn 
 We've swearing kiss'd and kissing sworn. 
 And aow, my gentle hints to clear, 
 For once I'll tell you truth, my dear ! 
 Whenever you may chance to meet 
 A loving youth, whose love is sweet, 
 Long as you're false, and he believes you, 
 Long as you trust, and he deceives you, 
 So long the blissful bond endures, 
 And while he lies, he's wholly yours. 
 But oh ! you've wholly lost the youth 
 The instanc that he tells you truth. Moore. 
 
 VAN TROMP. 
 
 The Dutch admiral Van Tromp, who was a large 
 heavy man, was once challenged by -a thin active 
 French officer. We are not upon ecpial terms with 
 rapiers, said Van Tromp, but call upon me to-morrow- 
 morning, and we will adjust the affair better. When 
 the Frenchman called, he found the Dutch admiral 
 bestriding a barrel of gunpowder : There is room 
 enough for you, said Van Tromp, at the other end of 
 
338 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 the barrel ; sit down, there is a match ; and as you 
 were the challenger, give fire. The Frenchman was 
 thunderstruck at this terrible mode of fighting : but 
 as the Dutch admiral told him he would fight no 
 other way, terms of accommodation ensued. 
 
 ON THE LETTER H. 
 
 'Twas in Heaven pronounced, it was mutter'd in 
 
 Hell, 
 And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell : 
 On the confines of eartSfe 'twas permitted to rest, 
 And the depths of the ocean its presence confest. 
 'Twill be found in the sphere, when 'tis riven asun- 
 der : 
 'Tis seen in the lightning, and heard in the t/mnder. 
 'Twas allotted to man, with his earliest breatA, 
 It assists at his birt/«, it attends him in deatA. 
 Presides o'er his Aappiness, Aonour, and Aealth, 
 Is the prop of his Aouse, and the end of his wealth. 
 It begins every Aope, -every wish it must bound ; 
 And tho' unaspiring, with monarcAs is crown'd : 
 In the Aeaps of the miser 'tis hoarded with care, 
 But is sure to be lost in his prodigal heir. 
 "Without it the soldier, the seaman, may roam, 
 But woe to the wretch, who expels it from home. 
 In the whispers of conscience its voice will be found, 
 Nor e'en in the whirlwind of passion be drowned. 
 'Twill not soften the Aeart, but tho' deaf to the ear 
 'Twill make it acutely and constantly heax. 
 But in sAade let it rest, like a delicate flower ; 
 Oh ! breathe on it softly — it dies in an hour. 
 
 Byron. 
 ducks and chickens. 
 
 When Rowland Hill was erecting his chapel in 
 Blackfriars Road, many of his congregation resorted 
 to a Baptist's meeting-house in that neighbourhood : 
 this the divine did not like ; and one day when a 
 number of his flock , who were passing to the house of 
 ablution, stopped to look at the bricklayers employed 
 in the building, some of the workmen, by asking them 
 for money to drink, drove them away; but as they 
 were going, Rowland cried to the carpenters, " Come 
 lads, get on, get on ; if you trifle in this way, all my 
 
 chickens will be turned into ducks before my coop is 
 ready to receive them." 
 
 THE OXONIAN. A CRAZY TALE. 
 
 A young Oxonian, not o'erstock'd with knowledge, 
 Like many others, who are sent to college, 
 Who, taken from their country schools 
 And dread inspiring birch, 
 Are put apprentices to Mrs. Church, 
 And learn — to make themselves consummate fools. 
 But to my tale ; — this son of sable hues 
 Would oft, his leisure hours to amuse, 
 When unobserv'd, take copious draughts of wine, 
 (The luscious produce of the purple vine,) 
 And get his cranium in a pretty funk, 
 Or get (in plainer English) screeching drunk. 
 Moreover he was fond of cards and dice, 
 (In latter days too prevalent a vice :) 
 Could swear, and run in debt, and when, forsooth, 
 Some luckless tradesman would request this youth, 
 " To have the condescension to discharge 
 His bill, which now was growing rather large — •" 
 He'd kick his breech, or pluck the caitiff's hairs, 
 And knock him down a dozen pair of stairs. 
 — This to be sure now, was not very civil, 
 But shows that cassocks sometimes clothe the devil. 
 These pretty tricks, the reader may rely, 
 
 Could not be long conceal'd 
 Trom dame Inspection's penetrating eye, 
 
 But to the President were soon reveal'd. 
 In vain did he his hapless fate bewail ; 
 In vain for pardon did the youth implore 
 (Which oft had been obtain 'd by bribes before :) 
 Then dropt a piteous tear, 
 Nor prayers nor tears will now avail- 
 He's summon'd to appear. 
 High on his chair the reverend father sat, 
 In all the dignity of pride and fat ; 
 
 High on his head his wig portentous frown'd, 
 The youth with dread beheld his awful state — 
 Decider of his good or evil fate — 
 
 Whilst thus his words throughout the hall resound , 
 " Young man — 
 As life is but a span, 
 
 
THE LA.UGIJING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 It ought to be our constant care 
 
 Whilst we are suffer 'd to remain on earth, 
 To tread in virtue's paths, and thus prepare 
 
 Our souls to meet a future birth. 
 It is with sorrow I'm oblig'd to say 
 
 Your conduct the reverse of this does prove : 
 j I'm told that you disdain fair virtue's sway, 
 
 That through the various scenes of vice you rove ; 
 That 'stead of minding Homer you are sporting, 
 Without a sigh, your honour' d father's fortune. 
 Desist, rash youth, no more his bosom sting, 
 
 Or, if you'd wish your father's life to save, 
 Reform your conduct, or you'll surely bring 
 
 His old grey hairs with sorrow to the grave." 
 The youth, here smiling, rose, and rising cried — 
 
 " Excuse my interrupting your discourse, 
 
 To me a very painful source, 
 Though certainly too well applied : 
 But, Sir, I beg permission to remark, 
 
 That I am not afraid of what you mention, 
 Although," observes our hopeful spark, 
 
 " I thank you for your good intention : 
 You say, if I continue thus to sting 
 My father's bosom, I shall surely bring 
 
 His grey hairs to the grave, with sorrow big — 
 On that score, reverend Sir, withhold your fears — 
 Lord, Sir— my father, for these thirty years, 
 
 Has worn a wig!" 
 
 MATRIMONIAL CREED. 
 
 Whoever will be married, before all things it is 
 necessary, that he hold the conjugal faith in this. 
 That there were two rational beings created, both 
 equal, and yet one superior to the other, and the 
 inferior shall bear rule over the superior ; which faith, 
 except every one do keep whole and undefiled, with- 
 out doubt he shall be. scolded everlastingly. 
 
 The man is superior to the woman, and the woman 
 is inferior to the man ; yet both are equal, and the 
 woman shall govern the man. 
 
 The woman is commanded to obey the man, and 
 the man ought to obey the woman ; and yet there 
 are not two obedients, but one obedient. 
 q2 
 
 339 
 
 For there is one dominion nominal of the husband, 
 and another dominion real of the wife ; and yet there 
 are not two dominions, but one dominion. 
 
 For, like as we are compelled by the Christian 
 verity to acknowledge, that wives must submit them- 
 selves to their husbands, and be subject to them in 
 all things ; so are we forbidden by the conjugal faith 
 to say, that they should be at all influenced by their 
 wills, or pay any regard to their commands. 
 
 The. man was not created for the woman, but the 
 woman for the man ; yet the man shall be the slave 
 of the woman, and the woman the tyrant of the man ; 
 so that in all things, as is aforesaid, the subjection of 
 the superior to the inferior is to be believed^ 
 
 He, therefore, that will be married, must thus 
 think of the woman and the man. 
 
 Furthermore, it is necessary to submissive matri- 
 mony, that he also believe rightly the infallibility of 
 the wife : 
 
 For the right faith is, that we believe and confess, 
 that the wife is fallible and infallible : 
 
 Perfectly fallible, and perfectly infallible ; of an 
 erring soul, and an unerring mind, subsisting ; falli- 
 ble as touching her human nature, and infallible as 
 touching her female sex. 
 
 Who, although she be fallible, and infallible, yet. 
 she is not two, but one woman : who submitted to 
 lawful marriage, to acquire unlawful dominion ; and 
 promised religiously to obey, that she might rule in 
 injustice and folly. 
 
 This is the conjugal faith ; which, except a man 
 believe faithfully, he cannot enter the state of matri- 
 mony. 
 
 THE MONK AND THE JEW J OR, CATHOLIC CONVERT. 
 
 To make new converts truly bless'd, 
 A Recipe — Probatum est. 
 Stern winter, clad in frost and snow, 
 Had now forbade the streams to flow ; 
 And skaiting peasants swiftly glide, 
 Like swallows, o'er the slipp'ry tide; 
 When Mordecai, upon whose face 
 The synagogue you plain might trace, 
 
340 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Fortune, with smiles deceitful, bore 
 
 To a curs'd hole, but late skirm'd o'er; 
 
 Down plumps the Jew; but, in a trice, 
 
 Rising he caught the friendly ice. 
 
 He grasp'd ; he yell'd, a hideous cry : 
 
 No friendly help, alas ! was nigh ; 
 
 Save a poor monk — who quickly ran, 
 
 To snatch from death the drowning man. 
 
 But when the holy father saw 
 
 A limb of the Mosaic law, 
 
 His outstretch'd hand he quick withdrew — 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, help V exclaims the Jew. 
 
 " Turn Christian first !" the father cries. 
 
 " I'm froze to death," the Jew replies. 
 
 " Froze !" quoth the monk ; " too soon you'll 
 
 know, 
 There's fire enough for Jews below. 
 Renounce your unbelieving crew, 
 And help is near." — " I do, I do !" 
 " Damn all your brethren, great and small." 
 " With all my heart — O, damn 'em all ! 
 Now help me out." — " There's one thing more : 
 Salute this cross, and Christ adore." 
 " There, there ! I Christ adore !" — " Tis well ; 
 Thus arm'd, defiance bid to Hell. 
 And yet another thing remains, 
 To guard against eternai pains : 
 Do you our Papal Father hold 
 Heav'n's vicar, and believe all told 
 By holy church V — " I do, by G — d ! 
 
 One. moment more, I'm food for cod ! 
 
 Drag, drag me out ; I freeze, I die !" 
 
 " Your peace, my friend, is made on high. 
 
 Full absolution here I give ; 
 
 Saint Peter will your soul receive. 
 
 W'sh'd clean from sin, and duly shriv 5 n, 
 
 New converts always go to heav'n. 
 
 No hour, for death, so lit as this : 
 
 Thus, thus, I launch you into bliss." 
 
 So said — the father, in a trice, 
 
 His convert launch'd beneath the ice. 
 
 SIGNS AND TOKENS. 
 
 If you see 'a man and woman, with little or no ! 
 occasion, often finding fault, and correcting each other 
 in company, you may be sure they are husband and 
 wife. — If you see a lady and gentleman in the same 
 coach in profound silence, the one looking out of one 
 window, and the other at the opposite side, be as- 
 sured they mean no harm to each other, but are i [ 
 husband and wife. — If you see a lady accidentally!: 
 let fall a glove or a handkerchief, and a gentleman 
 that is next to her tell her of it, that she may herself 
 pick it up, set them down for husband and wife. — 
 If you see a man and woman walk in the fields at, 
 twenty yards distance, in a direct line, and the man 
 striding over a stile and still going on, sa?is cercmo- 
 nie, you may swear they are husband and wife. — If 
 you see a lady whose beauty attracts the notice of i 
 £very person present, except one man, and he speaks 
 to her in a rough manner, and does not appear at all' 
 affected by her charms, depend upon it they are hits.- j 
 band and wife. 
 
 ' AN ELEGY ON MRS. MARY BEAIZE. 
 
 Good people all, with one accord, 
 
 Lament for Madam Blaize ; 
 Who never wanted a good word 1 
 
 From those who spoke her praise. 
 The needy seldom pass'd her door, 
 
 And always found her kind; .< 
 
 She freely lent to all the poor 
 
 Who left a pledge behind. j* 
 
 She strove the neighbourhood to please, I 
 
 With manners wond'rous winning ; |( 
 
 And never follow'd wicked ways, '£ 
 
 Unless when she was sinning, 
 At church in silks and satins new, 
 
 With hoops of monstrous size ; ' 
 
 She never slumber'd in her pew, i 
 
 But when she shut her eyes. \i 
 
 Her love was sought, I do aver, 
 
 By twenty beaux and more ; 
 The king himself has followed her 
 
 When she has walk'd before. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 341 
 
 But now her wealth and finery fled, 
 
 Her hangers-on cut short all ; 
 Her doctors found, when she was dead, 
 
 Her last disorder mortal. 
 Let us lament, in sorrow sore, 
 
 For Kent-street well may say, 
 That had she liv'd a twelvemonth more, 
 
 She had not died to-day. Goldsmith. 
 
 STELLA AND HER DOCTOR. 
 
 Swift's Stella being extremely ill, her physician 
 said, " Madam, you are certainly near the bottom of 
 the bill, but we shall endeavour to get you up again." 
 She replied, " Doctor, I am afraid I shall be out of 
 breath before I get to the top again." 
 
 IMPROMPTU ON A BANKRUPT, LATELY TURNED 
 PREACHER. 
 
 No more by creditors perplex'd. . 
 
 Or ruin'd tradesmen's angry din ; 
 He boldly preaches from the text, 
 
 " A stranger, and / took him t»." 
 
 THE MIRACLE. 
 
 An honest tar, being at a quaker's meeting, heard 
 the friend that was holding forth speak with great 
 vehemence against the ill consequence of giving the 
 lie in conversation ; and therefore advised that, Avhen 
 any man told a tale not consistent with truth or 
 probability, the hearer should only cry " Twang !" 
 which could not irritate people to passion like the lie. 
 Afterwards he digressed into the story of the miracle 
 of five thousand being fed with five loaves of bread, 
 &c. he then told them that they were not such loaves 
 as those used now-a-days, but were as big as moun- 
 tains ; at which the tar uttered with a loud voice — 
 " Twang." — " What," says the quaker, " dost thou 
 think- I lie, friend." — " No," says Jack, u but I am 
 thinking how big the ovens were that baked them." 
 
 SPONGING. 
 
 I never dine at home, said Harry Skinner ; 
 True ! when you dine not out, you get no dinner. 
 
 CONTRADICTION. 
 
 A young clergyman having buried three wives, a 
 lady asked him how he happened to be so lucky. 
 " Madam," replied he, " T knew they could not live 
 without contradiction, so I let them ail have their 
 own way." 
 
 ON FINDING A PAIR OF SHOES ON A LADy's BED. 
 
 Well may suspicion shake his head ! 
 
 Well may Ciorinda's spouse be jealous ! 
 When the dear wanton takes to bed 
 
 Her very shoes, because they're fellows ! - 
 
 NAUTICAL SERMON. 
 
 When Whitfield preached before the seamen at 
 New York, he had the following bold apostrophe iu. 
 his sermon : — " Well, my boys, we have a clear sky 
 and are making fine headway over a smooth sea, be- 
 fore a light breeze, and we shall soon lose sight of land. 
 But what means this sudden lowering of the heavens, 
 and that dark cloud arising from beneath the western 
 horizon? Hark.! Don't you hear distant thunder'? 
 Don't you see those flashes of lightning ? There is a 
 storm gathering ! Every man to his duty ! How the 
 waves rise, and dash against the ship ! The air is 
 dark ! The air is dark ! The tempest rages ! Our 
 masts are gone ! The ship is on her beam ends ! 
 What next 1" The unsuspecting tars, suddenly arose 
 and exclaimed, Take to the long- boat. 
 
 THE POOR POET TO HIS CAT. 
 
 Tabby, methinks thou much resemblest me, 
 
 In musing posture, as beside the fire 
 Thou sitt'st. And now pray let me question thee, 
 
 What sorrows or what whims thy breast inspire? 
 Hast thou a kitten, querulous for food ; 
 
 Or dwells thy thought upon some absent rover, 
 Who spends the night, (O base ingratitude !) 
 
 Regardless of thy charms, with some new lover 1 
 Or does the nibbling of that hungry mouse, 
 
 Behind the wainscot, draw thy deep attention, 
 And art thou planning, guardian of the house! 
 
 Sage methods for the prowler's apprehension ? 
 Whate'er thy grievances, they're but ideal, 
 Whilst mine, alas ! are palpable and real. 
 
342 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF UGLINESS. 
 
 In the reign of Lewis XIV. a gentleman, who had 
 suffered by the law's delay, was promised speedy jus- 
 tice by a nobleman, who brought the gentleman to 
 Versailles, to present him to his majesty. The re- 
 quest being granted by the king, his majesty asked 
 the peer what connection he had with the man whose 
 interest he had so warmly espoused. " Not any," re- 
 plied he j " indeed, so far from it, that I never saw 
 him in my life till the other day." " What !" replied 
 the king, " had you never seen him before 1 How, 
 then, could you be under that obligation to him which 
 you talk of? "O, sire !" exclaimed the nobleman, " has 
 not your majesty perceived that, till he was brought 
 forward, I was supposed to have been the ugliest 
 man in your dominions 1 The exception he has en- 
 abled me to make is surely a very great obligation." 
 
 THE DOCTOR AND CAPTAIN, A TALE FROM BATH. 
 
 In Bladud's city, place of vast renown, 
 "Where, in the season, wealthy cits from town 
 Escort their wives and pretty daughters, 
 To make a dash, 
 To cut a splash, 
 To dance, to play at cards, and drink the waters — 
 A strife arose 'twixt men of high condition, 
 A captain this, and that a grave physician. 
 One morn, the hero of the scarlet coat, 
 Upon the doctor's gate, v/ith pencil, wrote 
 
 <( Scoundrel /" in letters clear and plain : 
 The doctor saw : amaz'd he stood, 
 He long'd to let the captain blood : 
 And, waxing wroth, he grasp'd his gold-topp'd cane, 
 Then sallied forth, and, after various dodgings, 
 At length he found the noble captain's lodgings ; 
 
 There, in politeness to be conquer'd, scorning, 
 He told the servant, with an arch regard, 
 " Give to your master doctor Pestle's card, 
 
 Tor at my gate he left his name this morning." 
 
 ETYMOLOGY AND LAW. 
 
 Shortly after Lord Eldin, the Scotch judge, assumed 
 his seat on the bench as a judge, a gentleman re- 
 
 marked to him, that his title would be very apt to be 1 
 confounded with that of the Lord Chancellor. To 
 this observation Lord Eldin answered, " The differ- 
 ence between his Lordship and me is all my eye /" 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 With bridal cake beneath her head, 
 
 As Jenny prest her pillow, 
 She dreamt that lovers, thick as hops, 
 
 Hung pendent from the willow. 
 
 Around her spectres shook their chains, 
 
 And goblins kept their station ; 
 They pull'd, they pinch'd her, till she swore 
 
 To spare the male creation. 
 
 Before her now the buck, the beau, 
 
 The 'squire, the captain trips ; 
 The modest seiz'd her hand to kiss, 
 
 The forward seiz'd her lips. 
 
 For some she felt her bosom pant, 
 
 For some she felt it smart ; 
 To all she gave enchanting smiles, 
 
 To oue she gave her heart. 
 
 She dreamt — (for magic charms prevail'd, 
 
 And fancy play'd her farce on) 
 That, soft reclin'd in elbow chair, 
 
 She kiss'd a sleeping parson. 
 
 She dreamt — but O, rash muse ! forbear, 
 
 Nor virgin's dreams pursue ; ' 
 
 Yet blest above the gods is he, 
 Who proves such visions true. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. [ 
 
 A Margate advertisement, by an ass-lender, whose: 
 donkies are alternately employed by ladies and smug- 1 
 glers : — 
 
 Asses here to be let ; for all purposes right, 
 To bear angeh by day, and spirits by night. 
 
 MONSIEUR TONSON. 
 
 There liv'd, as fame reports, in days of yore, 
 At least some fifty years ago, or more, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 343 
 
 A pleasant wight, on town yclep'd Tom King ; 
 A fellow that was clever at a joke ; 
 Expert in all the arts to tease and smoke ; 
 
 In short, for strok.es of humour quite the thing. 
 
 To many a jovial club this King was known, 
 With whom his active wit unrivall'd shone : 
 
 Choice spirit, grave free-mason, buck and blood, 
 Would crowd his stories and bon-mots to hear ; 
 And none a disappointment e'er could fear, 
 
 His humour flow'd in such a copious flood. 
 
 To him a frolic was a high delight ; 
 
 A frolic he would hunt for day and night, 
 
 Careless how prudence on the sport might frown : 
 If e'er a pleasant mischief sprung to view, 
 At once o'er hedge and ditch away he flew; 
 
 Nor left the game till he had run it down. 
 
 One night our hero, rambling with a friend, 
 Near fam'd St. Giles's chanc'd his course to bend, 
 
 Just by that spot the Seven Dials hight : 
 Twas silence all around, and clear the coast ; 
 The watch, as usual, dozing on his post ; 
 
 And scarce a lamp display'd a twinkling light. 
 
 Around this place there liv'd the num'rous clans 
 Of honest, plodding, foreign artizans, 
 
 Known at that time by name of Refugees : 
 The rod of persecution, from their home 
 Compell'd the inoffensive race to roam ; 
 
 And here they lighted like a swarm of bees. 
 
 Well! our two friends were saunt'ring through the 
 
 street, 
 In hopes some food for humour soon to meet ; 
 
 When, in a window near, a light they view, 
 And, though a dim and melancholy ray, 
 It seem'd the prologue to some merry play ; 
 
 So tow'rds the gloomy dome our hero drew. 
 
 Straight at the door he gave a thund'ring knock— 
 The time we may suppose near two o'clock. 
 
 " I'll ask," says King, " if Thomson lodgeshere.'' 
 " Thomson I" cries t'other, " who the devil's he ]" 
 " I know not," King replies ; " but want to see 
 
 What kind of animal will now appear." 
 
 After some time, a little Frenchman came— 
 One hand display'd a rushlight's trembling flame, 
 
 The other held a thing they call culotte; 
 An old strip'd woollen nightcap grac'd his head, 
 A tatter'd waistcoat o'er one shoulder spread — 
 
 Scarce half awake, he heav'd a yawning note. 
 Tho' thus untimely rous'd, he courteous smil'd, 
 And soon address'd our wag in accents mild, 
 
 Bending his head politely to his knee — 
 u Pray, Sare, vat vant you, dat you come so late 1 
 I beg your pardon, Sare, to make you vait : 
 
 Pray, tell me, Sare, vat your commands vid me ! 
 " Sir," replied King, " I merely thought to know, 
 As by your house, I chanc'd to-night to go — 
 
 But really I distmh'd your sleep, I fear ! 
 I say, I thought that you, perhaps, could tell, 
 Among the folks who in this street may dwell, 
 
 If there's a Mr. Thomson lodges here!" 
 The shiv'ring Frenchman, tho' not pleas'd to find 
 The business of this unimportant kind, 
 
 Too simple to suspect 'twas meant in jeer, 
 Shrugg'd out a sigh, that thus his rest should break ; 
 Then, with unalter'd courtesy he spake — 
 
 " No, Sare ; no Monsieur Tonson lodges here." 
 Our wag begg'd pardon, and tow-'rds home he sped, 
 While the poor Frenchman crawl'd again to bed ; 
 
 But King resolv'd not thus to drop the jest : 
 So, the next night, with more of whim than grace, 
 Again he made a visit to the place, 
 
 To break once more the poor old Frenchman's rest. 
 He knock'd — but waited longer than before ; 
 No footstep seem'd approaching to the door : 
 
 Our Frenchman lay in such a sleep profound. 
 King with the knocker thunder'd then again, 
 Firm on his post determin'd to remain ; 
 
 And oft, indeed, he made the door resound. 
 At last King hears him o'er the passage creep, 
 Wond'ring what fiend again disturb'd his sleep, 
 
 The wag salutes him with a civil leer; 
 Thus drawling out, to heighten the surprise,. 
 While the poor Frenchman rubb'd his heavy eyes— 
 
 " Is there— a Mr. Thomson lodges here?" 
 
344 
 
 THE LAUGHING 
 
 The Frenchman falter'd with a kind of fright-- 
 " Vy Sare, I'm sure I tell you, Sure, last night ! 
 
 And here he labour'd with a sigh sincere— 
 " No Monsieur Tonson in the varld I know ; 
 IsTo Monsieur Tonson here— I told you so ; ^ 
 
 Indeed, Sare, dere no Monsieur Tonson here ! 
 Some more excuses tender'd, off King goes ; 
 And the old Frenchman sought once more repose. 
 
 The rogue next night pursu'd his old career : 
 'Twas long, indeed, before the man came nigh ;. 
 And then he utter 'd in a piteous cry — 
 
 " Sare, 'pon my soul no Monsieur Tonson here ! 
 Our sportive wight his usual visit paid ; 
 And, the next night, came forth a prattling maid, 
 
 Whose tongue, indeed, than any jack went faster 
 Anxious she strove his errand to inquire ; 
 He said 'twas vain her pretty tongue to tire ; 
 
 He should not stir till he had seen her master. 
 The damsel then began in doleful state, 
 The Frenchman's broken slumbers to relate, 
 
 And begg'd he'd call at proper time of day : 
 King told her, she must fetch her master down ; 
 A chaise was ready— he was leaving town ; 
 
 But first had much of deep concern to say. 
 Thus urg'd, she went the snoring man to call j 
 And long, indeed, was she oblig'd to bawl, 
 
 Ere she could rouse the torpid lump of clay : 
 At last he wakes— he rises— and he swears ; 
 But, scarcely had he totter'd down the stairs, 
 
 When King attacks him in the usual way. 
 The Frenchman now perceiv'd 'twas all in vain, 
 To this tormentor mildly to complain, 
 
 And straight in rage began his crest to rear— 
 *' Sare, vat de devil make you treat me so 1 
 Sare, I inform you, Sare, tree nights ago : 
 
 Got dam, I swear, no Monsieur Tonson here ! 
 True as the night King went and heard a strife 
 Between the harass'd Frenchman and his wife, 
 
 Which should descend to chase the fiend away: 
 At length to join their forces they agree ; 
 And straight impetuously they turn the key, 
 
 Prepar'd with mutual fury for-thefray. 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Our hero, with the firmness of a rock, 
 Collected-to receive the mighty shock, 
 
 Utt'ring the old inquiry, calmly stood. 
 The name of Thomson rais'd the storm so high, 
 He deem'd it, then, the safest plan to fly, 
 
 With — "WelLI'll call when you're in gentler mood." 
 In short, our hero, with the same intent, 
 Full many a night, to plague the Frenchman, went; 
 
 So fond of mischief was the wicked wit ! 
 They throw out water, for the watch they call, 
 But King, expecting, still escapes from all. 
 
 Monsieur, at last, was forc'd his house to quit. 
 It happen'd that our wag, about this time, 
 On some fair prospect, sought the eastern clime : 
 
 Six ling'riug years were, there, his tedious lot 1 
 At length° content, amid his ripening store, 
 He treads again on Britain's happy shore, 
 
 And his long absence is at once forgot. 
 To London with impatient hope he flies, 
 And the same night as former freaks arise, 
 
 He fain must stroll, the well-known haunt to trace. 
 " Ah ! here's the scene of frequent mirth," he said : 
 " My poor old Frenchman, I suppose, is dead, 
 
 Egad ! I'll knock, and see who holds his place." 
 With rapid strokes he makes the mansion roar ; 
 And while he, eager, eyes the op'ning door, 
 
 Lo ! who obeys the knocker's rattling peal 1 
 Why e'en our Frenchman ! Strange perhaps to say, 
 He took his old abode that very 'day : — 
 
 Capricious turn of sportive fortune's wheel ! 
 Without one thought of the relentless fee ! 
 Who, fiend-like, haunted him so long ago, 
 
 Just in his former trim he now appears : 
 The waistcoat and the nightcap seemed the same ; 
 With rushlight, as before, he creeping came ; 
 
 And King's detested voice astonish'd hears. 
 As if some hideous spectre struck his sight, 
 His senses seem'd bewilder'd with affright ; 
 
 His face, indeed, bespoke a heart full sore : 
 Then, starting, he exclaimed, in rueful strain— 
 " Beo-ar ! here's Monsieur Tonson come again !" j 
 
 Away he ran ; and ne'er was heard of more. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 AN EYE TO BUSINESS. 
 
 A surveyor of taxes for the ward of Chester in the 
 county of Durham, whose income is derivable from 
 surcharges, requested a friend to furnish him with a 
 motto for a seal. The latter recommended him + o 
 take the last words of Marmion, " Charge, Chester, 
 charge." 
 
 THE PILGRIMS AND THE TEAS. 
 
 A brace of sinners, for no good, 
 
 Were ordered to the Virgin Mary's shrine, 
 j "Who at Loretto dwelt, in wax, stone, wood, 
 
 And, in a curl'd white wig, look'd wond'rous fine. 
 
 Fifty long miles had these sad rogues to travel, 
 With something in their shoes much worse than 
 
 gravel : 
 In shore, their toes, so gentle to amuse, 
 The priest had order'd peas into their shoes. 
 
 A nostrum famous in old Popish times 
 Tor purifying souls that stunk with crimes, 
 
 A sort of apostolic salt, 
 
 That Popish parsons for its powers exalt, 
 Por keeping souls of sinners sweet, 
 Just as our kitchen salt keeps meat. 
 
 The knaves set off on the same day, 
 Peas in their shoes, to go and pray, 
 
 But very different, was their speed, I wot : 
 One of the sinners gallop'd on, 
 Pi?ht as a bullet from a gun, 
 
 The other limp'd as if he had been shot. 
 
 Oi-.e saw the Virgin, soon peccavi cry'd — 
 Had his soul white vvash'd all so clever : 
 
 'When home again he nimbly hied, 
 
 Made fit with saints above to live for ever. 
 
 In coming back, however, let me say, 
 He met his brother rogue about half way : 
 Hobbling with out-stretch 'd bum and bending knees, 
 Damning the souls and bodies of the peas : 
 His eyes in tears, his cheeks and brow in sweat, 
 Deep sympathizing with his groaning feet. 
 q3 
 
 345 
 
 " How now !" the light-toed, whitewash'd, pilgrim 
 broke, 
 
 " You lazy lubber !" 
 " Od's curse it !" cried the t'other, " 'tis no joke — 
 My feet, once hard as ony rock, 
 
 Are now as soft as blubber. 
 Excuse me, Virgin Mary, that I swear ; 
 As for Loretto, I shall not get there ; 
 No ! to the dev'l my sinful soul must go, 
 For d — me if I ha'nt lost every toe. 
 But, brother sinner, do explain 
 How 'tis that you are not in pain ; 
 
 What power hath work'd a wonder for your toes 1 
 Whilst I, just like a snail, am crawling, 
 Now swearing, now on saints devoutly bawling, 
 Whilst not a rascal comes to ease my woes. 1 
 How is't that you can like a greyhound go, 
 
 As merry, as if nought had happen'd, burn ye!' 
 " Why," cry'd the other, grinning, " you must know, 
 That just before I ventur'd on my journey, 
 To walk a little more at ease, 
 I took the liberty to boil my peas." P. Pindar. 
 
 a CHOICE. 
 
 An Irishman was once brought up before a magis- 
 trate, charged with marrying six wives. The magis- 
 trate asked him how he could be so hardened, a 
 villain? Please your Worship, (says Paddy) I was 
 trying to get a good one. 
 
 A COOL RETORT. 
 
 Henderson the actor was seldom known to be in 
 a passion. When at Oxford he was one day debating 
 with a fellow- student, who, not keeping his temper, 
 threw a glass of wine in his face. Mr. Henderson 
 took out his handkerchief, wiped his face, and coolly 
 said, " That, Sir, was a digression ; now for the ar- 
 gument." 
 
 FRANK HAMAN. 
 
 Frank Haman, once a brother of the brush, 
 Had talents much distinguish'd in his day ; 
 
 But for his art he hardly car'd a rush, 
 If some odd mischief stumbled in his way; 
 
346 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 This wag was deem'd by all the social tribe 
 A jovial, easy, careless, pleasant fellow, 
 
 Fond of a frolic, ready at a gibe, 
 -And sometimes in his cups a little mellow. 
 
 He, being tempted by a pleasant day, 
 After a long contention with the gout, 
 A foe that oft besieg'd him, sallied out, 
 
 To breathe fresh air, and wile an hour away. 
 It chanc'd as he was strolling, void of care, 
 A drunken porter pass'd him with a hare. 
 
 The hare was o'er his shoulder flung, 
 
 Dangling behind, in piteous plight, 
 And as he crept in zig-zag style, 
 Making the most of every mile, 
 From side to side poor pussy swung, 
 As if each moment taking flight. 
 A dog, who saw the man's condition, 
 A lean and hungry politician, 
 On the look-out, was lurking close behind ; 
 A sly and subtle chap, 
 Of most sagacious smell, 
 Like politicians of a higher kind, 
 Ready to snap 
 At any thing that fell. 
 The porter stagger'd on, the dog kept near, 
 
 Watching the lucky minute for a bite, 
 Now made a spring, and then drew back with fear, 
 
 While Hainan follow'd, titt'ring at the sight. 
 Great was the contrast 'twixt the man and dog ; 
 
 The one a negligent and stupid lout, 
 
 That seem'd to know not what he was about ; 
 The other keen, observant, all agog. 
 
 Nor need it wonderment excite, I ween, 
 
 That Haman clos'd the train to mark the scene. 
 Thro' many a street our tipsy porter reels, 
 
 Then stops — as if to solemn thoughts inclin'd — 
 The watchful dog was ready at his heels, 
 
 And Haman hobbled on not far behind. 
 Then rolling on again, the man survey'd 
 
 One of those happy mansions, where 
 A cordial drop imparts its cheering aid 
 
 To all the thirsty sons of care. 
 
 The sight of this refreshing place, 
 
 The scent that hails him from the door, 
 
 Arrest at once his rambling pace — 
 As they had often done before. 
 
 Mine host, with accents that were wond'rous kind, 
 
 Invites him in, a jolly crew to join; 
 The man the gen'rous courtesy declin'd, 
 
 Merely, perhaps, for want of thirst — or coin. 
 
 Straight on a bench without, he stretched along, 
 Regardless of the passing throng, 
 And soon his weary eyelids close, 
 While Somnus soothes him to repose. 
 The hare now prostrate at his back, 
 This was the time to get a snack. 
 The dog, unable longer to refrain, 
 Gaz'd at the hare, 
 Who caus'd his care, 
 Jumpt and bit, jumpt and bit, jumpt and bit, and 
 bit again. 
 
 At length, when he had clear 'd away the rest, 
 The sated spoiler finish'd on the breast. 
 Then having made a hearty meal, 
 He carelessly turn'd on his heel, 
 Nor thought of asking " What's to pay ?'* 
 But scamper'd at his ease away ; 
 Perhaps to find some four -foot fair, 
 And Jell the story of the hare. 
 And here some sage, with moral spleen, may say, 
 
 " This Haman should have driv'n the dog away, 
 Th' effects of vice the blameless should not bear, 
 And folks that are not drunkards lose their hare.'; 
 All this we grant is very true — 
 But in this giddy world how few 
 To virtue's heights sublimely move, 
 Relinquishing the things they love. f 
 
 Not so unfashionably good, >. 
 
 Our waggish painter laughing stood, A 
 
 In hopes more sport to find j 
 
 Dispos'd to keep in view his game, |J 
 
 And with th' ambitious Thane exclaim, i 
 
 fi The greatest is behind." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 M\ 
 
 Besides, he knew, whate'er the plan 
 That tempts the fond pursuits of man, 
 Though pleasure may the course attend, 
 The wise are heedful of the end. 
 
 Hence, though of mirth a lucky store, 
 
 So aptly tumbled in his way, 
 Yet still he linger'd after more, 
 
 And thus he said, or seem'd to say : — ■ 
 " How will the people fret and scofd, 
 When they the bony wreck behold ; 
 And how the drunken rogue will stare, 
 When first he sees what was the hare. 
 
 The denouement must needs be droll, 
 'Twere folly not to see the whole." 
 Presuming thus the future pleasure, 
 Haman kept post, to wait the sleeper's leisure. 
 
 At length our porter's slumbers o'er 
 He jogg'd on tott'ring as before ; 
 Unconscious any body, kind, 
 Had eas'd him of his load behind. 
 Now on the houses turn'd his eye, 
 As if his journey's end was nigh, 
 Then read a paper in his hand, 
 And made a stand. 
 
 Haman drew near with eager mien, 
 To mark the closing of the scene, 
 Expecting straight a furious din, 
 His features ready for a grin. 
 And now we need but mention one thing more, 
 
 To show how well he must have lik'd the whim, 
 Tho' drunk, our porter hit at last the door, 
 And Haman found the hare was sent to him. 
 
 BATES OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 A clergyman was so much averse to the Athana- 
 sian creed, that he never would read it. The arch- 
 bishop having been informed of his recusancy sent 
 the archdeacon to ask him the reason. "I do not 
 believe it," said the priest. " But your metropolitan 
 does' 11 replied the archdeacon. " It may be so," re 
 joined the other, " and he can well afford it. He 
 
 believes at the rate of seven thousand a year, and I 
 only at .that of fifty." 
 
 THE NEWCASTLE APOTHECARY. 
 
 A man, in many a country town, we know, 
 Professing openly with death to wrestle, 
 
 Enters, the field against the foe, 
 Arrh'd with a mortar and a pestle. 
 
 Yet some affirm no enemies they are ; 
 
 But meet, just like prize-fighters in a fair : 
 
 Who first shake hands before they box, 
 
 Then give each other plaguy knocks, 
 
 With all the love and kindness of a brother ; 
 So (many a suff'ring patient saith) 
 Though the apothecary fights with death, 
 
 Still they're sworn friends to one another. 
 
 A member of this iEsculapian line, 
 Liv'd at Newcastle upon Tyne : 
 No man could better gild a pill, 
 
 i- Or make a bill , 
 Or mix a draught, or bleed, or blister , 
 Or draw a tooth out of your head ; 
 Or chatter scandal by your bed . 
 
 Or give a glister. 
 Of occupations, these were quantum suff., 
 Yet still he thought the list not long enough : 
 
 And therefore midwifery he chose to pin to't. 
 This balanc'd things : — for if he hurl'd 
 A few score mortals from the world, 
 
 He made amends by bringing others into't, 
 His fame full six miles round the country ran : 
 
 In short, in reputation he was solus; 
 All the old women called him " a fine man!" 
 
 His name was Bolus. 
 Benjamin Bolus, though in trade, 
 
 (Which oftentimes will genius fetter) ; 
 Read works of fancy, it is said ; 
 
 And cultivated the Belles Lettres. 
 And why should this be thought so odd 1 
 
 Can't men have taste who cure a phthisic ? 
 Of poetry though patron god, 
 
 Apollo patronises physic. 
 
348 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 Bolus lov'd verse, and took so much delight in't, 
 That his prescriptions he resolv'd to write in't. 
 No opportunity he e'er let pass 
 
 Of writing the directions on his labels, 
 In dapper couplets — like Gay's Fables ; 
 Or rather like the lines in Hudibras. 
 Apothecary's verse ! — and where's the treason ; 
 
 "lis simply honest dealing ; — not a crime ; 
 When patients swallow physic without reason, 
 
 It is but fair to give a little rhyme. 
 He had a patient lying at death's door, 
 Some three miles from the town, it might be four, 
 To whom one evening Bolus sent an article 
 In pharmacy, that's call'd cathartical, 
 And, on the label of the stuff, 
 
 He wrote verse ; 
 Which one would think was clear enough, 
 And terse : 
 " When taken, 
 To be well shaken." 
 Next morning, early, Bolus rose, 
 And to the patient's house he goes 
 Upon his pad, 
 Who a vile trick of stumbling had : 
 It was indeed a very sorry hack ; 
 But that's of course, 
 For what's expected from a horse, 
 With an apothecary upon his back ? 
 Bolus arriv'd and gave a loudish tap, 
 Between a single and a double rap. 
 Knocks of this kind 
 Are giv'n by gentlemen who teach to dftnce, 
 
 By fiddlers and by opera singers : 
 One loud, and then a little one behind, 
 As if the knocker fell by chance 
 
 Out of their fingers. 
 The servant lets him in with dismal face, 
 Long as a courtier's out of place — - 
 
 Portending some disaster ; 
 John's countenance as rueful look'd and grim, 
 As if th' apothecary had physick'd him, 
 And not his master. 
 
 " Well, how's the patient?" Bolus said : 
 John shook his head. 
 
 " Indeed ! — hum ! — ha ! — that's very odd ! 
 
 " He took the draught !" John gave a nod. 
 
 " Well, how ? — what then ? speak out you dunce." 
 
 " Why then," says John, " we shook him once." 
 
 " Shook him ! how !" Bolus stammered out: . 
 " We jolted him a.bout," 
 
 " Zounds ! shake a patient, man, — a shake won't do." 
 
 " No, Sir, and so we gave him two." 
 " Two shakes ! — odds curse ! 
 " 'Twould make the patient worse." 
 " It did so, Sir, and so a third we tried." 
 
 "Well, and what then ?" — "Then, Sir, my master 
 died." - Colman. 
 
 HORSE AND ASS. 
 
 A jocky lord met his old college tutor at a great 
 horse fair. " Ah ! doctor," exclaimed the peer, 
 " what brings you here among these high-bred cattle? 
 Do you think you can distinguish a horse from an 
 ass ?" — " My lord," replied the tutor, " I soon per- 
 ceived you among these horses." 
 
 THE COUNTRYMAN AND THE RAZOR SELLER. 
 
 A fellow in a market town, 
 
 Most musical cried razors up and down, 
 
 And offer'd twelve for eighteen-pence ; 
 
 Which certainly seem'd wondrous cheap, 
 
 And for the money quite a heap, 
 As ev'ry man would buy, with cash and sense. 
 
 A country bumpkin the great offer heard : 
 
 Poor Hodge, who suffer'd by a broad black beard, I 
 That seem'd a shoe-brush stuck beneath his nose : — 
 
 With cheerfulness the eighteen-pence he paid, 
 
 And proudly to himself in whisper said, 
 " This rascal stole the razors I suppose. 
 
 No matter if the fellow be a knave, 
 
 Provided that the razors shave, 
 It certainly will be a monstrous prize." 
 
 So home the clown with his good fortune went, 
 
 Smiling, in heart and soul content, 
 And quickly soap'd himself to ears and eyes. \ 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 Being well lather'd from a dish or tub, 
 
 Hodge now began, with grinning pain, to grub, 
 Just like a hedger cutting furze : 
 
 'Twas a vile razor ! — then the rest he try'd — 
 
 All were impostors — "Ah 1" Hodge sigh'd, 
 "I wish my eighteen-pence within my purse." 
 In vain to chase his beard, and bring the graces, 
 
 He cut, and dug, and winc'd, and stamp'd, and 
 swore, 
 Brought blood, and danc'd, blasphem'd, and made 
 wry faces, 
 
 And curs'd each razor's body o'er and o'er. 
 
 His muzzle, form'd of opposition stuff, 
 
 Firm as a Foxite, would not lose it's ruff, 
 So kept it — laughing at the steel and suds. 
 
 Hodge in a passion stretch'd his angry jaws, 
 
 Vowing the direst vengeance, with clench 'd claws, 
 On the vile cheat that sold thegoods. 
 u Razors ! — a vile, confounded dog — 
 
 JVot fit to scrape a hog !" 
 
 Hodge sought the fellow — found him — and begun, 
 
 " P'rhaps, Master Razor-rogue, to you 'tis fun, 
 That people flay themselves out of their lives : 
 
 You rascal ! for an hour have 1 been grubbing, 
 
 Giving my rascal whiskers here a scrubbing, 
 With razors just like oyster-knives. 
 
 Sirrah ! I tell you you're a knave, 
 
 To cry up razors that can't shave." 
 "Friend," quoth the razor man, " I'm not a knave : 
 
 As for the razors you have bought, 
 
 Upon my soul, I never thought 
 That they would shave." 
 
 " Not think they'd shave ? " quoth Hodge, with 
 wond'ring eyes, 
 
 And voice not much unlike an Indian yell, 
 " What were they made for then, you dog V he cries : 
 
 " Made !" quoth the fellow, with a smile — " to 
 sell.' 1 
 
 P. Pindar. 
 
 FOWLS AND FOOLS. 
 
 A clergyman of Edinburgh dining with a friend, the 
 lady of the house desired the servant to take away the 
 
 349 
 
 dish containing the fowls, which she pronounced 
 fools. " I presume, madam, you mean fowls" 
 said Mr. R. very pompously : — "Very well, be it so," 
 said the lady, "take away the fowls, but let the fooi 
 remain !" 
 
 GARRULITY OF WOMEN. 
 
 Some philosophers maintain that speech is the 
 criterion ; of reason. Parrots and other birds speak ; 
 are they then rational ? Women we know are rational, 
 but would they be less so if they spoke less ? 
 
 MY LANDLADY'S NOSE. 
 
 O'er the evils of life 'tis a folly to fret, 
 Despondence and grief never lessen'd them yet ; 
 Then a fig for the world — let it come as it goes, 
 I'll sing to the praise of my landlady's nose. 
 My landlady's nose is in noble condition, 
 For longitude, latitude, shape, and position ; 
 'Tis as round as a horn, and as red as a rose, 
 Success to the bulk of my landlady's nose ! 
 To jeweller's shops let your ladies repair, 
 For trinkets and nicknacks to give them an air ; 
 Here living carbuncles, a score of them glows 
 On the big massy sides of my landlady's nose. 
 Old Patrick M* Dougherty, when on the fuddle, 
 Pulls out a segar, and looks up to her noddle ; \ 
 For Dougherty swears, when he swigs a good dose, 
 By Marjory's firebrand, my landlady's nose. 
 Ye wishy-wash butter-milk drinkers so cold, 
 Come here, and the virtues of brandy behold ; 
 Here's red burning Etna — a mountain of snows 
 Would roar dowh in streams from my landlady's nose. 
 But, Gods! when this trunk with an uplifted arm, 
 She grasps in the dish-clout to blow an alarm ; 
 Horns, trumpets, and conchs, are but screaming of 
 
 crows, 
 To the loud-thund'ring twang of my landlady's nose. 
 
 My landlady's nose unto me is a treasure, 
 A care-killing nostrum — a fountain of pleasure ; 
 If I want for a laugh to- discard all my woes, 
 I only look up to my landlady's nose. 
 
350 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 WOMAN S WISDOM. 
 
 One of the. Cecil family, minister to Scotland from 
 England, was speaking to Mary, queen of Scots, of 
 the wisdom of his sovereign, queen Elizabeth. Mary 
 stopped him short by saying, " Pray, Sir, don't talk 
 to me of the wisdom of a woman -, I think I know 
 my own sex pretty well, and can assure you, that 
 the wisest of us all is only a little less a fool than 
 the others." 
 
 THE ROYAL LIBRARIAN. 
 
 George III., shortly after his accession to the 
 throne, walking one morning into his library, found 
 one_of the under librarians asleep in a chair. He 
 stepped up softly to him, and gave him a slight slap 
 on the cheek ; the sleeper clapt his hand on the place 
 instantly, and, with his eyes still closed, taking the 
 disturber of his nap for his fellow librarian, whose 
 name was George, exclaimed, " Hang it, George, let 
 me alone, you are always doing one foolish trick or 
 another." 
 
 PROLOGUE, TOR A COMPANY OF COMEDIANS, WHO 
 PERFORMED AT WINCHESTER OVER A BUTCHER'S 
 SHAMBLES. 
 
 Whoe'er our stage examines, must excuse 
 The wondrous shifts of the dramatic Muse ; 
 Then kindly listen, while the prologue rambles 
 From wit to beef, from Shakspeare to the shambles ; 
 
 Divided only by one flight of stairs, 
 The actor swaggers, and the butcher swears ! 
 Quick the transition when the curtain drops, 
 From meek Monimia's moans, to mutton chops ! 
 While for Lothario's loss Lavinia cries, 
 Old women scold, and dealers d — n your eyes ! 
 Here Juliet listens to the gentle lark, 
 There in harsh chorus hungry bull-dogs bark ; 
 Cleavers and scimitars give blow for blow, 
 And heroes bleed above, and sheep below ! 
 While magic thunders shake the pit and box, 
 Rebellows to the roar the stagg'ring ox. 
 Cow-horns and trumpets mix their martial tones, 
 Kidneys and kings, mouthing and marrow-bones } 
 Suet and sighs, blank verse and blood abound, 
 
 And form a tragi-comedy around. 
 With weeping lovers dying calves complain ; 
 Confusion reigns — chaos is come again ! 
 Hither your steelyards, butchers, bring, to weigh 
 The pound of flesh Antonio's blood must pay ! 
 Hither your knives, ye Christians clad in blue, 
 Bring to be whetted by the worthless Jew. 
 
 Hard is our lot, who, seldom doom'd to eat, 
 Cast a sheep's-eye on this forbidden meat — 
 Gaze on sirloins, which, ah ! we cannot carve, 
 And in the midst of beef, of mutton — starve ! 
 
 But would ye to our house in crowds repair, 
 Ye gen'rous captains, and ye blooming fair, 
 The fate of Tantalus we should not fear, 
 Nor pine for a repast that is so near ; 
 Monarchs no more would supperless remain, 
 Nor hungry queens for cutlets long in vain. 
 
 Wart on. 
 
 speaking in time. 
 A buffoon at the court of Francis I. complained to 
 the king that a great lord threatened to murder him 
 for uttering some jokes about him. " If he does," 
 said Francis, " he shall be hanged in five minutea 
 after." " I wish," replied the complainant, " your 
 majesty would hang him five minutes before." 
 
 A LONG TEXT. 
 
 A clergyman was once going to preach upon the f. 
 text of the Samaritan woman, and after reading it, 
 he said, " Do not wonder, my beloved, that the text !' 
 is so long, for it is a woman that speaks." 
 
 THE JEW BEGINNING THE WORLD AGAIN. 
 
 Two criminals, a Christian and a Jew, 
 
 Who'd been to honest feelings rather callous, . 
 Were on a platform once expos'd to view; 
 
 Or come, as some folks call it, to the gallows ; 
 Or, as of late a quainter phrase prevails, 
 To weigh their weight upon the city scales. 
 In dreadful form, the constables and shrieve, 
 
 The priest, and ordinary, and crowd attended, 
 Till fix'd the noose, and all had taken leave ; 
 
 When the poor trembling Israelite, befriended, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 351 
 
 Heard, by express, from offieer of state, 
 A gracious pardon quite reverse his fate. 
 Unmov'd he seem'd, and to the spot close sticking, 
 
 Ne'er offers, tho' he's bid, to quit the place, 
 Till in the air the other fellow's kicking • 
 
 The sheriff thought that some peculiar grace, 
 Some Hebrew form of silent, deep devotion, 
 Had for a while depriv'd him of his motion. - 
 But by the sheriff being ask'd aloud, 
 
 Why not with proper officer he went? 
 He answer'd thus, (surprising all the crowd,) 
 
 With eyes upon the dying Christian bent, 
 " i" only wait awhile pefore I coes, 
 Of Mister Catch to puij te tead man's clo'es." 
 
 FASHIONABLE ROUTS; 
 
 "How strange it is," said a lady, "that fashionable 
 parties should be called routs ! Why rout formerly 
 signified the defeat of an army, and when the soldiers 
 were all put to flight or to the sword, they were said 
 to be routed." " This title has some propriety too," 
 said a clergyman, " for at these meetings whole 
 families are frequently routed out of house and honie." 
 
 AVOIDING A DUN. 
 
 A gentleman, who was examined as a witness by 
 the late Mr. Dunning, being repeatedly asked by the 
 counsellor if he did not lodge in the verge of the 
 court, at length replied, " He did." — "And pray, sir, 
 for what reason did you take up your residence in 
 that place V — " In the vain hope," replied the 
 other, "of avoiding the rascally impertinence of 
 dunning." 
 
 THE WATER-FIENDS. 
 
 On a wild moor, all brown and bleak, 
 
 Where broods the heath-frequenting grouse, 
 
 There stood a tenement antique, 
 Lord Hoppergol lop's country house. 
 
 Here silence reign'd, with lips of glue, 
 
 And undisturb'd maintain'd her law ; 
 Save when the owl cried, " Whoo ! whoo ! whoo !" 
 
 Or the hoarse crow croak'd, " Caw ! caw! caw !" 
 
 Neglected mansion ! — for 'tis said, 
 
 Whene'er the snow came feath'ring down, 
 Four barbed steeds, from the Bull's-head, 
 
 Carried thy master up to town. 
 Weep, Hoppergoilop ! — Lords may moan, 
 
 Who stake, in London, their estate 
 On two small rattling bits of bene, 
 
 On little figure, or on great. 
 
 Swift whirl the wheels — He's gone — A rose 
 
 Remains behind, whose virgin look, 
 Unseen, must blush in wintry snows, 
 
 Sweet beauteous blossom ! — 'twas the cook .- 
 A bolder far than my weak note, 
 
 Maid of the moor, thy charms demand; 
 Eels might be proud to lose their coat, 
 
 If skinn'd by Molly Dumpling's hand. 
 Long had the fair one sat alone, 
 
 Had none remain'd save only she ; — i 
 She by herself had been — if one 
 
 Had not been left, for company. 
 
 'Twas a tall youth, whose cheek's clear hue 
 Was ting'd with health and manly toil j 
 
 Cabbage he sow'd ; and, when it grew, 
 He always cut it off, to boil. 
 
 Oft would he cry, " Delve, delve the hole ! 
 
 And prune the tree, and trim the root I 
 And stick the wig upon the pole, 
 
 To scare the sparrows from the fruit.'* 
 A small, mute favourite, by day 
 
 Follow'd his step ; where'er he wheels 
 His barrow round the garden gay, 
 
 A bob-tail cur is at his heels. 
 
 Ah, man ! the brute creation see ! 
 
 Thy constancy oft needs the spur ! 
 While lessons of fidelity 
 
 Are found in ev'ry bob-tail cur. 
 
 Hard toil'd the youth, so fresh and strong, 
 While Bob-tail in his face would look, 
 
 And mark his master troll the song — 
 
 " Sweet Molly Dumpling! Oh, thou cook ! " 
 
~~ 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 For thus he sung; while Cupid smil'd — 
 
 Pleas'd that the gard'ner own'd his dart, 
 Which prun'd his passions running wild, 
 
 And grafted true-love on his heart. 
 Maid of the moor ! his love return ! 
 
 True love ne'er tints the cheek with shame : 
 When gard'ners' hearts, like hot-beds, burn, 
 
 A cook may surely feed the flame. 
 Ah ! not averse from love was she, 
 
 Though pure as heaven's own snowy flake ; 
 Both lov'd : and though a gard'ner he, 
 
 He knew not what it was to rake. 
 Cold blows the blast — the night's obscure ; 
 
 The mansion's crazy wainscots crack; 
 No star appear'd, — and all the moor, . 
 
 Like ev'ry other moor, — was black. 
 Alone, pale, trembling, near the fire, 
 
 The lovely Molly Dumpling sat : 
 Much did she fear, and much admire 
 
 What Thomas Gard'ner could be at. 
 
 List'ning, her hand supports her chin ; 
 
 But, ah ! no foot is heard to stir : 
 He comes not, from the garden, in ; 
 
 Nor he, nor little bob-tail cur. 
 
 They cannot come, sweet maid, to thee ; 
 
 Flesh, both of cur and man, is grass ! 
 And what's impossible can't be ; 
 
 And never, never comes to pass ! 
 
 She paces through the hall antique, 
 To call her Thomas from his toil ; 
 
 Opes the huge door ; the hinges creak — 
 Because — the hinges wanted oil. 
 
 Thrice, on the threshold of the hall, 
 
 She " Thomas !" cried, with many a sob ; 
 
 And thrice on Bob-tail did she call, 
 
 Exclaiming sweetly " Bob ! Bob ! Bob !" 
 
 Vain maid ! a gard'ner's corpse, 'tis said, 
 
 In answers can but ill succeed ; 
 And dogs that hear when they are dead, 
 
 Are very cunning dogs indeed ! 
 
 Back through the hall she bent her way ; 
 
 All, all was solitude around ! 
 The candle shed a feeble ray, 
 
 Though a large mould of four to th' pound. 
 Full closely to the fire she drew ; 
 
 Adown her cheek a salt tear stole ; 
 When, lo ! a coffin out there flew, 
 
 And in her apron burnt a hole ! 
 Spiders their busy death-watch tick'd - 
 
 A certain sign that fate will frown ; 
 The clumsy kitchen clock, too, click'd, 
 
 A certain sign it was not down. 
 
 More strong and strong her terrors rose : 
 
 Her shadow did the maid appal ; 
 She trembled at her lovely nose, 
 
 It look'd so long against the wall. 
 
 Up to her chamber damp and cold, 
 She climb'd lord Hoppergollop's stair : 
 
 Three stories high — long, dull, and old, 
 As great lords' stories often are. 
 
 All nature now appear'd to pause ; 
 
 And " o'er one half the world seem'd dead ;" 
 No " curtain'd sleep" had she — because 
 
 She had no curtains to her bed. 
 
 List'ning she lay ; — with iron din 
 
 The clock struck twelve ; the door flew wide ; 
 When Thomas grimly glided in, 
 
 With little Bob-tail by his side. 
 
 Tall, like the poplar, was his size ; 
 
 Green, green his waiscoat was, as leeks ; 
 Red, red as beet-root were his eyes ; 
 
 Pale, pale, as turnips were his cheeks ! 
 
 Soon as the spectre she espied, 
 
 The fear-struck damsel faintly said, 
 
 " What would my Thomas 1" he replied, 
 " Oh ! Molly Dumpling ! I am dead. 
 
 " All in the flower of youth I fell, 
 
 Cut off with health's full blossom crown'd ; 
 
 I was not ill — but in a well 
 
 I tumbled backwards, and was drown'd. 
 
THE 
 
 " " Four fathom deep thy love doth lie ; 
 
 His faithful dog his fate doth share ; 
 We're fiends — this is not he and I ; 
 
 We are not here, — for we are there. 
 " Yes ; two foul water-fiends are we ; 
 
 Maid of the moor, attend us now ! 
 Thy hour's at hand — we come for thee !" 
 
 The little fiend-cur said, "bow, wow !" 
 "To wind her in her cold, cold grave, 
 
 A Holland sheet a maiden likes ; 
 A sheet of water thou shalt have ; 
 
 Such sheets there are in Holland dykes." 
 The fiends approach ; the maid did shrink ; 
 
 Swift through the night's foul air they spin; 
 They took her to the green well's brink, 
 
 And, with a souse, they plump'd her in. 
 So true the fair, so true the youth, 
 
 Maids, to this clay, their story tell : 
 And hence the proverb rose, that Truth 
 
 Lies in the bottom of a well. Colman. 
 
 THE HOLY TAILOR AND DEAN SWIFT. : 
 
 A tailor, grown tired of his shop-board, took a bold 
 spring from his seat to the pulpit, and soon acquired 
 great popularity. Elated with the success, he at- 
 tempted the conversion of Dean Swift to the true 
 faith. On being admitted to the dean, he thus an- 
 nounced his purpose : " I am come," said he, " by 
 order of the Lord, to open your eyes, to enlighten your 
 darkness, and to teach you the proper application of 
 talents which you have so long abused." " Indeed, 
 my good friend," replied the dean, who knew the 
 taylor, " I am inclined to believe that you are com- 
 missioned by Heaven, as you come so critically to 
 relieve the perplexed state of my mind at this very 
 instant." The tailor already exulted in the cer- 
 tainty of success. " You are well acquainted, no 
 doubt," continued Swift, " with that passage in the 
 tenth chapter of the- Revelation of St. John, where 
 he describes a mighty angel coming down from hea- 
 ven, with a rainbow on his head, a book open in his 
 hand, and setting his right foot on the sea, and his 
 left foot on the earth. I am quite at a loss how to 
 
 LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 353 
 
 stride ; but I know it 
 
 calculate the extent of such 
 immediately lies in the line of your trade to tell me, 
 how many yards of cloth would make a pair of 
 breeches for that angel." 
 
 COPPER AND BRASS. 
 
 Qounsellor Dunning thinking to embarrass a wit- 
 ness having a Bardolphian nose, began with, " Now 
 you, Mr. with the copper nose, now you are sworn, 
 what have you to say V — '* Why, by the oath I have 
 sworn," replied he, "I would not exchange my cop- 
 per nose for your brazen face." 
 
 CROSS READINGS IN VERSE. 
 
 Every line in this piece is taken from standard poeti- 
 cal zcriters, and each read separately makes good 
 sense ; the humour lies in the combination. 
 The flow'ry May now from her green lap throws — 
 Cato's long wig, flower'd gown, and lacquer'd 
 chair — 
 With Scythians expert in darts and bows — 
 
 A satire next, and then a bill of fare. 
 Starting and shiv'ring in th' inconstant wind — ■ 
 
 The weary world lies sunk in soft repose — 
 And shuts the gates of mercy on mankind — 
 
 And sometimes gallops o'er a courtier's nose. 
 The sun himself with gloomy clouds opprest — 
 Renounces four legs, and starts up on two — 
 'Twas then his threshold first receiv'd a guest — 
 
 Who stays on shore, and toys with Sail and Sue. 
 Each feather'd warbler tunes his various lay — ■ 
 
 Transform'd to combs the speckled and the white- 
 Long as the night to her whose love's away — 
 
 On spacious wings with sundry colours dight. 
 Like some fair flow'r the early spring supplies- 
 Satan himself will toll the parish bell — 
 Where in a box the whole creation lies — 
 By much too wise to walk into a well. 
 So have I seen on some bright summer's day— 
 The vulgar boil, the learned roast an egg — 
 Where rougher climes a nobler race display — - 
 A dedication is — a wooden leg. 
 
354 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 On some fond breast the parting soul relies — 
 
 Brushing with hasty steps the dews away — _ 
 With waddling gait, and yoice like London cries— 
 
 Nor stops for one bad cork his butler's pay. 
 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen — 
 
 For thunder mars small beer and weak discourse — . 
 And hurls the vengeance of the laws on gin — 
 
 To prove, like Hudibias, a man's no horse. 
 But now the clouds in airy tumult fly — 
 
 Their teeth will be no whiter than before— 
 While England lives, their fame can never die — 
 
 For still new harlequins remain in store* 
 Forthwith the huge portcullis high updrew— 
 
 In shape no bigger than an agate stone — 
 Whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew— 
 
 And boldly fought to save the British throne. 
 Th' applause of listening senates to command- 
 Let me extol a cat on oysters fed — 
 His wig all powder, and all snuff his band — < 
 
 O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed. 
 Now Night in vestments rob'd of deepest dye — 
 
 With new-born Day had gladden'd mortal sight-r- 
 To whom Ulysses with a pleasing eye — 
 
 With head advanc'd, and pinions stretch'd for 
 flight. 
 Ah ! think, thou favour'd of the powers divine- 
 On the forefinger of an alderman — 
 To grace thy manes, and adorn thy shrine — 
 
 And pierce aloft in air the soaring swan. 
 Friendship ! mysterious cement of the soul ! — 
 
 Arm'd with a pudding that might please a dean — 
 Scours wild along, disdaining all controul — 
 
 And murders fops by whom she ne'er was seen. 
 So when a lion shakes his dreadful mane — 
 
 From low St. James's up to high St. Paul — 
 Those stars that grace the wide celestial plain— 
 
 For very want can never build a wall. 
 
 ALL AT ONCE. 
 
 A Greek and a Venetian held a dispute on the ad- 
 vantages of their respective countries, during which 
 
 the Greek did not fail to quote the numerous sages 
 which his country had produced of old. " True," 
 answered the Venetian, " you formerly had so many, 
 which accounts for your not having one left." 
 
 THE SLEEPY CHANCELLOR. 
 
 A wit at Cambridge, in the reign of James I., was 
 ordered to preach at St. Mary's, before the vice-chan- 
 cellor and the heads of the university. He formerly 
 had observed the drowsiness of the vice-chancellor, 
 and took this piece of scripture for his text, What, 
 cannot ye watch one hour ? At every division, he 
 concluded with his text, which, as the vice- chancel- 
 lor sat near the pulpit, often awaked him. This was 
 the talk of the whole university, and so nettled the 
 vice-chancellor, that he complained to the archbishop 
 of Canterbury, who sent for this scholar to London to 
 defend himself against the crime laid to his charge, 
 when he gave so many proofs of his extraor- 
 dinary wit, that the archbishop enjoined him to 
 preach before king James; after some excuses he 
 condescended, and coming into the pulpit, began 
 James the First and the Sixth, waver not — meaning 
 the first king of England, and the sixth of Scotland— 
 at first, the king was somewhat amazed at the text, 
 but in the end was so well pleased with the sermon, 
 that he made him one of the chaplains in ordinary. 
 After this advancement, the archbishop sent him 
 down to Cambridge to make his recantation to the 
 vice-chancellor, and to take leave of the university ; 
 which he accordingly did, and took the latter part of 
 the verse of his former text, Sleep on now, and take 
 your rest. Concluding his sermon, he made his 
 apology to the vice-chancellor, saying, " whereas I 
 said before (which gave offence) what, cannot you 
 watch one hour ? I say now,' Sleep on, and take your 
 rest, and so left the university. 
 
 CHOICE POETRY. 
 
 A very indifferent poet having read to a friend 
 what he deemed the choice parts of a pretty long 
 poem, inquired " Which were the passages he most 
 approved 1" " Those which you have not yet read," 
 replied the other. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 355 
 
 SINGING. 
 
 A man said he sung as well as most men in Europe, 
 and thus proved it : the most men in Europe do not 
 sing well, therefore I sing as well as most men in 
 Europe. 
 
 THE CHANGED LAIS. 
 
 O Venus ! whelm'd in sorrow o'er, 
 My broken glass I bring to thee ; 
 For what I was it shows no more, 
 And what I am I dare not see. 
 
 THE STOCKS. 
 
 A wag passing through a country town, observed 
 a fellow placed in the stocks. " My friend," said he, 
 " I advise you by all means to sell out." " I should 
 have no objection your honour," lie replied drily, " but 
 at present they seem much too low." 
 
 LUCKY FROLIC. 
 
 When Lord Chief Justice Holt presided in the 
 Court of King's Bench, a poor decrepit old creature 
 was brought before him, charged as a criminal, on 
 whom the full severity of the law ought to be visited 
 with exemplary effect. The charges were opened. 
 " What is her crime 1" asked his Lordship. " Witch- 
 craft/' — " How is it proved 1" — " She has a power- 
 ful spell." — " Let me see it." — The spell was handed 
 to the bench ; it appeared a small ball of variously- 
 coloured rags of silk, bound with threads of as many 
 different hues ~ } these were unwound and unfolded, 
 until there appeared a scrap of parchment, on which 
 were written certain characters now nearly illegible 
 from much use. " Is this the spell V — The prose- 
 cutors answered it was. The judge, after looking 
 at this patent charm a few moments, addressed him- 
 self to the terrified prisoner. " Prisoner, how came 
 you by this V — "A young gentleman, my Lord, gave 
 it to me, to cure my child's ague." — " How long 
 since V — "Thirty years, my Lord." — "And did it cure 
 her V — " Oh yes, and many others." — " I am glad 
 of it." The judge paused a few moments, and then 
 addressed himself to the jury. " Gentlemen of the 
 jury, thirty years ago, I and some companions, as 
 thoughtless as myself, went to this woman's dwell- 
 ing, then a public house, and after enjoying ourselves 
 
 found we had no means to discharge the reckoning. 
 I had recourse to a stratagem. Observing a child ill 
 of an ague, I pretended I had a spell to cure her. I 
 wrote the classic line you see on a scrap of parch- 
 ment, and was discharged of the demand on me by 
 the gratitude of the poor woman before us, for the 
 supposed benefit." 
 
 EPITAPH ON A LAWYER. 
 
 Here lies a lawyer, — one whose mind — ■ 
 (Like that of all the lawyer-kind) 
 Kesembled, though so grave and stately, 
 The pupil of a cat's eye greatly, — 
 Which for the mousing deeds transacted 
 
 In holes and corners, is well fitted, 
 But which in sunshine, grows contracted, 
 
 As if 'twould, — rather not admit it, — 
 As if in short, a man would quite 
 
 Throw time away who tried to let in a 
 Decent portion of God's light 
 
 On lawyer's mind or pussy's retina. 
 Hence when he took to politics, 
 
 As a refreshing change of evil, 
 Unfit with grand affairs to mix, 
 His little nisi prius tricks, 
 
 Like imps at bo-peep, play'd the devil ; 
 And proved that when a small law wit, 
 
 Of statesmanship attempts the trial, 
 'Tis like a player ou the kit, 
 
 Put all at once to a bass viol. 
 Nay, even when honest, (which he could 
 
 Be, now and then,) still quibbling daily, 
 He served his country as he would 
 
 A client thief at the Old Bailey. 
 But, — do him justice, — short and rare 
 
 His wish through honest paths to roam ; 
 Born with a taste for the unfair, 
 Where falsehood call'd he still was there, 
 
 And when least honest most at home. 
 Thus shuffling, bullying, lying, creeping, 
 
 He work'd his way up near the throne, 
 And long before he took the keeping 
 
 Of the king's conscience, lost his own. 
 
 Moore. 
 
356 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 MUNCHAUSEN OUTDONE. 
 
 Several gentlemen, of ingenious invention, or ex- 
 traordinary credulity, having amused a company by 
 a successive detail of wondrous events, a shipmaster 
 observed, " Gentlemen, these narratives which 3-ou 
 have given are doubtless strange and unaccountable, 
 but I can tell you a circumstance which occurred to 
 myself, not less true, and still more incredible. Last 
 year, coming home from the West Indies, and being 
 on the banks of A T ewfoundland, my people hooked an 
 immense shark. The monster made such resistance 
 as they were hauling him up, that I was afraid he 
 might break the rope and escape. I ran down to the 
 cabin and fetched my pistols, which, for security's 
 sake, I always keep loaded. As they had got his 
 head to the surface of the water, I levelled a pistol to 
 fire at him ; but, just as I was going to pull the trig- 
 ger, in a too eager anxiety, the pistol dropped from 
 my hand, and, about the same moment, the shark, 
 making a violent effort, broke the line and escaped. 
 Well, gentlemen, being nearly on the same spot on 
 my last homeward voyage, the crew again hooked a 
 shark, which after much exertion, they were fortunate 
 enough to get on board, and as, after cutting off the 
 tail, (which you know, gentlemen, is the most power- 
 ful part of this fish) they were ripping up the belly, 
 I was surprised to hear what appeared like the report 
 of a pistol ; but, judge my astonishment, when I 
 found that this was the identical shark hooked on 
 my former voyage ; that my pistol had fallen into its 
 mouth, and, from -its voracity, been swallowed into 
 its stomach, that it had there remained dormant, till 
 the operation of cutting it up had, probably by con- 
 tact of the chopper and the flint, made the piece go 
 off!" 
 
 A CAUTIOUS HINT. 
 
 Fontenelle lived to be nearly one hundred years 
 old. A lady, of nearly equal age, said to him one 
 day, in a large company, " Monsieur, you and I stay 
 here so long that I have a notion Death has forgotten 
 us !" ." Speak as softly as you can Madam," replied 
 Fontenelle, " lest you should remind him of us." 
 
 IMPROMPTU, ON SEEING AN ACQUAINTANCE WITS A 
 SHABBY COAT. 
 
 I met a friend the other day 
 
 Whose coat was rather C. D. 
 When told, no wonder, you will say, 
 
 His pockets were quite M. T. 
 
 NARROW ESCAPE. 
 
 A distinguished gentleman of Pensylvama, whose 
 nose and chin were both very long, and who had lost 
 his teeth, whereby the nose and chin were brought 
 near together, was told, " I am afraid your nose 
 and chin will fight before long ; they approach each 
 other very menacing." "lam afraid of it myself," 
 replied the gentleman, "for a great many words have 
 passed between them already." 
 
 A TENDER WISH. 
 
 A beggar in Dublin had been a long time besieg- 
 ing an old gouty, testy, limping gentleman, who had 
 refused his mite with much irritability ; upon which 
 the mendicant said, " Ah, please your honour's 
 honour, I wish God had made your heart as tender 
 as your toes." 
 
 SHAVING AND VOTING. 
 
 A Barber in a borough-town, it seems, 
 Had voted for Sir John, against Sir James. 
 Sir James, in nngry mood, took Suds aside — 
 Don't you remember shaving me 1 he cry'd ; 
 Five pieces for five minutes work I gave ; 
 And does not one good turn another crave ? 
 Yea, quoth the barber, and his fingers smack'd, 
 I grant the doctrine, and admit the fact : 
 Sir John, on the same score, paid the same price ; 
 But took two shavings — and of course paid twice. 
 
 EXQUIS1TIVE SENSIBILITY 
 
 Two men of fashion meeting a beautiful lady in a 
 narrow way in Glasgow, her ear was taken by the 
 following observations — " I protest, Bobby, this place 
 is as narrow as Balaam's passage" — (a lane in Glas- 
 gow) — " Yes, (said his companion) and, like Ba- 
 laam, I am stopped by an angel." — "xlnd 1 (retorted 
 the lady) by the ass." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 357 
 
 THE ELDER BROTHER. 
 
 Centric in London noise, and London follies, 
 
 Proud Covent-garden blooms in smoky glory ; 
 For chairmen, coffee-rooms, piazzas, dollies, 
 
 Cabbages, and comedians, fam'd in story ! 
 On this gay spot (upon a sober plan) 
 Dwelt a right regular, and staid, young man : 
 Much did he early hours, and quiet, love j 
 And was entitled, Mr. Isaac Shove. 
 An orphan he : yet rich in expectations, 
 
 Which nobody seem'd likely to supplant— 
 From that prodigious bore of all relations, 
 
 A fusty, canting, stiff-rump'd, maiden aunt ; 
 The wealthy Miss Lucretia Cloghorty, 
 "Who had brought Isaac up, and own'd to forty! 
 Shove, on this maiden's will relied securely ; 
 
 Who vow'd she ne'er would wed, to mar his riches; 
 Full often would she say, of man, demurely — 
 
 " I can't abide the filthy things in breeches !" 
 He had apartments up two pair of stairs ; 
 
 On the first floor lodged Dr. Crow ; 
 The landlord was a torturer of hairs, 
 
 And made a grand display of wigs, below, 
 From the beau's Brutus, to the parson's frizzle — 
 Over the door-way was his name ; 'twas Twizzle. 
 Now, you must know, 
 This Dr. Crow 
 Was not of law, nor music, nor divinity ; 
 He was obstetric ; but, the fact is, 
 He didn't in Lueina's turnpike practise ; 
 He took by-roads — reducing ladies' shapes, 
 Who had secur'd themselves from " leading 
 apes," 
 But kept the reputation of virginity. 
 Crow had a roomy tenement of brick, 
 
 Inclos'd with wajls, one mile from Hyde Park 
 Corner : 
 Fir trees and yews were planted round it thick ; 
 
 No situation vrasforfornerl 
 Yet notwithstanding folks might scout it, 
 It suited qualmish spinsters, who fell sick, 
 And did not wish the world to know about it. 
 
 Here many a single gentlewoman came, 
 
 Pro tempore — full tender of her fame ! 
 
 Who, for a while, took leave of friends in town — 
 
 " Business, forsooth, to Yorkshire cali'd her down, 
 
 Too weighty to be settled by attorney !" 
 And, in a month or six weeks' time came back : 
 
 When ev'ry body cried — " Good lack ! 
 How monstrous thin you've grown, upon your jour- 
 ney!" 
 
 The Doctor, knowing that a puff of scandal 
 
 Would blow his private trade to tatters, 
 Dreaded to give the smallest handle 
 
 To those who dabble in their neighbours' matters \ 
 Therfore he wisely held it good, 
 To hide his practice from the neighbourhood — ■ 
 And not appear there as a resident, 
 But merely one who casually went 
 To see the ladies in the large brick-house — 
 To lounge and chat — not minding time a souse-— 
 Like one to whom all business was quite foreign : 
 And thus, he visited his female sick ; 
 
 Who lay as thick, 
 Within his tenement of brick, 
 As rabbits in a warren. 
 
 He lodged in Co vent Garden all the while : 
 And, if they sent in haste for his assistance, 
 
 He soon was with them — 'twas no mighty distance— 
 From the town's end, it was but bare a mile. 
 
 Now, Isaac Shove, 
 Living above 
 This Dr. Crow, 
 And knowing barber Twizzle liv'd below, 
 
 Thought it might be as "well — 
 Hearing so many knocks, single and double — 
 To buy, at his own cost, a street door bell, 
 And save confusion in the house, and trouble ! 
 Whereby his (Isaac's) visitors might know, 
 
 Without long waiting in the dirt and drizzle, 
 To ring for him at once, and not to knock for Crow, or 
 Twizzle. 
 Besides, he now began to feel, 
 The want of it was rather ungenteeli 
 
358 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 For he had often thought it a disgrace, 
 To hear, while sitting in his room above, 
 
 Twizzle's shrill maid, in the first landing place, 
 Screaming — "A man below vants Mister Shove !" 
 
 The bell was bought : the wire was made to steal 
 Round the dark staircase, like a tortur'd eel, 
 
 Twisting and twining. 
 The jemmy handle Twizzle's door-post grac'd : 
 And, jus', beneath, a brazen plate was plac'd, 
 
 Lacquer 'd, and shining — 
 
 Graven whereon, in characters full clear, 
 And legible, did " Mr. Shove" appear ; 
 And furthermore, which you might read right well, 
 Was — " Please to ring the bell." 
 
 At half past ten, precisely, to a second, 
 
 Shove, every night, his supper ended ; 
 And sipp'd his glass of negus till he reckon 'd, 
 
 By his stop-watch, exactly one more quarter : 
 Then, as exactly, he untied one garter ; 
 A token 'twas, that he for bed intended. 
 
 Yet, having still a quarter good before him, 
 He leisurely undress'd before the fire : 
 Contriving, as the quarter did expire, 
 
 To be as naked as his mother bore him — 
 
 Bating his shirt, and nightcap on his head. 
 Then as the watchman bawl'd eleven, 
 
 He had one foot in bed ; 
 More certainly than cuckolds go to heav'n. 
 
 Alas ! what pity 'tis, that regularity, 
 
 Like Isaac Shove's is such a rarity ! 
 
 But there are swilling wights in London town, 
 
 Term'd Jolly Dogs — Choice Spirits — alias, Swine 
 Who pour, in midnight revel, bumpers down, 
 
 Making their throats a thoroughfare for wine. 
 These spendthrifts, who life's pleasure thus outrun— 
 
 Dozing with head-aches till the afternoon- — 
 Lose half men's regular estate of sun, 
 
 By borrowing too largely of the moon. 
 One of this kidney — Toby Tosspot bight — 
 Was coming from the Bedford, late at night : 
 
 And being Bacchi plenus — full of ivine— 
 Altho' he had a tolerable notion, 
 At aiming at progressive motion, 
 'Twas not direct — twas serpentine. 
 He work'd, with sinuosities, along, 
 
 Like Monsieur Corkscrew, worming through a cork; 
 Not straight, like Corkscrew's proxy— stiff Don 
 Prong — 
 A fork! 
 
 At length with near four bottles in his pate, 
 
 He saw the rnoon shining on Shove's brass plate-— 
 
 When reading—" Please to ring the bell;" 
 
 And being civil, beyond measure — > 
 "Ring it !" says Toby — " very well ! 
 
 I'll ring it with a deal of pleasure." 
 
 Toby, the kindest soul in all the town, 
 Gave it a jerk — that almost jerk'd it down. 
 He waited full two minutes, no one came : 
 
 He waited full two minutes more ; and then, 
 Says Toby---" If he's deaf, I'm not to blame, 
 
 I'll pull it for the gentleman again." 
 
 But the first peal woke Isaac, in a fright ; 
 
 Who, quick as lightning popping up his head, 
 Sat on his head's antipodes, in bed — • 
 
 Pale as a parsnip— bolt upright. 
 At length, he wisely, to himself did say — 
 
 Calming his fears — 
 " Tush ! 'tis some fool has rung, and ran away," 
 
 When peal the second rattled in his ears. 
 
 Shove jump'd into the middle of the floor, 
 
 And trembling, at each breath of air that stirr'd, 
 He grop'd down stairs, and open'd the street door, 
 
 While Toby was performing peal the third 1 
 Isaac eyed Toby fearfully askaunt, 
 
 And saw he was a strapper — stout and tall : 
 Then put this question — "Pray, Sir, what do ye waut? 
 
 Says Toby — " I w : ant nothing, Sir, at all." 
 " Want nothing, Sir 1 — you've pull'd my bell, I vow, 
 
 . As if you'd jerk it off the wire !" 
 Quoth Toby — gravely making him a bow — ■ 
 " I pull'd it, Sir, at your desire." 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 " At mine V* — " Yes, yours : — I hope I've done it 
 well! 
 High time for bed, Sir ! — I was hast'ning to it ; 
 But, if you write up — * Please to ring the bell,' 
 , Common politeness makes me stop and do it." 
 Isaac, now waxing wroth apace, 
 Slamm'd the street door in Toby's face, 
 
 With all his might : 
 And Toby as he shut it, swore 
 He was a dirty son of — something more 
 Than delicacy suffers me to write — 
 And lifting up the knocker, gave a knock, 
 
 So long and loud, it might have rais'd the dead ; 
 Twizzle declares his house sustain'd a shock, 
 
 Enough to shake his lodgers out of bed. 
 Toby, his rage thus vented in the rap, 
 Went serpentining home to take his nap. 
 'Tis now high time to let you know, 
 That the obstetric Dr. Crow 
 Awoke in the beginning of this matter, 
 By Toby's tintinnabulary clatter — < 
 And knowing that the bell belong'd to Shove, 
 He listen'd in his bed, but did not move : 
 He only did apostrophize — 
 Sending to Hell, 
 Shove and his bell, 
 That wou'dn't let him close his eyes. 
 But when he heard a thund'ring knock, says he— 
 " That's certainly a messenger for me ! 
 
 Somebody ill in the brick house, no doubt !" 
 Then mutter'd, hurrying on his dressing gown— 
 " I wish my ladies, out of town, 
 
 Chose more convenient times for crying out !" 
 Crow, in the dark, now reach'd the staircase head, 
 Shove, in the dark, was coming up to bed. 
 A combination of ideas flocking 
 
 Upon the pericranium of Crow — 
 Occasion'd by the hasty knocking, , 
 Succeeded by a foot he heard below — 
 He did, as many folks are apt to do, 
 
 Who argue in the dark, and in confusion ; 
 That is— from the hypothesis he drew 
 A false conclusion ; 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 359 
 
 Concluding Shove to be the person sent, 
 With an express from the Brick Tenement ; 
 Whom Barber Twizzle, torturer of hairs, 
 Had civilly let in and sent up stairs. 
 
 As Shove came up, tho' he had long time kept 
 . His character for patience very laudably — 
 He couldn't help, at ev'ry step he stepp'd, 
 
 Grunting and grumbling in his gizzard, audibly ! 
 
 For Isaac's mental feelings, you must know, 
 
 Not only were considerably hurt ; 
 But his corporeal also — 
 
 Having no other clothing than a shirt ; 
 A dress, beyond all doubt, most light and airy ; 
 It being then a frost in January. 
 When Shove was deep down stairs the Doctor heard, 
 
 — Being much nearer the stair top 
 Just here and there a random word, 
 
 Of the soliloquy that Shove let drop. 
 But shortly by progression brought 
 To contact nearer, 
 
 The doctor, consequently, heard him clearer ; 
 And then the fag-end of this sentence caught 
 Which Shove repeated warmly, tho' he shiver'd; 
 
 " D — n Twizzle's house ! and d — n the bell ; 
 
 And d — n the fool who rang it ! — Well, 
 From all such plagues I'll quickly be deliver'd." 
 
 " What, quickly be deliver'd?" echoes Crow : 
 
 " Who is it ? — Come ; be sharp — reply, reply ! 
 Who wants to be deliver'd ? let me know?" 
 
 Recovering his surprise, Shove answer'd — "I?" 
 " You be deliver'd," says the Doctor — " 'Sblood !" 
 
 Hearing a man's gruff voice — " You lout, you lob ! 
 You be deliver'd ! — Come, that's very good ;" 
 
 Says Shove — " I will, so help me Bob !" 
 " Fellow !" cried Crow, " you're drunk with filthy 
 beer : 
 
 A drunkard, fellow, is a brute's next neighbour ! 
 But Miss Cloghorty's time was very near : 
 
 And, I suppose, Lueretia's now in labour." 
 " Zounds !" bellows Shove— with rage, and wonder 
 
 wild! 
 "Why then my maiden aunt is big with child." 
 
360 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Here was at once a sad discovery made .' 
 
 Lucretia's frolic now was past a joke — 
 Shove trembled for his fortune, Crow his trade : 
 
 Both, both, saw ruin — by one fatal stroke ! — 
 But with his aunt, when Isaac did discuss, 
 She hush'd the matter up by speaking thus — 
 " Sweet Isaac !" said Lucretia, " spare my fame ! 
 
 Tho' for my babe I feel as should a mother, 
 Your fortune will continue much the same ; 
 
 For — keep the secret, you're his Elder Brother !" 
 
 COLMAN. 
 DEGREES OF DRUNKENNESS. 
 
 At the close of a tavern dinner, two of the com- 
 pany fell down stairs; the one tumbling- to the first 
 landing-place, the other rolling to the bottom. — Some 
 one remarked, that the first seemed dead drunk. Yes 
 (observed a wag) but he is not so far gone as the 
 gentleman below ! 
 
 AUTHOR AND CRITIC. 
 
 " Vile critic!" exclaim'd a poor author in pique, 
 
 " In reviewing my work, why abuse it 1 
 You've injur'd my fame by your cursed critique, 
 
 For nobody now will persue it." 
 Quoth the critic, " I'm glad to hear that ; for my aim 
 
 Was to save, not destroy reputation ; 
 And I could not more certainly ruin your fame, 
 
 Than by giving your work circulation !" 
 
 FORMAL CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Dr. Schmidt, of the cathedral of Berlin, wrote to 
 Frederick II. in the following terms : 
 
 "Sire — I acquaint your Majesty, first, that there 
 are wanting books of Psalms for the Royal Family ; 
 1 acquaint your Majesty, second, that there wants 
 wood to warm the royal seats. I acquaint your 
 Majesty, third, that the balustrade next the river, 
 behind the church, is ruinous. 
 
 "Schmidt, Sacrist of the Cathedral." 
 
 The King, much amused with the epistle, sent the 
 following : 
 
 "T acquaint you, Mr. Sacrist Schmidt, first, that 
 those who want to sing may buy books. Second, I 
 acquaint Mr. Sacrist Schmidt that those who want to 
 be warm may bay wood. Third, I acquaint Mr. Sa- 
 crist Schmidt that I shall no lonsrer trust to the balus- 
 
 trade next the river. And I acquaint Mr. Sacrist 
 Schmidt, fourth, that I will not have any more cor- 
 respondence with him. Frederick." < 
 
 advantages of low prices. 
 A gentleman in one of the steam packets, asked | 
 the steward, when he came round to collect the pas- 
 sage money, (of 6d each, for the best cabin,) if there 
 was not some danger of being blown up. The latter 1 
 promptly replied, " No, sir, not the least;- we can- 
 not afford to blow people up at these low prices." [ 
 
 A GRAVE REPROOF. 
 
 Horace 'Walpole's correspondent, William Cole, 
 was remarkable for what is called a " comfortable 
 assurance." Dining in a party at Cambridge, he 
 took up from the table a gold, snuff-box, belonging to 
 a gentleman next to him, and bluntly remarked on 
 its size, saying, "it was big enough to hold the 
 freedom of a corporation." " Yes, Mr. Cole," replied 
 the owner ; " it would hold any freedom but yours.'* 
 
 THE LAWYER AND CLIENT. 
 
 Two lawyers, when a knotty case was o'er, 
 Shook hands, and were as friendly as before . 
 "Zounds !" said the client, "I would fain know how 
 You can be friends, who were such foes just now?" — 
 " Thou fool !" said one ; "we lawyers, though so keen, 
 Like shears, ne'er cut ourselves, but what's between." 
 
 RELIEF BY PERSPIRATION. 
 
 A candidate at Surgeon's Hall, after a variety of 
 questions, was thus interrogated : — " In such a case, 
 sir, how would you act 1" — " Well, sir, if that did 
 not operate V — "But if that did not produce the 
 desired effect, of causing perspiration 1 ?" — "Why, | 
 gentlemen," said the worried student, " if all these ; 
 should fail, I would direct the patient to be brought 
 Jtere for examination .'" 
 
 EPITAPH ON A SCOLD. 
 
 lies, thank God, a woman who 
 
 Here 
 
 Quarrell'd and storm'd her whole life through ; 
 
 Tread gently o'er her mouldering form, 
 
 Or else you'll rouse another storm. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 361 
 
 ROYAL MODESTY. 
 
 King Charles II. once asked Stiilingfleet, why he 
 
 always read his sermons before him, when he always 
 
 | preached without book elsewhere. He told the 
 
 j king', the sight of so great and wise a prince, made 
 
 I hi'm afraid to trust himself: with which answer the 
 
 j king was very well contented. " But pray," says 
 
 Stiilingfleet, " will your majesty give me leave to ask 
 
 I you a question too • Why do you read your speeches 
 
 I to the parliament, when you have none of the same 
 
 reasons V — • " Why truly, doctor," said the ki 
 
 " your question is a very pertinent one, and so will be 
 
 my answer. I have asked them so often, and for so 
 
 much, that I am ashamed to look them in the face." 
 
 REQUISITES FOR AN EPIGRAM. 
 
 One day in Chelsea meadows walking, 
 Of poetry and such things talking, 
 
 Says Ralph, a merry wag, 
 < f An epigram, if smart and good, 
 In all its circumstances shou'd 
 
 Be like a jelly bag." 
 " Your simiie, I own, is new, 
 But how wiltmake'it out?" says Hugh : 
 
 Quoth Ralph, " I'll tell thee, friend ; 
 Make it at top both wide and fit 
 To hold a budget full of wit, 
 
 And point it at the end." 
 
 MISTAKEN RESPECT. 
 
 A lord mayor, waiting upon King Charles the 
 Second, while in the park feeding the ducks, with 
 his hat in his hand, the mayor desired he might not 
 speak till his majesty was covered : — '* Phoo, phoo !" 
 says the king- ; « you may go on very safely, 'tis to 
 the ducks I pull my hat off." 
 
 TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 
 
 To-day man's drest in gold and silver bright, 
 'Wrapp'd in a shroud before to-morrow night 
 To-day he's feeding on delicious food, 
 To-morrow dead, unable to do good : 
 To-day he's nice, and scorns to feed on crumbs 
 To-morrow he's himself a dish for worms : 
 
 To-day he's honour'd and in vast esteem, 
 To-morrow not a beggar values him: 
 To-day he rises from the velvet bed, 
 To-morrow lies on one that's made of lead : 
 To-day his house, tho' large, he thinks but small, 
 To-morrow no command, no house at all : 
 To-day has forty servants at his gate, 
 To-morrow seorn'd, not one of them will wait : 
 To-day perfum'd as sweet as any rose, 
 To-morrow stinks in ev'ry body's nose. 
 To-day he's grand, majestic, all delight, 
 Ghastful and pale before to-morrow night : 
 True, as the scripture says, " man's life's a span ;" 
 The present moment is the life of man ! 
 
 MISS FARREN. 
 
 The wife of the manager of a little strollin°- com- 
 pany, who was both old and ugly, had once a violent 
 dispute with Lady Derby, then Miss Farren; the 
 theatrical queen, being extremely irritated at some 
 remark of Thalia's favourite, exclaimed in her pas- 
 sion, " You are a very pretty young lady indeed !" 
 — " And you are neither one nor the other," replied 
 her ladyship. 
 
 THE VICAR OF BRAY's CREED. 
 I love with all my heart The Tory pr.rty here 
 
 The Hanoverian part— Most hateful doth appear, 
 
 And ft.r their settlement I ever have denied 
 
 My conscience gives consent, To be on James's side. 
 Most righteous is the cause To he for such a king 
 
 To fight for George's laws, Will Britons ruin bring, 
 
 This is my mind and heart In this opinion I 
 
 Tho' none should take my part. Resolve to live and die. 
 
 a physician's practice. 
 As a quack practitioner was standing at his door on 
 Ludgate-Hill, a regular bred physician passed, who 
 had learning and abilities, but not the success in his 
 practice which he deserved. " How comes it," says 
 lie to the quack, tf that you, without education, skill, 
 or the least knowledge of the science, are enabled to 
 live in the style you do 1 You keep your town-house, 
 your carriage, and your country-house ; whilst /, al- 
 lowed to possess some knowledge, have neither, and 
 can scarcely pick up a subsistence." — " Why, look 
 you," said the quack, "how many people do you 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 362 
 
 think have passed us since you asked me the ques- 
 tion 1" — " Why," answered the doctor, " perhaps a 
 hundred." — " And how many out of that hundred, 
 think you, possess common sense'!'' — "Possibly 
 ose," answered the doctor. " Then," said Rock, 
 " that one comes to you: and I take care to get the 
 other ninety-nine." 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 Our life is nothing but a winter's (lay. 
 Some only break their fast, and so away, 
 Others stay dinner, and depart full fed ; 
 The deepest age but slips, and goes to bed : 
 He's most in debt that lingers out the day ; 
 Who dies betimes, has less and less to pay. 
 
 MISS POPE. 
 
 Miss Pope was rallied one evening in the green- 
 room by a certain actress, more noted for her gal- 
 lantries than professional talents, on the largeness of 
 her shape ; on which she observed, " I can only wish 
 it, madam, as slender as your reputation." 
 
 THE COMMONS' 'PETITION TO CHARLES II. 
 
 In all humility we crave 
 Our sovereign may be our slave ; 
 And humbly beg that he may be 
 Betray'd by us most loyally : 
 And if he please once to lay down, 
 His sceptre, dignity, and crown, 
 We'll make him, for the time to come, 
 The greatest Prince in Christendom. 
 
 ROCHESTER. 
 
 The King's Answer. 
 Charles at this time having no need, 
 Thanks you as much as if he did. 
 
 FEMALE ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 
 
 Dr. Johnson being in company with a very talk- 
 ative lady, of whom he appeared to take very little 
 notice, she, in a pique, said to him, " Why, doctor, 
 I believe you are not very fond of the company of 
 ladies." — " You are mistaken, madam," replied he, 
 " I like their beauty, I like their delicacy, I like their 
 vivacity, and I like their silence. 
 
 TO PHILLIS. 
 
 Phil! is, you little rosy rake, 
 
 That heart of yours I long to rifle : 
 
 Come, give it me ; why should you mate 
 So much ado about a trifle ? 
 
 LOSS OF SIGHT AND SPEECH. 
 
 The captain of a trading vessel having some con- -j 
 traband goods on board, which he wished to land, 
 said to an exciseman, whom he knew, " If I was to put 
 a half-crown piece upon each of your eyes, eould you 
 see 1 ?" The answer was — " No : and if I had another 
 upon my mouth, I could not speak." 
 
 FEMALE CHARMS. 
 
 (From the Latin of Buchanan.) 
 
 To gaze upon thy face is bliss, 
 
 To hear thy voice with rapture charms, 
 
 More than terrestrial joy thy kiss, 
 And heav'n itself within t'hy arms. 
 
 a woman's learning. 
 " I should be glad to know," said a learned lady, 
 angrily, " how knowledge is incompatible with a 
 woman's situation in life. I should like to be told 
 why chemistry, geography, algebra, languages, and 
 the whole circle of arts and sciences, are not as be- 
 coming in her as in a man." — " I do not say," re- 
 plied an ingenious author, " that they are entirely 
 unbecoming ; but I think, a very little of them will 
 answer the purpose. In my opinion, now, a woman's 
 knowledge of chemistry should extend no further than 
 to the melting of butter ; her geography to a thorough 
 acquaintance with every hole and corner in the house ; 
 her algebra to keeping a correct account of the 
 expenses of the family ; and as for tongues, Heaven 
 knows, that, one is enough in all conscience, and the 
 less use she makes of that the better." 
 
 EPITAPH ON A WOODMAN, 
 
 At Ockham, in Surry, 1736. 
 The Lord saw good, I was lopping off wood, 
 
 And down fell from the tree ; 
 I met with a check, and I broke my neck 
 
 And so death lopp'd off me ! 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 363 
 
 THE IRISH SCHOOLMASTER S MODE OF TEACHING THE 
 ALPHABET. 
 
 Father M'Tutor'em, of the parish of O'Prosorly, in 
 the county of Docemus, sits himself down the monarch 
 of a shed, to teach the little puny whipsters the 
 Christ- Cross-row, so as to make the most lasting im- 
 pression. He has all the little fry for five miles round, 
 whose fathers can afford to give five coppers a week 
 for their education. 
 
 There was little Dermot, little Phelim, Terence 
 M'Bluderoch, and Paddy O'Drogheda, &e. &c. 
 
 Father M'Tutor'em called in this manner upon the 
 last new comer, who, be it known, knew as much of 
 the alphabet as he did of the longitude. 
 
 " You little O'Shaughnossy, come hither with 
 yourself. Bring your primer in your paw, and 
 your coppers in your fist. Blow your nose, and hold 
 up your head like a man. Arrah ! don't Jx hunting 
 after the flies across the ceiling ; but cock your eye 
 and look straight at your book, that you may shoot 
 every letter flying. 
 
 " You see that letter that looks for all the world 
 like the gable of your father's cabin, with a beam 
 across the middle of it ; that is called A — agusee A ; 
 and that letter, the next door neighbour, is namesake 
 to the little gentleman that sucks the flowers, fills the 
 honey pots, and carries a damned long sting in his 
 tail ; that is Mr. B. and B stands for Blubberlip. 
 Arrah now, what makes you pout out your lip so 1 
 Tuck in the selvage of your mouth, blow your nose, 
 and hold up your head like a man. The next is, for 
 all the world, like the sign of the half-moon, where 
 Judy Mac Gluthery sells whiskey ; and that is called 
 C, and stands for Cobbler, or Cobblers. And you see 
 the next, that is for all the world like the broken han- 
 dle of a pair of snuffers ; and that is called D, and D 
 stands for Daughter ; agusee Cobbler's Daughter ; 
 agusee, Blubberlip Cobbler's Daughter. And that 
 next is called E, which the English fiats, bodderation 
 to 'em, call E E, as if there were two of them. By 
 my conscience, they might as well say cheek hand- 
 kerchief, instead of check handkerchief, though it 
 was only made for the nose — that's true ! Blow 
 b2 
 
 your nose once more. And that next you see, 
 that's like a gibbet, with a little plug half way up, 
 for the hangman to put his foot on. Heaven bless 
 you, my dear, and keep your mother's child from the 
 like of it, my jewel. That is called F ; and F stands 
 for five. Arrah, now, and what's the next to F V 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 " Arrah, now, why don't you know 1" 
 
 lt Because I can't tell." 
 
 " Now you do know and you can tell. Arrah ! 
 what does the carman say, when he wants his horses 
 to go faster - ?" 
 
 "Gee." 
 
 " To be sure ; and that's the letter G. And if any 
 body should ask you which of your hands goes bare- 
 foot for want of a glove, you may say H, which is 
 the same as both ; and H stands for horse, or horses, 
 and I stands for jockies. Now, my little fellow, 
 agusee Blubberlip Cobbler's daughter eat up five gin- 
 gerbread horse-jockies, boots, spurs, whips, buckskin 
 breeches and all. Mercy on us ! what a devil of a 
 twist ! 
 
 ** Now I've taught you one third of your lesson, 
 and I'll teach you the other two halves when you 
 have knocked that under the scull-cap. And then, 
 my jewel, I'll tell you how to spell. Arrah, but 
 spelling is reading itself, my dear honey ; for instance 
 now, in the word Constantinople, which, I believe, if 
 my recollection don't fail me, is that great city, my 
 dear, of which Turkey is the metropolis, where Grand. 
 Turks keep a whole regiment of Janissaries, who, 
 mercy on us, are devils of fellows at a March. But 
 you'll know more of these things by and by, when 
 you read history, my little fellow. You'll find 
 also, if the Turks have their Januaries, the Romans 
 had their Decembers, and their July Caesars. But 
 now to spell the word Constantinople, my dear. 
 C, 0,N, Con— -that's the Con; S, T, A, N, stan, 
 — that's the stern, and the Constan ; T, I, ti, — 
 that's the ti, and the stanti, and the Constanti ; 
 N, O, no — >that's the no, and the tino, and the stan- 
 tino, and the Constantino , P, L, E, — that's the pie, 
 and nople, and the tinople, and the stantinople, and 
 the Constantinople. Now run home with -yourself, 
 
364 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 before the spallpeens and the cooghorns eat up the 
 pratees and butter-milk, my jewel. 
 
 " Where's your manners ? Make your bow. Oh, 
 you will be a Clargy one of these days I" s 
 
 MATRIMONY. 
 
 " My dear, what makes you always yawn ]" 
 The wife exclaimed, her temper gone, 
 " Is home so dull and dreary V 
 " Not so, my love," he said, " not so; 
 But man and wife are one you know ; 
 And when alone I'm weary." 
 
 LACONIC CHARGE. 
 
 A short time before the death of Judge Foster, he 
 Vent the Oxford Circuit in one of the hottest summers 
 ever remembered, when his charge to the Grand Jury 
 was to this effect : — " Gentlemen, the weather is 
 extremely hot, I am very old, and you are well ac- 
 quainted with your duty : — practise it." 
 
 ROYAL MIRTH. 
 
 In the time of Edward II. a hearty laugh cost the 
 king four crowns. We find in the Antiquarian Re- 
 pository, the following item in one of the king's ac- 
 counts: " Item. When the king was at Walmer, to 
 Morris, the clerk of the kitchen, who when the king 
 was hunting did ride before the king, end often feH 
 down from his horse, whereat the king laughed 
 greatly, 20*.!" 
 
 PAT AND THE COOK MAID. 
 
 I little thought that I should be 
 
 One day so fond a lover, 
 But Nanny spread her nets for me, 
 
 I'm taken like a plover. 
 For flesh and blood, and good blue veins, 
 
 There's none like Nanny Brawny. 
 She leads me with a rope of grains, 
 
 As int'rest leads young Sawney.. 
 She treats rne worse than fish or fowl, - 
 
 She roasts and then she hates me, 
 I'm grown as stupid as an owl, 
 
 Its love I'm told that wastes me. 
 
 My heart is like an Irish stew, 
 
 My brain like batter pudding ; 
 My veins are neither black nor blue, - 
 
 And not a drop of blood in. 
 No wonder if you saw my dear, 
 
 I'm sure you wouldn't wonder, 
 Her mouth it runs from ear to ear, 
 
 With voice as soft as thunder. 
 I melt like butter at her look, 
 
 And if its kind I'm crazy, 
 She mention'd once the parson'' s hook, 
 
 I told her I was lazy. 
 My heart with transport 'gins to jump, 
 
 When she begins to gammon, 
 A rib it bent at every thump, 
 
 It leap'd up like a salmon. 
 And yet so tender by the by, 
 
 ^ That when she cuts an onion, 
 You'll see the tear start in her eye, 
 
 Like granny reading Bunyan, 
 But what avails it now to whine, 
 
 And crying eyes to jelly, 
 The clock has struck, it's time to dine, 
 
 Love will not fill the belly. 
 
 A LIMB OF THE LAW. 
 
 A gentleman who was quitting the Court of King's 
 Bench, found some difficulty in pressing his way out, 
 and coming toe closely in contact with the gown of 
 a barrister, the latter exclaimed, '' Do mind, Sir ; 
 don't tear one to pieces." " No, sir," said the gen- 
 tleman, " that is your business, not mine." 
 
 Business and pleasure. 
 When Mrs. Baddeley was once confined for debt 
 in a lock-up-house, she sung so sweetly that she suug 
 herself out of her cage ; but her keeper soon found the 
 fatal effects of the siren's voice, and was immured 
 himself. Being asked by a fellow prisoner in the 
 King's Bench, " what business he had there V* 
 " Faith," repJied he, " I had no business here. — I 
 came here for pleasure.'' 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 SINGING AND JUMPING. 
 
 Handel was once the proprietor of the Opera- 
 house, London, and at the time presided at the harp- 
 sichord in the orchestra. His embellishments were 
 so masterly that the attention of the audience was 
 frequently diverted from the singing to the accom- 
 paniment, to the frequent mortification of the vocal 
 professors. A pompous Italian singer was once so 
 chagrined at the marked attention paid to the harp- 
 sichord, in preference to his own singing, that he 
 swore, that if ever Handel played him a similar trick, 
 he would jump down upon his instrument, and put a 
 stop to the interruption. Upon which Handel thus 
 accosted him : — " Oh ! oh ! you vill jump, vill you 1 
 very veil, Sare ; be so kind, and tell me de night ven 
 you vill jump, and I vill advertishe it in de bills ; and 
 I shall get grate dale more money by your jumping 
 than I shall get by your singing." 
 
 SCRAPERS. 
 
 Foote being once annoyed by a poor fiddler "strain- 
 ing harsh discord" under his window, sent him out a 
 shilling, with a request that he would play else- 
 where, as one scraper at the door was sufficient. 
 
 CONSTANTIA PHILIPS. 
 
 In the early part of Mr. Muilman's life, he be- 
 came enamoured with Constartia Philips ; and, find- 
 ing he could not procure her as a mistress, resolved 
 to venture upon her as a wife. They married, but 
 were not happy. " Mr. Muilman," said Constantia, 
 after they had been married about three months — 
 " Mr. Muilman, I believe you are heartily tired of 
 me, and I am as heartily tired of you ; so, if you will 
 settle five hundred a-year upon me, I will put you in 
 a way of dissolving our marriage." He eagerly em- 
 braced the proposal, and gave her his bond for per- 
 forming the contract ; on which she produced a 
 certificate of her previous marriage to a pastry-cook, 
 who lived in Maiden Lane, Covent Garden. This 
 point being ascertained, Mr. Muilman refused to pay 
 her annuity ; and she found there was a flaw in the 
 drawing up, which put it out of her power to compel 
 
 365 
 
 him. She therefore told him, unless he entered into 
 a new and legal engagement, she would take a step 
 which would still render her marriage with him per- 
 fectly valid. He laughed at her ; but she performed 
 her promise, by bringing a certificate, and producing 
 a register, by which it appeared that the Maiden 
 Lane pastry-cook, previous to his marriage with her, 
 was married to another woman, who was then alive. 
 This disconcerted the merchant ; who, however, got 
 rid of her importunities, by giving her a consider- 
 able sum, on condition of her going to Jamaica, 
 where she settled as keeper of a coffee-house, and 
 died soon after. 
 
 NEW USE OF THE COMMANDMENTS. 
 
 A gentlemen was one day telling a lady of thieves 
 having broken into a church, and stolen the com- 
 munion-plate and the ten commandments — " I can 
 suppose," added the informant, " that they may melt 
 and sell the plate, but can you divine for what pos- 
 sible purpose they could take the commandments V 
 — " To break them, to be sure," replied she, «* to 
 break them." 
 
 T.HE BEST OF A BAD JOB- 
 
 Two friends, who had not seen each other a long 
 while, met one morning quite by chance. " How do 
 you do V said one. " Why, not very well," replied 
 the other ; " I have been married since I saw you." — 
 " Well done, that is good news, however."—-*' Not 
 so very good, for my wife was a most woful scold." 
 — "That was bad." — "Not so bad neither, she 
 brought me two thousand pounds." — " That was con- 
 solation though." — " Not entirely, for I speculated in 
 sheep, which all died of the rot." — " That was very 
 unfortunate !" — " Not so very unfortunate, for I made 
 as much by their skins as I should have done by their 
 flesh." — " Then you were as lucky as if it had not hap- 
 pened." — " Not quite ; for my house was one night 
 burnt, and every note of the money consumed."— 
 "What a most woful misfortune!" — " Not so woful. 
 as you may imagine, for my wife and my house were 
 burnt together." 
 
366 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ORTHOGRAPHY AND PUNCTUATION. 
 
 The husband of a pious woman having occasion to 
 make a voyage, his wife sent a written request to the 
 parson of the parish ; but instead of spelling and 
 pointing it properly, viz. " A person having gone to 
 sea, his wife desires the prayers of the congregation," 
 she spelled and pointed it as follows: " A person, 
 having gone to see his wife, desires the prayers of the 
 congregation." The parson read it accordingly. 
 
 SWISS JUSTICE. 
 
 A French traveller lodged at a very humble inn, 
 in a little town near Lausanne, and made only a 
 frugal meal ; but when the moment arrived for pay- 
 ment, his host demanded twelve francs. "" Twelve 
 francs !" exclaimed the traveller.—" Is there no jus- 
 tice in this country'?"—" Pardonnez moi, Monsieur, 
 il y a de la justice," replied the innkeeper, with Swiss 
 phlegm. ". Eh ! bicn, je cours chez le magistrat." 
 The traveller set out for the commune, where he was 
 obliged to wait a considerable time. At length he 
 was introduced into the hall, but imagine his sur- 
 prise, when he found his landlord was to be his 
 judge ! '.* You have some complaint to make, Sir, I 
 believe V said Vaubergiste magistrat. " Yes, Sir." 
 — " Well, Sir, what have you to say?"—" Eh par- 
 blen ! you know best— take your bill and judge your- 
 self."— " You are right said the burgomaster— " je 
 condamne Vaubergiste a, ne recevoir que six francs; 
 ilfaut que chacun fasse son e'tat dans ce mo7ide. ,s 
 
 AUGUSTAN LIEERALITY. 
 
 A courtier having asked Augustus for a salary to a 
 place he held, said it was not for the value of the 
 thing, but fer the sake of seeming to have deserved it 
 at his hands. " Well," replied Augustus, " tell 
 every body that you receive one, and I will not deny 
 it." 
 
 MONK OUTWITTED. 
 
 A monk having introduced himself to the bed- 
 side of a dying nobleman, of considerable wealth, who 
 was at the time in a state approaching to insensibility, 
 said to him in an urgent tone, " My Lord, will you 
 
 make a grant of the priory to our monastery V- The 
 sick man, unable to speak, nodded his head. The 
 monk, taming round to the son, who was in the 
 room, said, " You see, Sir, my Lord, youi father, 
 assents to my request." The son immediately ex- 
 claimed, with great gravity, " Father, is it your 
 blessed will that I should kick this monk down stairs ?" 
 The same nod was given as before ; upon which the 
 youth said, " You see it is my father's good plea- 
 sure ;" and with a few lusty kicks, he sent him down 
 headlong. 
 
 LEGAL ADVICE. 
 
 " Sir" said a barber to an attorney who was pass- 
 ing his door, " will you tell me if this is a good seven- 
 shilling piece." The lawyer pronouncing the piece 
 good, deposited it in his pocket, adding, with great 
 gravity, " If you'll send your lad to my office, I'll 
 return the four-pence." 
 
 SPENCER'S FAIRY QUEEN 
 
 When Spencer had finished the Fairy Queen, he, 
 carried it to the Earl of Southampton, the great 
 patron of the poets of those days. The manuscript 
 being sent up to the earl, he read a few pages, and 
 then ordered the servant to give the writer twenty 
 pounds. Reading further, he cried, in a rapture, 
 "Carry that man another twenty pounds!" Pro- 
 ceeding still, he said, " Give him twenty pounds 
 more.''" But at length he lost all patience, and said, 
 *' Go turn that fellow out of the house, for if I read 
 on I shall be ruined." 
 
 FREDERIC THE GREAT. 
 
 As the king was passing in review several regi- 
 ments near Potsdam, he oberved a soldier who had a 
 large scar over his face — Finding he was a French- 
 man, Frederic addressed him in his native language, 
 saying, " In what alehouse did you get wounded ]" — 
 The soldier smartly replied, " In that where your 
 Majesty paid the reckoning." 
 
 SLANDER. 
 
 A gentleman of a malevolent and waspish dis- 
 position, having died it was reported by some persons 
 
. ...mself, 
 Surely, he must have 
 
 of his acquaintance that he had poisoned hi 
 on which a lady observed, " Surely, he mus 
 bitten his own tongue." 
 
 THE HAUNTED CHAMBER. 
 
 A poetical Epistle from a young Gentleman in the 
 Country to his Brother in London. 
 Safe seated at uncle's, to promises true, 
 I send the good news, my dear brother to you ; 
 So cheerful the house of our worthy relation, 
 I never enjoy'd such a pleasant vacation ; 
 Good sporting, good neighbours, good living, good 
 
 wine ; — 
 And the good of all goods — female beauty, divine ! 
 For all our fair cousins (don't envy me, piay) 
 Are handsome, accomplish'd, enchanting, and gay; 
 Though, in all the attractions with which they are 
 
 blest, 
 The elegant Emily soars o'er the rest. 
 But 'tis time I descend from heroics, to tell 
 The wond'rous adventure which lately befell. 
 Arriv'd at our uncle's old mansion, I found 
 A numerous party assembled around, 
 The chambers all occupied (so said our host) 
 Save one that was plagu'd with — what think you 1 — 
 
 a ghost ! 
 I thought they were quizzing ; but all our fair cousins 
 Most gravely asserted that spirits by dozens 
 Were seen from this terrible chamber to come, 
 And nobody ventur'd to sleep in the room. 
 I laugh'd at the bugbear, and frankly declar'd 
 I'd sleep in the room, though the devil appear'd \ 
 My courage was highly extoll'd, as you'll think, 
 And, applauded by beauty, pray how could I shrink? 
 I vow'd that I'd cheer with good spirits my heart, 
 And that should keep all evil spirits apart. 
 The gloomy old chamber was air'd for my birth, 
 And the evening pass'd gaily with music and mirth. 
 
 'Twas midnight — we parted — and I, nothing daunted, 
 Repair'd to this room so mysteriously haunted ; 
 Here a fine blazing fire, with each comfort akin, 
 Warm'd my courage without, as good wine warm'd 
 within ; 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 367 
 
 ;} 
 
 So I stept into bed, and (I speak without boast) 
 Felt no apprehension of little Miss Ghost ; 
 For I must inform you (as gossips had talk'd) 
 'Twas a lady whose sprite so appallingly wallc'd. 
 Well, nothing appear'd, and my eyes 'gan to" 
 
 close — 
 It struck three, just as I was beginning to doze, 
 When I fancied I heard the door gently unclose. 
 I started upright, and (conceive my affright) 
 I saw gliding in a tall female in white ! 
 I own I felt queerish, and shiver'd • — but hear — 
 I shiver'd with cold — zotinds ! it could not be fear ! 
 The figure was clothed in a robe all beruffled, 
 Her features were hidden, her face was so muffled ; 
 She stalk'd to my bed, and the curtain undrew, 
 Then lay herself down — as 1 live, it is true ; 
 But, though a kind girl is my greatest delight, 
 I had no inclination to lie with a sprite ; 
 So I mov'd farther off, till I lay on the post, 
 And left my warm bed to this comical ghost. 
 While I cower'd, in a tremor, the bed-clothes be- 
 neath, 
 I fancied I heard my strange bedfellow breathe ! 
 I listen'd — the breathing I heard as before — 
 And louder it grew — till 'twas almost a snore 
 Thinks I, " For a phantom, 'tis funny enough- 
 It sure must be made of corporeal stuff;" 
 So I softly extended my hand to the form, 
 And, touching it, found it substantial and warm ! 
 And by her respiring so loudly and deep, 
 I judg'd 'twas some lady who walk'd in her sleep. 
 Thought I, " To so lovely a ghost I could cling,* 
 When I felt on her delicate finger a ring ; 
 I rais'd her soft hand, and remov'd it with care, 
 For says I to myself, " This will tell who you are. 
 That instant my bedfellow threw off the clothes, 
 And, tho' fast asleep, started up on her toes ; 
 Then backwards and forwards she glided about, 
 And, as she came in, she at last glided out ! 
 I laugh'd at the spectre that made all this riot, 
 And, after a yawn or two, rested in quiet. 
 This curious event so disturb 'd my repose, 
 'Twas late in the morning before I arose : 
 
368 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHEK. 
 
 When I «nter'd the breakfast-room, smiling and 
 
 hearty. 
 Assembled I found the whole family party: 
 Their inquiries at once were directed to me, 
 With, " How did you rest, Sir?" and, " what did 
 
 you seej" 
 Said I, " Ere I speak of this wonderful thing, 
 I must learn who it is owns this emerald ring." 
 None claim'd the bright bauble, till Emily said, 
 " Good Heav'n ! 'tis my ring ! — and where was it 
 
 mislaid 1" 
 " Mislaid," said T, laughing, '* where Miss lay herself; 
 For you are the ghost, my fair cousin, yourself ; 
 And, strange as it seems, know, good people, I said, 
 Last night cousin Emily slept in my bed." 
 " You're joking," cried one, '* Tis too bad," cried 
 
 another, 
 While Emily tried her confusion to smother. 
 " 'Tis true," I exclaim'd, " and the truth must pre- 
 vail," 
 Then frankly related my whimsical tale. 
 All laugh'd, and declar'd I the secret must keep, 
 When a lady commits z.faux-pas in her sleep; 
 While I thought all their mirth a confounded intrusion, 
 Eor I saw lovely Emily sink in confusion. 
 At length our good uncle observ'd, with a smile, 
 " Faux-pas in the sleep are faux-pas without guile ; 
 And, since she has taken the place of a wife, 
 Suppose, my dear nephew, you take her for life. 
 With her ten thousand pounds you may prudently wed, 
 And you must take care, boy, to keep her in bed." 
 I lik'd, the proposal — to Emily turn'd, 
 Whose cheek with the pure blush of modesty burn d 
 And ask'd, as a sign of consent, for a kiss : 
 Her lips falter 'd no, but her eyes implied yes. 
 'Twas settled ; fair Emily's mine, with her pelf, 
 And, henceforth, I'll keep the sweet ghost to myself. 
 The somnambulist shall not so favour another, 
 So vows, my dear Tom, 
 
 Your affectionate brother. 
 
 SWEARING AND DRIVING. 
 
 A bishop being at his seat in the country where the 
 
 roads were uncommonly bad, went to pay a visit to 
 a person of quality in the neighbourhood, when his 
 coach was overturned in a slough, and the servants 
 were unable to extricate the carriage. As it was far 
 from any house, and the weather bad, the coachman 
 freely told his master he believed they must,stay there 
 all night, " for," said he, " while your grace is pre- 
 sent, I cannot make the horses move." Astonished 
 at this strange reason, his lordship desired him to ex- 
 plain himself: " It is," said he, " because I dare 
 not swear in your presence : aud, if I don't, we shall 
 never get clear." The bishop finding nothing could 
 be done if the servant was not humoured, replied. 
 " Well, then, swear a little, but not much." The 
 coachman made use of his permission, and the horses, 
 used to such a kind of dialect, soon set the coach at 
 liberty. 
 
 THREE BLACK CROWS. 
 
 Two honest tradesmen, meeting in the Strand, 
 
 One took the other briskly by the hand ; 
 
 " Hark-ye," said he, " 'tis an odd story this 
 
 About the crows !" — " I don't know what it is," 
 
 Eeply'd his friend — " No ! 1'am surpris'd at that; 
 
 Where I come from it is the common chat ; 
 
 But you shall hear ; an odd affair indeed ! 
 
 And that it happened, they are all agreed. 
 
 Not to detain you from a thing so strange, 
 
 A gentleman, that lives not far from 'Change, 
 
 This week, in short, as all the alley knows, 
 
 Taking a puke, has thrown up three black crows" 
 
 " Impossible !" — " Nay, but 'tis really true ; 
 
 I have it from good hands, and so may you."— - 
 
 " From whose, I pray V — So having named the man, 
 
 Straight to inquire his curious comrade ran. 
 
 " Sir, did you tell" — relating the affair — 
 
 " Yes, Sir, I did ; and if 'tis worth your care, 
 
 Ask Mr. Such-a-one, he told it me, 
 
 But, by the by, 'twas two black crows, not three." 
 
 Resolv'd to trace so wondrous an event, 
 
 Whip to the third the virtuoso went. 
 
 " Sir," — and so forth — " Why yes : the thing is fact, 
 
 Tho" in regard to number, not exact ; 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 369 
 
 It was not two black crows, 'twas only one, 
 
 The truth of that you may depend upon ; 
 
 The gentleman himself told me the case — " 
 
 " Where may I find him V — " Why, in such a place. 5 ' 
 
 Away goes he, and having found him out, 
 
 " Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt" — 
 
 Then to his last informant he referr'd, 
 
 And begg'd to know if true what he had heard : 
 
 " Did you, Sir, throw up a black crow 1" — " Not I" — 
 
 " Bless me ! how people propagate a lie ! 
 
 Black crows have been thrown up, three, two, and 
 
 one : 
 And here I find all comes at last to none ! 
 Did you say nothing of a crow at all ?" 
 " Crow — crow — perhaps I might ; now I recall 
 The matter over." — " And, pray, Sir, what was't V— 
 " Why I was horrid sick, and, at the last, 
 I did throw up, and told my neighbour so, 
 Something that was — as black, Sir, as a crow." 
 
 DEGREES OF INEBRIETY. 
 
 As drunk as an owl, as drunk as a sow, as drunk 
 as a beggar, as drunk as the devil, as drunk as a 
 lord. These are the principal comparisons of drunk- 
 enness, and the explanation is as follows : a man is 
 as drunk as an owl, when he cannot see ; he is as 
 drunk as a beggar, when he is very impudent ; he is 
 as drunk as the devil, when he is inclined to mischief ; 
 and as drunk as a lord, when he is every thing that 
 is bad. 
 
 CURIOUS EPITAPHS. 
 
 In a church-yard, in Sussex, is the following epi- 
 taph : 
 
 Here lie two children dear, 
 One buried at Portsea, the other here. 
 This is only equalled by another in France : The 
 mayor of a small provincial town having died on a 
 visit to the capital, where he was buried, his admi- 
 nistrators put up a monument to him in his parish 
 church, on which was engraved, " Ci-git Monsieur 
 jB*** t qui a ite enterre a Paris." Here lies Monsieur 
 B***, who w3-s buried at Pads ! 
 r3 
 
 VOLTAIRE AND HIS BOOKSELLEP.. 
 
 At the rehearsal of one of Voltaire's tragedies, as 
 Mr. Cramer, a bookseller at Geneva, was finishing 
 his part, which was to end with some dying sentences, 
 Voltaire cried out aloud — " Cramer, you lived like a 
 prince in the four preceding acts, but in the fifth 
 you die like a bookseller." A medical gentleman 
 present, could not help interfering; with, " Why, 
 Mons. de Voltaire, can you expect gentlemen to be 
 at the expense of dresses, and the fatigue of getting 
 up such long parts, if you thus upbraid them 1 On 
 the contrary, I think they all deserve the greatest 
 encouragement at your hands ; and as to my friend 
 Cramer, I declare, that, as far as I am a judge, he 
 dies with the same dignity as he lived." Voltaire, 
 who detested advice or information, made this cool 
 answer ; " Prithee, doctor, when you have got kings 
 to kill, kill them in your own way ; but let me kill 
 mine as I please." 
 
 AN UNLUCKY CONFESSION 
 
 A physician, who lived in London, attended a lady, 
 who lived in Chelsea. After continuing his visits for 
 some time, the lady expressed an apprehension that 
 it might be inconvenient for him to come so far on her 
 account. " Oh, Madam !" replied the doctor, " I 
 have another patient in this neighbourhood, and by 
 that means, you know, / kill two birds with one 
 stone." " Doctor," replied the lady, " you are too 
 good a shot for me," and dispensed with his further 
 attendance. 
 
 EXTEMPORE 
 
 On a gentleman with very thin legs. 
 Sir, that you're brave you need not swear, 
 
 The reason why I will disclose ; 
 A coward heart would take more care, 
 
 Than trust itself to legs like those. 
 
 EPITATH ON A WOMAN WHO NEVER HAD CHILDBEN. 
 
 Here lies the body of barren Peg, 
 
 Who had no issue, but one in her leg j 
 
 But while she was living, she was so cunning, 
 
 That when one stood still, the other was running. 
 
370 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 CHARACTERS BY SAMUEL BUTLER, 
 
 Author of Hudibrai. 
 
 A PLAY-WRITER 
 
 Of our times is like a Fanatic, that has no wit in 
 ordinary easy things, and yet attempts the hardest 
 task of brains in the whole world, only because, 
 whether his play or work please or displease, he is 
 certain to come off better than he deserves, and find 
 some of his own latitude to applaud him, which he 
 could never expect any other way ; and is as sure to 
 lose no reputation, because he has none to venture. 
 Like gaming rooks, that never stick 
 To play for hundreds upon tick ; 
 'Cause, if they chance to lose at play, 
 Th'ave not one halfpenny to pay ; 
 And, if they win a hundred pound, 
 Gain, if for sixpence they compound. 
 Nothing encourage-s him more in his undertaking 
 than his ignorance, for he has not wit enough to un- 
 derstand so much as the difficulty of what he at- 
 tempts ; therefore he runs on boldly like a fool-hardy 
 ■wit ; and fortune, that favours fools and the bold, 
 sometimes takes notice of him for his double capacity, 
 and receives him into her good graces. He has one 
 motive more, and that is the concurrent ignorant 
 judgment of the present age, in which his sottish fop- 
 peries pass with applause, like Oliver Cromwell's 
 oratory among fanatics of his own canting inclina- 
 tion. He finds it easier to write in rhyme than prose ; 
 for the world being overcharged with romances, he 
 finds his plots, passions, and repartees, ready made 
 to his hand; and if he can but turn them into rhyme, 
 the thievery is disguised, and they pass for his own 
 wit and invention without question ; like a stolen 
 cloak made into a coat, or dyed into another colour. 
 Besides this he makes no conscience of stealing any 
 thing that lights in his way, and borrows the advice 
 of so many to correct, enlarge, and amend, what he 
 has ill-favouredly patched together, that it becomes 
 like a thing drawn by council, and none of his own 
 performance, or the son that has no certain father. 
 He has very great reason to prefer verse before prose 
 in his compositions ; for rhyme is like lace, that serves 
 
 excellently well to hide the pieceing and coarseness 
 of a bad stuff, contributes mightily to the bulk, and 
 makes the less serve by the many impertmencies it 
 commonly requires to make away for it ; for very few 
 are endowed with abilities to bring it in on its own 
 account. .This he finds to be good husbandry, and a 
 kind of necessary thrift ; for they that have but a \ 
 little ought to make as much of it as they can. His 
 prologue, which is commonly none of his own, is 
 always better than his play ; like a piece of cloth 
 that's fine in the beginning, and coarse afterwards ; 
 though it has but one topic, and that's the same that 
 is used by malefactors when they are to be tried, to 
 except against as many of the jury as they can. 
 
 butler's character of a newsmonger. 
 A newsmonger is a retailer of rumour, that takes up 
 upon trust, and sells as cheap as he buys. He deals in 
 a commodity, that will not keep : for if it be not fresh 
 it lies upon his hands, and will yield nothing. True 
 or false is all one to him ; for novelty being the grace 
 of both, a truth grows stale as soon as a lie : and as 
 a slight suit will last as well as a better while the 
 fashion holds, a lie serves as well as truth till new 
 ones come up. He is little concerned whether it be 
 good or bad, for that does not make it more or less 
 news ; and if there be any difference, he loves the 
 bad best, because it is said to come soonest ; for he 
 would wil ingly bear his share in any public calamity 
 to have the pleasure of hearing and telling it. He is 
 deeply read in diurnals, and can give as good an ac ■ 
 count of Rowland Pepin, if need be, as another man. 
 He tells news, as men do money, with his fingers ; 
 for he assures them it comes from very good hands. 
 The whole business of his life is like that of a spaniel, 
 to fetch and carry news ; and when he does it well 
 he is clapt on the back, and fed for it : for he does 
 not take to it altogether like a gentleman, for his 
 pleasure ; but when he lights on a considerable 
 parcel of news, he knows where to put it off for a 
 dinner, and quarter himself upon it, until he has 
 eaten it out ; and by this means he drives a trade, 
 by retrieving the first news to truck it for the first 
 meat in season; and, like the old Roman luxury, 
 ransacks all seas and lands to please his palate ; for 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 he imports his narratives from all parts within the 
 geography of a diurnal, and eats as well upon the 
 Russ and Polander, as the English and Dutch. By 
 this means his belly is provided for, and nothing lies 
 upon his hands but his back, which takes other 
 courses to maintain itself by weft and stray silver 
 spoons, straggling hoods and scarfs, pimping, and sets 
 at l'ombre. 
 
 butler's character of a tailor. 
 A taylor came in with the curse ; and is younger 
 brother to thorns, thistles, and death ; for if Adam had 
 not fallen, he had never sat cross-legged. Sin and 
 he are partners; for as sin first brought him into 
 employment, so he by cheating and contributing to 
 pride and vanity, works to sin, and the old trade is 
 still kept up between both. Our Saviour wore his 
 coat without seim, rather than he would have any 
 thing to do with him; and Elias, when he went to 
 Heaven, left his mantle behind, because it had been 
 polluted by his fingers. The Jews in all great cala- 
 mities were wont to rend their garments, only to 
 testify that they defied him and all his works. All 
 men love and admire cloaths, but scorn and despise 
 him that made them, as princes approve of treason, 
 but hate traitors. He sits cross-legged to show that 
 he was originally a Turk, and calls himself Merchant- 
 Taylor upon no other account, but only as he de- 
 scended from Mahomet, who was a merchant's pren- 
 tice himself in his youth. And his constant custom 
 of making the calves of his legs a stool to sit upon, 
 has rendered him so stiff in the hams, that he walks 
 as if he was newly circumcised, to distinguish him- 
 self from a Christian. He lives much more by his 
 faith than good works ; for he gains more by trusting 
 and believing in one that pays him at long running, 
 than six that he works for upon an even account for 
 ready-money. He never cuts his coat according to 
 his cloth ; but always the more he is allowed the less 
 he puts in a garment : and he believes he has reason 
 for it^ for he is fain to take double pains in contriv- 
 ing how to dispose both what he steals, and what he 
 uses, to the best advantage, which costs him twice as 
 much labour as that which he gets nothing by. He 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 3^1 
 
 never cuts a man's cloaths but he cuts his purse into 
 the bargain ; and when he makes a pocket, takes 
 handsel of it, and picks it first himself. He calls 
 stealing damning, by a figure in rhetoric called the 
 effect for the efficient ; and the place where he lodges 
 all his thieveries hell, to put him in mind of his lat- 
 ter end : and what he steals by retail the broker 
 takes off his hands by wholesale. He keeps his wife 
 in taffety to save charges ; for when her petticoats 
 are worn out, they serve him to line vests with, as 
 well as if they were new ; and when he is unfur- 
 nished of these, old sattin and taffety-men supply 
 him for ends of gold and silver. He gets more by 
 the trimming and garniture of cloaths than all the 
 rest ; for he can swallow ribands like a juggler, and 
 put whole pieces more in his bill than ever he made 
 use of, and stretch lace, as a shoe-maker does leather, 
 with his teeth, when he sets it on. The mercers are 
 in fee with him to revive old rotten stuffs by giving 
 them new fantastic names ; and he brings them into 
 the mode by swearing they are new come up : in 
 consideration of which he is allowed to buy cheap 
 and sell dear ; for he is loath to undervalue his con- 
 science, and put it off at a mean rate, as long as he 
 sees his neighbours can make more of theirs — He 
 scorns that. 
 
 butler's character of a degenerate noble. 
 A degenerate noble, or one that is proud of his birth, 
 is like a turnip ; there is nothing good of him but 
 that which is under-ground ; or rhubarb, a con- 
 temptible shrub, that springs from a noble root. He 
 has no more title to the worth and virtue of his an- 
 cestors, than the worms that were engendered in 
 their dead bodies ; and yet he believes he has enough 
 to exempt himself and his posterity from all things of 
 that nature for ever. This makes him glory in the 
 antiquity of his family, as if his nobility were the 
 better the farther off it is in time, as well as desert, 
 from that of his predecessors. He believes the honour 
 that was left him, as well as the estate, is sufficient 
 to support his quality, without troubling himself to 
 
 fiurchase any more of his own ; and he meddles as 
 ittle with the management of the one as the other, 
 
372 
 
 but trusts both to the government of his servants, by 
 whom he is equally cheated in both. He supposes 
 the empty title of honour sufficient to serve his turn, 
 though he has spent the substance and reality of it : 
 like the fellow that sold his ass, but would not part 
 with the shadow of it ; or Apicius, that sold his house, 
 and kept only the balcony, to see and be seen in. 
 And because he is privileged from being arrested for 
 his debts, supposes he has the same freedom from all 
 obligations he owes humanity and his country, be- 
 cause he is not punishable for his ignorance and 
 want of honour, no more than poverty or unskilful- 
 ness is in other professions, which the law supposes 
 to be punishment enough to itself. He is like a 
 fanatic, that contents himself with the mere title of 
 a saint, and makes that his privilege to act all manner 
 of wickedness ; or the ruins of a noble structure, of 
 which there is nothing left but the foundation, and 
 that obscured and buried under the rubbish of the 
 superstructure. The living honour of his ancestors is 
 long ago departed, dead and gone ; and his is but 
 the ghost and shadow of it, that haunts the house 
 with horror and disquiet, where once it lived. His 
 nobility is truly descended from the glory of his fore- 
 fathers, and may be rightly said to fall to him ; for 
 it will never rise again to the height it was in them 
 by his means ; and he succeeds them as candles do 
 the office of the sun. The confidence of nobility has 
 rendered him ignoble, as the opinion of wealth makes 
 some men poor; and as those that are born to estates 
 neglect industry, and have no business but to spend ; 
 so he being born to honour, believes he is no farther 
 concerned, than to consume and waste it. He is 
 but a copy, and so ill done, that there is no line of the 
 original in him, but the siu only. 
 
 butler's character of a huffing courtier. 
 A huffing courtier has no value himself, but from the 
 place he stands in. All his happiness consists in the 
 opinion he believes others have of it. This is his 
 faith ; but as it is heretical and erroneous, though he 
 suffer much tribulation for it, he continues obstinate, 
 and not to be convinced. He flutters up and down 
 like a butterfly in a garden ; and while he is pruning 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 his peruke, takes occasion to contemplate his legs, 
 and the symmetry of his breeches. He is part of the 
 furniture of the rooms, and serves for a walking pic- 
 ture, a moving piece of arras. His business is only 
 to be seen ; and he performs it with admirable indus- 
 try, placing himself always in the best light, looking 
 wonderfully politic, and cautious whom he mixes 
 withal. His occupation is to show his cloaths ; and 
 if they could but walk themselves, they would save 
 him the labour, and do his work as well as himself. 
 His immunity from varlets is his freehold, and he 
 were a lost man without it. His cloathes are but his 
 tailor's livery, which he gives him ; for it is ten to 
 one he never pays for them. He is very caivful to 
 discover the lining of his coat, that you may not sus- 
 pect any want of integrity or flaw in him from the 
 skin outwards. His tailor is his creator, and makes 
 him of nothing ; and though he lives by faith in him, 
 he is perpetually committing iniquities against him. 
 His soul dwells in the outside of him, like that of a 
 hollow tree ; and if you do but peel the bark off him . 
 he deceases immediately. His carriage of himself is 
 the wearing of his cloaths ; and, like the cinnamon- 
 tree, his bark is better than his body. His looking 
 big is rather a tumour, than greatness. He is an 
 idol, that has just so much value as other men give 
 him that believe in him, but none of his own. He 
 makes his ignorance pass for reserve ; and, like a 
 hunting nag, leaps over what he cannot get through. 
 He has just so much of politics, as ostlers in the uni- 
 versity have Latin. He is as humble as a Jesuit to 
 his superiors, but repays himself again in insolence 
 over those that are below him ; and with a generous 
 scorn despises those that can neither do him good nor 
 hurt. He adores those that may do him good, though 
 he knows they never will ; and despises those that 
 would not hurt him if they could. The court is his 
 church, and he believes as that believes, and cries up 
 and down every thing as he finds it pass there. It is 
 a great comfort to him to think that some who do not 
 know him may perhaps take him for a lord ; and while 
 that thought lasts, he looks bigger than usual, and 
 forgfts his acquaintance ; and that is the reason why 
 he will sometimes know you and sometimes not. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 373 
 
 Nothing but want of money or credit puts him in 
 mind that he is mortal ; but then he trusts Providence 
 that somebody will trust him ; and in expectation of 
 that hopes for a better life, and that his debts will 
 never rise up in judgment against him. To get in 
 debt is to labour in his vocation, but to pay is to for- 
 feit his protection; for what's that worth to one that 
 owes nothing ? His employment being only to wear 
 his cloaths, the whole account of his life and actions 
 is recorded in shopkeepers' books, that are his faithful 
 historiographers to their own posterity; and he be- 
 lieves he loses so much reputation, as he pays off his 
 debts ; and that no man wears his cloaths in fashion 
 that pays for them, for nothing is farther from the 
 mode. He believes that he that runs in debt is be- 
 fore-hand with those that trust him, and only those 
 that pay are behind. His brains are turned giddy, like 
 one that walks on the top of a house ; and that is the 
 reason it is so troublesome to him to look downwards. 
 He is a kind of spectrum, and his cloaths are the shape 
 he takes to appear and walk in ; and when he puts them 
 off he vanishes. He runs as busily out of one room 
 into another, as a great practiser does in Westminster- 
 hall from one court to another. When he accosts a 
 lady, he puts both ends of his microcosm in motion, 
 by making legs at one end, and combining his pe- 
 ruke at the other. His garniture is the sauce to 
 his cloaths, and he walks in his port-cannons like 
 one that stalks in long grass. Every motion of him 
 cries vanity of vanities, all is vanity, quoth the 
 preacher. He rides himself like a weil-managed 
 hoise, reins-in his neck, and walks terra terra. He 
 carries his elbows backward, as if he were pinioned 
 like a trussed-up fowl, and moves as stiff as if he was 
 upon the spit. His legs are stuck in his great vo- 
 luminous breeches, like the whistles in a bagpipe ; 
 those abundant breeches, in which his nether parts 
 are not cloathed, but packed up. His hat has been 
 long in a consumption of the fashion, and is now al- 
 most worn to nothing ; if it do not recover quickly, it 
 will grow too little for a head of garlick. He wears 
 garniture on the tees of his shoes, to justify his pre- 
 tensions to the gout, or such other malady, that for 
 
 the time being is most in fashion or request. When 
 he salutes a friend, he pulls of his hat as women do 
 their vizor-masks. His ribands are of the true 
 complexion of his mind, a kind of painted cloud or 
 gaudy rainbow, that has no colour of itself, but what 
 it borrows from reflection. He is as tender of his 
 cloaths as a coward is of his flesh, and as loath to have 
 them disordered. His bravery is all his happiness ; 
 and, like Atlas, he carries his heaven on his back. 
 He is like the golden fleece, a fine outside on a sheep's 
 back. He is a monster, or an Indian creature, that is 
 good for nothing in the world but to be seen. He 
 puts himself up into a sedan, like a fiddle in a case, 
 and is taken out again for the ladies to play upon ; 
 who, when they have done with him, let down his 
 treble stiing, till they are in the humcur again. His 
 cook and valet de chambre conspire to dress dinner 
 and him so punctually together, that the one may not 
 be ready before the other. As peacocks and os- 
 triches have the gaudiest and finest feathers, yet can- 
 not fly ; so all his bravery is to flutter only. The 
 beggars call him ' My Lord/ and he takes them at 
 their words, and pays them for it. If you praise him 
 he is so true and faithful to the mode, that he never 
 fails to make you a present of himself, and will not 
 be refused, though you know not what to do with him 
 when you hove him. 
 
 butler's character of a cheat. 
 
 A cheat is a freeman of all trades, and all trades of 
 his. Fraud and treachery are his calling, though 
 his profession be integrity and truth. He spins 
 nets, like a spider, out of his own entrails, to entrap 
 the simple and unwary that light in his way, whom 
 he devours and feeds upon. All the greater sort of 
 cheats, being allowed by authority, have lost their 
 names, (as judges, when they are called to the bench, 
 are no more stiled lawyers) and left the title to the 
 meaner only, and the unallowed. The common 
 ignorance of mankind is his province, which he orders 
 to the best advantage. He is but a tame highway- 
 man, that does the same things by stratagem and 
 design which the ether does by force, makes men 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 374 
 
 deliver their understandings first, and after their 
 purses. Oaths and lies are his tools that he works 
 with, and he gets his living by the drudgery of his 
 conscience. He endeavours to cheat the devil by 
 mortgaging his soul so many times over and over to 
 him, forgetting that he has damnations, as priests 
 have absolutions, of all prices. He is a kind of a 
 just judgment, sent into this world to punish the con- 
 fidence and curiosity of ignorance, that out of a natural 
 inclination to error will tempt its own punishment, 
 and help to abuse itself. He can put on as many 
 shapes as the devil that set him on work, is one that 
 fishes in muddy understandings, and will tickle a 
 trout in his own element, till he has him in his 
 clutches, and after in his dish, or the market. He 
 runs down none but those which he is certain are 
 feroe naturae, mere natural animals, that belong to 
 him that can catch them. He can do no feats without 
 the cooperating assistance of the chouse, whose credu- 
 lity commonly meets the impostor half way, otherwise 
 nothing is done ; for all the craft is not in the catch- 
 ing, (as the proverb says) but the better half at least 
 in being catched. He is one that, like a bond with- 
 out fraud, covin, and further delay, is void and of none 
 effect, otherwise does stand and remain in full power, 
 force, and virtue. He trusts the credulous witlj 
 what hopes they please at a very easy rate, upon 
 their own security, until he has drawn them far 
 enough in, and then makes them pay for all at once. 
 The first thing he gets from him is a good opinion, 
 and afterwards any thing he pleases ; for after he 
 has drawn him from his guards, he deals with him 
 like a surgeon, and ties his arm before he lets him 
 blood. 
 
 butler's character of a bankrupt. 
 A bankrupt is made by breaking, as a bird is hatched 
 by breaking the shell ; for he gains more by giving over 
 his trade than ever he did by dealing in it. He drives 
 a trade, as Oliver Cromwell did a coach, till it broke 
 in pieces. He is very tender and careful in preserv- 
 ing his credit, and keeps it as methodically as a race- 
 nag is dieted, that in the end he may run away with 
 it : for he observes a punctual curiosity in performing 
 
 his word, until he has improved his credit as far at 
 ircan go : and then he has catched the fish, and 
 throws away the net ; as a butcher, when he has fed 
 his beast as fat as it can grow, cuts the throat of it. 
 When he has brought his design to perfection, and 
 disposed of all his materials, he lays his train, like a 
 powder-traitor, and gets out of the way, while he 
 blows up all those that trusted him. After the blow 
 is given, there is no manner of intelligence to be had 
 of him for some months, until the rage and fury is 
 somewhat digested, and all hopes vanished of ever 
 recovering any thing of body, or goods, for revenge 
 or restitution ; and then propositions of treaty and 
 accommodation appear like the sign of the hand and 
 pen out of the clouds, with conditions more unreason- 
 able than thieves are wont to demand for restitution 
 of stolen goods. He shoots like a fowler at a whole 
 flock of geese at once, and stalk? with his horse to 
 come as near as possibly he can without being per- 
 ceived by any one, or giving the least suspicion of 
 his design, until it is too late to prevent it ; and then 
 he flies from them, as they should have done before 
 from him. His way is so commonly used in the city, 
 that, he robs in a road, like a highwayman, and yet 
 thev will never arrive at wit enough to avoid it ; for 
 it is done upon surprise : and as thieves are com- 
 monly better mounted than those they rob, he very 
 easily makes his escape, and flies beyond pursuit, 
 and there is no possibility of overtaking him. 
 butler's character of a knave. 
 A knave is like a tooth- drawer, that maintains his own 
 teeth in constant eating by pulling out those of other 
 men. He is an ill moral philosopher, of villainous 
 principles, and as bad practice. His tenets are to 
 hold what he can get, right or wrong. His tongue 
 and his heart are always at variance, and fall out 
 like rogues in the street, to pick somebody's pocket. 
 They never agree but, like Herod and Pilate, to do 
 mischief. His conscience never stands in his light, 
 when the devil holds a candle to him ; for he has 
 stretched it so thin that it is transparent. He is an 
 engineer of treachery, fraud, and perfidiousness ; and 
 knows how to manage matters of great weight with 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 375 
 
 very little force, by the advantage of his trepanning 
 screws. He is very skilful in all the mechanics of 
 cheat, the mathematical magic of imposture ; and 
 will outdo the expectations of the most credulous, to 
 their own admiration and undoing. He is an excel- 
 lent founder, and will melt down a leaden fool, and 
 cast him into what form he pleases. He is like a 
 pike in a pond, that lives by rapine, and will some- 
 times venture on one of his own kind, and devour a 
 knave as big as himself; he will swallow a fool a 
 great deal bigger than himself ; and if he can but 
 get his head within his jaws, will carry the rest of 
 him hanging out at his mouth, until by degrees he 
 has digested him all. He has a hundred tricks to slip 
 his neck out of the pillory without leaving his ears 
 behind. As for the gallows, he never ventures to 
 show his tricks upon the high-rope, for fear of break- 
 ing his neck. He seldom commits any villainy, but 
 in a legal way, and makes the law bear him out in 
 that for which it hangs others. He always robs under 
 the vizor of law, and picks pockets with tricks in 
 equity. By his means the law makes more knaves 
 than it hangs ; and, like the inns of court, protects 
 offenders against itself. He gets within the law and 
 disarms it. His hardest labour is to wriggle himself 
 into trust, which if he can but compass, his business 
 is done ; for fraud and treachery follow as easily as a 
 thread does a needle. He grows rich by the ruin of 
 his neighbours, like grass in the streets in a great sick- 
 ness. He shelters himself under the covert of the 
 law, like a thief in a hemp-plot, and makes that se- 
 cure him which was intended for his destruction. 
 
 sutler's character of a state convert. 
 A state convert is a thrifty penitent, that never left 
 rebellion until it left him. He has always appeared 
 faithful to his principles to the very last ; for as he 
 first engaged against the crown for no other rea- 
 son but his own advantages, so he afterwards faced 
 about, and declared for it for the very same consi- 
 deration ; and, when there was no more to be made 
 . of it, was thoroughly convinced, and renounced it 
 from the bottom of his heart. He espoused the good 
 old cause, like a gay woman that had money in her 
 
 purse, and styled herself an honest woman , but when 
 all was spent and gone, turned out of doors to shift 
 for herself, and declared herself to be no better 
 than she should be. He was very much unsatisfied 
 in his conscience with the government of the church, 
 as long as presbytery bore the bag, and had money 
 to receive for betraying Christ ; but as soon as those 
 saints were gulled and cheated of all, and the cove- 
 nant began to be no better than a beggarly ceremony, 
 his eyes were presently opened, and all his scruples 
 vanished in a moment. He did his endeavour to 
 keep out the king as long as he could possibly ; but 
 when there was no hope left to prevail any longer, 
 he made a virtue of necessity, and appeared among 
 the foremost of those that were most earnest to bring 
 him in ; and like Lipsius's dog,* resolved to have his 
 share in that which he was able to defend no longer. 
 What he gained by serving against the king, he laid 
 out to purchase profitable employments in his service; 
 for he is one that will neither obey nor rebel against 
 him for nothing ; and though he inclines naturally to 
 the latter, yet he has so much of a saint left as to 
 deny himself, when he cannot have his will, and de- 
 nounce against self seeking, until he is sure to find 
 what he looks for. He pretends to be the only man 
 in the world that brought in the king, which is in one 
 sense very true ; for if he had not driven him out 
 first, it had been impossible ever to have brought him 
 in. He endures his preferment patiently, (though he 
 esteems it no better than a relapse) merely for the 
 profit he receives by it ; and prevails with himself to 
 be satisfied with that and the hopes of seeing better 
 times, and then resolves to appear himself again, and 
 let the world see he is no changeling : and therefore 
 he rejoices in his heart at any miscarriages of state- 
 affairs, and endeavours to improve them to the utter- 
 
 * The story of Lipsius's Dog, who had hecn taught to carry- 
 meat in a basket, is thus related by Sir Kenehue Diuby.— 
 " Other less dogs snatching, as he trotted along, part or «bat 
 hung out. of his basket, which he carried in his month, he set 
 it down to worry one of them ; whilst, in the mran time, the 
 others fed at liberty and at ease upon the meat that lay there 
 unguarded -, till he, coming back to it, drove them awsy, and 
 himself made an end of eating it up." 
 
376 
 
 most, partiy to vindicate his own former actions, and 
 partly in hope to see the times come about again to 
 him as he did to them. 
 
 butler's character of_ a rebel. 
 A rebel is a voluntary bandit, a civil renegado, that 
 renounces his obedience to his prince, to raise himself 
 upon the public ruin. He is of great antiquity, per- 
 haps before the creation, at least a Prasadamite ; for 
 Lucifer was the first of his family, and from him he 
 derives himself in an indirect line. He finds fault 
 with the government, that he may get it the easier 
 into his own hands, as men use to undervalue what 
 they have a desire to purchase. He is a botcher of 
 politics, and a state-tinker, that makes flaws in the 
 government only to mend them again. He goes for a 
 public-spirited man, and his pretences are for the 
 public good ; that is, for the good of his own public 
 spirit. He pretends to be a great lover of his country, 
 as if it had given him love-powder ; but it is merely 
 out of natural affection to himself. He has a great 
 itch to be handling of authority, though he cut his 
 fingers with it; and is resolved to raise himself, 
 though it be but upon the gallows. He is all for 
 peace and truth, but not without lying and fighting. 
 He plays a game with the hangman for the cloaths 
 on his back ; and when he throws out, he strips him 
 to the skin. He dies in hempen sheets, and his body 
 is hanged, like his ancestor Mahomet's, in the air. 
 He might have lived longer, if the destinies had not 
 spun his thread of life too strong. He is sure never 
 to come to an untimely end, for by the course of law 
 his glass was out long before. He calls rebellion and 
 treason laying out of himself for the public ; but be- 
 ing found to be false unlawful coin, he was seized 
 upon, and cut ii pieces, and hanged for falsifying 
 himself. His espousing' of quarrels proves as fatal 
 to his country, as the Parisian wedding did to France. 
 He is like a bell, that was made on purpose to be 
 hanged. He is a diseased part of the body-politic, 
 to which all the bad humours gather. He picks 
 straws out of the government like a madman, and 
 startles at them when he has done. He endeavours 
 to raise himself, like a boy's kite, by being pulled 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 against the wind. After all his endeavours and de- 
 signs, he is at last promoted to the gallows, which 
 is performed with a cavalcade suitable to his dignity; 
 and after much ceremony, he is installed by the hang- 
 man, with the general applause of all men, and dies 
 singing, like a swan. 
 
 butler's character of a translator. 
 A translator dyes an author, like an old stuff, into 
 a new colour, but can never give it the lustre of 
 the first tincture ; as silks that are twice died lose 
 their glosses, and never receive a fair colour. He is 
 a small factor, that imports books of the growth of 
 one language into another, but it seldom turns to ac- 
 count ; for the commodity is perishable, and the 
 finer it is, the worse it endures transportation ; as 
 the most delicate of Indian fruits are by no art to be 
 brought over. Nevertheless he seldom fails in his 
 purpose, which is to please himself and give the 
 world notice that he understands one language more 
 than it was aware of ; and that done, he makes a 
 saving return. He is a Truchman, that interprets 
 between learned writers and gentle readers, and uses 
 both how he pleases ; for he commonly mistakes the 
 one, and misinforms the other. If he does not per- 
 fectly understand the full meaning of his author as 
 well as he did himself, he is but a copier, and there- 
 fore never comes near the mastery of the original ; 
 and his labours are like dishes of meat twice drest, 
 that become insipid, and lose the pleasant taste they 
 had at first. He differs from an author as a fiddler 
 does from a musician, that plays other men's compo- 
 sitions, but is not able to make any of his own. All 
 his studies tend to the ruin of the interests of lin- 
 guists ; for by making those books common that were 
 understood but by few in the original, he endeavours 
 to make the rabble as wise as himself without taking 
 pains, and prevents others from studying languages, 
 to understand that which they may know as well 
 without them. 
 
 butler's character of a proud man. - 
 A proud man is a fool in fermentation, that swells and 
 boils over like a porridge-pot, He set out his feathers J ike 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 an owl, to swell and seem bigger than he is. He is 
 troubled with a. tumour and inflammation of self-con- 
 ceit, that renders every part of him stiff and uneasy. 
 He has given himself sympathetic love-powder, that 
 works upon him to dotage, and has transformed him 
 into his own mistress. He is his own gallant, and 
 makes most passionate addresses to his own dear per- 
 fections. He commits idolatry to himself, and wor- 
 ships his own image ; though there is no soul living 
 of his church but himself, yet he believes as the 
 church believes, and maintains his faith with the ob- 
 stinacy of a fanatic. He is his own favourite, and 
 advances himself not only above his merit, but all 
 mankind ; is both Damon and Pythias to his own 
 dear self, and values his crony above his soul. He 
 gives place to no man but himself, and that with 
 very great distance to a.U others, whom he esteems not 
 worthy to approach him. He believes whatsoever he 
 has receives a value in being his ; as a horse in a 
 nobleman's stable will bear a greater price than in a 
 common market. He is so proud, that he is as hard 
 to be acquainted with himself as with others • for he 
 is very apt to forget, who he is, and knows himself 
 only superficially ; therefore he treats himself civilly 
 as a stranger, with ceremony and compliment, but 
 admits of no privacy. He strives to look bigger than 
 himself, as well as others ; and is no better than his 
 own parasite and flatterer. A little flood will make 
 a shallow torrent swell above its banks, and rage, 
 and foam, and yield a roaring noise, while a deep 
 silent stream glides quietly on ; so a- vain-glorious, 
 insolent, proud man, swells with a little frail prospe- 
 rity, grows big and loud, and overflows his bounds, 
 and when he sinks, leaves mud and dirt behind him. 
 His carriage is as glorious and haughty, as if he 
 were advanced upon men's shoulders, or tumbled 
 over their heads like Knipperdolling. He fancies 
 himself a Colosse ; and so he is, for his head 
 holds no proportion to his body, and his foundation 
 is lesser than his upper-stories. We can naturally 
 take no view of ourselves, unless we look down- 
 wards, to teach us what humble admirers we ought 
 to be of our own value. The slighter and less 
 solid his materials are, the more room they take 
 
 377 
 
 up, and make him swell the bigger ; as feathers and 
 cotton will stuff cushions better than things of more 
 close and solid parts. 
 
 BUTLER S CHARACTER OF AS OBSTINATE MAN. 
 
 An obstinate man docs not hold opinions, but they hold 
 him ; for when he is once possest with an error, it is 
 like the devil, only cast out with great difficulty. 
 AYhatsoever he lays hold on, like a drowning man, 
 he never loses, though it do but help to sink him the 
 sooner. His ignorance is abrupt and inaccessible, 
 impreguable both by art and nature, and will hold out 
 to the last, though it has nothing but rubbish to de- 
 fend. It is as dark as pitch, and sticks as fast to any 
 thing it lays hold on. His scull is so thick, that it is 
 proof against any reason, and never cracks but on 
 the wrong side, just opposite to that against which 
 the impression is made, which surgeons say does hap- 
 pen very frequently. The slighter and more incon- 
 sistent his opinions are, the faster he holds them, 
 otherwise they would fall asunder of themselves : 
 for opinions that are false ought to be held with more 
 strictness and assurance than those that are true, 
 otherwise they will be apt to betray their owners be- 
 fore they are aware. If he takes to religion, he has 
 faith enough to save a hundred wiser men than him- 
 self, if it were right ; but it is too much to be good ; 
 and though he deny supererogation, and utterly dis- 
 claim any overplus of merits, yet he allows super- 
 abundant belief; and if the violence of faith will 
 carry the kingdom of Heaven, he stands fair for it. 
 He delights most of all to differ in things indifferent, 
 no matter how frivolous they are, they are weighty 
 enough in proportion to his weak judgment ; and he 
 will rather suffer self-martyrdom than part with the 
 least scruple of his freehold ; for it is impossible to 
 dye his dark ignorance into a lighter colour. He :s 
 resolved to understand no man's reason but his own, 
 because he finds no man can understand his but him- 
 self. His wits are like a sack, which the French 
 proverb says is tied faster before it is full than when 
 it is ; and his opinions are like plants that grow upon 
 rocks, that stick fast though they have no rooting. 
 His understanding is hardened like Pharaoh's heart, 
 
378 
 
 and is proof against all sorts of judgments what- 
 soever. 
 
 butler's character of a catholic. 
 A catholic says his prayers often, but never prays, 
 and worships the cross morp than Christ. He pre- 
 fers his church for the antiquity of it, and cares not 
 how sound or rotten it be, so it be but old. He takes 
 a liking to it as some do to old cheese, only for the 
 blue rottenness of it. If he had lived in the primitive 
 times, he had never been a Christian ; for the anti- 
 quity of the Pagan and Jewish religion would have 
 had the same power over him against the Christian, 
 as the old Roman has against the modern reforma- 
 tion. The weaker vessel he is, the better and more 
 zealous member he always proves of his church ; for 
 religion, like wine, is not so apt to leak in a leathern 
 boraccio as a great cask, and is better preserved in a 
 small bottle stopped with a light cork, than a vessel 
 of greater capacity, where the spirits being more and 
 stronger, are the more apt to fret. He allows of all 
 holy cheats, and is content to be deluded in a true, 
 orthodox, and infallible way. He believes the pope 
 to be infallible, because he has deceived all the world, 
 but was never deceived himself; which was grown so 
 notorious, that nothing less than an article of faith in 
 the church could make a plaster big enough for the 
 sore. His faith is too big for his charity, and too 
 unwieldly to work miracles ; but is able to believe 
 more than all the saints in Heaven ever made. He 
 worships saints in effigy, as Dutchmen hang absent 
 malefactors ; and has so weak a memory, that he is 
 apt to forget his patrons unless their pictures prevent 
 him. He loves to see what he prays to, that he may 
 Dot mistake one saint for another ; and his beads and 
 crucifix are the tools of his devotion, without which 
 he can do nothing Nothing staggers his faith of the 
 pope's infallibility so much, as that he did not make 
 awav with the Scriptures when they were in his power, 
 rather than those that believed in them, which he 
 knows not how to understand to be no error. The 
 less he understands of his religion, the more violent 
 he is in it ; which being the perpetual condition of 
 all those that are deluded, is a great argument that 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 he is mistaken. His religion is of no force without 
 ceremonies ; like a loadstone, that draws a greater 
 weight through a piece of iron than when it is naked 
 of itself. His prayers are a kind of crambe that used 
 to kill schoolmasters , and he values them by num- 
 ber, not weight. 
 
 BUTLER'S CHARACTER OF A QUAKER. 
 
 A quaker is a scoundrel saint, of an order, without 
 founder, vow, or rule ; for he will not swear, nor be 
 tied to any thing but his own humour. He is the link- 
 boy of the sectaries ; and talks much of his light, but 
 puts it under a bushel, for nobody can see it but 
 himself, His religion is but the cold fit of an ague, 
 and his zeal of a contrary temper to that of all others; 
 yet produces the same effects ; as cold iron in Green- 
 land, they say, burns as well as hot ; which makes 
 him delight, like a salamander, to live in the fire of. 
 persecution. He works out his salvation, not with 
 fear, but confidence, and trembling, His profession 
 is but a kind of winter-religion ; and the original of 
 it as uncertain as the hatching of woodcocks, for no 
 man can tell from whence it came. He vapours 
 much of the light within him, but no such thing ap- 
 pears, unless he means that he is light-headed. He 
 believes he takes up the cross in being cross to all 
 mankind. He delights in persecution, likewise, 
 and has no ambition but to go to Heaven in what he 
 calls a fiery chariot ; that is, a woodmonger's faggot- 
 cart. You may perceive he has a crack in the skull 
 by the flat twang in his nose, and the great care he 
 takes to keep his hat on, lest his sickly brains, if he 
 have any, should take cold at it. He believes his 
 doctrine to be heavenly, because it agrees perfectly 
 with the motus trepidationis. All his hopes are in' 
 the Turks overrunning of Christendom, because he 
 has heard they count fools and madmen saints ; and 
 doubts aot to pass muster with them for great abili- 
 ties that way. This makes him believe he can 
 convert the Turk, though he could do no good on the 
 pope, or the presbyterian. Nothing comes so near 
 his quaking liturgy, as the papistical possessions of 
 the devil, with which it conforms in discipline exactly. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 His church, or rather chapel, is built upon a flat sand, l 
 without superior or inferior in it, and not upon a | 
 rock, which is never found without great inequalities. 
 Next demoniacs, he most resembles the reprobate, 
 who are said to be condemned to weeping and gnash- 
 ing of teeth. There was a botcher of their church 
 that renounced his trade and turned preacher, because 
 he held it superstitious to sit cross-legged. His de- 
 votion is but a kind of spiritual palsy, that proceeds 
 from a distemper in the brain, where the nerves are 
 rooted. They abhor the church of England, but 
 conform exactly with those primitive fathers of their 
 church, that heretofore gave answers at the devil's 
 oracles ; in which they observed the very same cere- 
 mouy of quaking and gaping now practised by our 
 modern enthusiasts at their exorcisms, rather than 
 exercises of devotion. He sucks in the air like a pair 
 of bellows, and blows his inward light with it, till 
 he dung fire, as cattle do in Lincolnshire. The ge- 
 neral ignorance of their whole party makes it appear 
 that, whatsoever their zeal may be, it is not according 
 to knowledge 
 
 butler's character of a ranter. 
 A ranter is a fanatic Hector, that has found out, by a 
 strange way of new light, how to transform all the 
 devils into angels of light ; for he believes all religion 
 consists in looseness, and that sin and vice are the 
 whole duty of man. He puts off the old man, but 
 puts him on again upon the new one, and makes his 
 pagan vices serve to preserve his Christian virtues from 
 wearing out ; for if he should use his piety and de- 
 votion always, they would hold out but a little while. 
 He is loath that iniquity and vice should be thrown 
 away, as long as there may be good use of them ; for 
 if that which is wickedly gotten may be disposed to 
 pious uses, why should not wickedness itself as well ? 
 He believes himself shot- free against all the attempts 
 of the devil, the world, and the flesh ; and therefore 
 is not afraid to attack them in their own quarters, 
 and encounter them at their own weapons. For as 
 strong bodies may freely venture to do and suffer 
 that, without any hurt to themselves, which would 
 destroy those that are feeble j so a saint, that is strong 
 
 379 
 
 in grace, may boldly engage himself in those great 
 sins and iniquities that would easily (lama a v*eak 
 brother, and yet come off never the worse. He be- 
 lieves deeds of darkness to be only those sins that are 
 committed in private, not those that are acted openly 
 and owned. He is but an hypocrite turned the \s rotfg 
 side outward : for, as the one wears his vices within, 
 and the other without, so when they are counter- 
 changed, the ranter becomes an hypocrite, and the 
 hypocrite an able ranter. His church is the devil's 
 chapel ; for it agrees exactly both in doctrine and 
 discipline with the best reformed bawdy-houses. He 
 is a monster produced by the madness of this latter 
 age ; but if it had been his fate to have been whelped 
 in old Rome, he had passed for apiodigy, and been 
 received among raining of stones and the speaking of 
 bulls, and would have put a stop to all public affairs 
 until he had been expiated. Nero cloathed Christians 
 in the skins of wild beasts, but he wraps wild beasts 
 in the skins of Christians. 
 
 BUTLER'S CHARACTER OF AN ANABAPTIST. 
 
 An anabaptist is a water-saint, that, like a crocodile, 
 sees clearly in the water, but dully on land. He only 
 lives in two elements, like a goose, but two worlds at 
 once ; this, and one of the next. He is contrary to 
 a fisher of men ; for, instead of pulling them out of 
 the water, he dips them in it. He keeps souls in 
 minority, and will not admit them to inherit the 
 kingdom of Heaven till they come to an age fit to be 
 trusted with their own belief. He defies magistracy 
 and ministry as the horns of antichrist ; but would fain 
 get them both into his own hands. His babes of grace 
 are all pagan, and he breeds them up as they do 
 young trees in a nursery ; lets them grow up, and then 
 transplants them into the new soil of his own church. 
 He lets them run wild as they do young colts on a 
 common, until they are old enough to be taken up 
 and backed, and then he breaks and paces them with 
 his own church-walkings. He is a landerer of souls, 
 and tries them, as men do witches, by water. He 
 dips them all under water, but their hands, which he 
 holds them up by — those do still continue pagan ; 
 and that is the reason why they make no conscience 
 
380 
 
 of their works, when they can get power in their 
 hands, but act the most barbarous inhumanities in 
 the world. His dipping makes him more obstinate 
 and stiff in his opinions, Jike a piece of hot iron, that 
 grows hard by being quenched in cold water. He 
 does not like the use of water in his baptism, as it 
 falls from Heaven in drops, but as it runs out of the 
 bowels of the earth, or stands putrefying in a dirty 
 pond. He chooses the coldest time in the year to be 
 dipped in, to show the heat of his zeal, and this ren- 
 ders him the more obstinate. Law and government 
 are great grievances to him ; and he believes men 
 may live very well without them, if they would be 
 ruled by him ; and then he would have nothing of 
 authority but his own revelations. He is a saint- 
 errant ; for he calls his religion walking, which he 
 opposes to the pope's sitting, as the more orthodox 
 and infallible. His church is a kind of round table 
 without upper end, or lower end ; for they observe no 
 ^rder, nor admit of degrees. It is like the serpent 
 amphlsbcena, that has a head at either end of it : for 
 such is their spiritual envy and ambition, that they 
 can endure no superior ; but high and low are tied, 
 together, like long and short sticks in a faggot. 
 
 He had a mind to dispose of his religion how he 
 pleased, and so suffered a recovery, to cut it off from 
 his right heirs, and settle it to such uses as he pleased. 
 He broaches false doctrines out of his tub ; he sees 
 visions when he is fast asleep, and dreams dreams 
 when he is broad awake. They stick to one another, 
 like loaves of bread in the oven of persecution. He 
 canonizes himself a saint in his own life-time as Do- 
 mitian made himself a god j and" enters his name 
 in the rubric of his church by virtue of a pick-lock, 
 which he has invented, and believes will serve his 
 turn, as well as St. Peter's keys. He finds out sloughs 
 and ditches, that are aptest for launching of atf ana- 
 baptist ; for he does not christen, but launch his 
 vessel. He believes, because obedience is better than 
 sacrifice, the less of it will serve. He uses Scripture 
 in the same manner as false witnesses do, who never 
 lay their hands on it but fa? give testimony against 
 the truth. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 BUTLERS CHARACTER OF A POPISH PRIEST 
 
 A popish priest is one that takes the same course 
 that the devil did in Paradise ; he begins with the 
 woman. He despises all other fanatics as upstarts, 
 and values himself upon his antiquity. He is a man- 
 midwife to the soul, and is always deluding it to the 
 next world. Christ made St. Peter a fisher of men ; 
 but he believes it better to be a fisher of women, and 
 so becomes a woman's apostle. His profession is to 
 disguise himself, which he does in sheep's cloathing, 
 that is, a lay habit ; but whether, as a wolf, a thief, 
 or a shepherd, is a great question; only this is cer- 
 tain that he had rather have one sheep out of another 
 man's fold, than two out of his own. He gathers his 
 church as fanatics do, yet despises them for it, and 
 keeps his flock always in hurdles, to be removed at 
 his pleasure ; and though their souls be rotten or 
 scabby with hypocrisy, the fleece is sure to be sound 
 and orthodox. He tars their consciences with con- 
 fession and penance, but always keeps the wool, that 
 he pulls from the sore, to himself. He never makes 
 a proselyte, but he converts him to his very shirt, and 
 turns his pockets into the bargain ; for he does no- 
 thing unless his purse prove a good catholic. He 
 never gets within a family, but he gets on the top of 
 it, and governs all down to the bottom of the cellar ; 
 he will not tolerate the scullion unless he be orthodox, 
 nor allow of the turning of the spit, but in ordine ad 
 spiritualia. ' He is very cautious in venturing to at- 
 tack any man by way of conversion, whose weakness 
 he is not very well acquainted with j and, like the 
 fox, weighs his goose before he will venture to carry 
 him over a river. He fights with the devil at his own 
 weapons, and strives to get ground on him with 
 frauds and lies : these he converts to pious uses. 
 He makes his prayers (the proper business of the 
 mind) a kind of manufacture, and vents them by tale, 
 rather than weight : and, while he is busied in num- 
 bering them, forgets their sense and meaning. He 
 sets them up as men do their games at picquet, for 
 fear he should be misreckoned ; but never minds whe- 
 ther he plays fair or not. He sells indulgencies, like 
 Lockyer's pills, with directions how they are to be 
 
THE LAUCHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 381 
 
 taken. He is but a copyholder of the Catholic church, 
 that claims by custom. He believes the pope's chain 
 is fastened to the gates of heaven, like king Harry's 
 in the privy gallery. 
 
 butler's character of a clown. 
 
 A clown is a Centaur, man and be cist, a crab en- 
 grafted on an apple. He was neither made by art or 
 nature, but in spite of both, by evil custom. His 
 perpetual conversation with beasts has rendered him 
 • - one of them ; and he is, among men, but a naturalized 
 brute. He appears by his language, genius and be- 
 haviour, to be an alien to mankind, a foreigner to 
 humanity, and of so opposite a genius, that it is easier 
 to make a Spaniard a frenchman, than to reduce him 
 to civility. He disdains every man that he does not 
 fear ; and only respects him who has done him hurt, 
 or can do it. He is like Nebuchadnezzar after he had 
 been a month at grass ; but will never return to be a 
 man again as he did, if he might ; for he despises all 
 manner of lives but his own, unless it be his horse's, 
 to whom he is but valel-de-ehambre. He never 
 shows himself humane or kind in any thing, but 
 when he pimps to his cow, or makes a match for his 
 mare : in all things else he is surly and rugged ; and 
 does not love to be pleased himself, which makes him 
 hate those that do him any good. He is a stoic to all 
 passions but fear, envy, and malice : and hates to do 
 any good, though it cost him nothing. He abhors a 
 gentleman, because he is most unlike himself; and 
 repines as much al his manner of living, as if he 
 maintained him. He murmurs at him as the saints 
 do at the wicked, as if he kept his right from 
 him ; for he makes his clownery a sect, and damns ail 
 that are not of his church. He manures the earth 
 like a dunghill, but lets himself lie fallow, for no 
 improvement will do good upon him. Cain was the 
 first of his family ; and he does his endeavour not to de- 
 generate from the original churlishness of his ancestor. 
 He that was fetched from the plough to be made 
 dictator had not half his pride and insolence ; nor 
 Caligula's horse, that was made consul. All the 
 worst names that are given to men are borrowed 
 
 from him, as Villain, Deboyse, Peasant, &c. He 
 wears his cloaths like a hide, and shifts them no 
 oftener than a beast does his hair. He is a beast 
 that Gesner never thought of. 
 
 butler's character of a justice of peace. 
 A justice of the peace has a patent for his wit, and under- 
 stands by commission, in which his wife and his clerk 
 are of the quorum. He is judge of the peace, but has 
 nothing to do with it until it is broken ; and then his 
 business is to patch it up again. His occupation is 
 to keep the peace, but he makes it keep him ; and 
 lives upon the scraps of it, as those he commits do on 
 the common basket. The constable is his factor, and 
 the gaoler the keeper of his warehouse ; and rogues, 
 bawds, and thieves, his goods. He calls taking of pigs 
 and capons taking of bail ; and they pass with him for 
 substantial housekeepers. Of these he takes security 
 that the delinquent shall answer it before the sessions, 
 that is, before the court sits next, otherwise forfeiture 
 of recognizance is sure to rise up in judgment. He 
 binds men over, as highwaymen do, to untie their 
 purses, and then leaves them to unbind themselves 
 again ; or rather as surgeons do, to let their purses 
 blood. He makes his commission a patent, that no 
 man shall set up any sin without licence from him. 
 He knows no virtue, but that of his commission ; for 
 all his business is with vice, in which he is so expert, 
 that he can commit one sin instead of another, as 
 bribery for bawdery, and perjury for breach of the 
 peace. He uses great care and moderation in pu- 
 nishing those who offend regularly, by their calling, 
 as residentiary bowds, and incumbent pimps, that 
 pay parish-duties — shopkeepers that use constant 
 false weights and measures, these he rather prunes, 
 that they may grow the better, than disables ; but is 
 very severe to hawkers and interlopers, that com- 
 mit iniquity on the bye. He interprets the statutes, 
 as fanatics do the Scripture, by his own spirit ; and 
 is most expert in the cases of light-bread, highways, 
 and getting of bastards. His whole authority is like 
 a welsh-hook ; for his warrant is a puller to her, and 
 his mittimus a thrust-her from her. He examines 
 lewd circumstances with singular attention, and files 
 
382 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 them up for the entertainment of his friends, and 
 improvement of the wit of the family. Whatsoever 
 he is else, he is sure to be a squire, and bears arms 
 the first day he bears office ; and has a more in- 
 dubitate and apparent title to worship, than any 
 other person. If he be of the long robe, he is more 
 busy and pragmatical on the bench than a secular 
 justice j and, at the sessions, by his prerogative, gives 
 the charge, which puts him to the expense of three 
 Latin sentences, and as many texts of Scripture ; the 
 rest is all of course. He sells good behaviour ; and 
 makes those that never had any buy it of him at so 
 much a dose, which they are bound to take off iu six 
 months, or longer, as their occasions require. He is 
 apt to mistake the sense of the law, as when he sent 
 a zealous botcher to prison for sewing sedition, and 
 committed a mountebank for raising the market, 
 because he set up his bank in it. 
 
 butler's character of an alderman. 
 An alderman has taken his degree in cheating, and the 
 highest of his faculty j or paid for refusing his man- 
 damus. He is a peer of the city, and a member of 
 their upper house ; who, as soon as he arrives at so 
 many thousand pounds, is bound by the charter to 
 serve the public with so much understanding, what 
 shift soever he make to raise it, and wear a chain 
 about his neck like a rein-deer, or in default to com- 
 mute, and make satisfaction in ready-money, the best 
 reason of the place ; for which he has the name only, 
 like a titular prince, and is an Alderman-extra- 
 ordinary. But if his wife can prevail with him to 
 stand, he becomes one of 4he city supporters ; and 
 like the unicorn in the king's arms, wears a chain 
 about his neck very right-worshipfully. He wears 
 scarlet, as the whore of Babylon does ; not for her 
 honesty, but the rank and quality she is of among the 
 wicked. When he sits as a judge in his court, he 
 is absolute, and uses arbitrary power ; for he is not 
 bound to understand what he does, nor render an 
 account why he gives judgment on one side rather 
 than another ; but his will is sufficient to stand for 
 his reason, to all intents and purposes. He does no 
 public business without eating and drinking; and 
 
 never meets about matters of importance, but the 
 cramming his inside is the most weighty part of the 
 work of the day. He despatches no public affair 
 until he has thoroughly dined upon it, and is fully 
 satisfied with quince-pye and custard : for men are 
 wiser, the Italians say, after their bellies are full, 
 than when they are fasting ; and be is very cautious 
 to omit no occasion of improving his parts that 
 way. He is so careful of the interest of his belly, 
 and manages it so industriously, that in a little space 
 it grows great, and takes place of all the rest of 
 his members, and becomes so powerful, that they 
 will never be in a condition to rebel against it any 
 more. He is cloathed in scarlet, the livery of his 
 sins, like the rich glutton, to put him in mind of what 
 means he came to his wealth and preferment by. He 
 makes a trade of his eating ; and, like a cock, scrapes 
 when he feeds ; for the public pays for all, and more, 
 which he and his brethren share among themselves ; 
 for they never make a dry reckoning. When he 
 comes to be lord-mayor, he does not keep a great 
 house, but a very great house-warming for a whole 
 year ; for though he invites all the companies in the 
 city, he does not treat them, but they club to enter- 
 tain him, and pay the reckoning beforehand. His 
 fur-gown makes him look a great deal bigger than he 
 is, like the feathers of an owl; and when he pulls it 
 off, he looks as if he were fallen away, or like a 
 rabbit, had his skin pulled off. 
 
 butler's character of a church -warden. 
 A church- warden is a public officer intrusted to rob the 
 church by virtue of his place, as long as he is in it. 
 He has a great care to eat and drink well upon all 
 public occasions that concern the parish : for a good 
 conscience being a perpetual feast, he believes, the 
 better he feeds, the more conscience he uses in the 
 discharge of his trust ; and as long as there is no 
 dry-money-cheat used, all others are allowed accord- 
 ing to the tradition and practice of the church in the 
 purest times. When he lays a tax upon the parish, 
 he commonly raises it a fourth part above the ac- 
 compt, to supply the default of houses that may 
 be burnt, or stand empty ; or men that may break 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 3a^ 
 
 and run away : and if none of these happen, his for- 
 tune is the greater, and his hazard never the less; 
 and therefore he divides the overplus between him- 
 self and his colleagues, who were engaged to pay the 
 whole, if all the parish had run away, or hanged 
 themselves. He over-reckons the parish in his 
 accompts, as the taverns do him, and keeps the odd 
 money himself, instead of giving it to the drawers. 
 He eats up the bell-ropes like the ass in the emblem, 
 and converts the broken glass windows into whole 
 beer-glasses of sack ; and before his year is out, if 
 he be but as good a fellow as the drinking bishop 
 was, pledges a whole pulpit-full. If the church 
 happens to fall to decay in his time, it proves a deo- 
 dancl to him ; for he is lord of the manor, and does 
 not only make what he pleases of it, but has his 
 name recorded on the walls among texts of Scripture 
 and leathern buckets, with the year of his office, that 
 the memory of the unjust, as well as the just, may 
 last as long as so transitory a thing may. He inter- 
 prets his oath, as Catholics do the Scripture, not 
 according to the sense and meaning of the words, but 
 the tradition and practice of his predecessors ; who 
 have always been observed to swear what others 
 please, and do what they please themselves. 
 
 cutler's character of a herald. 
 A herald calls himself a king because he has 
 authority to hang, draw, and quarter arms ; for assum- 
 ing a jurisdiction over the distributive justice of titles 
 of honour, as far as words extend, he gives himself 
 as great a latitude that way, as other magistrates 
 used to do, where they have authority, and would 
 enlarge it as far as they can. It is true, he can make 
 no lords nor knights of himself, but as many squires 
 and gentlemen as he pleases, and adopt them into 
 what family they have a mind. His dominions 
 abound with all sorts of cattle, fish, and fowl, and all 
 manner of manufactures, besides whole fields of gold 
 and silver, which he magnificently bestows upon his 
 followers or sells as cheap as lands in Jamaica. The 
 language they use is barbarous, as being but a dialect 
 of pedlar's French, or the Egyptian, though of a 
 loftier sound, and in the propriety affecting brevity, 
 as the other does verbosity. His business is like that 
 
 of all the schools, to make plain things hard with 
 perplexed methods and insignificant terms, and thet- 
 appear learned in making them plain again. He 
 professes arms, not for use, but ornament only ; and 
 yet makes the basest things in the world weapons of 
 worshipful bearings. He is wiser than the fellow 
 that sold his ass, but kept the shadow for his own 
 use ; for he sells only the shadow, (that is the picture) 
 and keeps the ass himself. He makes pedigrees as 
 apothecaries do medicines, when they put in one 
 ingredient for another that they have not by them : by 
 this means he often makes incestuous matches, and 
 causes the son to marry the mother. His chief pro- 
 vince is at funerals, where he commands in chief, 
 marshals the tristitiee irritamenta ; and like a ^entle- 
 man-sewer to the worms, serves up the feast with 
 all punctual formality. He is a kind of a necromancer ; 
 and can raise the dead out of their graves, to make them 
 marry and beget those they never heard of in their 
 life-time. His coat is like the king of Spain's do- 
 minions, all skirts, and hangs as loose about him ; and 
 his neck is the waist, like the picture of Nobody with 
 his breeches fastened to his collar. He will sell the 
 head or the single joint of a beast or fowl as dear as 
 the whole body, like a pig's head in Bartholomew- 
 Fair, and after put off the rest to his customers at the 
 same rate. His arms being utterly out of use in war, 
 since guns came up, have been translated to dishes 
 and cups, as the ancients used their precious stones, 
 according to the poet — Gemmas ad pocula transfert 
 a gladiis, fyc. — and since are like to decay every 
 day more and more ; for since he gave citizens coats 
 of arms, gentlemen have made bold to take their 
 letters of mark by way of reprisal. The hangman 
 has a reeeip* to mar all his work in a moment ; for 
 by nailing the wrong end of a scutcheon upwards 
 upon a gibbet, all the honour and gentility extin- 
 guishes of itself, like a candle that is held with the 
 flame downwards. Other arms are made for the 
 spilling of blood; but h : .s only purify and cleanse it, 
 like scurvy-grass ; for a small dose taken by his pre- 
 scription will refine that which is as base and gross 
 as bull's blood, (which the Athenians used to poison 
 withal) to any degree of purity. 
 
384 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 BUTLER S CHARACTER OF A PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 A philosopher seats himself as spectator and critic on 
 the theatre of the world, and gives sentence on the 
 plots, language, and action of whatsoever he sees re- 
 presented, according to his own fancy. He will pre- 
 tend to know wha<; is done behind the scene ; but so 
 seldom is in the right, that he discovers nothing more 
 than his own mistakes. When his profession was in 
 credit in the world, and money was to be gotten by it, 
 it divided itself into multitudes of sects, that main- 
 tained themselves and their opinions by fierce- and 
 hot contests with one another ; but since the trade 
 decayed and would not turn- to account, they all fell 
 of themselves ; and now the world is so unconcerned 
 in their controversies, that three refcrmado sects 
 joined in one, like Epicuro-Gassendo-Charltoniana, 
 will not serve to maintain one pedant. He makes his 
 hypotheses himself, as a taylor does a doublet, with- 
 out measure; no matter whether they fit nature, he 
 can make nature fit them, and, whether they are too 
 strait or wide, pinch or stuff out the body accordingly. 
 He judges of the works of nature just as the rabble 
 do of state-affairs : they see things done, and every 
 man according to his capacity guesses at the reasons 
 of them, but knowing nothing of the arcana or secret 
 movements of either, they seldom or never are in the 
 right; however they please themselves, and some 
 others, with their fancies, and the farther they are off 
 truth, the more confident they are they are near it; as 
 those that are out of their way believe, the further they 
 have gone, they are the nearer their journey's end 
 when they are furthest of all from it. Heretofore his 
 beard was the badge of his profession, and the length 
 of that in all his polemics was ever accounted the- 
 length of his weapon ; but when trade fell, that fell 
 too. In Lucius's time they were commonly called 
 beard-wearers ; for all the strength of their wits lay 
 in their beards, as Sampson's did in his locks : but 
 since the world began to see the vanity of that hair- 
 brained cheat, they left it off, to save their credit. 
 
 BUTLER'S CHARACTER OF AN EPIGRAMMATIST. 
 
 An epigrammatist is a poet of small wares, whose 
 
 muse is short-winded, and quickly out of breath. She 
 flies like a goose, that is no sooner upon the win*-, 
 but down again. He was originally one of those 
 authors that used to write upon white walls, from 
 whence his works being collected and put together, 
 pass in the world, like single money among those who 
 deal in small matters. His wit is like fire in a flint, 
 that is nothing while it is in, and nothing again as 
 soon as it is out. 
 
 He is a kind of vagabond writer, that is never out 
 of his way, for nothing is beside the purpose with 
 him, that proposes none at all. His works are like a 
 running banquet, that have much variety but little 
 of a sort ; for he deals in nothing but scraps and 
 parcels, like a tailor's broker. 
 
 BUTLER'S CHARACTER OF A JEALOUS MAN. 
 
 A jealous man is unsettled in his mind, and full of 
 doubts, whether he should take his wife for better, or 
 for worse. He knows not what to make of himself, but 
 fears his wife does, and that she made him and his 
 heir at a heat : his horns grow inward, and are very 
 uneasy and painful to his brain. He breaks his sleep 
 in watching opportunities to catch himself cuckold in 
 "the manner. He fancies himself regenerate in the 
 body of his wife, and desires nothing more than, with 
 Cardan and Gusman, to know all the particulars and 
 circumstances of his own begetting. He beats his 
 brains perpetually to try the hardness of his head, and 
 find out how the callus improves from time tG time. 
 He breeds horns as children do teeth, with much 
 pain and unquietness ; and (as some husbands are 
 said to be) is sick at the stomach and pukes when 
 his wife breeds. Her pleasures become his pains, 
 and, by an odd kind of sympathy, break out on 
 his forehead, like a tobacco-pipe, that being knocked 
 at one end breaks at the other. 
 
 WHOLESALE PRACTICE. 
 
 A physician to a metropolitan hospital, a few year? 
 ago, being in haste to leave his public for his private 
 duties, was asked by the house-surgeon, what he 
 should do with the right and left wards — " O," ex- 
 claimed the other, " what did you do with them yester- 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 day?" — "By your directions," said the surgeon, " I 
 bled all the right ward, and purged all the left" — 
 " Good," replied the other, " then to-day purge all 
 the right, and bleed all the left," — and then leapt 
 into his carriage. 
 
 LACONICS. 
 
 We have just enough religion to make us hate, but 
 not enough to make us love, one another. 
 
 How is it possible to expect that mankind will 
 J take advice, when they will not so much as take 
 ! warning? 
 
 I forget whether advice be among the last things 
 which Ariosto says are to be found in the moon ; that 
 i and time ought to have been there. 
 
 Religion seems to have grown an infant with age, 
 and requires miracles to nurse it, as it had in its in- 
 fancy. 
 
 All fits of pleasure are balanced by an equal degree 
 of pain or languor ; it is like spending this year part of 
 the next year's revenue. 
 
 One argument to prove that the common relations 
 of ghosts and spectres are generally false, may be 
 drawn from the opinion held, that spirits are never 
 seen by more than one person at a time ; that is to 
 say, it seldom happens to above one person in a com- 
 pany to be possessed with any high degree of spleen 
 or melancholy. 
 
 I am apt to think, that in the day of judgment 
 there will be small allowance given to the wise for 
 their want of morals, and to the ignorant for their 
 want of faith, because both are without excuse. This 
 renders the advantages equal of ignorance and know- 
 ledge. But some scruples in the wise, and some 
 vices in the ignorant, will perhaps be forgiven upon 
 the strength of temptation to each. 
 
 It is pleasant to observe how free the present age 
 is in laying taxes on the next : " Future ages shall 
 talk of this ; this shall be famous to all posterity:" 
 whereas their time and thoughts will be taken up 
 about present things, as ours are now. 
 
 Herodotus tells us, that in cold countries beasts 
 very seldom have horns, but in hot they have very 
 large ones. This might bear a pleasant application. 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 385 
 
 What they do in heaven we are ignorant of; what 
 they do not we are told expressly — that they neither 
 marry, nor are given in marriage. 
 
 When a man observes the choice of ladies now-a- 
 days in the dispensing of their favours, can he forbear 
 paying some veneration to the memory of those mares 
 mentioned by Xenophon ; who, while their manes 
 were on, (that is, while they were in their beauty,) 
 would never admit the embraces of an ass. 
 
 It is a miserable thing to live in suspense ; it is the 
 life of a spider. 
 
 The stoical scheme of supplying our wants by lop- 
 ping off our desires, is like cutting off our feet when 
 we want shoes. 
 
 Physicians ought not to give their judgment of re- 
 ligion, for the same reason that butchers are not ad- 
 mitted to be jurors upon life and death. 
 
 The reason why so few marriages are happy, is be- 
 cause young ladies spend their time in making nets, 
 not in making cages. 
 
 If a man will observe as he walks the streets, I 
 believe he will find the merriest countenances in 
 mourning coaches. 
 
 Ill company is like a dog, who dirts those most 
 whom he loves best. 
 
 Satire is reckoned the easiest of all wit ; but I take 
 it to be otherwise in very bad times : for it "is as hard, 
 to satirize well a man of distinguished vices, as to 
 praise well a man of distinguished virtues. It is easy 
 enough to do either to people of moderate characters. 
 
 When the world has once begun to use us ill, it 
 afterwards continues the same treatment with less 
 scruple or ceremony, as men do to a woman of pleasure. 
 
 Anthony Henly's farmer, dying of an asthma, said, 
 "Well, if I can get this breath once out, I will take 
 care it shall never get in again." 
 
 Complaint is the largest tribute heaven receives > 
 and the sincerest part of our devotion. 
 
 The common fluency of speech in many men, and 
 most women, is owing to a scarcity of matter, and a 
 scarcity of words ; for whoever is a master of lan- 
 guage, and has a mind full of ideas, will be apt in 
 speaking to hesitate upon the choice of both ; whereas 
 common speakers have only one set of ideas, and one 
 
S36 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 set of words to clothe them in ; and these are always 
 ready at the mouth ; as people come faster out of a 
 church when it is almost empty, than when a crowd is 
 at the door. 
 
 If a man makes me keep my distance, the comfort 
 is, he keeps his at the same time. 
 
 Kings are commonly said to have longhands; I 
 wish they had as long ears. 
 
 Princes, in their infancy, childhood, and youth, are 
 said to discover prodigious parts and wit, to speak 
 things that surprise and astonish ; strange, so many 
 hopeful princes, so many shameful kings i If they 
 happen to die young, they would have been prodigies 
 of wisdom and virtue ; if they live, they are often pro- 
 digies, indeed, but of another sort. 
 
 Silenus, the foster-father of Bacchus, is always car- 
 ried by an ass, and has horns on his head. The moral 
 is, that drunkards are led by fools, and have a great 
 chance to be cuckolds. 
 
 Those who are against religion, must needs be fools ; 
 and therefore we read that, of all animals, God re- 
 fused the first-born of an ass. 
 
 A very little wit is valued in a woman, as we 
 are pleased with a few words spoken plain by a 
 parrot. 
 
 A nice man is a man of nasty ideas. 
 
 Apollo was held the god of physic, and sender of 
 diseases. Both were originally the same trade, and 
 still continue. 
 
 Old men and comets have been reverenced for the 
 Same reason ; their long beards, and pretences to 
 foretell events. 
 
 A person was asked at court, what he thought of 
 an ambassador and his train, who were all em- 
 broidery and lace, full of bows, cringes, and gestures ; 
 he said, it was Solomon's importation, gold and 
 apes. 
 
 As universal a practice as lying is, and as easy a 
 one as it seems, I do not remember to have heard 
 three good liars in all my conversation, even from 
 those who were most celebrated in that faculty. 
 
 DEAN SWIFT. 
 
 PREDILECTIONS IN DRINKING. 
 
 Let musty old anchorites banish good wines, 
 
 And renounce in the bottle their parts ; 
 There is not a ray in the goblet that shines, 
 
 But amends while it lightens our hearts : 
 It cheers the dull scholar, the fool it makes wise, 
 
 And the lover may cease to complain, 
 When he toasts the bright glance of his mistress'sj 
 eyes, 
 
 And his sorrows drown deep in Champagne. 
 But variety even in drinking we court, 
 
 And mankind still to differ consent ; 
 Thus the sailor forgets all his dangers in Port, \ 
 
 And the soldier delights in his Tent, 
 Here's Spruce for the dandies, those fanciful elves, 
 
 Whose joy 's still to gaze in the glass; 
 For the miller here's Sack, — and as bright as them- ' 
 selves, 
 
 Here's Madeira for each pretty lass ! 
 With Motmtain the traveller will joyfully meet. 
 
 To Canary good singers all flock ; 
 The player will Pimch for his favourite greet 
 
 And cynics are blest in old Hock 
 Then let each fill his glass, till exhausted 's our store, 
 
 And a toast now to drink would you ask ; — 
 Here's health to the fair, and confusion to care, 
 
 And long life to the Sons of the Flask ! 
 
 SPECIAL JURIES. 
 
 A gentleman of Islington was for the first time 
 summoned, a few years ago, on a special jury in the \ 
 Exchequer. He arrived too late, and found the jury 
 impanneled. Alarmed at his delinquency, and expect- t 
 ing to be heavily fined, he took advice, and was re- j 
 ferred to the solicitor of the Excise, who, happening \ 
 to be much engaged, told him in a shaip way to | 
 come again to-morrow. On the morrow he went ; 
 again and began his humble suit. — " So then you were > 
 not on the jury?" — "No, "replied the trembling juror, 5 
 expecting his sentence to follow the confession, i 
 " Well" said the other, "do better another time, but fl 
 take it/' and he threw him a guinea. The juror stared, 1 
 and wasbeginning some observations, when the solicitor • 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 interrupted him with warmth—" Now, Sir," said he, 
 "can't you be content? you say you were not on the 
 jury, and yet I have paid you, as though you had 
 been — go about your business!" The juryman took 
 him at his word, and departed, marvelling at the 
 nature of the penalties inflicted on Exchequer Juries. 
 
 DR. RADCLIFFE AND THE PAVIER 
 
 A pavier to whom this physician was indebted, 
 after many fruitless attempts, caught him just getting 
 out of his chariot, and demanded the payment of his 
 bill. " What, you rascal," said the doctor, " do you 
 pretend to be paid for such a piece of work 1 Why, 
 you have spoiled my pavement, and then covered it 
 over with earth to hide your bad work !" — " Doctor, 
 doctor," said the pavier, " mine is not the only bad 
 work that the earth hides !" — " You dog," said the 
 doctor, " you are a wit ; you must be poor, come in," 
 and he paid him his demand. 
 
 CURE FOR THE QUINSY. 
 
 Dr. Radcliffe was once sent for into the country to 
 a gentleman who was dangerously ill of a quinsy ; 
 and the doctor soon perceived that no application, 
 internal or external, would be of any service; upon 
 which he desired the lady of the house to order the 
 cook to "make a large hasty pudding; and when it 
 was done, to let his own servant bring it up. While 
 the cook was about it, he took his man aside, and 
 instructed him what he was to do. In a short time 
 the man brought up the pudding in great order, and 
 set it on the table, in full view of the patient. " Come, 
 John," said he, " you love hasty pudding, eat some 
 along with me, for I believe you came out without 
 your breakfast." Both b,egan with their spoons, but 
 John's spoon going twice to his master's once, the 
 doctor took occasion to quarrel with him, and dabbed 
 a spoonful of hot pudding in his face ; John re- 
 sented it, and threw another at his master. This 
 put the doctor in a passion, and, quitting his spoon, 
 he took the pudding up by handfuls, and threw it at 
 his man, who battled him again in the same man- 
 ner. The patient, who had a full view of the skirmish, 
 was so tickled at the fancy, that he burst into a fit of 
 s 2 
 
 387 
 
 laughter, which broke the quinsy, and cured him ; 
 for which the doctor and his man were well rewarded. 
 
 WIKE AND PHYSIC. 
 
 A gentleman, who was affected with a constant 
 rheum in his eyes, waited on his physician for advice. 
 The doctor desired him to leave off drinking wine. 
 In a few weeks, the gentleman experienced the good 
 effect of the prescription, and thought he could do no 
 less than call on the doctor to return him thanks. He 
 was no? a little surprised to find him in a tavern, and 
 very merry over a bottle of wine with a friend, not- 
 withstanding his eyes were affected with the same 
 disease he had just removed. " Well," said the gen- 
 tleman, H I see you doctors don't follow your own 
 prescriptions." The son of iEsculapius knew in an 
 instant what he meant, and made this observation: 
 " If you love your eyes better than wine, don't 
 drink it ; but as I love wine better than my eyes, I 
 do drink it." 
 
 CHEAP CURSES. 
 
 The Puritans were more severe in the punishment 
 of swearing than cursing ; for when an Irishman was 
 fined twelvepence for an oath, he asked what he 
 should pay for a curse 1 They said sixpence. He 
 threw down sixpence, and cursed the whole com* 
 mittee. 
 
 THE ELDEST SON, OR THE FISHERMAN PUZZLED. 
 
 How Pat Molley stared, when he heard that his mo- 
 ther, 
 
 Who'd been ten years a widow, had married another. 
 
 By turns he ran frantic, then again melancholy : 
 
 And often repeated his mother's base folly. 
 
 A friend chanc'd to call, very friendly to chat, 
 
 And to soothe, if he possibly could, his friend Pat. 
 
 " Oh I" says Pat, " what a monster my mother must 
 prove, 
 
 Very near fifty-three, and so dying in love !" 
 
 " Never mind," says his friend, " never heed it my 
 honey, 
 
 When they are both dead you'll get plenty of money : 
 
38S 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 The estate is all yours, boy, as sure as a gun, 
 For it can't go away from the only dear son." 
 "Aye," says Pat, " that is right, but I'm thinking that 
 
 she, 
 Now she's married, may have a son older than me." 
 
 REASONS FOR SYMPATHY. 
 
 Why do men sooner give to poor people that 
 beg, than to scholars 1 The reason is, because they 
 think they may soo7ier come to be poor, than to be 
 scholars. 
 
 THREE ROYAL QUESTIONS. 
 
 King Henry the Eighth having a month's mind to 
 the abbot of Glastonbury's estate (who was one of 
 the richest abbots in England) sent for him to his 
 court, and told him, that unless he could resolve 
 him three questions, he should not escape with his 
 life. The abbot, willing to get out of his clutches, 
 promised his best endeavours. The king's questions 
 were these : first, Of what compass the world was 
 about ? Secondly, How deep the sea was ? And, 
 thirdly, What the king thought ? The abbot de- 
 sired some few days' respite, which being granted, 
 he returned home, but with intent never to see the 
 king again, for he thought the questions impossible 
 to be resolved. His grief coming at last to the ears 
 of his cook, he undertook, upon forfeiture of his life, 
 to resolve these riddles, and to free his master from 
 danger. The abbot willingly consented. The cook 
 put on the abbot's clothesj and at the time ap- 
 pointed went to the court, and being like the abbot, 
 was taken by all the courtiers to be the same man. 
 "When he came before the king, he thus resolved his 
 three questions. First, Of what compass the world 
 was about ? He said, " It was but tiventy-four hours 
 joicrney, and if a man went as fast as the sun, he 
 onight easily go it in that space." The second, How 
 deep the sea was ? He answered, " Only a stone's 
 cast ; for throw a stone into the deepest place of it, 
 and in time it will come to the bottom." To the 
 third, " which I conceive," saith he, " your majesty 
 thinks the most difficult to resolve : but indeed it is 
 the easiest, that is, What ypur highness thinks ? I 
 
 answer, That you think me to be the abbot of Glas- 
 tonbury, when as indeed 1 am. but Jack his cook." 
 
 A SIMPLE REPLY. 
 
 In the court of King's Bench, a witness, named 
 Lincoln, was called to prove a hand-writing ; and, 
 having looked at the paper some time without speak- 
 ing, Mr. Erskine exclaimed, " Well, Sir, what is 
 your belief"? Don't let the devil overlook Lincoln, 
 but give us your belief of the hand-writing." The 
 witness, with great composure, turned round and 
 said, " I did not observe, Sir, that you were looking 
 over me ; and as for the hand-writing, I can form no 
 judgment of it." 
 
 MR. SERGEANT BETTESWCRTH AND DEAN SWIFT. 
 
 The following lines on Sergeant Bettesworth, which 
 Swift inserted in one of his poems, gave rise to a 
 violent resentment on the part of the barrister 
 — " So at the bar the booby Bettesworth, 
 Though half-a-crown o'erpays his sweat's worth, 
 Who knows in law, nor text, nor margent, 
 Calls Singleton his brother sergeant." 
 The poem was sent to Bettesworth, at a time when 
 he was surrounded with his friends in a convivial 
 party He read it, then flung it down with great 
 violence — took out his penknife, and, opening it, 
 vehemently swore, " With this very penknife will I 
 cut off his ears." He then went to the dean's house, 
 and desired the doctor might be sent for ; and on 
 Swift entering, and asking what were his commands, 
 " Sir," said he, " I am Sergeant Bettesworth." " Of 
 what regiment, pray, Sir 1" said Swift. " O Mr. 
 Dean, we know your powers of raillery, you know me 
 well enough ; I am one of his majesty's sergeants at 
 law, and I am come to demand if you are author of 
 this poem, (producing it,) and these villainous lines 
 on me V " Sir," said Swift, '* when I was a young 
 man, I had the honour of being intimate with some 
 great legal characters, particularly lord Somers j 
 who, knowing my propensity to satire, advised me, 
 when I lampooned a knave or a fool, never to own it. 
 Conformably to that advice, I tell you that I am not 
 the authoj," 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 389 
 
 ODE TO AN OLD WIG. 
 
 Poor wig ! not patriot tvhig ! that title rare ! 
 Nor bun call'd wig — but wig of human hair, 
 
 Thee I address beneath thy lowly shed ; 
 Though now neglected, time no doubt has been, 
 When all thy flowing honours fair were seen, 
 
 Scented and powder'd on some first-rate head. 
 Thy sun-burnt hue and tatter'd caul, I ween, 
 Full many a change, and better days have se^n, 
 
 Of which thy bard in varied strains shall sing; 
 For fancy sets his daring muse on fire, 
 O may thy rags her chequer d verse inspire, 
 
 And lift her high on sympathetic wing. 
 Tis.doue, her bosom owns thy humble worth, 
 Aud thus her tender ladyship breaks forth : 
 
 Ere those locks belong'd to thee, 
 
 Once perhaps they wanton'd free, 
 
 Airy, gay, and debonnaire, 
 
 On Belinda's neck so fair ; 
 
 She for whom in Twit'nam's bowers, 
 
 Pope call'd forth his magic powers, 
 
 Gnomes and fairies heard the sound, 
 
 And sylphs obsequious hover'd round, 
 
 Lightly skimming o'er the glade, 
 
 To wait upon the charming maid. 
 
 Why may not the muse suppose ? 
 
 From those triple curls arose, 
 
 The sister-lock without compare 
 
 Jlavish'd from its kindred hair ; 
 
 And in a moment after giv'n, 
 
 (As proof of politcsse) to heav'n ; 
 
 There still, as licens'd poets say, 
 
 It brightens all the milky way, 
 
 Distinguish'd by a stream of light, 
 
 And visible each star-light night. 
 Or dwindled through time to a scratchy 
 
 In the gradual succession of years ; 
 Perhaps, thou hast kept out the cold, 
 
 Heaven bless us ! from majesty's ears 
 The vvig which Judge B idler once own'd, 
 
 Immortal'd in Walcot's blithe song, 
 Might be thy identical self, 
 
 Or thou might' st to great Thurlow belong,. 
 
 Or if into times more remote, 
 
 The muse has permission to ken, 
 Who knows but thou once grac'd the head 
 
 Of Solomon, wisest of men. 
 Perhaps, but my thread is worn out, 
 
 Again to Parnassus I fly, 
 The reader perhaps may be tir'd, 
 
 And to tell you the truth, so am I. 
 So here's a pretty exit of the muse ! 
 
 Like unto Butler's bear and fiddle, 
 Begins, 'tis true, but breaks in twain 
 
 Ere she has reach'd the middle. 
 Then hear, O rev'rend covering for the head, 
 
 Be mine the task to end the ode alone, 
 And waft prophetical thy future fame 
 
 To distant climes unknown : 
 u Though torn to pieces by the barber dire, 
 
 Still shall some chosen locks remain, 
 
 Worthy some nymph in chaste Diana's train, 
 Who daily brings her clean attire ; 
 And hands the virgin to her spangled gig. 
 
 These locks shall never pass away, 
 
 But like the phoenix burst upon the day. 
 And rise regenerate in an old maid's wig !" 
 
 LACONIC GRACE. 
 
 Archbishop Laud was a man of short stature. 
 Charles I. and the archbishop were one day about to 
 sit down to dinner together, when it was agreed that 
 Archer, the king's jester, should say grace for them, 
 which he did as follows : " Great praise be given to 
 God, but little laud to the devil." 
 
 NAPOLEON AT WATERLOO. 
 
 The advanced guard of the French army did not 
 reach the plains of Waterloo till the seventeenth of 
 June, at six in the evening , a delay occasioned by 
 unfortunate occurrences on the road, otherwise the 
 forces would have been on the spot by three o'clock 
 in the afternoon. This circumstance greatly discon- 
 certed the emperor Napoleon, who, pointing to the 
 sun, exclaimed, " What would 1 7tot give to be this 
 day possessed of the power of Joshua, to be able to 
 retard thy march for two hours." 
 
390 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 MEDITATION ON A BROOMSTICK 
 
 This single stick, which you now behold, inglo- 
 riously lying in that neglected corner, I once knew 
 flourishing in a forest ; it was full of sap, full of leaves, 
 and full of boughs! But, now, in vain does the 
 busy art of man pretend to vie with nature, by tying 
 that withered bundle of twigs to its sapless trunk ; it 
 % now at best but the reverse of what it was — a tree 
 turned upside down — the branches on the earth, and 
 the root in the air ! It is now handled by every 
 dirty wench, condemned to do her drudgery, and, by 
 a capricious kind of fate, destined to make other 
 things clean, and be nasty itself 1 At length, worn 
 to the stumps in the service of the maids, it is either 
 thrown out of doors, or condemned to the last use, of 
 kindling a fire ! When I beheld this, I sighed, and 
 said within myself, "Mortal man is a broomstick .'" 
 Nature sends him into the world strong and lusty, 
 in a thriving condition, wearing his own hair on his 
 head, the proper branches of a reasoning vegetable, 
 till the axe of intemperance has lopt off the green 
 boughs, and left him a withered trunk : he then 
 flies to art, and puts on a perriwig, valuing himself 
 upon an unnatural bundle of hairs all covered with 
 powder, and that never grew on his head ! But now, 
 should this our broomstick pretend to enter the 
 scene, proud of those birchen spoils it never bore, 
 and all covered with dust, through the sweeping of 
 the finest lady's chamber, we should be apt to ridi- 
 cule and despise its vanity. Partial judges that we 
 are of our own excellencies, and other men's de- 
 faults ! But a broomstick, perhaps, you will say, is 
 an emblem of a tree standing on its head ; and, 
 pray, what is man but a topsy-turvy creature, his 
 animal perpetually mounted on his rational faculties, 
 his head where his heels should be, grovelling on 
 the earth ; and yet, with all his faults, he sets up to 
 be a universal reformer and corrector of abuses, as 
 well as remover of grievances; till, worn to the stumps, 
 like his brother besom, he is either kicked out of 
 doors, or made use of to kindle flames for others to 
 warm, themselves by. 
 
 Swift. 
 
 GAFFER CRAY. 
 
 Oh ! Why dost thou shiver and shake, 
 
 Gaffer Gray ; 
 And why does thy nose look so blue 1 
 [' Tis the weather that's cold, 
 'Tis I'm grown very old, 
 And my doublet is not very new 
 
 Well-a-day." 
 Then line thy warm doublet with ale, 
 
 Gaffer Gray, 
 
 And warm thy old heart with a glass; 
 
 " Nay, but credit I've none, 
 
 And my money's all gone, . 
 
 Then say how may that come to pass, 
 
 Well-a-day." 
 Hie away to the house on the brow 
 
 Gaffer Gray 
 And knock at the jolly priest's door— 
 " The priest often preaches 
 Against worldly riches, 
 But ne'er gives a mite to the poor, 
 
 Wcll-a-day." 
 The lawyer lives under the hill, 
 
 Gaffer Gray, 
 Warmly fenc'd both in back and in front, 
 " He will fasten his locks, 
 And will threaten the stocks, 
 Should he evermore find me in want, 
 
 Well-a-day." 
 The squire has fat beeves and brown ale, 
 
 Gaffer Gray, 
 And the season will welcome you there. 
 " His fat beeves and his beer, 
 And his merry new year, 
 Are all for the flush and the fair, 
 
 Well-a-day." 
 My keg is but low, I confess, 
 
 Gaffer Gray, 
 What then? While it lasts, man, we'll live. 
 " The poor man alone, 
 When he hears the poor moan, 
 Of his morsel a morsel will give, 
 Well-a-day." 
 
 HoiCROFff. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 391 
 
 POVERTY DESIRABLE. 
 
 Happy art thou, O man, who wast not born 
 amidst the luxuries of life. 
 
 Lucky art thou who canst eat the simple fare ; whose 
 nose turneth not up at a boiled leg of mutton and 
 turnips, or bacon and eggs. 
 
 Health waketh thee at morn, and accompanieth 
 the slumbers of night. 
 
 Art thou an alderman, and putteth pounds of turtle 
 into thy paunch ; thou devourest an apoplexy. 
 Swallowest thou hot sauces 1 Thou gulpest rheuma- 
 tism and gout. 
 
 Say not wickedly, " I will not repeat the Lord's 
 Prayer, as it is beneath a gentleman to pray for 
 iread." 
 
 Curse not sprats and flounders ; peradventure 
 sprats and flounders might blush to enter the doors 
 of thy gullet. 
 
 Deem thyself not undone, because thou possessest 
 not more than thou oughtest in reason to use. 
 
 Fortunate are thousands in having never been 
 favourites of fortune. 
 
 Content sigheth not for venison ; she lifteth not her 
 eye for turbot. 
 
 She hateth not the sight of the sun at dinner-time, 
 but preferreth his radiance to the greasy light of a 
 candle. 
 
 P. Pindar. 
 
 GAIN AND GLORY. 
 
 When Napoleon Bonaparte was a subaltern in the 
 French army, a Russian officer, with much self-suf- 
 ficiency, remarked, " That his country fought for 
 glory, and the French for gain." "You are perfectly 
 in the right," answered Napoleon, " for every one 
 fights for that which he does not possess." 
 
 BUYING AND SELLING THE DEVIL. 
 
 Blount's Law Dictionary gives an instance of buy- 
 ing and selling the devil ; the story is extracted from 
 the court rolls of the manor of Hatfield, near the isle 
 of Axeholme, York, of which the following is a transla- 
 tion : " Robert de Roderham appeared against John 
 de Ithon, for that he had not kept the agreement made 
 
 between them : and therefore complains, that on a 
 certain day and year, at Thome, there was an agree- 
 ment between the aforesaid Robert and John, whereby 
 the said John sold to the said Robert, the devil, bound 
 in a certain bond, for threepence farthing ; and there- 
 upon, the said John, one farthing, as earnest money j 
 by which the property of the said devil rested in the 
 person of the said Robert, to have livery of the said 
 devil, on the fourth day next following, at which day 
 the said Robert came to the forenamed John, and 
 asked delivery of the said devil, according to the 
 agreement between them made. But the said John 
 refused to deliver the said devil, nor has he yet done 
 it, &c. to the great damage of the said Robert, to the 
 amount of sixty shillings; and he has therefore 
 brought his suite, &c. The said John came, and did 
 not deny the said agreement ; andbecause it appeared 
 to the court that such a suite ought not to subsist 
 among Christians, the aforesaid parties are therefore 
 adjourned to the infernal regions, there to hear their 
 judgment ; aud both parties were amerced, &c. by 
 William de Scargell, Seneschal." 
 
 DAVID JONES, OR WINE AND WORSTED. 
 
 Hugh Morgan, cousin of that Hugh, 
 Whose cousin was, the Lord knows who 
 Was likewise, as the story runs, 
 Tenth cousin of one David Jones. 
 David, well stor'd with classic knowledge, 
 Was sent betimes to Jesus college ; 
 Paternal bounty left him clear 
 For life one hundred pounds a year ; 
 And Jones was deem'd another Croesus 
 Among the commoners of Jesus. 
 It boots not here to quote tradition, 
 In proof of David's erudition ; 
 
 He could unfold the mystery high, 
 Of Paulo post and verbs in fit •, 
 Scan Virgil, and in mathematics 
 Prove that straight lines were not quadratics. 
 All Oxford hail'dthis youth's ingrcssus, 
 And wond'ring Welshmen cried, " Cot pless us \" 
 It happen'd that his cousin Hugh 
 From Oxford pass'd, to Cambria due, 
 
392 
 
 And from his erudite relation, 
 
 Receiv'd a written invitation. 
 
 Hugh to the college gate repair'd, 
 
 And ask'd for Jones j— the porter star'd. 
 
 '/Jones ! Sir," quoth he, discriminate, 
 
 " Of Mr. Joneses, there be eight." 
 
 " Aye, but 'tis David Jones," quoth Hugh ; 
 
 Quoth porter, " We've six Davids too." 
 
 " Cot's flesh," cries Morgan, " cease your mockings, 
 
 My David Jones wears worsted stockings !" 
 
 Quoth porter, " Which it is, heav'n knows, 
 
 For all the eight wear worsted hose." 
 
 " My Cot," says Hugh, " I'm ask'd to dine, 
 
 Witii cousin Jones, and quaff his wine." 
 
 "That one word, 'wine,' is worth a dozen," 
 
 Quoth porter, " now I know your cousin ; 
 
 The wine has stood you, Sir, in more stead 
 
 Than David, or the hose of worsted ; 
 
 You'll find your friend at number nine, 
 
 We've but one Jones that quaffs his wine." 
 
 GENEROUS HIGHWAYMAN. 
 
 Boulter, the famous highwayman, one day met a 
 young woman in great distress, who told him that a 
 creditor had entered a house which she pointed out, 
 and threatened to take her husband to prison for a 
 debt of thirty guineas. Boulter gave her thirty 
 guineas, telling her to go and pay the debt, and set 
 her husband at liberty, and she ran off loading him 
 with thanks. Boulter, in the mean time, waited on 
 the road till he saw the creditor come out ; he then 
 attacked him, and took back the thirty guineas, be- 
 sides every thing else he had about him. 
 
 THE JEW AND CHRISTIAN. 
 
 A Jew, about two centuries ago, at Tewkesbury, fell 
 into a filthy hole on Saturday, which, being the 
 sabbath, he would not that day be drawn out for fear 
 of breaking it. The earl of Gloucester hearing this 
 news, forbade him to be taken out the next day, our 
 Sunday ; for that neither (he said) should the Chris- 
 tian sabbath be broken by him ; whereupon the poor 
 man lying there till Monday, miserably died. .There 
 is a whimsical Leonine epigram, written in the thir- 
 teenth century, pn this circumstance. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Tende manus, Solomon. — Ego te de stercore tollam. 
 
 Sabbatha nostra colo, de stercore surgere nolo. 
 
 Sabbatha nostra quidem, Solomon, celebrabis ibidem. 
 Thus imitated 
 
 Christian — What's here ! neighbour Solomon, 
 stuck in a privy ! 
 
 Come, cheer up, old lad, catch this rope that I 
 give ye. 
 
 Jew — Away with your infidel rope ! I disdain itj 
 
 This day is my sabbath, I will not profane it. 
 
 Christian — Stay there then : but hark ye ! my sab- 
 bath is Sunday ; 
 
 So you'll wait in your garden of sweets, Sir, till Mon- 
 day. 
 
 UNLUCKY FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 During the reign of Frederick the Great, a Jew who 
 had acquired great wealth wished to quit Berlin, but 
 dared not attempt it without the king's permission ; 
 accordingly he made several applications, assigning 
 many reasons, the principal of which was for the 
 benefit of his health. At length the king sent him 
 the following reply : 
 "Dear Ephraim, 
 
 Nothing but death shall part us, 
 
 Frederick." 
 dividing a booty. 
 
 An Israelite, who knew the character of William 
 Rufus, gave him a large sum of money to persuade 
 his converted son to return to Jerusalem. Rufus did 
 his endeavour, but in vain. " Well," said he to the 
 father, " I have done what I could, but I have not suc- 
 ceeded. It is not. my fault though, so we will divide 
 the money between us." 
 
 .ACCOUNT OF THE TWELVE JEWISH TRIBES BY THE 
 SPANISH INQUISITION. 
 
 The tribe of Judah treacherously delivered up 
 our Lord, and thirty of them die by treason every 
 year. 
 
 The tnoe ot Reuben seized our Lord in the garden, 
 and therefore the curse of barrenness is on all they 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 393 
 
 a ' 
 
 sow or plant, and no green thing can flourish over 
 their graves. 
 
 The tribe of Gad put on the crown of thorns, and 
 on every 25th of March their bodies are covered with 
 blood from deep and painful wounds. 
 
 Those of Asher buffeted Jesus, and their right hand 
 is always nearly a palm shorter than the left. 
 
 Those of Naphthali jested with Christ about a herd 
 of swine, since when they are all born with tusks, like 
 wild boars. 
 
 The tribe of Manasseh cried out, " His blood be ou 
 us and our children," and at every new moon they are 
 tormented by bloody sores. 
 
 The tribe of Simeon nailed our Lord to the cross, 
 and on the 25th of March, four deep and dreadful 
 wounds are inflicted on their hands and feet. 
 
 Those of Levi spat on the Saviour, and the wind 
 
 ways blows back their saliva in their faces, so that 
 they are habitually covered with filth. 
 
 The tribe of Issachar scourged Christ, and on the 
 25th of March blood streams forth from their shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 The tribe of Zebulon cast lots for the garments, 
 and on the same day the roof of their mouth is tor- 
 tured by deep wounds. 
 
 The tribe of Joseph made the nails for crucifying 
 Jesus, and blunted them to increase his sufferings; 
 and therefore their hands and feet are covered with 
 gashes and blood. 
 
 Those of Benjamin gave vinegar to Jesus ; they all 
 squint and are palsied, and have their mouths filled 
 with little nauseous worms, which, in truth, (adds our 
 author) is the case with all Jewish women after the age 
 of twenty-five, because it was a woman who entreated 
 the tribe of Joseph not to sharpen the nails used for 
 the crucifixion of our Lord." 
 
 MERCHANT TAILORS. 
 
 A clergyman hearinar a remark made on the hu- 
 mility of the Merchant Tailors' motto, " Concordia 
 parvae res crescunt," replied, " Yes, that is to say, 
 nine tailors make a man." 
 
 s3 
 
 COMFORTABLE LODGINGS. 
 
 A gentleman about to take apartments at Clifton 
 Hot Wells, remarked that the stucco was broken upon 
 
 the staircase. " It is very true," replied Mrs. — , 
 
 " but I have had the places in question repaired so 
 often, that I am tired of the trouble, expense, and 
 dirt; the mischief you see is occasioned by convey- 
 ing coffins up and down stairs ; and this circumstance 
 occurs so often, and the undertaker's men are so 
 careless, that I really thought it labour in vain to 
 have it repaired, when, perhaps, I might have it to do 
 again in a fortnight." 
 
 GENUINE MIRACLE. 
 
 A sergeant in a regiment of foot, having snapped 
 the blade of his sword asunder, got for the moment 
 a wooden blade, till he could conveniently have the 
 proper one renewed. This coming to the ears of the 
 commanding officer, he ordered the sergeant to bring 
 to the parade, from the black hole, his brother, a 
 private, confined there for drunkenness. The sergeant 
 in due obedience, went with a file of men, and 
 brought his brother forward. The colonel then 
 addressed the private in a severe tone, thus—" You 
 are, sirrah, such a drunken scoundrel, and have so 
 long disgraced the corps, that I am determined you 
 shall at once have your head struck off, and your own 
 brother shall be your executioner ; kneel Sir, and you, 
 sergeant, do your duty !" The sergeant entreated that 
 there might not be imposed on him an office so shock- 
 ing to his feelings ; but all in vain, the commander 
 was inexorable. The sergeant then fell upon his knees, 
 and exclaimed, " Pray, Heaven, hear my prayers ; 
 and, rather than I should be the slaughterer of my 
 brother, may the blade of my sword be turned to 
 wood ! My prayers are heard," cried he, drawing his 
 sword, " my prayers are heard :" to the no small 
 entertainment of the commanding officer. 
 
 OUT OF SPIRITS. 
 
 " Is my wife out of spirits?" said John, with a sigh, 
 As her voice of a tempest gave warning; 
 Quite out, sir, indeed," said her maid in reply 
 " For she finished the bottle this morning." 
 
394 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 TO A NOTORIOUS AND CRAFTY LIAR. 
 
 Who'er would learn a fact from you 
 
 Must take you by contraries : 
 What you deny, perhaps is true ; 
 
 But nothing that you swear is. 
 
 INFANT LOVE. 
 
 An old uncle having a very beautiful niece, one 
 day gave her a lecture on the inconstancy of man- 
 kind, and particularly cautioned her to beware of 
 love. '* Good heavens, Sir," answered she, "what is 
 there to fear from a child V 
 
 THE WIG, CANE, AND HAT, 
 
 By the side of a murmuring stream, 
 
 An elderly gentleman sat ; 
 On the top of his head was his wig, 
 
 And a-top of his wig was his hat. 
 The wind it blew high and blew strong, 
 
 As the elderly gentleman sat ; 
 And bore from his head in a trice, 
 
 And flung in the river his hat. 
 The gentleman then took his cane, 
 
 Which lay by his side as he sat : 
 And he dropt in the river his wig, 
 
 In attempting to get out his hat. 
 His breast it grew cold with despair, 
 
 And full in his eye madness sat j 
 So he flung in the river his cane, 
 
 To swim with his wig and his hat. 
 Cool reflection at length came across, 
 
 While this elderly gentleman sat ; 
 So he thought he would follow the stream, 
 
 And look for his cane, wig, and hat. 
 His head being thicker than common, 
 
 Overbalanced the rest of his fat, 
 And in plumpt this son of a woman, 
 
 To follow his wig, cane, and hat. 
 
 CLERICAL LEARNING* 
 
 A Kentish curate being one day at the house of a 
 toother clergyman, who showed him a numerous col- 
 
 lection of books, in various languages, asked hiin 
 whether he understood them all 1 The answer being 
 in the affirmative, he rejoined, " Surely, surely, bro- 
 ther, you must have had your head broken with a 
 brick from the tower of Babel." 
 
 ODE TO SAINT PATRICK. 
 
 WRITTEN WHILE HALF TIPSY, OVER A SOLITARY 
 
 DINNER. 
 
 Tho' solus here T pick my bone, 
 And drown my shamiock all alone, 
 
 Yet ne'er the worse for that, 
 I'll fill and drink (to make amends) 
 Both to and for all absent friends, 
 
 To honour thee, Saint Pat ! 
 And, faith, to thee I'd rather quaff 
 Than any Saint, on Heaven's staff, 
 
 That ever Pope gazetted ; 
 Because to thee we Irish sinners, 
 Who love to sprinkle well our dinners, 
 
 Are very deep indebted. 
 There's good St. Swithin — had he givett 
 (Instead of water) wine from heaven, 
 
 For forty days together, 
 Then, truly, for a moist set-in, 
 Six weeks of wet would not have been 
 
 Uncomfortable weather. 
 But Oh ! the liquor, gemm'd with beads, 
 That in my glass this moment reads 
 
 The iliot-act, so frisky ! 
 Sweet Pat, if e'er in humorous vein, 
 Thou tak'st it in thy head to raiD, 
 
 For Heaven's sake rain us whiskey 1 
 I wonder what, in censure's way, 
 The Devil's lawyer* had to say 
 
 Against thee, Pat — what had he ? 
 The worst that Eldon's self could prose, 
 (The Devil's lawyer he, God knows !) 
 
 Would be to call thee " Paddy." 
 
 * A person, called the Devil's advocate, employed at the 
 canonization of Saints, to blacken the characters of those 
 chosen for that honour. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 But, let them call thee what they will, 
 Through life I'll love thy worship still, 
 
 And when my race is over, 
 Let shamrocks crown my bed of sleep, 
 Let whiskey-dew the shamrocks steep, 
 And friends say round me, while they weep, 
 
 " Here lies a Pat, in clover .'" 
 
 SHUTER THE COMEDIAN. 
 
 This performer was once engaged for a few nights 
 in a principal city in the north of England. It hap- 
 pened that the stage that he went down in (and in 
 which there was only an old gentleman and himself) 
 was stopped on the road by a single highwayman. 
 The old gentleman, in order to save his own money, 
 pretended to be asleep ; but Shuter resolved to be 
 even with him. Accordingly, when the highwayman 
 presented his pistol, and commanded Shuter to deliver 
 his money instantly, or he was a dead man — "Mo- 
 ney !" returned he, with an idiotic shrug, and a 
 countenance inexpressibly vacant — " Oh ! Lud, Sir, 
 they never trust me with any ; for nuncle here always 
 pays for me, turnpikes and all, your honour !" Upon 
 which the highwayman gave him a few curses for 
 his stupidity, complimented the old gentleman with a 
 smart slap on the face to awaken him, and robbed 
 him of every shilling he had in his pocket ; while 
 Shuter, who did not lose a single farthing, pursued 
 his journey with great satisfaction and merriment, 
 laughing heartily at his fellow-traveller 
 
 CLERICAL CURIOSITY. 
 
 A minister catechising his parishioners, among the 
 rest called upon a woman of more confidence than 
 judgment, and asked her who died for her. " Pray, 
 Sir," said she, " let me alone with your taunts !" 
 He told her that this was no matter of taunting ; 
 and asked her the same question again. " Sir," re- 
 plied she, " I have been an honest housekeeper these 
 twenty years, methinks it does not become a man of 
 your coat to mock me at this rate." — " What do'st 
 mean, woman V replies the parson ; " I do not mock 
 you : I ask you who died for you 1" " Then," cried 
 she, " if you will have the truth, in plain English, I 
 
 395 
 
 was once so handsome, that as many would have 
 died for me as for any of your daughters, depend 
 upon it." 
 
 QUIN's SOLILOQUY ON SEEING THE EMBALMED BODY 
 OF DUKE HUMPHREY : 
 
 A plague on Egypt's arts, I say, 
 Embalm the dead, — on senseless clay 
 
 Rich wine and spices waste ; 
 Like sturgeon, or like brawn shall I, 
 Bound in a precious pickle lie. 
 
 Which I can never taste i 
 Let me embalm this flesh of mine, 
 With turtle fat and Bourdeaux wine, 
 
 And spoil the Egyptian trade. 
 Than Gloster's duke more happy I, 
 Embalm'd alive old Quin shall die, 
 
 A mummy ready made. 
 
 A SAVING CLAUSE. 
 
 It was customary with Marshal Bassompierre, 
 when any of his soldiers weie brought before him for 
 heinous offences, to say to them " By God, brother, 
 you or I will certainly be hanged !" which was a suf- 
 ficient denunciation of their fate. A spy being dis- 
 covered in his camp, was addressed in this language ; 
 and next day, as the provost was carrying the wretch 
 to the gallows, he pressed earnestly to speak with the 
 Marshal, alleging that he had somewhat of import- 
 ance to communicate. The Marshal, being made 
 acquainted with this request, exclaimed, " It is the 
 way of all these rascals ; when ordered for execution, 
 they pretend some frivolous story, merely to reprieve 
 themselves for a few moments : however^ bring the 
 dog hither." Being introduced, the Marshal asked 
 him what he had to say? " Why, my lord," said the 
 culprit, " when first I had the honour of your con- 
 versation, you was obliging enough to say, that either 
 you or I should be hanged : now I am come to know, 
 whether it is your pleasure to be so ; because if you 
 wou't, I must, that's all." The Marshal was so 
 pleased with the fellow's humour, that he ordered 
 hira to be released. 
 
396 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 FOUR EVILS. 
 
 An old French gentleman once complained that he 
 had been cheated by a monk, when one of that order, 
 being present, said to him — " I am surprised, Sir, 
 that a person of your years and discretion should not 
 yet know a monk ! It is, however, never too late to 
 learn ; and, for the future, let me advise you to be- 
 ware of four things : of a woman before, of a mule 
 behind, of a cart sideways, and of a monk every 
 way." 
 
 SPECIMEN OF BEAU NASH's MANNER OF TELLING A 
 STORY. 
 
 I will tell you something to that purpose — that, I 
 fancy, will make you laugh. A covetous old parson, 
 as rich as the devil, scraped a fresh acquaintance 
 with me several years ago at Bath. I knew him 
 when he and I were students at Oxford, where we 
 both studied damnation hard ; but that is neither 
 here nor there. Well, very well. I entertained him 
 at my house in John's Court— no, my house in John's 
 Court was not built then — but I entertained him with 
 all that the city could afford ; the rooms, the music, 
 and every thing in the world. Upon his leaving 
 Bath, he pressed me very hard to return the visit ; 
 and desired me to let him have the pleasure of see- 
 ing me at his house in Devonshire. About six months 
 after, I happened to be in that neighbourhood ; and 
 was resolved to see my old friend, from whom I ex- 
 pected a very warm reception. Well, I knocked at 
 his door : when an old queer creature of a maid 
 came to the door, and denied him. I suspected, 
 however, that he was at home ; and, going into the 
 parlour, what should I see but the parson's legs up 
 the chimney ; where he had thrust himself to avoid 
 entertaining me. This was very well. " My dear," 
 says I to the maid, " it is very cold, extremely cold 
 indeed ; and I am afraid I have got a touch of my 
 ague : lightme the fire, if you please." " La, Sir !" 
 says the maid, who was a modest creature, to be sure, 
 " the chimney smokes monstrously ; you would not 
 bear the room for three minutes together." By the 
 greatest good-luck there was a bundle of straw on 
 the hearth ; and I called for a candle. The candle 
 
 came. '.' Well, good woman," says I, " since you 
 will not light me a fire, I will light one for myself :* 
 and in a moment the straw was all in a blaze. This 
 -quickly unkennelled the old fox : there he stood in 
 an old rusty night-gown, blessing himself, and look- 
 ing like — a — hem — egad ! 
 
 Here I stand, gentlemen, who could once leap 
 forty-two feet upon level ground, at three standing- 
 jumps, backward or forward : one, two, three — dart 
 like an arrow out of a bow — but I am old now. I 
 remember I once leaped for three hundred guineas 
 with Count Klopstock, the great leaper, leaping- 
 master to the Prince of Passau : you must all have 
 heard of him. First he began with the running- 
 jump ; and a most damnable bounce it was, that is 
 certain. Every body concluded that he had the 
 match hollow ; when, only taking off my hat, strip- 
 ping off neither coat, shoes, nor stockings — mind me 
 — I fetched a run, and went beyond him one foot, 
 three inches, and three quarters, measured, upon my 
 soul ! by captain Pately's own standard ! 
 
 THE BLUE-BOTTLE FLY. 
 
 The wise men of Egypt were secret as dummies ; 
 
 And even when they condescended to teach, 
 They pack'd up their meaning, as they did their 
 mummies, 
 
 In so many wrappers, 'twas out of one's reach. 
 They were also, good people, much given to kings, 
 
 Fond of monarchs and crocodiles, monkeys and 
 mystery, 
 Bats, hierophants, blue-bottle flies, and such things, 
 
 As will partly appear in this very short history. 
 A Scythian philosopher, (nephew they say. 
 
 To that other great traveller, young Anacharsis,) 
 Stept into a temple at Memphis one day 
 
 To have a short peep at their mystical farces. 
 He saw a brisk blue-bottle fly on an altar, 
 
 Made much of, and worship'd, as something di- 
 vine ; 
 While a large handsome bullock, led therein a 
 halter, 
 
 Before it lay stabb'd at the foot of the shrine. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 Surpris'd it such doings, he whisper'd his teacher 
 
 " If 'tiin't impertinent, may I ask, why 
 Should a hillock, that useful and powerful creature, 
 
 Be offer'c thus up to a blue-bottle fly." 
 " No wonder," said t'other, " you stare at the sight, 
 
 But we as a symbol of monarchy view it-, 
 That fly on the shrine is legitimate right, 
 
 And that lullock, the people, is sacrificed to it." 
 
 Moore. 
 
 ENGLISH FARMER AND A HOP-PLANTER. 
 
 In the harvest season, when all the animal crea- 
 tion appears cheerfully industrious, if we congratulate 
 the farmer on the noble prospect of his well-covered 
 acres, he will shake his head ; and, between a sigh 
 and a grunt, he will answer you with — " Ah, but the 
 straw is short !" If the straw is long, then he will 
 tell you there is no substance in the grain. If there 
 is but an indifferent crop, he laments that it will not 
 pay the expense of housing and thrashing. If a 
 plentiful crop, then he grumbles, corn will be so 
 cheap, it will not be worth carrying to market. 
 
 The hop- planter rises, lifts up the sash, and 
 looks over the horizon ; if the morning happens to be 
 cloudy, he pulls down the window with an oath, 
 saying — " It will rain to-day, and all the blossoms 
 will be washed off!" If there should be a pleasant 
 air abroad, then the poles will be all blown down. 
 If the sun shines, — >" O Lord ! the plants will be 
 burned up." If it is a close, dry day, without much 
 sun-shine, or wind, then he wishes for rain to destroy 
 the vermin, or else they will eat all the buds up. 
 
 EPITAPH ON A LANDLADY. 
 
 Assigned by Providence to rule a tap, 
 
 My days pass'd glibly — till an awkward rap, 
 
 Some way like bankruptcy, impell'd me down ; 
 
 But up I got again, and shook my gown 
 
 In gamesome gambols, quite as brisk as ever, 
 
 Blithe as the lark, and gay as sunny weather ; 
 
 Compos'd with creditors at five in pound, 
 
 And frolick'd on till laid in holy ground. 
 
 The debt of nature must, you know be paid, 
 
 No trust from her.— God grant extent in aid! 
 
 39] 
 
 A BORROWED COUNTENANCE. 
 
 An officer of a disbanded regiment applying to the 
 paymaster of the forces for his arrears, told him that 
 he was m extreme want, and on the point of dying 
 with hunger. The treasurer, seeing him of a jovial 
 and ruddy aspect, told him that his countenance belied 
 his complaint. « Good, my lord," replied the officer, 
 " for Heaven's sake, do not mistake : the visage you 
 see, is not mine, but my landlady's ; for she has fed 
 me on credit for above twelvemonths." 
 
 BIBLICAL FOP. 
 
 A bookseller of Edinburgh had the exclusive right 
 of printing bibles, and amassed a large fortune ; his 
 son, who was remarkably stupid, came very finely 
 dressed into a ballroom, upon which occasion the 
 following epigram was written : 
 
 The bible comes, in whose behalf 
 
 I'd speak, were rhyme unfetter'd ; 
 He's double gilt, and bound in calf, 
 But then he's quite unletter'd. 
 
 A GENTLE HINT. 
 
 An uncle left in his will, eleven silver spoons to 
 his nephew, adding, " if I have not left him the 
 dozen, he knows the reason." The fact was the 
 nephew had some time before stolen it from his re- 
 lative. 
 
 THE NIGHTINOALE-CLUB 
 
 The Nightingale-club in a village was held, 
 At the sign of the Cabbage and Shears ; 
 Where the singers, no doubt, would have greatly ex- 
 cell'd, 
 But for want of taste, voices, and ears. 
 Still between ev'ry toast, with his gills mighty red, 
 Mister President thus, with great eloquence, said ; 
 
 (Spoken.) " Gentlemen of the Nightingale-club, 
 you all know the rule : every gentleman must sing a 
 song, or drink a glass of salt and water. Mr. Snuffle, 
 I call upon you." — " 1 have got a cold in my head, 
 but I'll try: let me blow my nose first. Blow high, 
 blow low, &c." 
 
 Bravo, bravo, very well sung ; 
 Jolly companions every one. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 398 
 
 Thus the Nightingale-club gaily kept up their 
 
 clamour, 
 Aud were nightly knock'd down by the president's 
 
 hammer. 
 When Snuffle haci finish'd, a man of excise, 
 
 Whose squint was prodigiously fine, 
 Sang *' Drink to me only with thine eyes, 
 
 And I will pledge with mine." 
 After which Mr. Tugg, who draws teeth for all parties, 
 Tioar'd a sea-song, whose burthen was " Pull away, 
 my hearties." 
 Bravo, bravo, &c. 
 Mr. Drybones sang next, who was turn'd of three- 
 score, 
 And melodiously warbled away, 
 " She's sweet fifteen, I'm one year more, 
 And yet we are too young they say, 
 But we know better, sure, than they/ 
 Then a little Jew grocer, who wore a bob-wig, 
 Struck up " Billy Pringle had von leetel pig j 
 Not very leetel nor yet very big \* 
 But veri alive him live in clover ; 
 But now him dead, and dat's all over." 
 
 (Spoken.) " Come," said the president, " whose 
 turn is it to give us a sentiment ? — Mr. Mangle, the 
 surgeon." " Sir, I'll give you, Success to the men who 
 bleed for their country." — " And now, Mr. Dismal, 
 we'll thank you for your song." " Sir, I'll give you 
 something sprightly. 
 
 (hi a crying tone of voice.) 
 *' Merry are the bells, and merry do they ring. 
 Merry is myself, and merry can I sing." 
 
 Bravo, bravo, 6cc. 
 Billy Piper some members call'd Breach of the Peace, 
 
 Because all his notes were so shrill, 
 Shriek'd out, like the wheel of a cart that wants 
 grease, 
 
 (In a squeaking tone.) 
 " Deeper, and deeper still." 
 Mr. Max, who, all gin, wish'd to coo like a dove, 
 Murmur'd sweetly " Oh ! listen, listen to the voice 
 
 of love, 
 Which calls my Daphne to the grove." 
 
 (Spoken.) Mr. Doublelungs, the butcher, was call- 
 ed upon next. 4< And now, Mr. Doublehngs, we'll 
 thank you for a song." *' Sir, I'll sing with all my 
 heart, liver, and lights. I'll sing you thi Echo-song 
 out of Comus, with my own accompaniments ; and 
 when a man echoes himself, he's sure to do it in the 
 right key. 
 
 (In a shrill and deep-toned voice alternately. ^ 
 " Sweet Echo," &c. 
 Bravo, bravo, &c. 
 
 GAMING AND FIGHTING. 
 
 An officer having gained a large sum of money at 
 play, was requested the ensuing morning to accom- 
 pany a friend, as second, to the field. " You should 
 have come yesterday," said the officer, " to make 
 the request, for I then had time, but that is not the 
 case to-day, my purse being full ; but, if ycu must 
 have a second, I advise you to seek the gentleman 
 who lost what I have won ; he is now not worth a 
 sixpence, and will therefore fight like the devil 
 himself." 
 
 DOUBLE PENITENCE. 
 
 A lady being at confession, informed the priest, 
 that she had very early in life had an illicit amour, and 
 that a child was the fruit of the sin. " You must repent 
 the shameful action," said the confessor. " Why 
 should I repent ?" resumed the lady, " when I find 
 the boy an example of 'virtue 1" f* Well then," ex- 
 claimed the priest, " if that be the case, you must 
 repent that you have no cause for repentance." 
 
 PHILOSOPHIC RETORT. 
 
 A proud, but ignorant peer, observing one day at 
 a table, that a person, eminent for his knowledge 
 and abilities, was intent on choosing the delicacies 
 before him, said, " What ! do philosophers love 
 dainties 1" " Why not 1" replied the scholar. " Do 
 you think, my lord, that the good things of this world 
 were made only for blockheads 1" 
 
 THE DEVIL'S HERIOT. 
 
 A Sussex attorney dying a day or two after Lord 
 Chief Justice Holt, a wag observed, " There never 
 died a lord chief justice, but the devil took an attorney 
 for a heriot." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 399 
 
 OXFORD ALE. 
 
 When it was the fashion to drink ale at Oxford, a 
 humorous fellow established an alehouse near the 
 pound, and wrote over his door, " Ale sold by the 
 pound." As his ale was as good as his jokes, the 
 Oxonians resorted to his house in great numbers, and 
 sometimes staid there beyond the college hours. This 
 was made a matter of complaint to the vice-chancel- 
 lor, who was desired to take away his licence, by one 
 of the proctors of the university. Boniface was sum- 
 moned to attend, and when he came into the vice- 
 chancellor's presence, he began spitting about the 
 room ; this the chancellor observed, and asked what 
 he meant by it 1 " Please your worship," said he, 
 " I came here on purpose to clear myself." The vice- 
 chancellor, imagined that he actually weighed his 
 ale, and sold it in that manner ; he therefore said to 
 him, " They tell me you sell your ale by the pound ; 
 is that true V "No, an't please your worship," re- 
 plied the wit. " How do you then V said the chan- 
 cellor. " Very well, I thank you, Sir," replied the 
 wit, " how do you do?" T-he chancellor laughed and 
 said, " Get away for a rascal, I will say no more to 
 you." The fellow departed, and crossing the qua- 
 drangle, met the proctor who laid the information ; 
 " Sir," said he, " the vice-chancellor wants to speak 
 with you," and returned with him. "Here, sir," 
 said he, "here he is." " Who '{" said the chancellor. 
 " Why, Sir," said he, " you sent me for a rascal, and 
 I have brought you the greatest that I know of." 
 
 RARE VIRTUES. 
 
 In praise of honesty and truth, 
 Men's busy tongues are never still, 
 'Tis well — for both are fled from earth, 
 De mortuis nisi bonum nil. 
 
 COMPANIONSHIP. 
 
 A bon-vivant one night told a friend that he intend- 
 ed to leave twenty pounds to be spent at his funeral; 
 which induced the other to ask him, if the money 
 was to be spent going or returning'? " Going, to be 
 sure," replied he, " for when you return I shan't be 
 with you," 
 
 THE LOST KEY. 
 
 Barrymore happening to come late to the theatre, 
 and having to dress for his part, was driven to the 
 last moment, when, to heighten his perplexity, the 
 key of his drawer was missing. " D — n it," said he, 
 " I must have swallowed it." " Never mind," says 
 Jack Bannister, coolly, " if you have, it will serve to 
 open your chest." 
 
 adam's sleep. 
 He laid him down and slept — and from his side 
 
 A woman in her magic beauty rose, 
 Dazzled and charm'd he called that woman " bride," 
 
 And his first sleep became his last repose. 
 
 BAD AND WORSE. 
 
 Two comedians having a wager about which of 
 them sung the best, they agreed to refer it to a friend. 
 A day was accordingly agreed on, and both the par- 
 ties executed to the best of their abilities before him. 
 As soon as they had finished, the arbitrator proceed- 
 ed to give judgment in the following manner : — "As 
 for you, Sir, (addressing himself to the first) you are 
 the worst singer I ever heard in my life."— "Ah," 
 said the other, exultingly, "I knew I should win 
 my wager." "Stop, Sir," said the arbitrator, "I 
 have a word to say to you before you go, which is 
 this, that as for you, you cannot sing at all." 
 
 a bishop's blessing. 
 With cover'd head, a country boor 
 Stood, while the bishop bless' d the poor ; — 
 The mitred prelate lifted high 
 His voice — " Take off your hat" — " Not I — 
 Your blessing's little worth," he said, 
 " If through the hat 'twont reach the head." 
 
 IRISH MEASUREMENT. 
 
 A gentleman in Ireland having built a large house 
 was at a loss what to do with the rubbish. His stew- 
 ard advised him to have a pit dug large enough to 
 contain it. " And what," said the gentleman, "shall 
 I do with the earth which is dug out of the pit?" To 
 which the steward replied, " have the pit made large 
 enough to hold all." 
 
400 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE FIRST OF SEPTEMBER, OR, THE CITV 
 SPORTSMAN. 
 
 This first of September, at five in the morn, 
 The weather quite cloudy, the prospect forlorn, 
 I arose from my bed, and without the least strife, 
 Resign'd to the arms of another — my wife ; 
 Determin'd to Somnus her snorings to yield, 
 And join with brown Bess in the sports of the field. 
 My volunteer musquet I clean'd over night, 
 And Sol in his glory look'd scarcely so bright-, 
 My pockets with powder and shot I did cram, 
 And sportsmanlike too, added chicken and ham. 
 Straight I hied to the closet, and why should I not, 
 Since by way of a cooler, I like something hot ? 
 Nay I ne'er yet could manage my lodgings to bilk, 
 So in wedlock's rum bands I soon join'd rum and 
 
 ■milk. 
 Then my dogs round me whistled, I think these were 
 
 all, 
 Viz. Nimble and Bounce, little Gypsey and Ball; 
 With such four fam'd dogs, but for what I can't 
 
 tell, 
 I expected no less than to bear off the bell ; 
 I expected each jolly good sportsman to beat, 
 And to furnish my friends with a delicate treat, 
 But poor borrow'd Bounce Avas as blind as a bat 
 And knew not a hare from a tortoise-shell cat ; 
 And Gypsey, the terrier, her mistress's boast, 
 Stood staunch as a pointer, at nothing but toast. 
 There was Nimble, the greyhound, not given to 
 
 roam, 
 Dislik'd staying out, so then nimbly ran home. 
 As Ball, I was certain, would make the birds rise, 
 I kept my piece pointed direct to the skies ; 
 Soon up rose a bird, though I cannot tell what, 
 Tor I shut both my eyes t'o make sure of the shot; 
 But my musquet miss'd fire, a shocking disaster, 
 As the barking of Ball made the bird fly the fasten 
 I then prim'd my piece, and I added a charge, 
 Determin'd the havoc next time should be large ; 
 Again I took tim, (oh, unfortunate man !) 
 Again I had nought but a flash in the pan. 
 
 A third time I prim'd, and I loaded a third, 
 When close in the hedge a loud rustling I heard j 
 I listen'd, and listen'd:, then heard a soft strain, 
 Metbought 'twas a blackbird, 'twould warble again ; 
 The dogs they all snuff'd sure there's nothing behind, 
 Some scent that attracts, and now plays on the wind ; 
 Straight I levell'd my piece, for a random-like shot, 
 Resolv'd what that might be, it should go to pot. 
 The trigger I pull'd, and of course shut my eyes ; 
 But when open again, how great my surprise '. 
 'Tis true, 'twas a blackbird, according to Kemble— 
 'Twas the Bird of a. Jew — then all of a tremble — 
 'Twas Moses the pedlar, who in greatest distress 
 Had crept into the hedge for what I can't guess. 
 Now a little collected, the pedlar upsprung, 
 And assail'd my two ears with bis voluble tongue. 
 I tendered him sixpence, which he took in a huff, 
 As sixpence a singe was not money enough ; 
 He thought for his fright and his beard I'd be willing 
 To give him another, so make it a shilling. 
 But suppose, Master Moses, no more's to be had, 
 I've but one tester left, and that is rank bad ; 
 " Ish it bad V he replied, with his neck on the crane, 
 u Eesh, 'tish bad, my good Sir, but ' twill colour again." 
 Having settled with Moses, and wip'd off* the score, 
 Such rare luck with three charges, I thought I'd try 
 
 four; 
 'Twas a maxim, I thought, I might safely advance, 
 The more powder and shot, the more likely the chance ' 
 Then with four charges quickly I loaded my gun, 
 Prim'd and ramm'd it down tight, which I scarce 
 
 could get done 
 Before up got a covey delightful to view, 
 That I reckon'd at last on two brace for you ; 
 For I took such an aim — still an unlucky elf — 
 That I kill'd my three dogs, and I wounded myself. 
 Now, I think, my good Sir, in two hours or less, 
 I've seen plenty of service with pretty brown Bess. 
 Both my wife and my neighbours weep sore for my 
 
 hounds, 
 And as sore do I weep through the smart of my wounds 
 Ah ! they open afresh, I caunot write further. 
 But remain, my dear Sir, yours, 
 
 KILLING NO MURTHER. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 401 
 
 FAIR PLAY. 
 
 Mr. Curran, who was a very small man, having a 
 dispute with a brother counsel, who was a very stout 
 one, in which words ran high on both sides, called 
 him out. The other, however, objected. " For," 
 said he, "you are so little, that I might fire at you a 
 dozen times without hitting ; whereas the chance is, 
 that you shoot me at the first fire." — " Upon my con- 
 science, that's true !" cried Curran. " But to con- 
 vince you I don't wish to take any advantage, you 
 shall chalk my size upon your body, and all hits out 
 of the ring shall go for nothing !" 
 
 TO AN OLD COQUETTE. 
 
 'Tis not thy years that frighten me away, 
 But that thy youngest brother's hair is gray ! ' 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Be not disquieted, fond girl, in truth, 
 They laugh not at thy age, but at thy youth. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 I did not laugh — in spite of Celia's rage, 
 
 I dared not laugh — I've learnt to reverence age. 
 
 IRISH SENSIBILITY. 
 
 When an Irish dean was pilloried for a libel, a little 
 ashamed of his elevation, he hired a chairman to hold 
 an umbrella over his head during the painful cere- 
 mony, and for this service the doctor rewarded him 
 with a guinea. Next day the chairman called upon 
 him, when the doctor suspecting his drift, said, "My 
 friend, what do you want ; I thought I paid you yes- 
 terday very handsomely 1" "To be sure, now," said 
 Pat, " and so you did for the trouble ; but, please 
 your honour, consider the disgrace !" 
 
 PLEASURE AND PAIN. 
 
 SICK MAN AND THE FRIAR. 
 
 From the Italian. 
 " Repent," said a grey coated friar one day 
 To a reprobate wretch as expiring he lay, 
 As I came up the stairs I was frighten'd to see 
 The fiend who is waiting to seize upon thee." 
 " You saw him then truly V — "Too truly, alas !" — 
 "And under what shape ?" — " Under that of an ass." 
 " Well then," cried the sinner, " I am not afraid, 
 You surely were terrified by your own shade," 
 
 The late lord Erskine was one evening taken sud- 
 denly ill at lady Payne's ; on her expressing a hop* 
 that his indisposition might not be serious, he an- 
 swered her in the following impromptu : — . 
 " 'Tis true I am ill, but I need not complain, 
 For he never knew pleasure who never knew Payne." 
 
 lord wharton's grace. 
 When the whimsical lord Wharton was a stripling, 
 and once came from school to the house of his fa- 
 ther, who was a formal Presbyterian, and extremely 
 deaf, the old nobleman invited the neighbouring gen- 
 try and their families to partake of an entertainment, 
 on the anniversary of his birth. On dinner being 
 served up, the young gentleman was ordered to say 
 grace ; when turning up the whites of his eyes, and 
 assuming a puritanical countenance, he poured forth 
 the following filial ejaculation : — 
 " I pray Cod to shorten 
 The days of lord Wharton, 
 And set up his son in his place ; 
 He'll drink and he'll w — e, 
 And ten thousand things more, 
 With a grave and fanatical face." 
 
 hint from the pulpit. 
 Butler, duke of Ormond, was by queen Anne ap- 
 
 pointed lord lieutenant of Ireland; ingoing over to take 
 possession of his government he was driven by stress 
 of weather upon the isle of 11a, and was obliged to re- 
 main there some time, at the house of the minister, 
 whose living brought him in about 22/. per annum. 
 He made the minister, whose name was Joseph, a 
 present on his going away, and promised to do some- 
 thing more for him. Joseph waited with impatience 
 at the not hearing further ; at last he went over to 
 Dublin, and got leave to preach in the cathedral, 
 where he knew the duke would be. His text was : 
 But the chief Butler remembered not Joseph, but 
 forgot him. The duke was struck with the words, 
 and recollecting his old host, sent for him to dine with 
 him, and gave him a living of 400/. per annum. 
 
402 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 PUNNING RUN MAD. 
 
 Here lies old John Magee, late the landlord at the 
 
 Sun, 
 He never had an ail unless when all his ale was done : 
 The sun was on his sign, tho' what sign his sun was 
 
 on, 
 No studier of the zodiac could ever hit upon. 
 Some said it was Aquarius, so queerious he'd get ; 
 But he declar'd no soda-hack should ever share his 
 
 whet ; 
 His burnish'd sun was sol-o, soul-heart'ning was his 
 
 cheer, 
 And quaffing of good porter long kept him from his 
 
 bier ; 
 As draughtsman he'd no equal, his drawings were 
 
 so good, 
 And many a noble draught has he taken from the 
 
 woody — 
 Hare spirited productions, with tasty views near 
 
 Cork; 
 And then he had a score or two rum chafacters in 
 
 chalk. 
 Above the mantle taillce his tally it was nail'd, 
 And tho' he'd lost one eye-sight, his hop-ticks never 
 
 fail'd. 
 Good ale and cider sold here, oft made the soldier 
 
 halt, 
 And sailor Jack, his sail aback, would hoist aboard 
 
 his malt ; 
 Most cordially he'd pour out a cordial for the fair, 
 Whose peeper meant to ogle the 2 } epper-mint so 
 
 rare. 
 While buxom Jen would toss off the juniper so gay, 
 And swear it was both sweet and nice as any shrub 
 
 in May. 
 At last John took to drinking, and drank till drunk 
 
 with drink, 
 Kis stuffing he would stuff in till stuff began to 
 
 shrink; 
 Tho* mistress shook her hand high, he suck'd the 
 
 sugar-candy , 
 And often clos'd his brand-eye by tippling of the 
 
 brandy ; 
 
 His servants always/rfottg-, his firkins ran so fast, 
 And staggering round his bar -rails, his barrelt 
 
 breath'd their last ; 
 And when he treated all hands his Hollands ran 
 
 away, 
 Nor reap'd he fruit from any seed for aniseed to pay. 
 And tho' he drank the bitters, his bitters still in- 
 
 creas'd, 
 He puft the more parfait au cosur till all his efforts 
 
 ceas'd. 
 The storm, alas ! was brewing, the brewer drew the 
 
 till: 
 And Mrs. Fig, for 'bacca, to back her brought her 
 
 bill. 
 Distillers still' d his' spirits, but could'nt stillhls mind; 
 He told the bailiff he would try a bail if he could 
 
 find, 
 But fumbling round the tap-room, death tapp'd him 
 
 on the head, 
 So here he lies quite flat and stale, because, d'ye see, 
 
 he's dead. 
 
 CLASSIC TRANSLATION. 
 
 A hedge schoolmaster in Ireland, who taught the 
 classics at five shillings per quarter in a miserable 
 hovel by the road-side, one day instructing a pupil 
 to translate, with true idiom, the passage in Virgil, 
 "Obstupui, steteruntque coma et vox faucibus ha?sit," 
 when he Englished it thus, Obstupui, I was bothered, 
 steteruntque coma, my hair stood up like the bristles 
 of a fighting pig, et vox faucibus hcesit, and the 
 devil a word I could get out. 
 
 WAKING A TRAVELLER. 
 
 An Irish gentleman travelling in the mail between 
 London and Liverpool, was disturbed in a nap by 
 the coachman, on his relinquishing the reins to 
 another driver, to solicit a compliment. It was no 
 easy matter to make Pat understand the coachman's 
 object ; at length, however, he drew sixpence from 
 his pocket, and handed it over with many impreca- 
 tions for the interruption, and added, "If you had not 
 waked me, fellow, I'd have given you a shilling." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 403 
 
 JOB*S WIFE. 
 
 Of all Job lost, Iris history tells us plain, 
 God gave him double portions back again, 
 God did not take his plaguy wife — 'tis true, 
 What could the patient man have done with two ? 
 
 HOAX EXTRAORDINARY. 
 
 An Englishman named Moore, who had settled as 
 a wholesale cheesemonger in Dublin, was fascinated 
 by the social habits of his Hibernian acquaintance, 
 and interchanged with them all the cheap hospitali- 
 ties of beef, turkies, and whiskey punch. Having 
 removed to a new habitation, and given zhousew arm- 
 ing to a numerous company, the cheerful jug went 
 round with ceaseless motion, occasionally replenished 
 from a large china jar of ten gallons dimension, 
 which was Moore's favourite urn on similar occasions, 
 and upon which, when tipsy, he never failed to 
 launch out in high encomiums. A wag in the room, 
 named Shiel, perceiving that his host was far gone 
 when he mounted his favourite hobby-horse, the 
 china jar, joined in the praises of this extraordinary 
 vessel, adding, that there were but two of them came 
 from China in three ships ; that he had sold the fel- 
 low of it to lord Howe five years before for twenty 
 guineas, and that the noble Lord would cheerfully 
 give three hundred for this, if he knew where to find 
 it. " Oh ! come," said Moore, " you axe flinging the 
 hatchet too far, it only cost me a guinea and a half, 
 and I would sell it for ten." Shiel, mustering all his 
 gravity, rejoined, " My dear Moore, you don't know 
 the value of that jar ; it is the true Whang Tong mal- 
 leable china, and I'd lay you any wager that the 
 strongest porter you can find would not be able to 
 break it with a dozen strokes of your largest kitchen 
 poker." " Done," said Moore, " that I will doit my- 
 self in half a dozen strokes." " Done with you," said 
 Shiel, " for a gallon of porter that you don't." The 
 wager thus settled, Moore called for the large 
 kitchen poker, and stripping off his coat dealt with 
 all his might an Herculean blow upon the jar, which 
 was smashed in a thousand pieces. 
 
 Shiel, without moving a muscle of his countenance, 
 
 gravely acknowledged that Mr. Moore had certainly 
 won the wager, and threw down his shilling to pay 
 the bet, observing, " that this was the first time in his 
 life he ever saw such a jar broken in the same man- 
 ner." Moore stood for some time astounded by the 
 effects of this rash stroke upon his favourite talisman, 
 but recovering a little, and perceiving the hoax by 
 which he had been deluded, fury kindled in his eye, 
 and he was looking out anxiously for some favourable 
 spot on the head of the hoaxer, whereon to bestow 
 the next stroke of his poker ; but the insidious fellow, 
 seeing the storm rising, thought fit to decamp, laugh- 
 ing in his sleeve at the success of his mischievous 
 joke. 
 
 THE PLACE OF THE DAMNED. 
 
 All folks who pretend to religion and grace, 
 
 Allow there's a hell, but dispute of the place ; 
 
 But if hell may by logical rules be defined, 
 
 On this place of the damned, I'll give you my mind. 
 
 Wherever the damned do chiefly abound, 
 
 Most certainly there is hell to be found ; 
 
 Damned critics, damned blockheads, damned fools 
 
 and damned knaves, 
 Damned senators bribed, damned prostitute slaves ; ' 
 Damned lawyers and judges damned lords and damn- 
 ed squires, 
 Damned spies and informers, damned friends and 
 
 damned liars ; 
 Damned villains corrupted in every station, 
 Damned time-serving priests all over the nation 
 And into the bargain I'll readily give ye 
 Damned ignorant prelates, and counsellors privy 
 
 PARTY SPIRIT. 
 
 A lady who enthusiastically adored Wilkes and 
 liberty, was disputing with a gentleman upon the va- 
 rious accomplishments of her idol. " You will allow 
 he has wit," said she. — " Certainly." — "And he is a 
 fine scholar V — "Undoubtedly." — "And he is in- 
 trepid!" — "Yes." — "A patriot, too!" — "Some 
 think him so." — " And surely he is very handsome V* 
 — "Handsome ! why, my dear madam, he squints most 
 abominably." — " Squints ! I allow it ; but not a bit 
 more than a man of genius ought to squint,'* m 
 
404 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE TUREEN. 
 
 Dear money; thou art always floating! 
 Whether in buying china, or in voting, 
 Thou'rt still extracted from the miser's fob, 
 In speculation or in job ! 
 Some whim is always driving thee abroad, 
 Thou'rt spent by folly, or disgorg'd by fraud— 
 In vain thou'rt hoarded ; passion gives thee vent, 
 And out thou'lt come, fancy's cent, per cent. ! 
 
 The farmer trucks thee for a Southdown tup, 
 The virtuoso for a rusty coin, 
 (Which, if he cannot purchase, he'll purloin,) 
 
 While Bufo gives thee for a china cup ! 
 This Bufo had amass'd a vast deposit 
 Of China treasure in his closet ; 
 Plates, saucers, cream ewers, evert/ kind of vase, 
 On which he could infix his eager claws, 
 And to display his riches, ask'd a few 
 Select and titled friends, his stores to view, 
 At a rich dinner gorgeously display'd ; 
 Fond of their praise, but of their awkwardness afraid. 
 
 The butler, when the treat was nearly dress'd, 
 Preferr'd to Bufo's ear the cook's request, 
 To know in which of his tureens he chose 
 The turtle soup (so savoury) to dispose — 
 " Here, take the key," said Bufo, " on the floor 
 Under the window, and behind the door, 
 You'll find it with its lid encased in straw ; 
 But be most cautious, for it has a flaw," 
 The butler's over care perhaps perplex'd him, 
 For in his hurry he took what was next him, 
 Not a tureen, but something that, for shame, 
 The muse of China bids me not to name, — 
 And right in view, and at the table's head, 
 The expressive vase was full in view display'd. 
 Of course to Bufo's happy lot it fell, 
 To usher in a fashionable belle : — 
 But what a sight his palsied eye assails ! 
 His colour changes, and his courage fails — 
 An universal titter spreads around — 
 The ladies cast their eyes upon the ground, 
 Anxious to peep, and yet to look afraid, 
 They call the friendly fan-sticks to their aid. 
 
 And through the cievices securely view 
 The precious Nankin's genuine white and blue, 
 And wish, while laughing at poor Bufo's case, 
 They had the treasure in another place. 
 
 Such a misfortune one would say, 
 Might cure poor Bufo of his folly ; 
 But no less strange than melancholy, 
 I do declare that, undismayed, 
 Twelve pounds ten shillings Bufo paid 
 
 For two crack' d tea-pots, the next day ! 
 
 PROPHECIES. 
 
 An old Irish haymaker, with his daughter, an in- 
 nocent looking young woman, were .tried at the Old 
 Bailey on a capital indictment for a burglary and rob- 
 bery in the house of an old gentleman above ninety, 
 where the daughter was servant. The poor girl ap- 
 peared to be perfectly innocent in the transaction, but 
 the father's guilt was clearly proved by the prosecu- 
 tor. When the evidence for the prosecution was 
 closed, the Judge asked him the usual questions, 
 what he had to say in his defence? " Oh, by my 
 sowl," answered the fellow, " there has been too much 
 said upon the business already, and I don't want to 
 say any more ; I'm willing to drop it with you alto- 
 gether, and if you're satisfied, I am satisfied." " I 
 say, man," repeated the Baron, " if you have any thing 
 to say in your defence, now is your time." " By 
 my sowl then," answered the prisoner, " if I must 
 spake, I have only to say that my life is safe among 
 you." The Jury convicted him, and the next ques- 
 tion was, " What's the prisoner's age?" " My age 1" 
 says the fellow, "what call have you to know my 
 age V " The Court must know," whispered the gaoler, 
 " how old you are." " Oh, by my faith," says he, " J 
 believe Tm pretty near as owld as ever I'll be." He 
 spoke prophetically, for he was hanged in a fortnight. 
 
 FORESTALLING. 
 
 A gentleman endeavouring to put up his gig at 
 Wandsworth at a review of light horse, was told that 
 there were already three horses in a stall. " 
 then," exclaimed his companion, " if that is the case 
 we are completely forestalled." 
 
ttHE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 40iJ 
 
 COMFORTS COMPLETED. 
 
 An English sailor in Dublin crossing the Coal 
 Quay half tipsy, with a gallon measure of foaming 
 porter to regale his shipmates on board, passed through 
 a crowd of coal heavers, not much more sober than 
 himself, and in the pride of his heart addressed 
 them with " Hang your whiskey, you Irish lubbers, 
 here's a gallon of good English beer, it is meat, drink 
 and clothes," slapping the vessel with his hand. One 
 of the fellows, affronted at this challenge, instantly 
 knocked him down into a large slough of water, 
 adding, "You had meat, drink, and clothes before, and 
 there's tv ashing and lodging for you into the bargain, 
 you thief." The fellow was proceeding to follow up 
 his triumph by kicking the fallen Briton, when an- 
 other of the gang interfered with " Blur and ounds, 
 Lary, though you did give him washing and lodging, 
 sure he doesn't want mangling into the bargain." 
 
 EPITAPH ON AN INFANT. 
 
 Beneath this stone lies our dear child who's gone 
 
 from we 
 For evermore, into eternity ; 
 "Where we do hope that us shall go to he, 
 But him can ne'er come back to we. 
 
 MODESTY FOR MONEY. 
 
 An Hibernian adventurer one day stepped into a 
 coffee-house in the Strand, seated himself in a box, 
 called for a bill of fare, and ordered a sole and a wild 
 fowl for his dinner, with as much sang froid as if 
 his pockets were crammed with Bank notes. When 
 dinner was served, he call for a pint of Madeira, 
 which, with a couple of tarts, he demolished with toler- 
 able facility ; and when the cloth was removed, he 
 ordered some filberts and a bottle of port, which, 
 having also despatched, he desired the waiter to 
 charge his bill at the bar. The waiter told his master, 
 who was a very good-natured Welchman, and who 
 i struck with the oddity of this order from a perfect 
 ! stranger, came to remonstrate with the gentleman, 
 | and asked him how he could think of ordering such 
 | a dinner, without having money to pay for it. M Odds 
 
 blood, my good friend," answered the Hibernian, 
 " isn't it all the same thing, whether I pay you, now 
 or another time. Sure won't I be a customer of the 
 house. I only changed my breeches this morning 
 and forgot my purse, and you would'nt have a gen- 
 tleman balk his appetite and go without his dinner 
 because he happened to have no cash about him." — 
 "Why, Sir," answered the host, "I should never grudge 
 a gentleman his dinner, look you, if he had no 
 money; but I think in such a case, something less 
 expensive than sole, roast fowl, and raspberry tart, 
 might answer your purpose ; and I can't think that a 
 pint of Madeira, a bottle of port, and filberts were 
 quite indispensable." " Poh ! poh !" replied the other, 
 '* d — n it, I heard you were a generous fellow, and 
 sure you woud'nt have a gentleman finish his dinner 
 in a shabby way without a glass of wine and a little 
 fruit .'" 
 
 THE RAPID FORTUNE. 
 
 Says Dick to Hal, " Your thrifty sire, in trade 
 
 For your dear sake a rapid fortune made ; 
 
 You drank, wench'd, gambled, mortgag'd house and 
 
 land, 
 And from the turf to jail drove four in hand." 
 " Have done," cries Hal, " nor with your gammon 
 
 stun me, 
 My fortune was so rapid, it outrun me." 
 
 THE IRISHMAN'S BLANKET. 
 
 An Irishman who was sent on board of ship, and 
 who believed in ghosts, inquired of his messmates if 
 the ship was haunted. <c As full of ghosts as a church- 
 yard," replied they ; " they are ten thousand strong 
 every night." This so terrified Pat, that whenever 
 he turned into his hammock, he pulled his blanket 
 over his head and face, so that from his knees down- 
 wards he was naked and cold. " That there purser is 
 a terrible rogue," said he, " he serves out blankets 
 that don't fit a man ; they are too long at top, and too 
 short at bottom, for they cover my head and ears, 
 and my feet are always perished with cold. I have 
 cut several slices off the top, and sewed on the bottom 
 and the devil a bit longer it is." 
 
406 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE DYING FATHER. 
 
 A dying father had two sons ; 
 
 And, if I recollect their names, 
 
 The one was George, the other James. 
 James was a clever lad, and George a dunce. 
 The father saw his end approaching fast : 
 
 He order'd James straight to appear, 
 
 And, as his sorrowing son drew near, 
 Upon him many a wishful look he cast.— 
 " My son," he said, " I'm much concern'd for thee, 
 
 For thou want'st neither wit nor sense ; 
 
 And these when I am call'd from hence, 
 Will more your hindrance than advantage be — 
 Well, well — to make amends— here, take this key.— ■ 
 Within the adjoining closet thou wilt find 
 
 An iron ehest, which now contains 
 
 The sum of all my hard-earn' d gains : 
 This I have long for thee alone design'd. 
 James started back — look'd pale and wan— 
 
 " Forbid it Heavens ! Shou'd I alone receive 
 
 The fortune which you now must leave. 
 How would poor brother George come on 1" 
 " George !" said the father ; •* better far than you : 
 
 Of him I uniformly said, 
 
 I had no cause to be afraid : 
 For his stupidity would bring him through. 
 
 A TRIFLING DIFFERENCE. 
 
 A very old lady of quality having intrigued with a 
 gentleman of family, who was not so rich in wealth 
 as in title, she bequeathed to him the bulk of her 
 estates at her death ; her niece, who was the next 
 heir, commenced an action for the recovery of the 
 fortune, which was given against her. On quitting 
 the court she addressed the fortunate possessor of 
 the estate, saying, " Well, sir, it must be confessed, 
 you got the estate very cheaply." " Madam," re- 
 plied the gentleman, " you know the price at which 
 I had it, and you may if you please make a pur- 
 chase of it upon the same terms." " With all my 
 heart, sir," answered the lady briskly, '* if you will 
 give the sign manual." 
 
 INNOVATION. 
 
 When poor Maria first began 
 
 To sell her youthful charms to man, 
 
 Her lovely bosom then was made 
 
 The tempting symbol of her trade ; 
 
 But since each virtuous blushing dame, 
 
 With modest care displays the same, 
 
 Maria, e'er her trade decline, 
 
 Must shut up shop, or change her sign. 
 
 SIR T. BROWN'S COt T RTSHIP. 
 
 Sir Thomas Brown once observed in company, 
 that he had toasted a lady for twelve months, and 
 had little hopes of ever making her Brown, 
 
 RETALIATION. 
 
 Francis the first, being engaged at tennis with the 
 abbe" de Beaulieu, the latter struck a ball with vio- 
 lence which came in contact with the person of the 
 monarch, who, feeling the smart, exclaimed, " Abb£, 
 I give you to all the devils in hell." — "And I," re- 
 plied the abb£, " give your majesty to all my monks, 
 who are just as good companions." 
 
 TO A CRITIC. 
 
 You say that " in scribbling no figure I cut," 
 No comment with truth can be rifer, 
 For while I cut you, should the question be put, 
 I must own that I cut but a cipher. 
 
 MUTUAL ACCOMMODATION. 
 
 The marshal Grammont having for some time be- 
 sieged a fortress, the garrison of which held out ob- 
 stinatelv, a capitulation at length took place, upon 
 the signing of which, the governor of the fortress 
 said, "Marechal, I will be candid with you, if I had 
 not been bereft of a bullet to defend myself, I should 
 not have surrendered." — "That I may not appear 
 wanting in candour," replied the marshal, '* I must 
 tell you that had I had any more powder.. I would 
 not have acceded to the terms of capitulation." 
 
 
THE- LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER; 
 
 407 
 
 T- A WEEK'S JOURNAL OF A WILTSHIRE CURATE. 
 
 Monday — Received ten pounds from my rector, 
 Dr. Snarl, being one half year's salary — obliged to 
 wait a long time before my admittance to the doctor ; 
 and even when admitted, was never once asked to 
 sit down or refresh myself, though I had walked 
 eleven miles. Item, the doctor hinted he could have 
 the curacy filled for fifteen pounds a year. 
 
 Tuesday — Paid nine pounds to seven different peo- 
 ple; but could not buy the second-hand pair of black 
 breeches offered me as a great bargain by Cabbage, 
 the tailor ; my wife wanting a petticoat above all 
 things, and neither Betsy nor Polly having a shoe to 
 go to church. 
 
 Wednesday — My wife bought a petticoat for her- 
 self, and shoes for her two daughters ; but unluckily, 
 ••in coming home, dropped half a guinea through a 
 hole (which she had never before perceived) in her 
 pocket, and reduced all our cash in the world to half- 
 a-crown. Item, chid my poor woman for being af- 
 flicted at the misfortune, and tenderly advised her to 
 rely upon the goodness of God. 
 
 Thursday — Received a note from the ale-house at 
 the top of the hill, informing me that a gentleman 
 begged to speak to me on pressing business ; went, 
 and found it was an unfortunate member of a stroll- 
 ing company of players, who was pledged for seven- 
 pence halfpenny, in a struggle what to do. The baker, 
 though we had paid him but on Tuesday, quarrelled 
 with us, to avoid giving any credit in future ; and 
 George Greasy, the butcher, sent us word that he 
 heard it whispered, that the rector intended to take 
 a curate who would do the parish duty at an inferior 
 price ; and therefore, though he would do any thing to 
 serve me, advised me to deal with Peter Paunch, at 
 the upper end of the town. Mortifying reflections 
 these ! But in my opinion a want of humanity is a 
 want of justice. Paid the stranger's reckoning out of 
 the shilling in my pocket, and gave him the remain- 
 der of the money to prosecute his journey. 
 
 Friday— A very scanty dinner, and pretended 
 therefore to be ill, that, by avoiding to eat, I might 
 leave something like enough for my poor wife and 
 
 children. I told my wife what I had done with th« 
 shilling ; the excellent creature, instead of blamina 
 me for the action, blessed the goodness of my heart, 
 and burst into tears. Mem. Never to contradict 
 her as long as I live ; for the mind that can argue 
 like hers, though it may deviate from the more rigid 
 sentiments of prudence, is even amiable for its indis- 
 cretion ; and in every lapse from the severity of eco- 
 nomy, performs an act of virtue superior to the value 
 of a kingdom. 
 
 Saturday — Wrote a sermon, which on 
 Sunday — I preached at four different parish- 
 churches and came home excessively wearied, and 
 excessively hungry ; no more than two-pence half- 
 penny in the house. But see the goodness of God ! 
 The strolling player, whom I had relieved, was a man 
 of fortune, who accidentally heard that T was as hu- 
 mane as I was indigent, and from a generous eccen- 
 tricity of temper, wanted to do me an essential piece 
 of service : I had not been an hour at home, when 
 he came in, and declaring himself my friend, put a 
 fifty pound note into my hand, and the next day pre- 
 sented me with a living of three hunched pounds a 
 year. 
 
 EPISCOPAL BARGAINS. 
 
 The prince de Conti, speaking of the possessors of 
 rich benefices, remarked, " That the Lord was very 
 ill served for his money." 
 
 PRIOR THE POET. 
 
 A lady requested Matthew Prior to give her a se- 
 date rhyming couplet on the female sex. "That, 
 madam, is utterly impossible," returned the poet, 
 " for in women there is neither rhyme nor reason." 
 
 A MISS-FIT. 
 
 On the death of a good performer, belonging to 
 Drury-lane theatre, a very indifferent one (who had 
 often been his substitute in a case of illness) said, 
 "Well, I am sorry for his loss, poor fellow ! but it is 
 an ill wind that blows nobody good : I shall jump 
 into his shoes."— "You may," observed another, 
 " but I'll be d d if they'll fit you." 
 
408 
 
 franklin's way to wealth, or poor rickard's 
 maxims, 
 courteous reader, 
 
 I stopped my horse lately, where a great number 
 of people were collected at an auction of merchants' 
 goods. The hour of the sale not being come, they were 
 conversing on the badness of the times ; and one of 
 the company called to a plain, clean old man, with 
 white locks — " Pray, father Abraham, what think 
 you of the times 1 Will not these heavy taxes quite 
 ruin the country 1 How shall we be ever able to pay 
 them 1 What would you advise us to 1" Father Abra- 
 ham stood up, and replied — " If you would have my 
 advice, I will give it you in short ; for, A word to 
 the wise is enough, as poor Richard says." They 
 joined in desiring him to speak his mind, and gathered 
 round him, while he proceeded as follows. 
 
 " Friends," says he, " the taxes are indeed very 
 heavy ; and if those laid on by the government were 
 the only ones we had to pay, we might more easily 
 discharge them. But we have many others, and 
 much more grievous to some of us. We are taxed 
 twice as much by our idleness, three times as much 
 by our pride, and four times as much by our folly ; 
 and from these taxes the commissioners cannot ease 
 or deliver us by allowing an abatement. However, 
 let us hearken to good advice, and something may 
 be done for us ; God helps them that help them- 
 selves, as poor Richard says. 
 
 " It would be thought a hard government that 
 should tax its people one-tenth part of their time, to 
 be employed in its service : but idleness taxes many 
 of us much more ; sloth, by bringing on diseases, 
 absolutely shortens life. Sloth, like rust, consumes 
 faster than labour wears, while the used key is 
 always bright, as poor Richard says. But dost thou 
 love life, then do not squander time, for that is the 
 stuff life rs made of, as poor Richard says. How 
 much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep ! 
 forgetting, That the sleeping fox catches no poultry, 
 and that there will be sleeping enough in the grave, 
 as poor Richard says. If time be of all things the 
 roost precious, wasting time must be, as poor Richard 
 
 THE LA.TJGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 says, the greatest prodigality ; since, as he elsewhere 
 tells us, Lost time is never found again ; and what 
 we call time enough always proves little enough ; let 
 us then up and be doing, and doing to the purpose ; 
 so by diligence we shall do more with less perplexity. 
 Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy ; 
 and, He that riseth late, must trot all day, and shall 
 scarcely overtake his business at night ; while lazi- 
 ness travels so slowly, that poverty soon overtakes 
 him. Drive thy business, let not that drive thee ; 
 and Early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man 
 healthy, wealthy, and wise, as poor Richard says. 
 
 " So what signifies wishing and hoping for better 
 times 1 We may make these times better if we bestir 
 ourselves. Industry need not wish ; and he that 
 lives upon hope will die fasting. There are no gains 
 without pains ; then help, hands, for I have no 
 lands ; or, if I have, they are smartly taxed. He 
 that hath a trade, hath an estate ; and he that hath a 
 calling, hath an office of profit and honour, as_ 
 poor Richard says ; but then the trade must be 
 worked at, and the calling well followed,^ or 
 neither the estate nor the office will enable us to pay 
 our taxes. If we are industrious we shall never 
 starve, for, At the working man's house hunger looks 
 in, but dares not enter. Nor will the bailiff or the 
 constable enter, for industry pays debts, while de- 
 spair increaseth them. What though you have found 
 no treasure, nor has any rich relation left you a 
 legacy, diligence is the mother of good luck, 
 and God gives all things to industry. Then plow 
 deep, while sluggards sleep ; and you shall have corn 
 to sell and to keep. Work while it is called to-day, 
 for you know not how much you may be hindered 
 to-morrow. One to-day is worth two to-morrows, as 
 poor Richard says ; and, farther, Never leave that 
 till to-morrow which you can do to day. If you were 
 a servant, would you not be ashamed that a good 
 master should catch you idle 1 Are you then your 
 own master, be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when 
 there is so much to be done for yourself, your family, | 
 your country, and your king. Handle your tools 
 without mittens ; remember that The cat in gloves 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 catches no mice, as poor Richard says. It is true, 
 there is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak- 
 handed ; but stick to it steadily, and you will see 
 great effects ; for Constant dropping wears away 
 stones ; and by diligence and patience the mouse 
 eat in two the cable ; and Little strokes fell great 
 oaks. 
 
 " Methinks I hear some of j'ou say, ' Must a man 
 | afford himself no leisure!' 1 will tell thee, my friend, 
 what poor Richard says : Employ thy time well, if 
 thou meanest to gain leisure ; and since thou art not 
 sure of a minute, throw not away an hour. Leisure 
 is time for doing something useful ; this leisure the 
 diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man never ; 
 for, A life of leisure and a life of laziness are two 
 things. Many, without labour, would live by their 
 wits only, but they break for want of stock ; 
 whereas industry gives comfort, plenty, and respect. 
 Fly pleasures, and they will follow you. The dili- 
 gent spinner has a large shift ; and now I have a 
 sheep and a cow. every body bids me a good-morrow. 
 " But with our industry we must likewise be steady, 
 settled, and careful, and oversee our own affairs with 
 our own eyes, and not trust too much to others ; for 
 as poor Richard says — 
 
 I never saw an oft-removed tiee, 
 Nor yet an oft-removed family, 
 That throve so well as those that settled be. ' 
 ,( And again, Three removes are as bad as a fire ; 
 and again, Keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep 
 thee; and, again, If you would have your business 
 done, go ; if not, send. And again, 
 
 He that by the plough would thrive, 
 Himself must either hold or drive. 
 •" And again, The eye of a master will do more work 
 than both his hands' ; and, again, Want of care does 
 us more damage than want of knowledge ; and, 
 again, Not to oversee workmen, is to leave them your 
 purse open. Trusting too much to others' care is the 
 xuin of many : for, in the affairs of this world, men 
 are saved, not by faith, but by the want of it: but a 
 man's own care is profitable ; for, If you would have 
 a faithful servant, and one that you like, serve your- 
 self. A little neglect may breed great mischief; for 
 
 40.9 
 
 want of a nail the shoe was lost ; for want of a shoe 
 the horse was lost ; and for want of a horse the rider 
 was lost, being overtaken and slain by the enemy: 
 all for want of a little care about a horse-shoe nail. 
 
 " So much for industry, my friends, and attention 
 to one's own business ; but to these we must add 
 frugality, if we would make our industry more cer- 
 tainly successful. A man may, if he knows not how 
 to save as he gets, keep his nose all his life at the 
 grindstone, and die not worth a groat at last. A fat 
 kitchen makes a lean will ; and — 
 Many estates are spent in the getting, 
 Since women for tea forsook spinning and knitting, 
 And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting. 
 If you would be wealthy, think of saving as well as 
 of getting. The Indies have not made Spain rich, 
 because her outgoes are greater than her incomes. 
 
 " Away, then, with your expensive foilies, and you 
 will not then have so much cause to complain of hard 
 times, heavy taxes, and chargeable families ; for — 
 Women and wine, game and deceit, 
 Make the wealth small, and the want great. 
 And, farther, What maintains one vice, would brino- 
 up two children. You may think, perhaps, that a 
 little tea or a little punch now and then, diet a little 
 more costly, clothes a little finer, and a little enter- 
 tainment now and then, can be no great matter; but 
 remember, Many a little makes a mickle. Beware 
 of little expenses ; A small leak will sink a great 
 ship, as poor Puehard says ; and, again, Who dainties 
 love shall beggars prove ; and moreover, Fools make 
 feasts, and wise men eat them. 
 
 " Here you are all got together to this sale of fine- 
 ries and knick-knacks. You call them goods ; but, if 
 you do not take care, they will prove evils to some of 
 you. You expect they will be sold cheap ; and per- 
 haps they may, for less than they cost ; but if you 
 have no occasion for them, they must be dear to you. 
 Remember what poor Richard says : Buy what thou 
 hast no need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy 
 necessaries. And again, At a great pennyworth 
 pause a while. He means, that perhaps the cheap- 
 ness is apparent only, and not real ; or the bargain, 
 by straitening thee in thy business, may do thee more 
 
 i 
 
410 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 harm than good. For in another place he says, Many 
 have been ruiued by buying good pennyworths. 
 Again, It is foolish to lay out money in a purchase of 
 repentance ; and yet this folly is practised every day 
 at auctions, for want of minding the Almanack. 
 Many a one, for the sake of finery on the back, have 
 gone with a hungry belly, and half-starved their 
 families ; Silks and satins, scarlet and velvets, put 
 out the kitchen-fire, as poor Richard says. These are 
 not the necessaries o£4ife ; they can scarcely be called 
 the conveniences ; and yet only because they look 
 pretty, how many want to have them 1 By these and 
 other extravagances, the genteel are reduced to 
 poverty, and forced to borrow of those whom they for- 
 merly despised, but who, through industry and fru- 
 gality, have maintained their standing ; in which case 
 it plainly appears, that a ploughman on his legs is 
 higher than a gentleman on his knees, as poor Richard 
 says. Perhaps they have had a small estate left 
 them, which they knew not the getting of; they 
 think, it is day, and will never be night ; that a little 
 to be spent out of so much is not worth minding ; but 
 Always taking out of the meal-tub, and never putting 
 \n, soon comes to the bottom, as poor Richard says j 
 and then, When the well is dry, they know the worth 
 of water. But this they might have known before, 
 if they had taken his advice : If you would know the 
 value of money, go and try to borrow some ; for he 
 that goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing, as poor 
 Richard says ; and indeed so does he that lends to 
 such people, when he goes to get it again. Poor 
 Dick farther advises, and says — 
 
 Fond pride of dress is sure a very curse ; 
 
 Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse. 
 *' And again, Pride is as loud a beggar as want, and 
 a great deal more saucy. When you have bought 
 one fine thing, you must buy ten more, that your ap- 
 pearance may be all of a piece ; but poor Dick says, 
 It is easier to suppress the first desire, than to satisfy 
 all that follow it : and it is as truly folly for the poor 
 to ape -the rich, as for the frog to swell in order to 
 equal the ox. 
 
 Vessels large may venture more, 
 
 Butjittle boats should keep near shore. 
 
 It is, however, a folly soon punished ; for, as poor 
 Richard says, Pride that dines on vanity, sups on 
 contempt ; pride breakfasted with plenty, dined with 
 poverty, and supped with infamy. And, after all, of 
 what use is this pride of appearance, for which so ' 
 much is risked, so much is suffered 1 It cannot pro-j 
 mote health, nor ease pain ; it makes no increase of '• 
 merit in the person, it creates envy, it hastens misfor- . 
 tune. 
 
 " But what madness must it be to run in debt for \ 
 these superfluities 1 We are offered, by the terms of 
 a sale, six months credit ; and that perhaps, has in- ; 
 duced some of us to attend it, because we cannot 
 spare the ready-money, and hope now to be fine with- 
 out it. But, ah ! think what you do when you run 
 in debt ; you give to another power over your liberty. 
 If you cannot pay at the time, you will be ashamed 
 to see your creditor ; you will be in fear when you 
 speak to him, you will make poor pitiful sneaking ex- 
 cuses, and, by degrees, come to lose your veracity, 
 and sink into base, downright lying ; for, The second 
 vice is lying, the first is running into debt, as poor 
 Richard says ; and, again, to the same purpose, Lying 
 rides upon debt's back ; whereas a free-born English- 
 man ought not to be ashamed nor afraid to see or 
 speak to any man living. But poverty often deprives 
 a man of all spirit and virtue, [t is hard for an 
 empty bag to stand upright. What would you think 
 of that prince, or that government, who should issue 
 an edict forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or 
 gentlewoman, on pain of imprisonment or servitude 1 
 Would you not say that you were free, have a right 
 to dress as you please, and that such an edict would 
 be a breach of your privileges, and such a govern- 
 ment tyrannical ? And yet you are about to put your- 
 self under that tyranny when you run in debt for such 
 dress ! Your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, 
 to deprive you of your liberty, by confining you in 
 gaol for life, or by selling you for a servant, if you 
 should not be able to pay him. When you have got 
 your bargain, you may, perhaps, think little of pay- 
 ment ; but, as poor Richard says, Creditors have 
 better memories than debtors ; creditors are a super- 
 stitious sect, great observers of set days and times. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 The day comes round before you are aware, and the 
 demand is made before you are prepared to satisfy 
 it ; or, if you bear your debt in mind, the term, which 
 at first seemed so long, will, as it lessens, appear ex- 
 tremely short : Time will seem to have added wings 
 to his heels as well as his shoulders. Those have a 
 short Lent who owe money to be paid at Easter. At 
 present, perhaps, you may think yourselves in thriv- 
 ing circumstances, and that you can bear a little 
 extravagance without injury ; but — 
 
 For age and want save while you may, 
 No morning sun lasts a whole day ! 
 Gain may be temporary and uncertain, but ever, 
 while you live, expense is constant and certain ; and 
 It is easier to build two chimnies than to keep one in 
 fuel, as poor Richard says : so, rather go to bed sup- 
 perless, than rise in debt. 
 Get what you can, and what you get hold ; 
 "Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold. 
 And when you have got the philosopher's stone, sure 
 you will no longer complain of bad times, or the diffi- 
 culty of paying taxes. 
 
 ft This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom : 
 but, after all, do not depend too much upon your own 
 industry, and frugality, and prudence, though excel- 
 lent things, for they may all be blasted, without the 
 blessing of Heaven ; and therefore ask that blessing 
 humbly, and be not uncharitable to those that at 
 present seem to want it, but comfort and help them. 
 Remember, Job suffered, and was afterwards prosper- 
 ous. 
 
 " And now, to conclude, Experience keeps a dear 
 school, but fools will learn in no other, (as poor Ri- 
 chard says,) and scarcely in that; for it is true, We 
 may give advice, but we cannot give conduct : how- 
 ever, remember this, They that will not be counselled, 
 cannot be helped ; and farther, that, If you will not 
 hear Reason, she will surely rap your knuckles, as 
 poor Richard says." 
 
 ■Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The 
 people heard it, and approved the doctrine — and 
 immediately practised the contrary, just as if it had 
 been a common sermon ; for the auction opened, and 
 they began to buy extravagantly. 
 f 2 
 
 411 
 
 DIALOGUE BETWEEN AN IRISH INNKEEPER AND AN 
 ENGLISHMAN. 
 
 Englishman. Holloa, house ! 
 
 Innkeeper. I don't know any one of that name. 
 
 Eng. Are you the master of the inn 1 
 
 Inn. Yes, sir, please your honour, when my wife's 
 from home. 
 
 Eng. Have you a bill of fare ? 
 
 Inn. Yes, sir, the fair of Mollingar and Ballinaslee 
 is next week. 
 
 Eng. I see — How are your beds 1 
 
 Inn. Very well, I thank you, sir. 
 
 Eng. Have you any mountain 1 
 
 Inn. Yes, sir, this country is full of mountains. 
 
 Eng. I mean a kind of wine. 
 
 Inn. Yes, sir, all kinds from Irish white wine (but- 
 ter milk) to Burgundy. 
 
 Eng. Have you any porter ? 
 
 Inn. Yes, sir, Pat is an excellent porter ; he'll go 
 any where. 
 
 Eng. No, I mean porter to drink. 
 
 Inn, Oh, sir, he'd drink the ocean, never fear him 
 for that. 
 
 Eng. Have you any fish 1 
 
 Inn. They call me an odd fish. 
 
 Eng. I think so. I hope your not a shark. 
 
 Inn. No, sir, indeed, I am not a lawyer. 
 
 Eng. Have you any soles 1 
 
 l>m. For your boots or shoes, sir 1 
 
 Eng. Psha ! have you any plaice 1 
 
 Inn. No, sir, but I was promised one if I would 
 vote for Mr. B. 
 
 Eng. Have you any wild fowl 1 
 
 Inn. They are tame enough now, for they have 
 been killed these three days. 
 
 Eng. I must "see, myself. 
 
 Inn. And welcome, sir, I'll fetch you the looking- 
 glass. 
 
 JAMES I. AND DR. BUCHANAN. 
 
 When Dr. Buchanan was asked how he came to 
 make a pedant of James, his royal pupil, he answered 
 —He thought he did a great deal to make aty thing 
 of him. 
 
4i2 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 A SPLENDID ENTERTAINMENT. 
 
 Foote having been invited to dine with the late 
 duke of Leinster, at Dublin, gave the following ac- 
 count of this entertainment : As to splendour, as far 
 as it went, I admit it, there was a very fine sideboard 
 of plate; and if a man could have swallowed a silver- 
 smith's shop, there was enough to satisfy him ; but 
 as to all the rest — his mutton was white, his veal 
 was red, the fish was kept too long, the venison not 
 kept long enough : to sum up all, every thing was 
 cold except his ice ; and every thing sour except his 
 vinegar. 
 
 moliere's grave. 
 
 When Moliere, the comic poet, died, the arch- 
 bishop of Paris would not let his body be buried in 
 consecrated ground. The king, being informed of 
 this, sent for the archbishop, and expostulated with 
 him ; but, finding the prelate inflexibly obstinate, 
 his majesty asked, how many feet deep the conse- 
 crated ground reached 1 This question coming by sur- 
 prise, the archbishop replied, about eight. "Well," 
 answered the king, " I find there's no getting the 
 better of your scruples ; therefore, let his grave be 
 dug twelve feet deep, that's four below your conse- 
 crated ground, and let him be buried there." 
 
 FREDERICK THE GREAT AND ZAREMBA. 
 
 General Zaremba had a very long Polish name; 
 the king of Prussia had heard of it, and one day 
 said to him, " Pray, Zaremba, what is your name?" 
 The general told him the whole of it. "Heavens !" 
 said the king; "the devil himself has not "such a 
 name!" — "Why should he?" replied Zaremba, 
 " he is no relation to me, if he is to your majesty." 
 
 THE LATE LORD VISCOUNT SACKVILLE. 
 
 His lordship was one day entering his house in 
 Pall Mall, when he observed a basket of vegetables 
 standing in the hall, and inquired of the porter to 
 whom they belonged, and from whence they came 1 
 Old John immediately replied, "They are ours," my 
 lord, " from our country-house." — " Very well," re- 
 joined the peer. At that instant a carriage stopped 
 at the door, and lord George, turning round, asked 
 
 what coach it was. <( Ours," said honest John. 
 "And are the children in it ours too?" said h:is lord- 
 ship, laughing. " Most certainly, my lord," replied 
 John, with the utmost gravity, and immediately raft 
 to lift them out. 
 
 FILIAL AFFECTION. 
 
 The late Mr. Philip Thicknesse, father of lord 
 Audley, being in want of money, applied to his son : 
 for assistance. This being denied, he immediately 
 hired a cobbler's stall, directly opposite his lordship's 
 house, and put up a board, on which was inscribed, 
 in large letters, " Boots and shoes mended in the best 
 and cheapest manner, by Philip Thicknesse, father 
 of lord Audley." His lordship took the hint, and i 
 the board was removed. 
 
 AN UNTIMELY DEMAND. 
 
 A provincial actress was performing the part of 
 lady Ann, in King Richard the Third ; and on de- 
 livering the following passage : — 
 
 " When shall I have rest ?" 
 she was answered by her washerwoman, from the 
 pit, who exclaimed, " Never, 'till you pay me my 
 three shillings and twopence." 
 
 MR. PITT AND DR. PALEY. 
 
 The first time that Mr. Pitt went to Cambridge-, 
 after his election as member for the university, the 
 sophs were naturally gaping for the good things in his 
 gift. Dr. Paley, who preached before the young mi- 
 nister, chose this appropriate text — " There is a lad 
 here that hath two barley loaves and three small 
 fishes ; but what are these among so many 1" 
 
 PULPIT CALL. 
 
 One Sunday, when Mr. Ogilvy, a Scottish clergy- 
 man, was in the middle of his sermon, an old woman, 
 who kept an alehouse in the parish, fell asleep. Her 
 neighbour jogged her, in order to awake her. The 
 parson seeing this, cried out, " I'll awaken her, I 
 warrant you. — Phew ! — (whistling) — Janet ! a bottle 
 of ale and a dram !" To which well-known saluta- 
 tion, she instinctively replied, " Coming, sir.** 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 ANACHRONISMS IN PAINTING AND SCULPTURE. 
 
 In a painting in a country church in Germany, 
 intended for the Sacrifice of Isaac, is represented 
 Abraham with a blunderbuss in his haud, ready to 
 shoot his son, and an angel, suddenly coming down 
 from heaven, pouring a certain water on the pan. 
 
 In a painting at Windsor, by Antonio Verrio, he 
 has introduced himself, Sir Godfrey Kneller, and 
 , Bap. May, surveyor of the works, in; long periwigs, 
 | as spectators of Christ healing the sick. 
 
 A painter of Toledo once painted the story of the 
 Three Wise Men of the East coming to worship at 
 Bethlehem, where he represented them as three Arabian 
 or Indian kings ; two of them were white, and one of 
 j them black ; but, when he drew the latter part of 
 them kneeling, he made three black feet for the negro 
 ! king and three white feet for the two white kings. 
 
 In the monument of Sir Cloudesley Shovel, in 
 1 Westminster Abbey, he is represented rising out of 
 I the sea, with a full-bottomed wig well powdered and 
 puffed. 
 
 In. a church at Bruges is a picture of the Marriage 
 
 of Jesus Christ with Saint Catherine of Sienna, by 
 
 i St. Dominic, the patron of the church. The Virgin 
 
 ; Mary joining their hands, and King David playing 
 
 i the harp at the wedding. 
 
 Albert Durer has represented an angel, in a 
 i flounced petticoat, driving Adam and Eve from Pa- 
 | radise. 
 
 Lewis Cigoli painted a picture of the Circumcision 
 ; of the Holy Child, Jesus, and drew the high priest, 
 , Simeon, with spectacles on his nose. 
 
 In a picture painted by F. Chello della Puera, the 
 j blessed Virgin is placed on a velvet sofa, playing 
 I with a cat and a paroquet, and about to help herself 
 i to coffee from an engraved coffee-pot. 
 
 In another picture painted by Peter of Cortona, 
 representing the reconciliation of Jacob and Laban, 
 'now in the French Museum,) the painter has repre- 
 sented a steeple or belfry rising over the trees. 
 
 Paul Veronese placed Benedictins fathers and 
 Swiss soldiers among his paintings from the Old Tes- 
 tament. 
 
 413 
 
 In the illuminations of a manuscript Bible at Paris, 
 under the Psalms, are two persons playing at cards ; 
 and under Job and the Prophets are coats of arms 
 and a windmill. 
 
 Poussin, in his picture of the Deluge, has painted 
 boats, not then invented. 
 
 EPITAPH ON COOKE, THE CELEBRATED ACTOR. 
 
 Pause, thoughtful stranger : pass not heedless by, 
 
 Where Cooke awaits the tribute of a sigh. 
 
 Here sunk in death those powers the world admired, 
 
 By nature given, not by art acquired. 
 
 In various parts his matchless talents shone, 
 
 The one he failed in was, alas ! his own. 
 
 BURIED ALIVE. 
 
 A lady once told St. Foix, that in her will she had 
 ordered her body to be opened after her death, as she 
 was afraid of being buried alive. 
 
 AN ENTERTAINING JOURNEY. 
 
 Dodd the comedian was very fond of a long story. 
 — Being in company one night, he began at twelve 
 o'clock to relate a journey he had taken to Bath : 
 and, at six o'clock in the morning, he had proceeded 
 no farther than the Devizes! — The company then rose, 
 to separate ; when Dodd, who could not bear to be 
 curtailed in his narrative, cried, " Don't go yet ; stay 
 and hear it out, and upon my soul I'll make it en- 
 tertaining!" 
 
 POSTHUMOUS GRIEF. 
 
 Philips, in his Pastorals, makes shepherdesses tear 
 their hair and beat their breasts at their own deaths : 
 " Ye brighter maids, faint emblems of my fair, 
 With looks cast down, and with dishevell'd hair, 
 In bitter anguish beat your breasts, and moan 
 Her death uncimely, as it were your own." 
 
 PRUDENT PORTRAIT. 
 
 A married intriguing lady insisting on having her 
 lover's portrait, he remonstrated on the absurdity, 
 alleging it would amount to the proclaiming their 
 amour." "Oh," said she, "but to prevent a disco- 
 very, it shall not be drawn like you," 
 
414 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 CROSSING PROVERBS. 
 
 Prov. The more the merrier. 
 
 Cross. Not so ; one hand is enough in a purse. 
 
 P. He that runs fastest gets most ground. 
 
 C. Not so ; for then footmen would get more 
 ground than their masters. 
 
 P. He runs far that never ticr?is. 
 
 C. Not so ; he may break his neck in a short 
 course. 
 
 P. No man can call agah} yesterday. 
 
 C. Yes; he may call till his heart ache, but it 
 ■will never come. 
 
 P. He that goes softly goes safely. 
 
 C. Not among thieves. 
 
 P. Nothing hurts the stomach more than surfeiting. 
 
 C. Yes, lack of meat. 
 
 P. Nothing is hard to a willing mind. 
 
 C. Yes, to get money. 
 
 P. None so blind as they that will not see. 
 
 C. Yes, they that cannot see. 
 
 P. There is no creature so like a man as an ape. 
 
 C. Yes, a woman. 
 
 P. Nothing but is good for something. 
 
 C. Not so ; nothing is not good for any thing. 
 
 P. Every thing hath an end. 
 
 C. Not so ; a ring hath none, for it is round. 
 
 P. Money is a great comfort. 
 
 C. Not when it brings a thief to the gallows. 
 
 P. The world is a long journey. 
 
 G. Not so; the sun goes it every day. 
 
 P. It is a great way to the bottom of the sea. 
 
 C. Not so ; it is but a stone's cast. 
 
 P. A friend is best found in adversity. 
 
 C. Not so ; for then there's none to be found. 
 
 P. The pride of the rich makes the labours of the 
 poor. 
 
 C. No, the labours of the poor make the pride of 
 the rich. 
 
 P. Virtue is a jewel of great price. 
 
 C. Not so j for then the poor could not come by 
 It. 
 
 PRUDENT RESOLVE. 
 
 Menage gives us the following specimen of French 
 badauderie (coekneyism.) A -gentleman who could 
 not swim, ; one day in bathing got out of his depth, 
 and would have been drowned, had not some swim- 
 mers been at hand to save him. On recovering, he 
 protested that he would never venture into the water 
 again, till he had learned to swim. 
 
 LADY HARDWICK AND HER J3AIT.IFF. 
 
 A bailiff having been ordered by lady Hardvriok to 
 procure a sow of the breed and size she particularly 
 described to him, came one day into the dining-room, 
 when full of great company, proclaiming with a burst 
 of joy he could not suppress, " I have been at R.oy- 
 ston fair, my lady, and got a sow exactly of your 
 ladyship's size." 
 
 RIDDLES. 
 
 Q. In words unnumber'd I abound, 
 
 In me mankind do take delight ; 
 In me much learning still is found, 
 
 Yet I can neither read nor write. 
 
 Answer. It is a book printed or written. 
 Q. With learning daily I am conversant, 
 
 And scan the wisdom of the wisest man ; 
 With force I pierce the strongest argument, 
 
 Yet know no more than it had never been. 
 
 A. It is a worm that eats through the books in a 
 learned library. 
 Q. Full rich am I, yet care not who 
 
 Doth take away from me my wealth ; 
 Be it by fraud, I will not see, 
 
 Nor prosecute, although by stealth. 
 
 A. It is a coffer wherein great riches are laid up. 
 Q. Tho' I am pierced a thousand times. 
 
 Yet in me not a hole is made ; 
 T notice give when Phoebus climbs 
 
 To drowsy mortals in their bed. 
 
 A. It is a window penetrated by the light. 
 Q. I'm dragg'd along thro' dirt and mire, 
 
 O'er cragged stones and hills about; 
 And yet I neither faint nor tire, 
 
 But rather weary those that do't. 
 
 A. It is a coach drawn about by horses. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 415 
 
 Q. Why is the Temple church so much like Hea- 
 ven ? 
 
 A. There none are married, or in marriage given. 
 
 The church in the Temple was founded in the reign 
 of Henry II., upon the model of that of the holy 
 sepulchre at Jerusalem, and is extra-parochial. 
 
 BROTHER FEELINO. 
 
 Mr. Garrick, being at the seat of lord Fielding, 
 went, with that nobleman, to see a puppet-show ; and 
 the former offering a shilling at the door for his ad- 
 mission, " Oh, no," cried the man, " pass on, brother 
 manager, we never take money from one another /" 
 
 YOUR WORSHIP. 
 
 A man having business with a magistrate, who 
 was an auctioneer, gave much offence, by neglecting 
 to call him — his worship; on which he -committed 
 him to gaol for contempt. When the man obtained 
 his discharge he constantly attended his ivorship's 
 sales, bidding for almost every lot: "threepence, 
 your worship; sixpence, your worship ;" which 
 caused such scenes of laughter at the auctioneer's 
 expense, that he was glad to give the man ten guineas 
 never to attend his sales any more. 
 
 SURNAMES. 
 
 Men once were surnam'd from their shape or estate, 
 
 (You all may from history worm it,) 
 There was Lewis the Bulky and Henry the Great, 
 
 John Lackland and Peter the Hermit. 
 And now, when the door-plates of misters and dames 
 
 Are read, each so constantly varies 
 From the owner's trade, figure, and calling, surnames 
 
 Seem giv'n by the rule of contraries. 
 
 Mr. Box, though provok'd, never doubles his fist, 
 
 Mr. Burns in his gfate ha's no fuel, 
 Mr. Play fair won't catch me at hazard or whist, 
 
 Mr. Coward was wing'd in a duel. 
 Mr. Wise is a dunce, Mr. King is a whig, 
 
 Mr. Coffins uncommonly sprightly. 
 And huge Mr. Little broke down in a gig 
 
 While driving fat Mr. Golightly. 
 
 Mrs. Drinkwaters apt to indulge in a dram, 
 
 Mrs. singel's an absolute fury, 
 And meek Mr. Lion met fierce Mr. Lamb, 
 
 Tweak'd his nose in the lohby of Drury. 
 At Bath, where the feeble go more than the stout, 
 
 (A conduct well worthy of Nero,) 
 Over poor Mr. Light/hot, confined with the gout, 
 
 Mr. Heaviside danced a bolero. 
 
 Miss Joy, wretched maid, when she chose Mr. Love, 
 
 Found nothing but sorrow await her : 
 She now holds in wedlock, as true as a dove, 
 
 That fondest of mates, Mr. Hayter. 
 Mr. Oldcastle dwells in a modem-built hut, 
 
 Miss Sage is of madcaps the archest; 
 Of all the queer bachelors Cupid e'er cut, 
 
 Old Mr. Yoimghusband's the starchest. 
 
 Mr. Child in a passion knocks down Mr. Bock, 
 
 Mr. Stone like an aspen -leaf shivers, 
 Mm Poole us'd to dance, but she stands like a stock, 
 
 Ever since she became Mrs. Rivers. 
 Mr. Swift hobbles onward, no mortal knows how, 
 
 He moves as though cords had entwin'd him ; 
 Mr. Metcalfe ran off upon meeting a cow, 
 
 Yv T ith pale Mr. Turnbull behind him. 
 
 Mr. Barker's as mute as a fish in the sea, 
 
 Mr. Miles never moves on a journey, 
 Mr. Gotobed sits up till half-after three, 
 
 Mr. Makepeace was bred an attorney. 
 Mr. Gardener can't tell a flow'r from a root, 
 
 Mr. Wild with timidity draws back, 
 Mr. Ryder performs all his journies on foot, 
 
 Mr. Foot all his journies on horseback. 
 
 Mr. Penny, whose father was rolling in wealth, 
 
 Kick'd down all the fortune his dad won ; 
 Large Mr.Le Fevers the picture of health, 
 
 Mr. GoodcnoKgh is but a bad one. 
 Mr. Ci-uikshank stept into three thousand a year, 
 
 By showing his leg to an heiress. 
 Now I hope you'll acknowledge I've made it quite 
 clear, 
 
 Surnames ever go by contraries. 
 
416 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 AMENDE HONOURABLE. 
 
 Many years since, the bench of Middlesex justices 
 refused a licence to a publican who put up Mr. 
 Wilkes for his sign : he told them, so far from being 
 a friend to Wilkes, that he had hung him up in effigy ; 
 but if he had given offence, he was ready to pull 
 down Wilkes, and hang up the whole bench of Mid- 
 dlesex justices instead. 
 
 JOURNAL OF AN INDOLENT MAN. 
 
 Thursday, eleven at flight, went to bed : ordered my 
 servant to wake me at six, resolving to be busy all 
 next day. 
 
 Friday morning: Waked a quarter before six ; fell 
 asleep again, and did not wake till eight. 
 
 Till nine, read the first act of Voltaire's Mahomet, 
 as it was too late to begin serious business. 
 
 Ten : Having swallowed a short breakfast, went 
 cut for a moment in my slippers — The wind having 
 left the east, am engaged by the beauty of the day, to 
 continue my walk — Find a situation by the river, 
 where the sound of my flute produced a very singular 
 and beautiful echo— make a stanza and a half by way 
 of address to it — visit the shepherd lying ill of a low 
 fever — find him somewhat better (Mem. to send him 
 some wine) — meet the parson, and cannot avoid ask- 
 ing him to dinner — returning home, find my reapers 
 at work — superintend them in the absence of John, 
 whom I send to inform the house of the parson's visit 
 — read, in the mean time, part of Thomson's Seasons, 
 which I had with me — From one to six, plagued with 
 the parson's news and stories — take up Mahomet to 
 put me in good humour — finish it, the time allotted 
 for serious study being elapsed — at eight, applied to 
 for advice by a poor countryman, who had been op- 
 pressed — cannot say as to the law : give him some 
 money — walk out at sun-set, to consider the causes of 
 the pleasure arising from it — at nine, sup, and sit till 
 eleven hearing my nephew read, and conversing with 
 my mother, who was remarkably well and cheerful — 
 go to bed. 
 
 Saturday : Some company arrived — to be filled up 
 to-morrow — (for that and the two succeeding days, 
 
 there was no father entry in the journal.) Tuesday, 
 waked at seven ; but the weather being rainy, and 
 threatening to confine me all day, lay, till after nine 
 — Ten, breakfasted and read the news-papers — very 
 dull and drowsy — Eleven, day clears up, and I resolve 
 on a short ride to clear my head. 
 
 UNCERTAIN RELATIONSHIP^ 
 
 An Irishman being asked by a friend, " Has I 
 your sister got a son or a daughter V answered, ) 
 " Faith, I do not yet know whether I am an uncle or 
 an aunt." 
 
 DAGGER MARR AND GARRICK. 
 
 A performer, named Marr, was called by Mr. Gar- 
 rick, Dagger-Wait, from the cruel use he made of such 
 characters as were allotted him. An actor having 
 made his first appearance, with many evident marks 
 of disapprobation from the audience, Dagger, who 
 had not performed that night, took Mr. Ganick aside, 
 and said to him " I say, little one, this was not fair ; 
 if there was to be a murder committed to-night, I L 
 had as much right to have a hand in it, as any body 
 else." 
 
 soldier's epistle. 
 An epistle from one Sergeant Hall of the Foot 
 Guards. It is directed, " To Sergeant Cabe, in the 
 Coldstream Regiment of Foot- Guards, at the Red- 
 lattice in the Butcher-row, near Temple Bar. 
 
 From the Camp before Mons, Sept. 26. 
 " Comrade^ 
 " I received yours, and am glad yourself and your 
 wife are in good health, with all the rest of my friends. 
 Our battalion suffered more than I could wish in the 
 action. But who can withstand fate ? Poor Richard 
 Stevenson had his fate with a great many more : He 
 was killed dead before we entered the trenches. We 
 had above two hundred of our battalions killed and :i 
 wounded : We lost ten sergeants, six are as followeth •. 
 Jennings, Castles, Roach, Sherring, Merrick, and my 
 son Smith. The rest are not your acquaintance. I 
 have received a very bad shot in my head myself, but 
 am in hopes, and, please God, I shall recover, I 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 417 
 
 1 continue in the field, and lie at my colonel's quarters. 
 
 Arthur is very well ; but I can give you no account, of 
 
 j Elms : he was in the hospital before I came into the 
 
 i fiVld. I will not pretend to give you an account of 
 
 I the battle, knowing you have a better in the prints. 
 
 | Pray give my service to Mrs. Cook and her daughter, 
 
 j to Mr. Stoffet and his wife, and to Mr. Lyver, and 
 
 Thomas Hogsdon, and to Mr. Hagdell, and to all my 
 
 J friends and acquaintance in general who do ask after 
 
 i me. My love to Mrs. Stevenson. I am sorry for the 
 
 j sending such ill news. Her husband was gathering 
 
 a little money together to send to his wife, and put it 
 
 : into my hands. I have seven shillings and threepence, 
 
 which I shall take care to send her. Wishing } ? our 
 
 wife a safe delivery, and both of you all happiness, 
 
 ! rest — Your assured friend and comrade, 
 
 " John Hall. 
 " We had but- an indifferent breakfast ; but the 
 Mouuseers never had such a dinner in their lives. 
 " My kind love to my comrade Hinton, and Mrs. 
 ! Morgan, and to John Brown and his wife. I sent 
 Stevenson two shillings and sixpence to drink with 
 you at Mr. Cook's ; but I have heard nothing from 
 him. It was by Mr. Edgar. 
 
 " Corporal Hartwell desires to be remembered to 
 you, and desires you to inquire of Edgar, what. is be- 
 come of his wife Peg ; and when you write, to send 
 word in your letter what trade she drives. 
 
 " We have here very bad weather, which I doubt 
 will be a hinderance to the siege ; but I am in hopes 
 we shall be masters of the town in a little time, and 
 then I believe we shall go to garrison." 
 
 THE WILL OF A VIRTUOSO. 
 
 I, Nicholas Gimcrack, being in sound health of 
 mind, but in great weakness of body, do by this my 
 last will and testament bestow my worldly goods and 
 chattels in manner following : 
 Imprimis, to my dear wife, 
 One box of butterflies, 
 One drawer of shells, 
 A female skeleton, 
 A dead cocatrice, 
 
 I 
 
 Item, To my daughter Elizabeth, 
 
 My receipt for preserving dead caterpillars, 
 As also my preparations of winter May-dew, and 
 embryo-pickle. 
 Item, To my little daughter Fanny, 
 
 Three crocodile's eggs. 
 And upon the birth of her first child, if she marries 
 with her mother's consent, 
 
 The nest of a humming-bird. 
 Item, To my eldest brother, as an acknowledgment 
 for the lands he has vested in my son Charles, I be- 
 queath 
 
 My last year's collection of grasshoppers. 
 Item, To his daughter Susanna, being his only 
 child, I bequeath my 
 
 English weeds pasted on royal paper, 
 With my large folio of Indian cabbage. 
 Item, To my learned and worthy friend Doctor 
 Johannes Elscrickius, professor in anatomy, and my 
 associate in the studies of Nature, as an eternal 
 monument of my affection and friendship for him, I 
 bequeath 
 
 My rat's tail and 
 Whale's fin, 
 to him and his issue-male ; and in default of such 
 issue in the said Doctor Elscrickius, then to return to 
 my executor and his heirs for ever. 
 
 Having fully provided for my nephew Isaac, by 
 making over to him some years since 
 A horned scarabaeus, 
 The skin of a rattlesnake, and, 
 The mummy of an Egyptian King, 
 I make no farther provision for him in this my will. 
 
 My eldest son John having spoke disrespectfully 
 of his little sister, whom I keep by me in spirits of 
 wine, and in many other instances behaved himself 
 undutifully towards me, I do disinherit, and wholly 
 cut off from any part, of this my personal estate, by 
 giving him a single cockle-shell. 
 
 To my second son Charles, I give and bequeath all 
 my flowers, plants, minerals, mosses, shells, pebbles, 
 fossils, beetles, butterflies, caterpillars, grasshoppers, 
 and vermin, not above specified : As also all my mon- 
 sters both wet and dry ; making the said Charles whole 
 
41S 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 and sole executor of this my last will and testament, 
 he paying, or causing to be paid, the aforesaid lega- 
 cies within the space of six months after my decease. 
 And I do hereby revoke all other wills whatsoever by 
 me formerly made. 
 
 CALAMITIES OF AN AUTHOR. 
 
 A young author, a man of good-nature and learn- 
 ing, once complained of the misplaced generosity 
 of the times. Here, said he, have I spent part of 
 my youth in attempting to instruct and amuse my 
 fellow-creatures, and all my reward has been so- 
 litude, poverty, and reproach ; while a fellow, pos- 
 sessed even of the smallest share of fiddling merit, 
 or who has, perhaps, learned to whistle double, is- re- 
 warded, applauded, and caressed ! Prithee, young man, 
 said a friend to him, are you ignorant, that, in so large 
 a city as this is, it is better to be an amusing than an 
 useful member of society 1 Can you leap up, and 
 touch your feet four times before you come to the 
 ground 1 No, Sir. Can you pimp for a man of quality? 
 No, Sir. Can you stand upon two horses at full speed 1 
 No, Sir. Can you swallow a pen-knife 1 I can do 
 none of these tricks. Why, then, cried I, there is no 
 other prudent means of subsistence left, hut to apprize 
 the town, that you speedily intend to eat up your own 
 nose by subscription. 
 
 LORD HOWE. 
 
 When the fleet commanded by carl Howe was so 
 long stationed at Torbay, just previous to his signal 
 victory over the French, the inhabitants used to play 
 upon his name, saying : 
 
 r ~ Lord Howe he went out ! 
 Lord Howe he came in ! 
 ■ After the victory, the following toast was much in 
 vogue. 
 May the French know How e to be master of the seas. 
 
 A NATURAL ACTOR. 
 
 Mr. Miller, the comedian, had a strong predilection 
 for juvenile "characters. Mrs. Achmet, late of Covent 
 Garden theatre, being engaged to play a few nights 
 at Shrewsbury, selected Juliet for her first part ; and 
 ■the gay Mr. Miller put his own name up for Romeo. 
 In the garden scene, with true tragic solemnity, he 
 
 drew his white pocket handkerchief from his pocket* 
 (as he thought,) which he flourished with great effect 
 for some seconds,till, swearing for the truth of the love 
 he professed, his eyes caught the coloured silk ker- 
 chief m his hand, and he finished the passage thus : 
 
 " Lady, by yonder blessed moon, I swear ! 
 That this is too bad, by G — ! — Play Romeo .with j 
 an angel, and take out a snuffy pocket-handkerchief! ' 
 — Oh ! fy ! for shame, go to school and learn pro- | 
 priety." 
 
 STAGE COACH FARCE. 
 
 Mr. Watson (proprietor of the Cheltenham theatre) 
 was once acting in a farce called The Stage Coach, 
 and the whole of the entertainment was so bad that 
 the audience loudly testified their disapprobation. 
 Towards the conclusion, an Irish gentleman in the 
 pit, who had not been much pleased with his journey, 
 inquired, of Mr. Watson, then on the boards, whether . 
 the Stage Coach was likely to have a run ? "Because," 
 continued he, "if it is so, I shall beg leave to be an . 
 outside passenger \" 
 
 SAGACIOUS DOG. 
 
 Mr. Sheridan was once on a visit to the duke) 
 of Bedford, at Wobum, when preparations were mak- 
 ing to take the field against the partridges on the first 
 of September. A learned barrister of the party was 
 endeavouring to improve his skill by firing at a mark, 
 which he could never hit, and, in excuse for his bad 
 aim, complained of his dog, which was not well j 
 trained, and who, at every moment he was about to 
 fire his piece, always jumped up against the mark, 
 " although," said he, " I thought he was as sagacious I 
 an animal as ever lived." " Sagacious indeed," I 
 said 'Mr. Sheridan, " and he has proved it, for I can't' 
 conceive he could be any where so safe from your shot, 
 as by flying at the mark you aim at." 
 
 GHOSTS, OR THE QUESTION SOLVED. 
 
 That ghosts now and then on this globe would appear, 
 Dick denied with his tongue, but confess'd by his fear ; 
 And passing a church-yard one evening in fright, 
 He met, and thus queried, a guardian of night : 
 
" Did you e'er see a ghost in your watchings, I pray 1 
 You're here at all hours— and the thing's in your 
 
 way." 
 " Not I," said the watchman—" and good reason 
 
 why, 
 Men never come back when you get them to die : 
 If to heaven they go, they are not so to blame, 
 
 To return to this world of vexation to fret 'em. 
 And if to that place its uncivil to name, 
 
 I fancy, your honour, the devil won't let 'em." 
 
 THE TRADE AND MYSTERY OF KINGLY GOVERNMENT 
 IN ENGLAND. 
 
 Scotch Jemmy, the presumptive bastard of an 
 Italian fiddler, was born in Scotland. Turning out 
 a bonny lad, and of quick parts, he was put out ap- 
 prentice, in that kingdom, to the business of King-craft, 
 (on which he afterwards wrote a treatise, and called 
 it by that name ;) to this he served part of his time 
 there, and the remainder in England as a turnover : 
 he dying — 
 
 Charles his son succeeded him ; but, ambitiously 
 grasping at too much business, proved unfortunate, 
 and left the shop to his son : he made large additions 
 to his father's woik, by interweaving it with priest- 
 craft. 
 
 Charles the" Second was for some time kept out of 
 possession by one Oliver Cromwell, who took the 
 shop over his father's head ; and who, although not 
 regularly bred, proved a most subtile, industrious, 
 and able workman. Cromwell dying, this Charles 
 came and opened shop ; but carried on business very 
 indifferently, owing, as it is said to bad company, 
 being much addicted to lewd women, revelling with 
 buffoons, jesters, and stage-players : he dying- 
 Jemmy the Second, his brother, an apprentice, 
 came on trial; but breaking his oath, with his 
 masters, he forfeited his indenture, ran away, and 
 was transported for life ; and though his son and his 
 grandson have endeavoured to follow the business 
 abroad, they have turned out but mere Pretenders. 
 He was succeeded by one— 
 
 William, a Dutchman, who married before he 
 embarked from Holland; and though some authors 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 419 
 
 say he did not wait, for an invitation, yet as he had 
 
 given some good-will, he took the stock at a fair ap- 
 praisement, and set up on the old premises, where 
 he and his wife got a comfortable livelihood : they 
 dying- _ J 
 
 Anne, his wife's sister, came in by her own jjghfc 
 and carried on business with great reputation, while 
 she employed honest and experienced journeymen • 
 but, turning these away, her credit sunk extremely 
 towards the latter end of her time, through the blun- 
 ders and mismanagement of one Harley, her foreman, 
 and some others. She dying without" issue, in that 
 case the business, which was much extended by 
 William the Dutchman, was left to the present 
 family, the first of whom was — 
 
 George, and whom we shall call the first j who 
 was succeeded by his son- 
 George the Second ; who, with his father, were 
 very good sort of men, though both were much 
 blamed for neglecting their business, by gadding to a 
 dirty farm called Hanover ; his namesake and grand- 
 son- 
 George the Third began with a fair prospect ; but, 
 being over-ruled and miguided by a favourite servant, 
 lost great part of the business. 
 
 A PRUDENT WIFE. 
 
 The late Mrs. Williams (an actress, and wife to a 
 performer) being at Birmingham, one summer, witlk 
 her husband, they advertised, for their benefit, " a 
 favourite song, with accompaniments on the French 
 horns, bij Mr. Williams.— On the night no horns 
 came, and Mrs. Williams ran about the theatre, de- 
 claring she was ruined: the musicians had disap- 
 pointed her, and he could not sing his song without 
 horns. — "Never mind," said a musician present, 
 " that cannot be any drawback— you have taken 
 care that he shall never be without horns .'" 
 
 GEORGE COLMAN. 
 
 Mr. Colman the younger inquired, one very sultry 
 evening, if the performers' orders went ; and. being 
 answered in the negative, he exclaimed: " Why, it 
 is so hot that Jlesh and blood can't bear it ; and, 
 surely, the bone $ ought to go !" 
 
420 
 
 THE LAUGHING PKILOfiOPHEB. 
 
 THE WATCHMAN'S MISTAKE. 
 
 One frosty night, a few weeks since, not more, 
 
 Charley, instead of six, trudg'd home at four: 
 
 'Twas piercing cold and would be death to stay — 
 
 He to his hovel, therefore, bent his way. 
 
 Arriv'd— to bed he trudg'd without a light, 
 
 .Not dreaming matters there were aught but right, 
 
 His coat, his waistcoat, and his breeches too 
 
 With little care upon the bed he threw, 
 
 And stepping in, with sort of shivering moan, 
 
 He starts his rib, poor soul, not quite alone. 
 
 * f Bless me," exclaim'd the wanton, " is it you t 
 
 Come just in time to save your faithful Sue : 
 
 Quickly some brandy prithee do procure, 
 
 My pain's too great for mortal to endure." 
 
 In haste his scatter'd garments are replac'd, 
 
 And Charley to the gin shop may be trac'd. 
 
 The brandy he receives,, dubs up a shilling — 
 
 For he to serve his rib was always willing. 
 
 '' This piece I cannot change," his hostess cried. 
 
 '*■ Not change it," the astonished scout replied ; 
 
 " I but a shilling on the counter threw, 
 
 And ask no change for that and brandy too." 
 
 " A sovereign, Charles, or my poor eyes deceive me, 
 
 You from your breeches pocket drew, and gave me." 
 
 Scout starts with wonder, first the fact denies— 
 
 Then smiles, and to his fob conveys the prize. 
 
 Now posts, as he suppos'd, a second bob, 
 
 Which he extracted from the selfsame fob. 
 
 " Another sovereign!" Ma'am with haste exclaims, 
 
 And Charley star'd as tho' bereft of brains. 
 
 Kecover'd, he surveys with anxious care, 
 
 The garments which contain'd the precious ware, 
 
 And found them of the finest kerseymere ! 
 
 The pockets too with care he fumbles o'er. 
 
 And of these pretty pictures found a score ; 
 
 " Zounds!" he exclaim'd, " 'tis strange to me, 
 
 That I, who only once a week a sovereign see. 
 
 Should all at once become possessed 
 
 (And be, besides, so finely dress'd) 
 
 Of all this money, which my fob contains, 
 
 Why, Madam, 'tis enough to rack one's brains." 
 
 Still Charley shrewdly guess'd how matters were, 
 
 And hasten'd home to adjust the business there, 
 
 And change for corderoy, the kerseymere. 
 
 The corderoys, however, now were gone, 
 
 And his frail rib with him who'd put them on; 
 
 Time, she conceiv'd Scout's anger might assuage— 
 
 'Twere present death to meet his too just rage. 
 
 HOW TO ANSWER ONE QUESTION BY ASKING AN- 
 OTHER. 
 
 A celebrated professor thinking to perplex an un- 
 fortunate pupil, one day put him the following ques- 
 tion : f* Pray, sir, can you tell me how long a man 
 may live without brains 1" To which the pupil, look- 
 ing up in the face of the interrogator, promptly but 
 unexpectedly replied, *' How old may you be yourself, 
 professor]" 
 
 ECONOMY IN BUSINESS. 
 
 Messrs. Bowden and Masters, two Euglish riders, 
 meeting-one night in their travels, the conversation 
 over the bottle turned on the extensive business carried 
 on by their respective houses. Bowden, zealous to 
 prove the superiority of his own, enumerated many 
 extraordinary instances, and finally wound up his 
 climax with saying, '* that the business of his house 
 was so extensive that in their correspondence only it 
 cost them 150/. yearly in the article of ink." 
 
 Masters replied, " Why, Bowden, do you advance 
 that as a proof of your superiority to our house!"— 
 " I do." 
 
 " Poo, poo, man !" said Masters, u why, we save 
 that sum yearly in our house in that very article, by 
 omitting only the dots to the i's and the strokes to the 
 *>. 
 
 SHAVING A CONSCIENCE. 
 
 Judge JefFeries taking a dislike to an evidence who 
 had a long beard, told him, " that if his conscience 
 was as large as his beard, he had a swinging one." 
 To which the witness replied : ** My lord, if you 
 measure consciences by beards, you have none at all.'* 
 
 THREE BLESSINGS OF MAN. 
 
 Pirolo, the French historian, used to say, " Man 
 possesses but three things, his soul, his body, and his 
 wealth, These are exposed continually to three sort* 
 
of ambuscade: his soul to that of divines ; his body 
 to that of physicians ; and his wealth to that of 
 lawyers." 
 
 RICUELIEu's AMBITION. 
 
 When Peter the Great saw the tomb of cardinal 
 Richelieu in Sarbonne, he exclaimed, " Illustrious 
 statesman! if alive I would give you one half of 
 my empire, if you would teach me to rule the other." 
 A Frenchman who was present observed, " Your ma- 
 jesty would do wrong, for if the cardinal had the one 
 half, you would not be able to keep the other long." 
 
 LIMITS OF PAPA!, JUIUSDICTION. 
 
 Cardinal Cervini complained to Leo the Tenth that 
 Michael Angelo had painted him in hell in his picture 
 of the Last Judgment. " If the painter," said the pope, 
 " had placed your eminence in purgatory I could 
 have drawn you thence, but as he has placed you in 
 the infernal regions, my power does not extend so far." 
 
 THE CHIVALROUS BISHOP. 
 
 Richard Coeur de Lion having taken a fighting 
 bishop prisoner, the pope claimed him as one of his 
 spiritual sons. The king jocosely sent the pope the 
 hacked and bloody armour of the bishop, saying, " Lo, 
 this have I found, now know thou if it be thy son's 
 coat or no !" 
 
 RESTLESS GOVERNMENT. 
 
 Muly Moloch, emperor of Morocco, spent his whole 
 time in devising plans to keep the minds of his sub- 
 jects engaged. " If a parcel of rats," said he once 
 to the British ambassador, " are permitted to remain 
 in a bag, they'll eat it — but if you keep shaking it, 
 they will not. 
 
 CRITERION OF AGE. 
 
 Count Grammont who lived to a very advanced 
 age, always scrupulously avoided making it known. 
 One day while at dinner with Louis XIV. and 
 the bishop of Soulis, who was also very aged, the 
 monarch inquired of the divine whether he knew the 
 age of the count Grammont. " I am eighty-four, 
 sire," replied the bishop, " and when the count and 
 myself studied together at college, he was precisely 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 42J. 
 
 four months older than me." " What say you to that 
 count?" exclaimed the king, " after such a testimony 
 you can no longer conceal the face." " Sire," replied 
 the count, " the bishop is deceived ; for neither he 
 nor myself ever studied at all." 
 
 THE DOUBLE DEFEAT. 
 
 A certain general who was beaten both in France 
 and Germany, having returned to his mansion on the 
 cessation of hostilities, some arch wag had painted a 
 tabor over his door, with this motto : 
 
 Farewell fame, and farewell pride, 
 I've been beat on either side. 
 
 FIRE AND WATER. 
 
 On an officer who fled from the field of battle and 
 was drowned in crossing a river. 
 
 Here lies the man who fearing slaughter 
 Fled from fire, to die in water. 
 
 THE MAIDEN WIFE. 
 
 Margaret of Austria was affianced to the eldest 
 son of the king of Spain, who dying, she was then 
 betrothed by proxy to his second son, and being in a 
 vessel bound to Spain, to consummate the marriage 
 ceremony, a storm arose and the vessel was on the 
 point of sinking, when this princess, who was gifted 
 with a most magnanimous spirit, very far from being 
 struck with fear at the imminent danger she was in, 
 wrote the following couplet : 
 
 Ci-git la gentille demoiselle 
 Qu'a deux maris et encore est pucelle. 
 Here lies the lady who was not afraid 
 To wed two husbands, and yet died a maid. 
 
 ACTING J1V NOTE. 
 
 Mr. Bransley (a comedian, some years since, on 
 Drury-lane boards) could never vary in the least 
 from the text of the author ; and, if any other person 
 on the stage with him fell into that error, Bransley 
 generally produced some whimsical effect, by adhering 
 too closely to the original words. He was playing 
 one night, and this question being put to him — 
 
 " Are you this young lady's father /" 
 had to say—" / am" 
 
422 
 
 The person who had to put the interrogatory varied 
 the words, but strictly preserved the sense. He said, 
 
 " Is this young lady your daughter ?" 
 To which Bransley very pompously replied, " I 
 
 CHARACTERS OV A DRINKING CLUB. BY A MEMBER. 
 
 You must know then that our club consists of at 
 least forty members when complete. Of these, 
 many are now in the country ; and besides, we have 
 some vacancies which cannot be filled up till next 
 winter. Palsies and apoplexies have of late, I don't 
 know why, been pretty rife among us, and carried 
 off a good many. It is not above a week ago, that 
 poor Tom Toastwell fell on a sudden under the 
 table, as we thought only a little in drink, but he was 
 carried home and never spoke more. Those whom 
 you will probably meet with to-day are, first of all, 
 Lord Feeble, a nobleman of admirable sense, a true 
 line gentleman, and, for a man of quality, a pretty 
 classic. He has lived rather fast formerly, and im- 
 paired his constitution by sitting up late and drinking 
 your thin sharp wines. He is still what you call 
 nervous, which makes him a little low-spirited and 
 reserved at first ; but he grows very affable and 
 cheerful as soon as he has warmed his stomach with 
 about a bottle.of good claret. 
 
 Sir Tunbelly Guzzle is a very worthy north-country 
 baronet, of a good estate, and one who was before- 
 hand in the world, till being twice chosen knight 
 ^of the shire, and having in consequence got a 
 pretty employment at "court, he ran out considerably. 
 He has left off house-keeping, and is now upon a 
 retrieving scheme. He is the heartiest, honestest fel- 
 low living ; and though he is a man of few words, I 
 can assure you he does not want sense. He had a 
 university education, and has a good notion of the 
 classics. The poor man is confined half the year at 
 least with the gout, and has besides an inveterate 
 scurvy, which I cannot account for : no man can live 
 more regularly ; he eats nothing but plain meat, and 
 very little of that : he drinks no thin wines, and never 
 sits up late : for he has his full dose by eleven. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Colonel Culverin is a brave old experienced officer 
 though but a lieutenant-colonel of foot. Between 
 you and me he has had a great injustice done him, 
 and is now commanded by many who were not born 
 when he came first into the army. He has served in 
 Ireland, Minorca, and Gibraltar ; and would have 
 been in all the late battles in Flanders, had the re- 
 giment been ordered there. It is a pleasure to hear 
 him talk of war. He is the best-natured man alive, 
 but a little too jealous of his honour, and too apt to 
 be in a passion ; but that is soon over, and then he 
 is sorry for it. I fear he is dropsical, which I impute 
 to his drinking your Champaigns and Burgundies. 
 He got that ill habit abroad. 
 
 Sir George Pliant is well born, has a genteel for- 
 tune, keeps the very best company, and is to be sure 
 one of the best-bred men alive : he is so good-natured, 
 that he seems to have no will of his own. He will 
 drink as little or as much as you please, and no mat- 
 ter of what. He has been a mighty man with the 
 ladies formerly, and loves the crack of -the whip still. 
 He is our newsmonger , for being a gentleman of the 
 privy chamber, he goes to court every day, and con- 
 sequently knows pretty well what is going forward 
 there. Poor gentleman! I fear we shall not keep 
 him long : for he seems far gone in a consumption, 
 though the doctors say it is only a nervous atrophy. 
 
 Will Sitfast is the best-natured fellow living, and 
 an excellent companion, though lie seldom speaks ; 
 but he is no flincher, and sits every man's hand out 
 at the club. He is a very good scholar, and can write 
 very pretty Latin verses. I doubt he is in a declining 
 way ; for a paralytic stroke has lately twitched up one 
 side of his mouth so, that he is now obliged to take 
 his wine diagonally. However he keeps up his 
 spirits bravely, ar$l never shams his glass. 
 
 Dr. Carbuncle is an honest, jolly, merry, parson, 
 well affected to the government, and much of a gen- 
 tleman. He is the life of our club, instead of being 
 the least restraint upon it. He is an admirable 
 scholar, and I really believe has all Horace by heart , 
 I know he has him always in his pocket. His red face, 
 inflamed nose, and swelled legs, make him generally 
 thought a hard drinker by those who do not know 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 423 
 
 him ; but I must do him the justice to say, that I 
 never saw him disguised with liquor in my life. It is 
 true, he is a very large man, and can hold a great 
 deal, which makes the colonel call him pleasantly 
 enough, a vessel of election. 
 
 AN AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION TO THE CLUB. 
 
 My friend presented me to the company, in what 
 he thought the most obliging manner ; but which, I 
 confess, put me a little out of countenance. *■' Give 
 me leave, gentlemen," said he, " to present to you 
 my old friend, the ingenious author of the World." 
 The word author instantly excited the attention of the 
 whole company, and drew all their eyes upon me : 
 for people who are not apt to write themselves, have 
 a strange curiosity to see a live author. The gentle- 
 men received me in common, with those gestures that 
 intimate welcome ; and I, on my part, respectfully 
 muttered some of those nothings which stand instead 
 of the something one should say, and perhaps do full 
 as well. 
 
 The weather being hot, the gentlemen were re- 
 freshing themselves before dinner, with what they 
 called a cool tankard, in which they successively 
 drank to me. When it came to my turn, I thought I 
 could not decently decline drinking the gentlemen's 
 healths, which I did aggregately : but how was I 
 surprised, when upon the first taste I discovered that 
 this cooling and refreshing draught was composed of 
 the strongest mountain wine, lowered indeed with 
 a very little lemon and water, but then heightened 
 again, by a quantity of those comfortable aromatics, 
 nutmeg and ginger ! Dinner, which had been called 
 for more than once with some impatience, was at 
 last brought up, upon the colonel's threatening per- 
 dition to the master and all the waiters of the house, 
 if it was delayed two minutes longer. — We sat down 
 without ceremony, and we were no sooner sat down, 
 than every body, except myself, drank every body's 
 health, which made a tumultuous kind of noise. I 
 observed with surprise, that the common quantity of 
 wine was put into glasses of an immense size and 
 weight ; but my surprise ceased when I saw the 
 tremulous hands that took them, and for which I 
 
 supposed they were intended as ballast. But even 
 this precaution did not protect the nose of doctor Car- 
 buncle from a severe shock, in his attempt to hit his 
 mouth. The colonel, who observed this accident, 
 cried out pleasantly, " Why, doctor, I find you are 
 but a bad engineer. While you aim at your mouth, 
 you will never hit it, take my word for it. A floating 
 battery to hit the mark, must be pointed something 
 above or below it. If you would hit your mouth, 
 direct your four-pounder at your forehead or your 
 chin." The doctor good-humouredly thanked the 
 colonel for the hint, and promised him to communicate 
 it to his friends at Oxford, where, he owned, that he 
 had seen many a good glass of Port spilt for want of 
 it. Sir Tunbelly almost smiled, Sir George laughed, 
 and the whole company, somehow or other, applauded 
 this elegant piece of raillery. But alas, things soon 
 took a less pleasant turn ; for an enormous buttock of 
 boiled salt beef, which had succeeded the soup, proved 
 not to be sufficiently corned for Sir Tunbelly, who 
 had bespoke it ; and at the same time Lord Feeble 
 took a dislike to the claret, which he affirmed not to 
 be the same which they drank the day before ; it had 
 no silkiness, went rough off the tongue, and his lord- 
 ship shrewdly suspected that it was mixed with 
 Benecarlo, or some of those black wines. This was 
 a common cause, and excited universal attention. 
 The whole company tasted it seriously, and overy 
 one found a different fault with it. The master of 
 the. house was immediately sent for up, examined, 
 and treated as a criminal. Sir Tunbelly reproached 
 him with the freshness of the beef, while at the same 
 time all the others fell upon him for the badness of 
 his wine, telling him that it was not fit usage for 
 such good customers as they were, and in fine 
 threatening him with the migration of the club to 
 some other house. The criminal laid the blame of 
 the beef's not being corned enough upon his cook, 
 whom he promised to turn away ; and attested hea- 
 ven and earth that the wine was the very same which 
 they had all approved of the day before ; and as he 
 had a soul to ba saved, was true Chateau Margoux. 
 " Chateau devil !" said the colonel with warmth : 
 " it is your d— -d rough Chaos wine." Will Sitfast, 
 
Ate 
 
 who thought himself obliged to articulate upon this 
 occasion, said he was not sure it was a mixed wine, 
 but that indeed it drank down. " If that is all," 
 interrupted the doctor, " let us e'en drink it up then. 
 Or, if that won't do, since we cannot have the true 
 Falernum, let us take up for once with the vile Sa- 
 binum. What say you, gentlemen, to good honest 
 Port, which I am convinced is a much wholesomer 
 stomach wine?' My friend, who in his heart loves 
 Port better than any other wine in the world, wil- 
 lingly seconded the doctor's motion, and spoke very 
 favourably of your Portugal wines in general, if neat. 
 Upon this some was immediately brought up, which 
 I observed my friend and the doctor stuck to the 
 whole evening. I could not help asking the doctor if 
 he really preferred Port to lighter wines? To 
 which he answered, " You know, Mr. Fitz-Adam, 
 that use is second nature, and Port is in a manner 
 mother's milk to me ; for it is what my Alma Mater 
 suckles all her numerous progeny with.'-' I silently 
 assented to the doctor's account, which I was con- 
 vinced was a tvii one, and then attended to the 
 judicious animadversions of the other gentlemen upon 
 the claret, which were still continued, though at the 
 same time they continued to drink it. I hinted my 
 surprise at this to Sir Tunbelly, who gravely answered 
 me, and in a moving way, " Why, what can we do ?" 
 " Not drink it," replied I, " since it is not good." 
 t# But what will you have us do ? and how shall we 
 pass the evening'?" rejoined the baronet. "One 
 cannot go home at five o'clock." ** That depends 
 a great deal upon use," said I. " It may be so, 
 to a certain degree," said the doctor. " But give 
 me leave to ask you, Mr. Fitz-Adam, you who drink 
 nothing but water, and live much at home, how do 
 you keep up your spirits ?" ** Why, doctor," said I, 
 • " as I never lowered my spirits by strong liquors, I 
 do not want to raise them." Here we were inter- 
 rupted by the colonel's raising his voice and in- 
 dignation against the Burgundy and Champaign, 
 swearing that the former was ropy, and the latter 
 upon the fret, and not without some suspicion of 
 cider- and sugar-candy ; notwithstanding which, he 
 drank, in a bumper of it, Confusion to the town of 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Bristol and the bottle act. 
 
 It was a shame," he 
 said, " that gentlemen could have no good Burgun- 
 dies and Champaigns for the sake of some increase 
 of the revenue, the manufacture of glass bottles, and 
 such sort of stuff." Sir George confirmed the same, 
 adding, that it was scandalous ; and the whole com- 
 pany agreed, that the new parliament would certainly 
 repeal so absurd an act the veiy first session ; but if 
 they did not, they hoped they would receive instruc- 
 tions for that purpose from their constituents. '* To 
 
 be sure," said the colonel. " What a d d rout 
 
 they made about the repeal of the Jew-bill, for which 
 nobody cared one farthing.— But by the waj'," con- 
 tinued he, " I think, every body has done eating, and 
 therefore had we not better have the dinner taken 
 away, and the wine set upon the table ?" — To this 
 the company gave an unanimous Ay. While this was 
 doing, I asked my friend, with seeming seriousness, 
 whether no part of the dinner was to be served up 
 again, when the wine should be set upon the table ? 
 He seemed surprised at my question, and asked me if 
 1 was hungry? To which I answered, no; but 
 asked him in my turn if he was dry ? To which he 
 also answered, no. " Then pray," replied I, " why 
 not as well eat without being hungry, as drink with- 
 out being dry?"— My friend was so stunned with 
 this, that he attempted no reply, but stared at me 
 with as much astonishment as he would have done 
 at my great ancestor Adam in his primitive state of 
 nature. 
 
 The cloih was now taken away, and the bottles, 
 glasses, and dish-clouts, put upon the table, when 
 Will Sitfast, who I found was a perpetual toast- 
 master, took the chair of course, as the man of appli- 
 cation to business. He began the king's health in a 
 bumper, which circulated in the same manner, not 
 without some nice examinations of the chairman, as 
 to day-light. The bottle standing by me, I was 
 called upon by the chairman, who added, that, 
 though a>water-drinker, he hoped I would not refuse 
 that health in wine? I begged to be excused, and 
 told him that I never drank his majesty's health at 
 all, though no one of his subjects wished it more 
 heartily than I did. That hitherto it had not ap- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 425 
 
 peared to me that there could be the least relation 
 between the wine I drank, and the king's state of 
 health ; and that till I was convinced that impairing 
 my own health would improve his majesty's, I was 
 resolved to preserve the use of my faculties and my 
 limbs to employ both in his service, if he should ever 
 have occasion for thern. I had foreseen the conse- 
 quences of this refusal ; and though my friend had 
 answered for my principles, I easily discovered an 
 air of suspicion in the countenances of the company ; 
 and I overheard the colonel whisper to Lord Feeble, 
 " This author is a very odd dog." 
 
 AN AUTHOR'S NEW SUIT. 
 
 An author, who was on very good terms with 
 himself, but extremely poor and shabby, being in 
 company, where he heard a gentleman repeat a 
 passage from some of his writings, exclaimed : 
 " There, you see, he quotes me !" — " Yes," said 
 Charles Bannister, " and if he was to waist-coat you 
 too, you would not be the worse for it." 
 
 A DRAMATIC MURDER. 
 
 An Irish gentleman, named Mahon, an amateur of 
 the drama, once took it into his head to play the 
 part of Major O'Flaherty, in the comedy of The West 
 Indian. — He acted like any thing ; and, at the con- 
 clusion of the play, was convinced he could never 
 hope to make any other than a pitiful figure upon the 
 stage. The same night, he supped at a tavern with 
 a party of friends ; where they stayed late, and got 
 very drunk. In their way home, one of the company 
 gave Mahon into custody of therpatrole, on a charge 
 of murder I protesting he had seen him commit the 
 horrid act. — Mahon was confined for the night, and 
 taken before a justice next morning. — The magistrate 
 then demanded of the gentleman, who had given 
 the charge, on whom Mr. Mahon had committed the 
 dreadful deed, of which he stood accused — whom 
 had he murdered? — " A very worthy gentleman, 
 named Major O'Flaherty," replied the other ; " and 
 he treated him with less mercy than you would a 
 bitch's blind puppies y sixteen to the litter ,'" 
 
 MR. FOX AND JACK ROBINSON. 
 
 The late Mr. Fox, in the course of a speech in the 
 House of Commons, when he was enlarging on the 
 influence exercised by government over the members, 
 observed, that it was generally understood that there 
 was a person employed by the minister as manager of 
 the House of Commons ; here there was a general 
 cry of " Name him! name him /" — "No," said Mr. 
 Fox, " I don't choose to name him, though I might 
 do it as easily as say Jack Robinson." John Robin- 
 son was really his name, 
 
 CURRENCY. 
 
 A drunken fellow carried his wife's bible to pawn 
 for a quartern of gin to the alehouse, but the land- 
 lord refused to take it. " What the devil !" said the 
 fellow, " will neither my word nor the word of God 
 pass current with you 1" 
 
 SIR GEORGE ROOK. 
 
 Sir George Rook, before he was made admiral, 
 served as a captain of marines upon their first esta- 
 blishment ; and being quartered on the coast of Essex, 
 where the ague made havoc among his men, the 
 minister of the village where he lay was so harassed 
 with the duty, that he refused to bury any more of 
 them without being paid his accustomed fees. The 
 captain made no words, but the next that died he 
 ordered to be carried to the minister's house, and laid 
 upon the tabic of his great hall ; this greatly embar- 
 rassed the poor clergyman, who in the fulness of his 
 heart sent the captain word, " That if he would cause 
 the dead man to be taken away, he would never more 
 dispute it with him, but would readily bury him and 
 his whole company for nothing." 
 
 DEAN SWIFT'S INVENTORY 
 
 Of household goods, upon his lending his house to 
 the Bishop of Meath, till his palace ivas rebuilt. 
 An oaken broken elbow chair, 
 A caudle cup without an ear, 
 A batter'd, shatter'd, ash bedstead, 
 A box of deal without a lid, 
 
426 ^ THE LAUGHING 
 
 A pair of tongs beat out of joint, 
 
 A back-sworcl poker without point, 
 
 A pot that's crack'd across, around, 
 
 With an old knotted garter bound ; 
 
 An iron lock without a key, 
 
 A wig with hanging quite grown grey, 
 
 A curtain worn to half a stripe, 
 
 A pair of bellows without pipe, 
 
 A dish which might good meat afford once, 
 
 An Ovid, and an old Concordance, 
 
 A bottle-bottom, wooden platter, 
 
 One is for meal, and one for water ; 
 
 There likewise is a copper skillet, 
 
 Which runs as fast out as you fill it ; 
 
 A candlestick, snufF-dish, and save-all, 
 
 And thus his household goods you have all. 
 
 These to your lordship as a friend, 
 
 Till you have built, 1 freely lend, 
 
 They'll serve your lordship for a shift, 
 
 Why not— 'as well as Dr. Swift. 
 
 A GOOD FELLOW. 
 
 The secretary of a literary society being requested 
 to draw up ■' a definition of a good fellotu," ap- 
 plied to the members of the club, individually, for 
 such hints as they could furnish, when he received 
 the following : — 
 
 Mr. Golightly. — A good fellow is one who rides 
 blood horses, drives four-in-hand, speaks when he's 
 spoken to, sings when he's asked, always turns his 
 back on a dun, and never on a friend. 
 
 Mr. Le Blanc. — A good fellow is one who studies 
 deep, reads trigonometry, and burns love songs ; has 
 a most cordial aversion for dancing and D'Egville, 
 and would rather encounter a cannon than a fancy 
 ball. 
 
 Hon. G. Montgomery. — A good fellow is one who 
 abhors moralists and mathematics, and adores the 
 classics and Caroline Mowbray. 
 
 Sir T, Wentworth. — A good fellow is one who at- 
 tends ttje Fox dinners, and drinks the queen's health, 
 who goes to the Indies to purchase independence, and 
 would rather encounter a buffalo than a borough- 
 monger 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Mr. M. Sterling. — A good fellow is a good neigh- 
 bour, a good citizen, a good relation ; in short, a 
 good man. 
 
 Mr. M' Far lane. — A good fellow is a bonnie braw 
 John Hielandman. . 
 
 Mr. O'Connor.— A. good fellow is one who talks 
 loud and swears louder ; cares little about learning, 
 and less about his neckcloth ; loves whiskey, patro- 
 nises bargemen, and wears nails in his shoes. 
 
 Mr. Musgrave. — A good fellow is prime — flash — 
 and bang-up. 
 
 Mr. Burton. A good fellow is one who knows 
 " what's what," keeps accounts, and studies Cocker. 
 
 Mr. Rowley. A good fellow likes turtle and cold 
 punch, drinks Port when he can't get Champagne, 
 and dines on mutton with sir Robert, when he can't 
 get venison at my lord's. 
 
 Mr. Lozell. A good fellow is something com- 
 pounded of the preceding. 
 
 Mr. Oakley. A good fellow is something perfect!} 
 different from the preceding, — or Mr. Oakley is 
 
 THE LAST DEBT. 
 
 '' Oh let me die in peace '" Eumenes ery'd 
 
 To a hard creditor at his bed side. 
 
 " How ! die !" roar'd Gripus, * thus your debts 
 
 evade ! 
 No, no, sir ; you shan't die till I am paid." 
 
 NO SOONER SAID THAN DONE. 
 
 Jeremy White, one of Oliver Cromwell's domestic 
 chaplains, paid his addresses to lady Frances, tie 
 Protector's youngest daughter. Oliver was told of 
 it by a spy ; who followed the matter so closely, that 
 he pursued Jerry to the lady's chamber, and ran im- 
 mediately to the Protector with this news. Oliver in 
 a rage hastened thither himself, and going in hastily, 
 found Jerry on his knees, kissing the lady's hand. In 
 a fury he asked what was the meaning of that pos- 
 ture before his daughter. White said, " May it 
 please your highness, I have a long time courted that 
 young gentlewoman there, my lady's woman, and 
 cannot prevail ; I was therefore humbly praying her 
 
 . 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ladyship to intercede for me." The Protector turn- 
 ing to the young woman cried, " What's the meaning 
 of this, hussey 1 Why do you refuse the honour Mr. 
 White would do you ? He is my friend, and T expect 
 you should treat him as such." My lady's woman, who 
 desired nothing more, with a very low courtesy, replied, 
 " If Mr. White intends me that honour, I shall not 
 be against him." " Say you so, my lass V cried 
 Cromwell, " call Godwyn ; this business shall be 
 done presently, before I go out of the room." Mr. 
 White had gone too far to retreat ; the parson came, 
 and Jerry and my lady's woman were married in the 
 presence of the Protector. 
 
 HOUSE ON FIRE. 
 
 A man was sitting in his study -at work, when one 
 of his neighbours came running to tell him that the 
 back part of his house must be on fire, as it smoked 
 excessively : " Oh !" answered the man, " be so good 
 as to tell my wife, for I do not concern myself at all 
 with the house- keeping." 
 
 FRUIT BASKET. 
 
 A man carrying a cradle was stopped by an old 
 woman, and thus accosted : " So, sir, you have got 
 some of the fruits of matrimony." " Softly, old 
 lady," said he, " you mistake, this is merely the fruit 
 basket." 
 
 ON PETER WILSON, WHO WAS DROWNED. 
 
 Peter was in the ocean drown'd, 
 
 A careless, hapless creature ! 
 And when his lifeless trunk was found, 
 
 It was become salt-Peter. 
 
 FRENCHMAN AND PIGS. 
 
 A Frenchman one day seeing a sow and a litter of 
 pigs pass, stood for some time admiring them, till he 
 found an opportunity of popping one under his coat, 
 and running off with it. This he attempted, but was 
 pursued by a hostler, who overtook and seized him 
 with the pig in his possession. He was taken to Bow- 
 street, and fully committed. When the trial came 
 on, the circumstance of the theft being clearly proved, 
 
 427 
 
 he was found guilty, and asked what he had to say 
 why sentence should not be passed 1 " Me Lor, I vil 
 trouble you attendez two tree vord vat I sal say. I 
 French gentleman, I no understand vat you call de 
 tief dis country. Mais I vil tell you tout d'affair, 
 and you vil find dat I am innocent. Me Lor, I never 
 tief a pig my life time." " Why, it was found upon 
 you." "Oh, certainly, but I was take him vid his own 
 consent." "How do you mean V "Vy,veu I was see 
 de mamma pig, and his chddrens, 1 w'as very much in 
 love vid dem ; and dis little pig, I look his face, I 
 say, you pretty little fellow, will you come live vid 
 me for one monihl He says, a week ! a week ! So 
 I have taken him for a week, dat's all." 
 
 WATER DRINKING. 
 
 A citizen's lady being once asked to drink a glass 
 of wine, refused, because her physician had put her 
 upon a regiment, which was to drink water. Then, 
 madam, said a gentleman present, I presume you 
 belong to the Cold-stream. 
 
 GEORGE III. AND LORD BATEMAN. 
 
 In March, 1781, lord Bateman waited upon the 
 King, and with a very low bow, begged to know 
 at what hour his majesty would please to have the 
 stag hounds turned out. I cannot exactly answer 
 that, replied the King, but I can inform you, that 
 your lordship was turned out about two hours ago. 
 The marquis Caermarthen succeeded him. 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF PUPPYISM. 
 
 Rough as his native clods, to town 
 Young Bruin came, a country clown ; 
 His hair, that still defy'd the comb, 
 Stood like the bristles of a broom : 
 His coat, of cut, behind, before, 
 The same as that his father wore, 
 Was honest drab of Yorkshire growth 
 With brazen buttons, and so forth ; 
 The cuffs, pull'd lower down, betray'd 
 How worldly beauty blooms to fade"; 
 His buckskin short, and eke too strait, 
 His toes turn'd in, a slouching gait ; 
 
428 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPKEK. 
 
 With hobnails fortified his feet, 
 He struck a light along the street. 
 
 Now, station'd at a Ludgate door, 
 The natty prig succeeds the boor ; 
 Like spigot in a cask of beer, 
 The dawnings of a tail appear ; 
 His locks with many a fiery twirl, 
 Assume a kind of stubborn curl : 
 He cleans his teeth, collects a grin, 
 While frequent soap manures his chin ; 
 To angle ninety strains his feet ; 
 And geometric trips the street, 
 Lest stockings white receive a smear, 
 And none but worsted else to wear : 
 Now, soon as shut his evening shop, 
 He figures at a half-crown hop ; 
 The ladies leering — well they may— 
 To see him wriggle it away j 
 For sure their little hearts must warm 
 At so much youth, with such a form. 
 " What sinewy legs and thighs ! — O lack ! 
 And what a lovely breadth of back !" 
 
 Now vegetates a nobler tail, 
 Of substance like his father's flail, 
 While flakes of powder down his waist, 
 Bespeak the man of growing taste. 
 His frock balloon or emperor's eye, 
 With narrow skirts, and collar high. 
 A button like a full-fac'd moon, 
 Succeeds the coat of Yorkshire brown j 
 And now he struts among the belles, 
 At Dog and Duck, or Bagnige Wells : 
 In boois, perhaps to bide the dirt, 
 And justify a coarser shirt ; 
 Or, as more Cynic bards suppose, 
 With stockings torn, and want of shoes. 
 Bat no such reasons I adduce, 
 Th' equestrian is a dress of use ; 
 Where folk may see, or think they see, 
 Me and my horse, my horse and me ! 
 His hat, abridg'd from cock'd to round, 
 With velvet band, and velvet -bound,, 
 Shall live, that fashion en the wane, 
 To be, perhaps, a square again, 
 
 With golden girdle and cockade, 
 Tho' hat decay, and binding fade. 
 And now the rinish'd youth aspires 
 To breathe a critic's nobler fires : 
 The playhouse his nocturnal hobby, 
 A half-price lounger in the lobby; 
 He damns, by proxy, o'er his chop, 
 At Jupp's or Merryfield's old shop, ^ 
 A piece at which he ne'er appeared, 
 Or hawks the song he never heard : 
 And still to swindling knaves submits, 
 Presuming on the fate of wits ; 
 Till all his pence redue'd to pills, 
 His thread-bare dress to doctors' bills ; 
 A dupe to those, and these unpaid, 
 The prodigal returns to trade, 
 Abjures the vanities of life, 
 And makes some ruin'd giri his wife. 
 
 JOHN KEMBLE's ONLY PUN. 
 
 When it was understood that Sir James Lowther, 
 afterwards Lord Lonsdale, was to be elevated to the 
 peerage, as a reward for offering to furnish govern- 
 ment with a seventy-four gun ship, completely 
 equipped, at his own expense ; a lady said to Mr. 
 Kemble, " Dear me, sir, what a whimsical thing 
 this seems altogether ; I wonder what title they can 
 give for supplying a ship ; what can they call v him, 
 Mr. Kemble]" " Why, madam," replied Mr. Kemble, 
 " I should think he will be called Lordship." 
 
 ADVICE TO WOMAN. 
 
 The bus'ness of woman, dear Chloe, is pleasure, 
 And by love every fair one her minutes should mea- 
 sure. 
 " Oh ! for love we're all ready," you cry, " very true ; 
 Nor would I rob the gentle fond god of his due. 
 Unless in the sentiments Cupid has part, 
 And dips in the amorous transport his dart ; 
 'Tis tumult, disorder, 'tis loathing, 'tis hate ; 
 Caprice gives it birth, and contempt is its fate. 
 True passion insensibly leads to the joy, 
 And grateful esteem, bids its pleasures ne'er cloy ; 
 
THE LAUCHlXd PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Yet here you should stop — but your whimsical sex, 
 Such romantic ideas to passion annex, 
 That poor men, by your visions and jealousy worried, 
 To nymphs less ecstatic, but kinder are hurried. 
 In your heart, I consent, let your wishes be bred ; 
 Only take care your heart don't get into your head." 
 
 HORACE WALPOLE. 
 THE COMPLIMENT RETURNED. 
 
 An officer who was quartered in a country town, 
 being once asked to a ball, was observed to sit sullen 
 in a corner for some hours. One of the ladies pre- 
 sent being desirous of rousing him from his reverie, 
 accosted him with, "Pray, sir, are you not fond of 
 dancing 1 ?" — " I am very fond of dancing, madam," 
 was the reply. " Then why not ask some of the 
 ladies that are disengaged to be your partner, and 
 strike up V " Why, madam, to be frank with you, 
 I do not see one handsome woman in the room." — 
 " Sir, yours, et ccetera," said the lady, and with a 
 slight courtesy left him, and joined her companions, 
 who asked her what had been her conversation with 
 the captain. " It was too good to be repeated in 
 prose," said she ; " lend me a pencil, and I will try 
 to give you the outline in rhyme." 
 
 " So sir, you rashly vow and swear, 
 You'll dance with none that are not fair, 
 Suppose we women should dispense 
 Our hands to none but men of sense ?" 
 " Suppose ? well, madam, pray what then?" 
 *' Why, sir, ycud never dance again.'* 
 
 A COPPER CONSCIENCE. 
 
 Mr. Curran, on examining a witness of the name 
 of Halfpenny, began with " Halfpenny, I see you're 
 a rap, and for that reason you shall be nailed to 
 the counter." " Halfpenny is sterling, " exclaimed 
 the opposite counsel. " No, no," said he, " he's 
 exactly like his own conscience, only copper- 
 washed !" 
 
 EXCHANGE NO ROBBERY. 
 
 One day as the Count de Soissons was at play, he 
 perceived in a mirror that hung before him, a man 
 behind his chair, whom he resolved to observe 
 
 429 
 
 attentively. Soon after he felt him cut off the dia- 
 mond buckle of his hat : he said not a word, but 
 pretending to want something, he turned towards the 
 sharper, and begged him to hold his cards. The 
 count procured the sharpest knife he could get, which 
 he hid under his cloak, and entered the room. The 
 sharper, impatient to escape, rose to return the cards, 
 but the count begged him to continue. In a few mi- 
 nutes after he came softly behind him, seized one of 
 his ears, and cut it off; when holding it out to him, 
 he said, " Here, sir, restore my buckle, and I will 
 restore your ear." 
 
 AN INSCRIPTION ON INSCRIPTIONS. 
 
 The following lines were written on 'seeing a far- 
 rago of rhymes that had been scribbled with a dia- 
 mond on the window of an inn. 
 
 Ye who on windows thus prolong your shames, 
 And to such arrant nonsense sign your names, 
 The diamond quit, with me the pencil take, 
 So shall your shame but short duration make : 
 For lo, the housemaid comes, in dreadful pet, 
 With red right-hand, and with a dishclout wet j 
 Dashes out all, nor leaves a wreck to tell 
 Who 'twas that wrote so M—a7id lov'd so well. 
 
 RIGHT OF PRECEDENCE. 
 
 A highwayman and a chimney-sweeper were going 
 to be hanged both together at Tyburn, the first for an 
 exploit on the highway, the latter for a more ignoble 
 robbery. The highwayman was dressed in scarlet, 
 and mounted the cart with alacrity ; the chimney- 
 sweeper followed him slowly. While the clergyman 
 was praying with fervour, the gay robber was atten- 
 tive ; and the other approached near to his fellow- 
 sufferer to partake of the same benefit, but met with 
 a repulsive look from his companion, which kept him 
 at some distance. But, forgetting this angry warn- 
 ing, he presumed still to come nearer; when the 
 highwayman, with some disdain, said, " Keep far- 
 ther off, can't you V " Sir," replied the sweep, " I 
 won't keep off 5 / have as much right to be here as 
 you." 
 
430 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 HEAR BOTH SIDES, OR CANDID SKETCHES OF 
 CELEBRATED CHARACTERS. 
 
 Writers. 
 
 Homer, a great poet and a blind beggar. 
 
 Demosthenes, a man of amazing eloquence and 
 cowardice. 
 
 Sappho, an elegant poetess and harlot. 
 
 -^Esop, a philosopher and lump of deformity. 
 
 Herodotus, a beautiful historian and great liar. 
 
 Aristotle, the prodigy of philosophy, who wrote 
 without understanding himself. 
 
 Virgil, a beautiful poet and abominable flatterer. 
 
 Horace, an excellent lyric and satiric poet, who in- 
 dulged in all the vices he satirized. 
 
 Cicero, a philosopher and turncoat. 
 Generals. 
 
 Alexander, a great conqueror and drunkard. 
 
 Julius Caesar, a hero and bald-pated whore- 
 monger. 
 
 Duke of Vendome, a hero and a sluggard. 
 
 Marlborough, a great general, fop, and miser. 
 English Writers. 
 
 Shakspeare* first of poets and a deer-stealer. 
 
 Otway, a man of genius and egregious fool. 
 
 Johnson, a philosopher and a brute. 
 
 Poison, a wonderful scholar and blackguard. 
 
 swift's description of a critic. 
 
 A true critic is a sort of a mechanic set up with a 
 stock and tools for his trade, at as little expense as a 
 tailor ; and inded there is much analogy between the 
 utensils and abilities of both : thus the tailor's hell is 
 the type of a critic's common place book, and his wit 
 and learning held forth by the goose : and it requires 
 at least as many of the one to the making up of one 
 scholar, as of the other to the composition of a man : 
 also the valour of both is equal, and their weapons 
 near of a size, Some account says, that the writings 
 of critics are the mirrors of learning ; by which we 
 are to understand literally, that a writer should in- 
 spect into the books of the critics, and correct his in- 
 
 vention there as in a mirror. Now, whoever con- 
 siders that the mirrors of the ancients were made of 
 brass and fine mer curio, may presently apply the two 
 principal qualifications of a true modern critic, and 
 consequently always conclude that these have been 
 and must be for ever the same. For brass is an 
 emblem of duration ; and when it is skilfully bur- 
 nished, will cast reflections from its own superficies, 
 without any assistance of a mercury from behind. 
 The time critics may be known by their talent of 
 swarming about the noblest writers, to which they are 
 carried merely by instinct, as a rat to the best cheese, 
 or a wasp to the fairest flower. Lastly, I define a 
 true critic to be, in the perusal of a book, like a dog 
 at a feast, whose thoughts and stomach are wholly 
 set upon what guests fling away, and consequently 
 is apt to snarl most when there are the fewest bones. 
 
 STROUD, ROCHESTER, AND CHATHAM, 
 
 By a Tourist, in 1790. 
 
 The people of Stroud 
 
 Talk long, and talk loud, 
 
 And herd in a crowd, 
 
 Traducing their innocent neighbours ; 
 
 While Envy by fits 
 
 'Midst the congress sits, 
 
 Gives a whet to their wits, 
 And smiles on their scandalous labours. 
 
 This place, like an eel, 
 
 Where the publicans steal, 
 Is dirty, base, long, foul, and slippery, 
 
 And the belles flirt about, 
 
 With their persons deck'd out, 
 In run muslin and second-hand frippery. 
 
 Rochester s a town 
 
 Of specious renown, 
 
 Full of tinkers and tailors, 
 
 And slopmen and sailors, 
 And magistrates who often blunder'd ; 
 
 Coquettes without beauty, 
 
 Old maids past their duty, 
 And Venus' gay nymphs by the hundred, 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 Vile inns without beds, 
 
 And men without beads, 
 By which poor Britaunia is undone ; 
 
 Extortionate bills, 
 
 Anti-venery pills, 
 And port manufactured in London. 
 
 Honest Dick Watts* of yore, 
 
 Their good name to restore, 
 Decreed (such enormities scorning) 
 
 Each travelling wight, 
 
 A warm couch for the night, 
 And fourpence in cash in the morning. 
 
 Old Chatham's a place, 
 - That's the nation's disgrace, 
 Where the club and the fist prove the law, sir ; 
 
 And presumption is seen 
 
 To direct the marine, 
 Who knows not a spike from a hawser. 
 
 Here the dolts show with pride, 
 
 How the men of war ride, 
 Who France's proud first-rates can shiver, 
 
 And a fortified hill 
 
 All the Frenchmen to kill, 
 That land on the banks of the river ! 
 
 Such a town, and such men, 
 
 We shall ne'er see again, 
 Where smuggling's a laudable function; 
 
 In some high windy day, 
 
 May the de'il fly away 
 With the whole of the dirty conjunction. 
 
 THE COCKNEY TRAVELLERS. 
 
 As one of those cattle salesmen who attend Smith- 
 field market on a Monday, and jog on a sorry beast 
 to their native village a hundred or a hundred 
 
 * At Eochesteris a house appropriated for the reception of 
 six poor travellers, over the door of which is the following 
 inscription: 
 
 Richard Watts, Esq. 
 
 by his will, dated 22d August, 1579, 
 
 founded this charity, 
 
 for six poor travellers, 
 
 who, not being rogues or proctors, 
 
 may receive gratis for one night, 
 
 lodging, entertainment, 
 
 and fourpence each. 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 431 
 
 and ten miles from London in a single day, was one 
 Tuesday morning, early, jolting through Holloway, 
 on his weekly route, towards Rutland, he was over- 
 taken by a couple of spruce cocknies, well mounted, 
 and the. following dialogue took place : " Well, far- 
 mer, and how far do you expect to get to night." 
 " Why, God willing," said the farmer, "I hope to 
 sup with my wife at Great Dolby, near Melton 
 Mowbray." — "And how far do you call that, far- 
 mer?" — "Some folks call it a hundred and twelve 
 miles, but as I make short cuts, I shall find it little 
 more than a hundred." — "And how often do you 
 change horses'?" bursting into a vehement laugh. 
 " Oh, as to the matter of that," said the farmer, "I 
 never ride but one horse, and I never knew 
 him fail me." — "Well, but, farmer, if that ani- 
 mal enables you to sup a hundred and ten 
 .miles from London, ours will carry us with ease to 
 Northampton." " Why," said the farmer, " it maybe 
 so, gentlemen, provided you can hold in, and go 
 slow enough." — One of them now exclaimed to the 
 other, "The farmer is quizzing us, let us get on 
 Jack," and accordingly spurring their horses, they 
 went full speed up Highgate Hill. Presently the 
 farmer, on passing one of the inns at Highgate, saw 
 the horses of his fellow-travellers fastened at the 
 door, while the gentlemen were refreshing themselves 
 inside. On his approaching Barnet, the cocknies, 
 on a full trot, overtook him." — " Holloa," said one to 
 the other, "here is the d — d farmer got before us;" 
 and then accosting him, asked him, " Whether he 
 thought they should get to Northampton that night 1" 
 " Why, it may be so," said he, " provided you can 
 hold in, and go slow enough" which provoking a 
 fresh burst of laughter, they proceeded full speed up 
 Barnet Hill, through Barnet. The farmer saw no- 
 thing further of them till he reached St. Alban's, 
 where he was saluted from the window of an inn by a 
 torrent of oaths for passing them again. About Dun- 
 stable they again overtook him, and the same inter- 
 change of sentiments took place, as at Barnet ; and 
 after laughing at the farmer's notion of supping at 
 Great Dolby, they proceeded in their career. At 
 , Dunstable, the farmer slopped to bait his horse, and 
 
432 
 
 about fifteen miles beyond that place, overtook the 
 two heroes on foot, each leading his jaded horse, and 
 looking very foolish on the approach of the farmer. 
 The latter now began to laugh in his turn, and the 
 cockney travellers, who still were sixteen or seven- 
 teen miles short of "Northampton, after lamenting 
 their present condition, asked the farmer the old 
 question, " Whether he thought they would get to 
 Northampton that night V — "Yes," said he, " gentle- 
 men, I dare say you may, provided you can contrive 
 to go fast enottgk." He afterwards proceeded in his 
 usual course to Melton Mowbray, and on the following 
 week learnt that our two heroes, after leading their 
 horses several miles, stopped for the night at an inn 
 ten miles short of Northampton. 
 
 KISSING AND BITING. . 
 
 When the court of France waited upon the king, 
 on the birth of the duke of Burgundy, all were wel- 
 comed to kiss his hand. The Marquis of Spinola, in 
 \he ardour of respect, bit his majesty's finger, on 
 which the king started, when S. begged pardon, and 
 said in his defence, if he had not done so, his ma- 
 jesty would not have noticed him. 
 
 MATRIMONIAL HAPPINESS. 
 
 An old nobleman having married a young girl, 
 was asked how he could possibly expect at his years 
 to possess the heart of so young a female. He re- 
 plied, "That he had rather possess a corner of her 
 heart, than the whole heart of an old woman, who 
 was tottering into the grave like himself." 
 
 LUCKY PROPHECY. 
 
 Judge Burnet was once overturned in a very rough 
 road ; upon which the coachman pulled off his hat 
 and asked his master's pardon. " Oh/' returned the 
 judge, "never mind, John ! you only made good the 
 prophecy, that the judges shall be overthrown in stony 
 vlaces." 
 
 A HEIR-LOOM. 
 
 Charles Fox, on his canvass for Westminster, went 
 to a rope-maker to solicit his vote ; on which the 
 latter produced a halter, which he told him was at 
 his service. Mr, Fox replied, "That he would not by 
 
 THK LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 any means deprive him of it, a$ he presumed it must 
 be a family piece." 
 
 ON MR. FOOTE. 
 
 Thou mimic of Cibber — of Garrick thou ape ! 
 Thou fop in Othello ! thou cipher in shape ! 
 7'hou trifle in person ! thou puppet in voice ! 
 Thou farce of a player ! thou rattle for boys ! 
 Thou mongrel ! thou dirty-face harlequin thing ! 
 Thou puff of bad paste ! thou ginger-bread king ! 
 Was a Quin, or Delane, the boast of our stage, 
 Set up as jit marks for thy envy or rage "? 
 Was a Quin, or Delane, who excel in their art, 
 To be ap'd by a cobbler, who bungles his part ? 
 Thou mummer in action ! thou coffee-house jester I 
 Thou mimic sans sense ! mock hero in gesture ! 
 Can the squeak of a puppet present us a Quin 1 
 Or a pigmy, or dwarf, shew a giant's design ? 
 Shall deficience, unpunish'd, at excellence rail 1 
 Or a sprat, without ridicule, mimic a whale 1 
 Can a Foot represent us the length of a yard ? 
 Where, then, shall such insolence meet its reward ? 
 Contempt were the best, like the mastiff that feels, 
 With superior derision, the cur at his heels — 
 
 O Ireland • too prone to encourage new toys ! 
 In trinkets, and novelty, fickle as boys ! 
 O Dublin ! alas ! to a proverb well known, 
 To receive what is foreign, yet scoff at thy own ; 
 Learn truly to judge 'twixt a F — t and a tune : 
 Applaud the good player — but damn the buffoon ! 
 
 AM/TEUR EXECUTIONER. 
 
 George Selwyn was introduced at Paris to a club 
 or ordinary, which consisted of the Headsmen, or 
 Jack Ketches, of the several provinces in France ; 
 and as it is usual there to call them by the names of 
 the towns to which they belong, they addressed one 
 another as Monsieur Paris, Monsieur Lyons, Mon- 
 sieur Marseilles, &c. ; when the toast came to 
 George's turn, being an Englishman, and taking him 
 for one of the trade, they saluted him by the name of 
 Monsieur Tyburn. On which he said he humbly 
 begged their pardon, he was not r,n artist in that 
 line, he was only an. amateur. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 433 
 
 Pope's last illness. 
 During Pope's last illness, a squabble happened in 
 his chamber between his two physicians, Dr. Burton 
 and Dr. Thomson, who mutually charged each other 
 with hastening the death of the patient by improper 
 prescriptions. Pope at length silenced them by say- 
 ing, " Gentlemen, I only learn by your discourse that 
 I am in a dangerous way ; therefore, all I now ask is, 
 that the following epigram may be added, after my 
 death, to the next edition of the Dunciad, by way of 
 postscript : 
 
 Dunces rejoice, forgive all censures past, 
 
 The greatest dunce has kill'd your foe at last." 
 
 CHARACTER OF SETTLE, THE CONTEMPORARY AND 
 RIVAL OF DRYDEN. 
 
 Now stop your noses, readers, all and some, 
 For here's a tun of midnight work to come, 
 Og from a treason tavern rolling home. 
 Round as a globe, and liquor'd every chink, 
 Goodly and great, he sails behind his link ; 
 With all this bulk there's nothing lost in Og, 
 For every inch that is not fool is rogue: 
 A monstrous mass of foul corrupted matter, 
 As all the devils had spew'd to make the batter. 
 When wine had given him courage to blaspheme, 
 He curses God ; but God before cursed him : 
 And if man could have reason, none has more, 
 That made his paunch so rich and him so poor. 
 With wealth he was not trusted, for Heaven knew 
 
 j What 'twas of old to pamper up a Jew ; 
 
 ! To what would he on quail and pheasant swell, 
 That e'en on tripe and carrion could rebel 1 
 But though Heaven made him poor, with reverence 
 
 speaking, 
 He never was a poet of God's making ; 
 The midwife laid her hand on his thick skull. 
 With this prophetic blessing — ' Be thou dull ; 
 Drink, swear, and roar, forbear no lewd delight 
 Fit for thy bulk ; do any thing but write : 
 Thou art of lasting make, like thoughtless men ; 
 A strong nativity — but for the pen ! 
 Eat opium, mingle arsenic in thy drink.. 
 Still thou mayest live, avoiding pen and ink.' 
 v 
 
 I see, I see 'tis counsel given in vain, 
 
 For treason botch'd in rhyme will be thy bane : 
 
 Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck ; 
 
 'Lis fatal to thy fame, and to thy neck. 
 
 Why should thy metre good king David blast 1 
 
 A psalm of his will surely be thy last. 
 
 Darest thou presume in verse to meet thy foes, 
 
 Thou, whom the penny pamphlet f'oil'd in prose'? 
 
 Doeg, whom God for mankind's mirth has made, 
 
 O'ertops thy talent in thy very trade : 
 
 Doeg to thee, thy paintings are so very coarse, 
 
 A poet is, though he's the poet's horse. 
 
 A double noose thou on thy neck dost pull, 
 
 For writing treason, and for writing dull : 
 
 To die for faction is a common evil, 
 
 But to be hang'd for nonsense is the devil. 
 
 Hadst thou the glories of thy king express'd, 
 
 Thy praises had been satire at the best ; 
 
 But thou, in clumsy verse, unlick'd, unpointed, 
 
 Hast shamefully defied the Lord's anointed. 
 
 I will not rake the dunghill of thy crimes, 
 
 For who would read thy life that reads thy rhymes 
 
 But of king David's foes be this the doom, 
 
 May all be like the young man Absalom : 
 
 And for my foes, may this their blessing be 
 
 To talk like Doeg, and to write like thee. 
 
 CONSULTATION OF PHYSICIANS. 
 
 A man much addicted to drinking, being extremely 
 ill with a fever, a consultation was held in his bed- 
 chamber by three physicians, how to " cure the fever, 
 and abate the thirst." " Gentlemen," said he, " I 
 will take half the trouble off your hands ; you cure 
 the fever, and I will abate the thirst myself." 
 
 FUTURE PROSPECTS. 
 
 Dean Swift knew an old woman of the name of 
 Margaret Styles, who was much addicted to drinking. 
 Though frequently admonished by him, he one day 
 found her at the bottom of a ditch. The dean, after 
 severely rebuking her, asked her, " Where she 
 thought of going to V (meaning after her death.) 
 " I'll tell you, sir," said she, " if you'll help me up." 
 When he had assisted her, and repeated his question, 
 — " Where do I think of going to f ' said she, "where 
 the best liquor is, to be sure !" 
 
434 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 CHARACTER OF THE CELEBRATED DUKE OF BUCK- 
 INGHAM. 
 
 Some, of their chiefs were princes of the land : 
 In the first rank of these did Zimri stand j 
 A man so various, that he seem'd to be 
 Not one, but all mankind's epitome ; 
 Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong ; 
 Was every thing by starts, and nothing long ; 
 But, in the course of one revolving moon-, 
 "Was chymist, fiadler, statesman, and buffoon : 
 Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, 
 Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking, 
 Bless'd madman ! who could every hour employ 
 In something new to wish or to enjoy ! 
 Hailing and praising were his usual themes, 
 And both (to show his judgment) in extremes; 
 So over violent, or over civil, 
 That every man with him was God or devil. 
 In squandering wealth was his peculiar art ; 
 Nothing went unrewarded but desert : 
 Beggar'd by fools, whom still he found too late ; 
 He had his jest, and they had his estate. 
 He laugh'd himself from court ; then sought relief 
 By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief ; 
 Thus, wicked but in will, of means bereft, 
 He left not faction, but of that was left. 
 
 NEAPOLITAN PLAY. 
 
 The argument of one runs as follows : An English- 
 man appears, dressed precisely as a quaker, his hat 
 on his head, his hands in his pockets, and with a very 
 pensive air, says, he will take that pistol and shoot 
 himself ; " For (says he) the politics go wrong at 
 home now, and I hate the ministerial party ; so Eng- 
 land does not please me. I tried France, but the 
 people there laughed so about nothing, and sung so 
 much out of tune, I could not bear France. So I went 
 over to Holland ; those Dutch dogs are so covetous 
 and hard-hearted, that they think of nothing but 
 their money ; I could not endure a place where one 
 heard no sound in the whole country but frogs croak- 
 ing, and ducats chinking. Maladetti ! So I went to 
 Spain, where I narrowly escaped a sun-stroke, for 
 
 the sake of seeing those idle beggarly dons, that if 
 they do condescend to cobble a man's shoe, think they 
 must do it with a sword by their side. I came here 
 to Naples therefore, but never a woman will afford 
 one a chase ; all are too easily caught to divert me, 
 who like something in prospect ; and though it is so fine 
 a country, one can get no fox-hunting. ; only running 
 after a wild pig, yes, yes, I must shoot myself, the 
 world is so very dull I am tired of it." He then cooly 
 prepares matters for the operation, when a young 
 woman bursts into his apartments bewails her, fate for 
 a moment, and then faints away. Our countryman 
 lays by his pistol, brings the lady to life, and having 
 heard part of her story, sets her in a place of safety. 
 More confusion follows : a gentleman enters, storm- 
 ing with rage at a treacherous friend he hints at, and 
 a false mistress : the Englishman gravely advises him 
 to shoot himself. " No, no, replied the angry Ita- 
 lian, I will shoot them through, if I can catch them ; 
 but want of money hinders me from the search." 
 That, however, is now instantly supplied by the ge- 
 nerous Briton, who enters into their affairs, detects 
 and punishes the rogue who had betrayed them all, 
 settles the marriage and reconciliation of his new 
 friends, adds himself something to the good girl's for- 
 tune, and concludes the piece with saying, that he 
 has altered his intentions, and will think no more of 
 shooting himself, while life may in all countries be 
 rendered pleasant to him who will employ it in the 
 service of his fellow-creatures ; and finishes with 
 these words, that such are the sentiments of an 
 Englishman. MRS. piozzi. 
 
 THE DAINTY CRIMINAL. 
 
 A criminal at Oporto about to be hanged, would 
 not quit the ladder before they gave him some liquor. 
 A cup of wine being brought, before drinking it he 
 blew off the froth ; being asked why he did so, he 
 answered, " Brother, because new wine is bad for the 
 liver." 
 
 LEGITIMACY. 
 
 Voltaire said that every sovereign in Europe wakes 
 on the thirtieth of January (the anniversary of Charles 
 the First's execution) with a crick in his neck. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 435 
 
 CHARACTER OF LOTHARIO. 
 
 jFrom his youth upwards to the present day 
 ! When vices more than years, have mark'd him gray, 
 I When riotous excess, with wasteful hand, 
 ' Shakes life's frail glass, and hastes each ebbing sand, 
 I Unmindful from what stock he drew his birth, 
 J Untainted with one deed of real worth, 
 Lothario, holding honour at no price, 
 | Folly to folly added, vice to vice, 
 ! Wrought sin with greediness, and sought for shame 
 With greater zeal than good men seek for fame. 
 1 Where (reason left without the least defence) 
 Laughter was mirth, obscenity was sense ; 
 Where impudence made decency submit ; 
 ! Where noise was humour, and where whim was wit j 
 | Where rude untemper'd license had the merit 
 J Of liberty, and lunacy was spirit ; 
 j Where the best things were ever held the worst, 
 Lothario was, with justice, always first, 
 
 To whip a top, to knuckle down at taw, 
 To swing upon a gate, to ride a straw, 
 To play at push-pin with dull brother peers, 
 j To belch out catches in a porter's ears, 
 To reign the monarch of a midnight cell, 
 To be the gaping chairman's oracle ; 
 Whilst, in most blessed union, rogue and whore 
 Clap hands, huzza, and hiccup out — encore ; 
 Whilst gray authority, who slumbers there 
 In robes of watchman's fur, gives up his chair ; 
 With midnight howl to bay th' affrighted moon, 
 To walk with torches through the streets at noon ; 
 To force plain nature from- her usual way, 
 Each night a vigil, and a blank each day ; 
 To match for speed one feather 'gainst another, 
 To make one leg run. races with his brother ; 
 'Gainst all the rest to take the northern wind, 
 Bute to ride first, and he to ride behind ; 
 To coin newfangled wagers, and to lay them 
 Laying to lose, and losing not to pay them ; 
 Lothario, on that stock which Nature gives, 
 Without a rival stands, though March* yet lives. 
 
 CHURCHILL. 
 
 * Lord March, famous for his libertinism. 
 u 2 
 
 NICHOLAS WOOD, THE KENTISH GLUTTON. 
 
 The following circumstances relative to this eccentric 
 fellow are extracted from an old pamphlet, entitled 
 " Nicholas Wood, the great eater, or the admirable 
 teeth and stomach exploits of Nicholas Wood, of 
 Harrisom, in the county of Kent,'" He is the only tug- 
 mutton, or mutton-monger, betwixt Dover and Dun- 
 bar : for hee hath eaten a whole sheepe of sixteen 
 shillings price, raw, at one meal : pardon me, I think 
 he left the skin, the wool, the homes, and the bones: 
 but v/hy talke I of a sheepe, when it is apparently 
 knowne, that he hath at one repast, and with one 
 dish, feasted his carkas with all manner of meates. 
 All men will confesse that a hogge will eat any thing, 
 either fish, flesh, fowle, root, or herb ; and this same 
 noble Nick Nicholas, or Nicholas Nick, hath made 
 an end of a hogge all at once, as if it had been but a 
 rabbit-sucker ; and presently after, for fruit to re- 
 create his palate, he hath swallowed three pecks of 
 damsons. What say you to a lease or flecke of brawne, 
 new killed, to be of weight eight pounds and to be 
 eaten hot out of the boare's belly, raw 1 Was it not a 
 glorious dish 1 and presently after, instead of suckets, 
 twelve raw puddings. I speak not one word ofdiinke 
 all this while ; for indeed he is no drunkard, hee ab- 
 tores that swinish vice : alehouses nor tapsters cannot 
 nick this nick with froth ; curtoll cannes, tragicall 
 black potts, and double-dealing bombasted jugges, 
 could never cheat him, for one pinte of beere, or ale, 
 is enough to wash downe a hogge, or water a sheepe 
 with him. Two loynes of mutton, and one loyne of 
 veal, were but as three sprats for him : once at Sir 
 Warrapam Saint Legers house, and at Sir William 
 Sydleyes, he shewed himself so valiant of teeth and 
 stomache, that he ate as much as would well have 
 served and sufficed thirty men, so that his belly was 
 like to have turned bankrupt and breake : but the 
 serving-man turned him to the fire, and anoynted his 
 paunche with greace and butter, to make it stretch 
 and hold, and afterwards being layed in bed, hee slept 
 eight hours, and fasted all the while : which, when 
 the king understood, he commanded him to be laid 
 in the stocks, and there to endure as long time as he 
 had lain bedrid with eating. 
 
43(5 
 
 THH LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Pompey the Great, Alexander the Great, Tamber- 
 lane the Great, Carlemagne, or Charles the Great, for 
 conquering kingdoms and killing of men (and surely- 
 eating is not a greater sin than rapine, theft, man- 
 slaughter, and murder :) therefore this noble' Catalian 
 doth well deserve the title of Great u wherefore I in- 
 stile him Nicholas the Great (eater :) and as these 
 forenamed Greats have overthrone and wasted coun- 
 trys and hosts of men, with the helpe of their soldiers 
 and followers, so hath Nick the Great (in his own 
 person) without the helpe or aide of any man, over- 
 come, conquered, and delivered in one weeke, as 
 much as would have sufficed a reasonable and suffi- 
 cient army in a day, for hee hath at one meal made 
 an assault upon seven dozen of good rabbits, at the 
 Lord Wotton's, in Kent, which in the total is four 
 Score, which number would have sufficed a hundred 
 three score and eight hungry soldiers, allowing to 
 each of them half a rabbit. 
 
 Bell, the famous idol of the Babylonians, was a 
 mere imposture, a juggling toye, and a cheating bau- 
 ble in comparison of this Nicholaitan Kentish Ten- 
 terbelly : the high and mighty duke All-paunch was 
 but a fiction to him; Milo, the Crotouian, could 
 hardly be his equal : and Woolner of Windsor was 
 not worthy to be his footman. A quarter of fat lambe, 
 and three score eggs, have been but an easy collation, 
 and three well-larded pudding pyes he hath at one 
 time put to foyle ; eighteen yards of black puddings 
 (London measure) have suddenly been imprisoned in 
 his sowsetub. A duck, rawe, with guts, feathers and 
 all, (except the bill and the long feathers of his wings) 
 hath swam in his whirlpoole, or pond of his mawe ; 
 and he told me that three-score pound of cherries was 
 but a kind of washing-meat, and there was no tacke 
 in them, for he hath tried it at one time. But one 
 John Dale was too hard for him, at a place called 
 Lennam; for the said Dale had laid a wager that he 
 would fill Wood's belly with good wholesome victuals 
 for two shillings, and the gentleman that laid the 
 contrary did wager, that as soon as Noble Nick had 
 eaten out Dale's two shillings, that he should pre- 
 sently enter combate with a worthy knight, called Sir 
 Loyne of Beefe, and overthrow him ; in conclusion, 
 
 Dale bought six pots of potent high and mighty ale, 
 the powerful fume whereof conquered the conqueror, 
 robbed him of his reason, bereft him of his wit, vio- 
 lently took away his stornache, and entered the sconce 
 of his pericranium, blinde-folded him with sleep, 
 setting a nap of nine hours for manacles upon his 
 threadbare eyelids, to the preservation of the roast 
 beefe, and unexpected winning of the wager. 
 
 This invincible ale victoriously vanquished the van- 
 quisher, and even our great triumpher was triumphant. 
 But there are precedents enow of as potent men as our 
 Nicholas, that have subdued kings and kingdoms, 
 and yet themselves been captived and conquered by 
 drinke. We need cite no more examples but the 
 Great Alexander and Holophernes ; their ambition 
 was boundlesse, and so is the stomach of my pen's 
 subject, for all the four elements cannot cloy him; 
 fish from the deepest ocean, or purest rivers, fairest 
 pond, foulest ditch, or driest puddle : he hath a 
 receipt for fowle of all sorts, from the wren to the 
 eagle, from the titmouse to the ostrich. His paunche is 
 either a coope or roost for them : he hath, within 
 himself, a stall for an ox, a room for a cow, a stye 
 for a hogge, a park for a deere, a warren for conies, a 
 storehouse for fruit, a dairy for milk, cream, curds, 
 whey, butter-milk, and cheese : his mouth is a mill of 
 perpetual motion, for let the wind or the water rise 
 or fall, yet his teeth will ever be a grinding ; his guts 
 are the rendezvous, or meeting-place, or bourse, for 
 the beasts of the field, thefowles of the air, and fishes 
 of the sea : and though they be never so wild or dis- 
 agreeing in nature one to another, yet hee binds them 
 or grinds them to the peace in such manners, that 
 they never fall at odds again. His eating of a sheepe, 
 a hogge, and a duck, raw, doth shew that he is free 
 from the sin of niceness, or curiosity in his dyet. Be- 
 sides he never troubles a larder or cupboard to lay cold 
 meat in, nor doth he keep any traps or cats to destroy 
 vermin ; he takes so good a course, that he lays or shuts 
 up all safe within himself : in briefe, give him meate, 
 and he never stands upon the cookery. 
 
 Once in my presence (after he had broken his fast,) 
 having (as he said) eaten one pottle of milk, one pot- 
 tle of pottage, with bread, butter, and cheese, I then 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 437 
 
 sent for him to an inne, and after some salutations, I 
 asked him if he could eat any thing r He gave me 
 thanks, and said, that if he had known that any gentle- 
 man would have invited him, he would have spared 
 his breakfast at home (and with that he told me, as 
 aforesaid, what he had eaten ;) yet neverthelesse (to 
 do me a courtesie) he would shew me some small cast 
 of his office, for he had one hole or corner in the profun- 
 dity of his storehouse, into which he would stow and 
 bestow any thing that the house would afford, at his 
 peril and my cost. Whereupon I summoned my hostesse 
 with three knocks upon the table, and two stamps 
 upon the floor, with my fist and my foote, at which 
 she made her personal appearance with a low cour- 
 tesy, and an inquisitive what lack ye 1 I presently 
 laid the authority of a bold guest upon her, com- 
 manding that all the victuals in the house should be 
 laid upon the table. She said she was but slenderly 
 provided, by reason goodman Wood was there ; but 
 what she had or could doe, we should presently have : 
 so the cloth was displayed, the salt advanced, six 
 penny wheaten loaves were mounted two stories high 
 like a rampier, three sixpenny veal pyes, walled 
 stiffly about, and well victualled within, were pre- 
 sented to the hazard of the scalado ; one pound of 
 sweet butter (being all fat and no bones) was in a 
 cold sweat at this mighty preparation, one good dish 
 of thornback, white as alabaster or the snow upon the 
 Scythian mountains, and in the rear came up an inch- 
 thicke sliver of peck household loaf ; all which pro- 
 vision were presently, in the space of an hour, utterly 
 confounded and brought to nothing by the meer and 
 only valourous dexterity of our unmatcheable grand 
 gourmande. He courageously passed the pikes, and 
 I cleared the shot ; but the house yielded no more, 
 so that my guest arose unsatisfied, and myself dis- 
 contented in being thrifty, and saving my money 
 against my will. 
 
 Wood by reason of his being now growu in yeares, 
 feared that if his stomach should fail him publicly, 
 and lay his reputation in the mire, it might be a dis- 
 couragement to him for ever, and especially iu Kent, 
 where he hath long been famous, he would be loth to 
 be defamed ; but as weak as he was, he said that he 
 
 could make a shift to destroy a fat wether in two 
 houres, provided that it were tenderly boiled ; for he 
 hath lost all his teeth (except one) in eating a quarter 
 of mutton, bones and all, at Ashford, in the county 
 aforesaid ; yet is he very quick and nimble in his 
 feeding, and will riddle more eating work away in 
 two hours, than ten of the hungriest carters in the 
 parish where he dwells. He is surely noble (fur his 
 great stomaehe) and virtuous, chiefly for his patience 
 in putting up muche ; moreover, he is thrifty or fru- 
 gal, for when he can get no better meat, he will eat 
 oxe livers, or a mess of warm ale-grains from a brew- 
 houce. He is provident and studious where to get 
 more provision after all is spent, and yet he is boun- 
 tiful or prodigal in spending all he hath at once : he 
 is profitable in keeping bread and meat from mould 
 and maggots, and saving the charge of salt, for his 
 appetite will not wait and attend the powdering ; his 
 courtesie is manifest, for he had rather have one fare- 
 well than twenty Godbwyes : of all things he holds 
 fasting to be a most superstitious branch of popery ; 
 he is a main enemy to Ember weeks : he hates Lent 
 worse than a butcher or a puritan, and the name of 
 Good Friday affrights him like a bull-beggar : a long 
 grace before meat strikes him into a quotidian ague : 
 in a word, he could wish that Christmas would dwell 
 with us all the year, or that every day were meta- 
 morphosed into Shrove 1 uesdays. In brief, he is a 
 magazine, a storehouse, a receptacle, a bourse or ex- 
 change, a Babel or confusion for all creatures. 
 
 He is swarthy, blackish hair, hawk-nosed : (like a 
 parrot or Roman ;) he is wattle-jawed, and his eyes 
 are sunk inward, as if he looked into the inside of 
 his entrails, to note what customed or uncustomed 
 goods he took in ; whilst his belly (like a main-sail 
 in a calm) hangs ruffled and wrinkled (in folds and 
 wreaths) flat to the mast of his empty carcase, till 
 the storm of abundance fills it, and violently drives 
 it into the full sea of satisfaction : 
 
 Like as a river to the ocean bounds, 
 Or as a garden to all Britain's grounds, 
 Or like a candle to a flaming link, 
 Or as a single ace unto sise cinque, 
 
438 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 So short am I of what Nick Wood hath done, 
 That, having ended, I have scarce begun ; 
 For I have written but a taste in this, 
 To show the readers where and what he is. 
 
 A DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 Sterne's maid servant asked her master leave to go 
 to a public execution. Soon after she set off, she re- 
 turned all in tears. On her master's asking why she 
 cried, she answered, " Because she had lost her la- 
 bour, for before she reached the gallows, the man was 
 reprieved." 
 
 THE DOUBLE DEALER. 
 
 A rector having a horse to dispose of, in order to 
 set him off, turned jockey and mounted him ; on 
 which the dealer shook his head and said, "Sir, I ad- 
 vise you, if you want to take us in, to mount into the 
 pulpit ; do not mount on horseback." 
 
 THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE- 
 GRINDER. 
 
 FRIEND OF HUMANITY. 
 
 ft Needy knife-grinder ! whither are you going 1 
 Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order — 
 Bleak blows the blast ; — your hat has got a hole in't, 
 
 So have your breeches I 
 " Weary knife-grinder ! little think the proud ones, 
 Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike 
 Hoad,what hard work 'tis crying all day ' knives and 
 
 Scissars to grind O !' 
 *' Tell me, knife-grinder, how came you to grind 
 
 knives 1 
 Did some rich man tyrannically use you 1 
 Was it the 'squire 1 or parson of the parish 1 
 
 Or the attorney ? 
 * { Was it the 'squire, for killing of his game 1 or 
 Covetous parson, for his tithes distraining 1 
 Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your little 
 
 All in a lawsuit 1 
 " (Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom 
 
 Paine Q 
 Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids, 
 Ready to fall, as soon as you have told your 
 
 Pitiful story." 
 
 KNIFE-GRINDER. 
 
 " Story ! God bless you ! I have none to tell, sir, 
 Only last night a-drinking at the Chequers, 
 This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were 
 
 Torn in a scuffle. 
 " Constables came up for to take me into 
 Custody ; they took me before the justice ; 
 Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish- 
 
 Stdcks for a vagrant. 
 " I should be glad to drink your honour's health in 
 A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence ; 
 But for my part, I never love to meddle 
 
 With politics, sir." 
 
 FRIEND OF HUMANITY. 
 
 " /give thee sixpence ! I will see thee damn'd first— - 
 Wretch ' whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to 
 
 vengeance- 
 Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded, 
 
 Spiritless outcast !" 
 
 CANNING. 
 
 THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 A sculptor hearing a cobbler find fault with the I 
 sandal on the foot of one of his statues, thought the 
 man's objections so reasonable that he altered it, and 
 returned him his thanks. The cobbler, arrogating , 
 consequence to himself from this condescension, be- . 
 gan to disapprove of the formation of the knee. 
 " Hold, my friend," cried the artist, " A cobbler's 
 criticisms should never go above the sole." 
 
 NELL GWYNN. 
 
 The celebrated Nell Gwynn passing through Ox- 
 ford in her carriage at the time when the populace 
 were much exasperated against the Catholic Duchess 
 of Portsmouth, one of Charles the Second's mistresses, 
 was mistaken for the latter, and very rudely saluted 
 by the people, upon which Nell put her head out of 
 the coach window and exclaimed, " Pardon me, good 
 folks, you labour under a^ mistake ; I am the Pro- 
 i testant w — e," 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 439 
 
 STR ISAAC NEWTON AND DR. STUKELY. 
 
 The late Dr. Stukely one day, by appointment, visit- 
 ed Sir Isaac Newton,when the servant told him he was 
 in his study. No one was permitted to disturb him 
 there ; but as it was near dinner-time, the visitor sat 
 down to wait for him. Dinner was brought in— a 
 boiled chicken under a cover. An hour passed, and 
 Sir Isaac did not appear* The doctor ate the 
 fowl, and covering up the empty dish, bade them dress 
 their master another. Before that was ready, the 
 great man came down : he apologized for his delay, 
 and added, " Give me but leave to take my short 
 dinner, and I shall be at your service ; I am fatigued 
 and faint." Saying this, he lifted up the cover, and 
 without any emotion, turned about to Stukely with 
 a smile : " See," says he, " what we studious peo- 
 ple are : I forgot I had dined." 
 
 JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 Among the addresses presented upon the accession 
 of James the First, was one from the ancient town of 
 Shrewsbury, wishing his majesty might reign as long 
 as the sun, moon, and stars endured. '.* Faith mon," 
 said the king to the person who presented it, " if I 
 do, my son must reign by candle-light." 
 
 When the same monarch went to Salisbury, one of 
 the active adventurers of those days climbed up the 
 outside of the spire of the cathedral, and at the top 
 made three summersets in honour of his majesty ; who 
 being applied to for a reward, gave him a patent, 
 whereby every other of his subjects, except the afore- 
 said man, and his heirs male, was prohibited from 
 climbing steeples for ever. 
 
 THE BUSY INDOLENT. 
 
 Jack Careless was a man of parts, 
 
 Well skilPd in the politer arts, 
 
 With judgment read, with humour writ, 
 
 Among his friends pass'd for a wit ; 
 
 But loved his ease more than his meat, 
 
 And wonder'd knaves could toil and cheat, 
 
 To expose themselves by being great. 
 
 At no levees the suppliant bow'd, 
 
 Nor courted for their votes the crowd ; - 
 
 Nor riches nor preferment sought, 
 Did what he pleased, spoke what he thought ; 
 Content within due bounds to live, 
 And what he could not spend, to give : 
 Would WhifF his pipe o'er nappy ale, 
 And joke, and pun, and tell his tale ; 
 Beform the state, lay down the law, 
 And talk of lords he never saw ; 
 Fight Marlborough's battles o'er again, 
 And push the French on Blenheim's plain ; 
 Discourse of Paris, Naples, Borne, 
 Though he had never stirr'd from home : 
 'Tis true he travell'd with great care 
 The tour of Europe — in his chair ; 
 Was loath to part without his load, 
 Or move till morning peep'd abroad. 
 
 One day this honest idle rake, 
 Nor quite asleep nor well awake, 
 Was lolling in his elbow-chair, 
 And building castles in the air ; 
 His nipperkin (the port was good) 
 Half empty at his elbow stood, 
 When a strange noise offends his ear, 
 The din increased as it came near, 
 And in his yard at last he view'd 
 Of farmers a great multitude, 
 Who that day, walking of their rounds 
 Had disagreed about their bounds ; 
 And sure the difference must be wide, 
 Where each does for himself decide. 
 Volleys of oaths in vain they swear, 
 Which burst like guiltless bombs in air ; 
 And, " Thou'rt a knave !" and " Thou'rt an oaf!' 
 Is bandied round with truth enough. 
 At length they mutually agree 
 His worship should be referee, 
 Which courteous Jack consents to be : 
 Though for himself he would not budge, 
 Yet for his friends an arrant drudge ; 
 A conscience of this point he made, 
 With pleasure readily obey'd, 
 And shot like lightning to their aid. 
 The farmers, summon'd to his room, 
 Bowing with awkward reverence come. 
 
440 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 In his great chair his worship sat, 
 
 A grave and able magistrate : 
 
 Silence proclaim'd, each clack was laid, 
 
 And flippant tongues with pain obey'd. 
 
 In a short speech he first computes 
 
 The vast expense of law disputes, 
 
 And everlasting chancery suits. 
 
 With zeal and warmth he rallied then 
 
 Pack'd juries, sheriffs, talesmen, 
 
 And recommended in the close 
 
 Good neighbourhood, peace, and repose. 
 
 Next weigh'd with care each man's pretence 
 
 Perused records, heard evidence ; 
 
 Observed, replied, hit every blot, 
 
 Unravell'd every Gordian knot ; 
 
 With great activity and parts 
 
 Inform'd their judgments, won their hearts, 
 
 And without fees or time mispent 
 
 By strength of ale and argument, 
 
 Despatch'd them home, friends and content. 
 
 Trusty, who at his elbow sat, 
 And with surprise heard the debate, 
 Astonish'd, could not but admire 
 His strange dexterity and fire, 
 His wise discernment and good sense, 
 His quickness, ease and eloquence : 
 " Lord ! sir (said he), I can't but chide ; 
 What useful talents do you hide ! 
 In half an hour you have done more 
 Than Puzzle can in half a score, 
 With all the practice of the courts, 
 His cases, precedents, reports." 
 
 Jack with a smile replied, " 'Tis true, 
 This may seem odd, my friend, to you : 
 But give me not more than my due. ' 
 No hungry judge nods o'er the laws, 
 But hastens to decide the cause. 
 Who hands the oar, and drags the chain, 
 Will struggle to be free again 
 So lazy men and indolent, 
 With cares oppress'd, and business spent, 
 Exert their utmost powers and skill, 
 Work hard ;. for what ] why, to sit still. 
 
 They toil, they sweat, they want no fee, 
 .For even sloth prompts to industry: 
 Therefore, my friend, I freely own 
 All this address I now have shown, 
 Is mere impatience, and no more, 
 To lounge and loiter as before. 
 Life is a span, the world an inn—' 
 Here, sirrah, the other nipperkin." 
 
 SOMERVILE. 
 IRISH FLOGGING. 
 
 An Irish drummer being employed to flog a deser- 
 ter, the sufferer, as is usual in such cases, cried out, 
 " Strike higher." The drummer accordingly, to 
 oblige the poor fellow, did as he was requested.' But 
 the man still continuing to roar out in agony, '* Devil 
 burn your bellowing!" cried Paddy; " there is no 
 plaising of you, strike where one will." 
 
 THE COBBLER. 
 
 A cobbler there was, and he lived in a stall, 
 Which serv'd him for parlour, for kitchen, and hall, 
 No coin in his pocket, no care in his pate, 
 No ambition had he, nor duns at his gate : 
 
 Deny down, down, down, derry down. 
 Contented he work'd, and thought himself happy, 
 If at night he could purchase a jug of brown nappy : 
 How he'd laugh then, and whistle, and sing too most 
 
 sweet ! 
 Saying just to a hair I have made both ends meet : 
 
 Derry down, down, &c. 
 But love the disturber of high and of low, 
 That shoots at the peasant as well as the beau ; 
 He shot the poor cobbler quite through the heart ; 
 I wish he had hit some more ignoble part : 
 
 Derry down, down, &c. 
 It was from a cellar this archer did play, 
 Where a buxom young damsel continually lay ; - 
 Her eyes shone so bright when she rose ev'ry day, 
 That she shot the poor cobbler quite over the way -, 
 
 Derry down, down, &c. 
 He sung her love-songs as he sat at his work, 
 But she was as hard as a Jew or a Turk j 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 441 
 
 Whenever he spake, she would flounce and would fleer, 
 Which put the poor cobbler quite into despair : 
 
 Derry down, down, &c. 
 He took up his awl that he had in the world, 
 And to make away with himself was resolv'd ; 
 He pierc'd through his body instead of his sole, 
 So the cobbler he died, and the bell it did toll : 
 
 Derry down, down, &c. 
 And now in good will, I advise as a friend, 
 All cobblers take warning by this cobbler's end : 
 Keep your hearts out of love, for we find by what's 
 
 past, 
 That love brings us all to an end at the last : 
 Derry down, down, down, derry down. 
 
 JOHN BULL. 
 
 John Bull, to all appearance, is a plain, downright, 
 matter-of-fact fellow, with much less of poetry about 
 him than rich prose. There is little of romance in his 
 nature, but a vast deal of strong natural feeling. He 
 excels in humour, more than in wit ; is jolly, rather 
 than gay ; melancholy, rather than morose ; can 
 easily be moved to a sudden tear, or surprised into a 
 broad laugh ; but he loathes sentiment, and has no 
 turn for light pleasantry. He is a boon companion, 
 if you allow him to have his humour, and to talk 
 about himself; and he will stand by a friend in a 
 quarrel, with life and purse, however soundly he may 
 be cudgelled. 
 
 In this last respect, to tell the truth, he has a pro- 
 pensity to be somewhat too ready. He is a busy- 
 minded personage, who thinks not merely for himself 
 and family, but for all the country round, and is 
 most generously disposed to be every body's cham- 
 pion. He is continually volunteering his services to 
 settle his neighbour's affairs, and takes it in great 
 dudgeon if they engage in any matter of consequence 
 without asking his advice ; though he seldom en- 
 j gages in any friendly office of the kind without 
 I finishing by getting into a squabble with all parties, 
 and then railing bitterly at their ingratitude. He 
 J unluckily took lessons in his youth in the noble science 
 ! of defence, and having accomplished himself in the 
 | use of his limbs and his weapons, and become aper- 
 | feet master at boxing and cudgel play, he has had a 
 
 troublesome life of it ever since. He cannot hear ct 
 a quarrel between the most distant of his neighbours, 
 but he begins, incontinently, to fumble with the head 
 of his cudgel, and consider whether his interest or 
 honour does not require that he should meddle in their 
 broils. Indeed, he has extended his relations of pride 
 and policy so completely over the whole country, 
 that no event can take place, without infringing some 
 of his finely spun rights and dignities. Couched in 
 his little domain, with his filaments stretching forth 
 in every direction, he is like some choleric, bottle- 
 bellied old spider, who has woven his web over a 
 whole chamber, so that a fly cannot buzz, nor a breeze 
 blow, without startling his repose, and causing him 
 to sally forth wrathfully from his den. 
 
 He is a little fond of playing the magnifico abroad ; 
 of pulling out a long purse ; flinging his money 
 bravely about at boxing matches, horse races, and 
 cock fights, and carrying a high head among " gen- 
 tlemen of the fancy;" but immediately after one of 
 these fits of extravagance, he will be taken with vio- 
 lent qualms of economy ; stop short at the most tri- 
 vial expenditure ; talk desperately of being ruined, 
 and brought upon the parish ; and in such moods, 
 will not pay the smallest tradesman's bill, without 
 violent altercation. He is, indeed, the most punctual 
 and discontented paymaster in the world ; drawing 
 his coin out of his breeches pocket with infinite re- 
 luctance; paying to the uttermost farthing; but 
 accompanying every guinea with a growl. 
 
 With all his talk of economy, however, he is a 
 bountiful provider, and a hospitable housekeeper. 
 His economy is of a whimsical kind , its chief object 
 being to devise how he may afford to be extravagant ; 
 for he will begrudge himself a beef-steak and pint 01 
 port one day, that he may roast an ox whole, broach, 
 a hogshead of ale, and treat all his neighbours, o» 
 the next. 
 
 His domestic establishment is enormously expen- 
 sive ; not so much from any great outward parade, 
 as from the great consumption of solid beef and pud- 
 ding, the vast number of followers he feeds and 
 clothes, and his singular disposition to pay hugely 
 for small services. He is a most kind and indulgent 
 
442 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 master, and, provided his servants humour his pecu- 
 liarities, flatter his vanity a little now and then, and 
 do not peculate grossly on him before his face, they 
 may manage him to perfection. Every thing that 
 lives on him seems to thrive and grow fat. His house 
 servants are well paid, and pampered, and have little 
 to do. His horses are sleek and lazy, and prance 
 slowly before his state carriage ; and his house dogs 
 sleep quietly about the door, and will hardly bark at 
 a house-breaker. 
 
 John,, with all his odd humours and obstinate pre- 
 judices, is a sterling-hearted old blade. He may not 
 be so wonderfully fine a fellow as he thinks himself, 
 but he is at least twice as good as his neighbours re- 
 present him. His virtues are all his own ; all plain, 
 homebred and unaffected. His very faults smack of 
 the raciness of his good qualities. His extravagance 
 savours of his generosity ; his quarrelsomeness of his 
 courage ; his credulity of his open faith ; his vanity 
 of his pride ; and his bluntness of his sincerity. They 
 are all the redundancies of rich and liberal character. 
 He is like his own oak ; rough without, but sound 
 and solid within ; whose bark abounds with excres- 
 cences in proportion to the growth and grandeur of 
 the timber ; and whose branches make a fearful 
 groaning and murmuring in the least storm, from 
 their very magnitude and luxuriance/ 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 THE COURT OF ALDERMEN AT FISHMONGERS' HALL. 
 
 Is that dace or perch 1 
 
 Said Alderman Birch j 
 I take it for herring, 
 
 Said Alderman Perring. 
 This jack's very good, 
 
 Said Alderman Wood ; 
 But its bones might a man slay, 
 
 Said Alderman Ansley. 
 I'll butter what I get, 
 
 Said Alderman Heygate, 
 Give me some stew'd carp, 
 
 Said Alderman Thorp. 
 The roe's dry as pith, 
 
 Said Alderwie?i Smith. 
 
 Don't cut so far down, 
 
 Said Alderman Brown j 
 But nearer the fin, 
 
 Said Alderman Glyn. 
 I've finish'd, i'faith man, 
 
 Said Alderman Waithman 
 And I too, i'fatking, 
 
 Said Alderman Atkins. 
 They've crimp'd this cod drolly, 
 
 Said Alderman Scholey ; 
 'Tis bruised at the ridges, 
 
 Said Alderman Brydges. 
 Was it caught in a drag 1 Nay, 
 
 Said Alderman Magnay. 
 'Twas brought by two men, 
 
 Said Alderman Ven- 
 ables : Yes, in a box, 
 
 Said Alderman Cox. 
 They care not how/?«* 'tis, 
 
 Said Alderman Curtis. 
 From air kept, and from sun, 
 
 Said Alderman Thompson j 
 Pack'd neatly in straw, 
 
 Said Alderman Shaw : 
 In ice got from Gunter, 
 
 Said Alderman Hunter. 
 This ketchup is sour, 
 
 Said Alderman Flower; 
 Then steep it in claret, 
 
 Said AldermaD Garret. 
 
 ANTICIPATION. 
 
 A poor cavalier corporal being condemned to die, 
 wrote this letter to his wife the day before he expected 
 to suffer, thinking it would come to hand after his 
 execution. 
 
 '* DEAR WIFE, 
 
 " Hoping you are in good health, as I am at this 
 present writing, this is to let you know, that yester- 
 day, between the hours of eleven and twelve, I 
 was hanged, drawn, and quartered. I died very 
 penitently, and every body thought my case very 
 hard. Remember me kindly to my poor fathe/ess 
 children. " Yours, till death, 
 
 » W. P." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 443 
 
 DEFINITION OF A HEAD. 
 
 A head, to speak in the gardener's style, is a mere 
 bulbous excrescence, growing out from between the 
 shoulders like a wen, it is supposed to be a mere ex- 
 pletive, just to wear a hat on, to fill up the hollow 
 of" a wig, to take snuff" with, or have your hair 
 dressed upon. 
 
 Some of these heads are manufactured in wood, 
 some in paste-board, which is a hint to show there 
 may not only be block-heads, but also paper-skulls. 
 
 Physicians acquaint us that, upon any fright or 
 alarm, the spirits fly up into the head, and the blood 
 rushes violently back to the heart : hence it is 
 politicians compare the human constitution, and the 
 nation's constitution, together ; they supposing the 
 head to be the court end of the town, and the heart 
 the country ; for people in the country seem to 
 be taking things to heart, and people at court only 
 seem to wish to be at the head of things. 
 
 We make a mighty bustle about the twenty-four 
 letters ; how many changes they can ring, and how 
 many volumes they have composed ; yet, let us look 
 upon the many millions of mankind, and see if any 
 two faces are alike. Nature never designed several 
 faces which we see, it is the odd exercise they give 
 the muscles belonging to their visages occasions such 
 looks. As for example ; we meet in the streets with 
 several people talking to themselves, and seem much 
 pleased with such self-conversation ; some people we 
 see starting at every thing, and wondering with a 
 foolish face of praise ; some laughing, some crying. 
 Now crying and laughing are contrary effects, the least 
 alteration of features occasions the difference, it is 
 turning up the muscles to laugh, and down to cry. 
 
 Yet laughter is much mistaken, no person being 
 capable of laughing, who is incapable of thinking. 
 For some people, suddenly break aloud into violent 
 spasms, ha, ha, ha! and then, without any grada- 
 tion, change at once into downright stupidity. 
 
 BATTLE OF DETTINGEN. 
 
 George II. commanded at the battle of Dettingen, 
 and his horse ran away with him into the French 
 lines, on which his majesty alighted, and charged 
 
 the enemy on foot ; " for," said the king, « tho* my 
 horse runs away with me, I am sure my legs will 
 not." 
 
 SAVING ONE'S BACON. 
 
 Mr. C, partner of Miss Bacon at the York Assembly, 
 sat down after the dance in the Love-corner, so 
 called at the rooms, when one of the dancers asked 
 C. why he saved himself, and did not stand up ; he 
 answered, " he did not want to save himself, but to 
 save his Bacon." 
 
 ON MISS LITTLE. 
 
 [Addressed to Miss Little, who was very short in 
 stature, on her marriage.] 
 When any thing abounds we find 
 
 That nobody will have it, 
 But when there's little of the kind, 
 
 One and all we crave it. 
 If wives are evils, as 'tis known.. 
 
 And wofully confess'd, 
 The man who's wise will surely own 
 
 A little one is best. 
 The God of love's a little wight, 
 
 But beautiful as thought ; 
 Thou, too, art little, fair as light, 
 
 And all that's sweet — in short ! 
 O, happy girl ! all think thee so, 
 
 So thinks the poet's song — 
 " Man wants but little here below, 
 
 Nor wants that little long.' 1 
 
 ACCOMMODATION. 
 
 The following curious notice was affixed to the re- 
 sidence of a gentleman, whose premises had suffered 
 much from nightly depredators : — " Those persons, 
 who have been in the habit of stealing my fence for 
 a considerable time past, are respectfully informed, 
 that, if equally agreeable to them, it will be more 
 convenient to me if they would steal my wood, and 
 leave the fence for the present ; and as it may be 
 some little inconvenience to get over the palings, the 
 gate is left open for their accommodation. 
 
 (Signed) S. Swift." 
 
444 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 CHASTITY. 
 
 An English lady asked the mother abbess of a con- 
 vent at Paris, if the nuns kept the vow of chastity. 
 " Yes," said the abbess, " I can venture to affirm it. 
 For if it be a crime to cuckold an earthly husband, 
 how much more a heavenly one." 
 
 EXTEMPORE GRACE BY BEN JONSON, BEFORE KING 
 JAMES. 
 
 Our King and Queen, the Lord God bless, 
 
 The Palsgrave, and the Lady Besse, 
 
 And God bless every living thing 
 
 That lives and breathes and loves the King. 
 
 God bless the council of estate, 
 
 And Buckingham the fortunate, 
 
 God bless them all, and keep them safe, 
 
 And God bless me, and God bless Ralph. 
 
 The king was mightily inquisitive to know who this 
 Ralph was. Ben told him " Tt was the drawer at 
 the Swanne tavern at Charing-cross, who drew him 
 good Canarie." We dread lest it should excite the 
 cupidity of our Laureate, when we add that, " For 
 this drollery, his majestie gave him a hundred 
 pounds !" 
 
 SINKING AND SAVEARING. 
 
 Two Jesuits, on their passage to America, were 
 desired by the master to go down into the hold, as a 
 storm was coming on ; he told them that they need 
 not apprehend any danger as long as they heard the 
 seamen curse and swear ; but if once they were 
 silent, and quiet, he would advise them to betake 
 themselves to prayers. Soon after the lay-brother 
 went to the hatches, to hear what was going forward, 
 when he quickly returned, saying, all was over, -for 
 they swore like troopers, and their blasphemy alone 
 was enough to sink, the vessel. — " The Lord be praised 
 for it," replied the other, " then we are safe." 
 
 WORSE AND WORSE. 
 
 Two penitents, in a procession at Lisbon on Ash- 
 Wednesday, were comparing notes about their sins. 
 One said, " he had lain with his mother." " Ay !' 
 said the other, " but that's a mere peccadillo to my 
 crime, for I laid with my grand -mot her." 
 
 MODERN LONDON. 
 
 Prepare for death, if here at night you roam 
 And sign your will before you sup from home. 
 Some fiery fop, with new commission vain, 
 Who sleeps on brambles till he kills his man ; 
 Some frolic drunkard, reeling from a feast, 
 Provokes a broil, and stabs you for a jest. 
 
 Yet e'en these heroes, mischievously gay, 
 Lords of the street, and terrors of the way ; 
 Flush'd as they are with folly, youth, and wine, 
 Their prudent insults to the poor confine ; 
 Afar they mark the flambeau's bright approach, 
 And shun the shining train and golden coach. 
 
 In vain, these dangers pass'd, } our doors you close, 
 And hope the balmy blessings of repose : 
 Cruel with guilt, and daring with despair, 
 The midnight murderer bursts the faithless bar ; 
 Invades the sacred hour of silent rest, 
 And plants, unseen, a dagger in your breast. 
 
 Scarce can our fields, such crowds at Tyburn die, 
 With hemp the gallows and the fleet supply. 
 Propose your schemes, ye senatorian band, 
 Whose ways and means* support the sinking land ; 
 Lest ropes be wanting in the tempting spring 
 To rig another convoy for the king.f 
 
 A single jail, in Alfred's golden reign, 
 Could half the nation's criminals contain ; 
 Fair justice then, without constraint adored, 
 Held high the steady scale, but sheath'd the sword j 
 No spies were paid, no special juries known ; 
 Bless'd age ! but ah ! how different from our own ! 
 
 EARLY RISING. 
 
 A man had two sons ; one rose early while the 
 j other slept soundly. The early riser found a purse, 
 which the father carried to the sluggard. " Look 
 ye !" said he, " if you had been up as your brother 
 was, you would have found this purse." " Possibly," 
 answered the son, " but if the owner of it had been 
 in bed, as I am, he had not lost it." 
 
 * A technical term in parliament for raising money. 
 t The nation was then discontented at the repeated yisiti 
 made by George the Second to Hanoyer, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 445 
 
 RONDEAU. 
 
 By two black eyes my heart was won : 
 Sure never wretch was so undone 
 
 By two black eyes ! 
 To Celia with my suit I came ; 
 
 But she, regardless of her prize, 
 Thought proper to reward my flame 
 
 By two black eyes. 
 
 A CONTRAST. 
 
 A very passionate general calling one morning on 
 Sir Robert Walpole, found his servant shaving him. 
 During the conversation, Sir Robert said mildly, 
 " John, you cut me ;" and continued the former sub- 
 ject of discourse. Presently he said again, " John, you 
 cut me j" but as mildly as before : and soon after he 
 had occasion to say it again ; when the general 
 starting up in a rage, said, swearing a great oath, 
 and doubling his fist at the servant, " If Sir Robert 
 can bear it, I cannot ; and if you cut him once more, 
 John, I'll knock you down." 
 
 THE POWER OF MUSIC. 
 
 A young gentleman having attempted many ways 
 in vain to acquire the affections of a lady of great 
 fortune, at last was resolved to try what could be done 
 by the help of music, and therefore entertained her 
 with a serenade under her window at midnight ; but 
 she ordered her servants to drive him away by throw- 
 ing stones at him : " Oh, my friend," said one of his 
 companions, " your music is as powerful as that of 
 Orpheus, for it draws the very stones about you." 
 
 DECENCY AND DANGER. 
 
 A fire happening next door to a gentleman's house, 
 he was a full half hour before he could prevail on his 
 wife to quit her room, into which she had locked her- 
 self. At length, she came forth, greatly alarmed, in 
 her shift, her under petticoat, and one long ruffle on 
 her arm. — " Bless my soul !" cried her husband, 
 " what a while you have been, and knew the next 
 house to be on fire !" " I can't help it, my dear," 
 cried she, " if our own was in flames j I only stopped 
 to make myself decent.'* 
 
 AN OVERSIGHT. 
 
 A lady of fashion once declaimed to a lady of qua- 
 lity, in public company, against second marriages : 
 the lady whom she addressed had been twice married ; 
 and she had recently been married to her own second 
 husband. When reminded of this she exclaimed, 
 " Bless me ! my dear, I had quite forgotten it." 
 
 FAT FOLKS. 
 
 Prince Harry and Falstaff, in Shakspeare, have 
 carried the ridicule upon fat and lean as far as it will 
 go. Falstaff is humorously called Wool-Sack, Bed 
 Presser, and Hill of Flesh; Harry, a Starveling, an 
 EeVs-skin, a Sheath, a Bow-case, and a Tuck. 
 
 FAT AND LEAN CLUBS. 
 
 In a considerable market town, there was a club of 
 fat men, that did not come together (as you may well 
 suppose) to entertain one another with sprightliness 
 and wit, but to keep one another in countenance ; 
 the room where the club met was something of the 
 largest, and had two entrances, the one by a door of 
 moderate size, and the other by a pair of folding 
 doors. If a candidate for this corpulent club could 
 make his entrance through the first, he was looked 
 upon as not qualified ; but if he stuck in the passage 
 and could not force his way through it, the folding 
 doors were immediately thrown open for his reception, 
 and he was saluted as a brother. I have heard that 
 this club, though it consisted but of fifteen persons, 
 weighed above three tons. In opposition to this so- 
 ciety, there sprung up another, composed of scarecrows 
 and skeletons ; who being very meagre and envious, 
 did all they could to thwart the designs of their bulky 
 brethren, whom they represented as men of dangerous 
 principles ; till at length they worked them out of the 
 favour of the people, and consequently out of the ma- 
 gistracy. Those factions tore the corporation to 
 pieces for several years, till at length they came to 
 this accommodation ; that the two bailiffs of the town 
 should be annually chosen out of the two clubs, by 
 which means the principal magistrates are at this day 
 coupled like rabbits, one fat and one lean. 
 
 Spectator. 
 
446 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 JLOSS OF MEMORY. 
 
 The count Grammont, who had attached, if not 
 engaged himself to Miss Hamilton, abruptly went off 
 for France ; count George Hamilton, her brother, 
 pursued and overtook him at Dover, when he thus 
 addressed him : " My dear friend, I believe you have 
 forgotten a circumstance that should take place before 
 your return to France." To which Grammont replied, 
 " True, my dear friend ; what a memory I have ' I 
 quite forgot that I was to marry your sister ; but I 
 will instantly accompany you back to London, and 
 rectify that forgetfulness." 
 
 A DISGUISE. 
 
 A remarkably dirty man, soliciting his friend's ad- 
 vice how he should dress himself for a masquerade, 
 received the following answer : " Only just wash your 
 hands and face, put on a clean shirt, and I'll be hanged 
 if any one will know you." 
 
 ELEGIAC EXPOSTULATION TO AM UNFORTUNATE 
 TAILOR, 
 
 O thou whose visionary bills unpaid, 
 
 Long as thy measure, o'er my slumber stream ; 
 Whose goose, hot hissing through the midnight shade, 
 
 Disturbs the transport of each softer dream ! 
 Why do imaginary needles wound 1 
 
 Why do thy shears cut short my fleeting joys 1 
 Oh ! why, emerging from thy hell profound, 
 
 The ghost of shreds and patches, awful rise ? 
 Once more look up, nor droop thy hanging head ; 
 
 The liberal linings of that breast unfold ; 
 Be smiles, far brighter than thy buttons, spread ; * 
 
 And nobly scorn the vulgar lust of gold. 
 Though doom'd by fortune, since remotest time, 
 
 No meaner coin of moderate date to use, 
 Lo ! 1 can well reward with sterling rhyme, 
 
 Stamp'd by the sacred mintage of the muse. 
 Why mourn thy folly, why deplore thy fate, 
 
 Why call on every power in sore dismay ? 
 Thy warmest oraisons, alas ! are late : 
 
 Reflect — didst thou e'er know a poet pay 1 
 
 Vain from thy shopboard the eternal sigh ; 
 
 Vain thy devotions from that sable shrine : 
 Can guineas from the vacant pocket fly ] 
 
 Can sorrow fill this empty purse of mine r 
 Ah me ! so long with dire consumption pined, 
 
 When shall that purse ill omen'd proudly swell 
 Full as the sail that holds the favouring wind 1 
 
 Mysterious ministers of money, tell ! 
 Fond man ! while pausing o'er that gloomy page 
 
 That tells thee what thou art -in terma too plain, 
 O'er the capacious ledger lose thy rage, 
 
 Nor of unsettled debts again be vain. 
 There lords and dukes and mighty princes lie, 
 
 Nor on them canst thou for prompt payment call. 
 Why starts the big drop in thine anguish' d eye 1 
 
 One honest genuine bard is worth them all. 
 A common garment such as mortals wear 
 
 (Dull sons of clay, the ready price who give), 
 Thou mad'st, and lo ! it lasted one short year ; 
 
 But in my garment thou shalt ever live. 
 Time ne'er shall rip one consecrated seam 
 
 Of cloth, from fancy's loom all superfine ; 
 Nor shall I cruel haunt thy softer dream, 
 
 E'en when I dress thee in a suit divine. 
 Let sage philosophy thy soul inform 
 
 With strength heroic every ill to bear, 
 Not better broadcloth braves the angry storm ; 
 
 And constant patience is delightful wear. 
 Be patient then, and wise, nor meanly shrink 
 
 Beneath despondency's tumultuous blast : 
 The reckoning day may come when least you think 
 A joyful day, though miracles are pass'd. 
 
 DEKMODY. 
 SHORT COMMONS. 
 
 A gentleman being at St. Margaret's, Westminster, 
 on a fast day, observed to another that there were 
 very few of the members of the house of commons 
 assembled. " Is that to be wondered at returned the 
 other ? Why I thought you understood the nature of 
 the proclamation better ;* observe you not that it strictly 
 enjoins short commons every where 1 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 447 
 
 A BOTTLE CONJURER. 
 
 An Irish gentleman, sojourning at a dashing hotel, 
 felt much annoyed at the smalluess of the bottles, 
 considering the high price of wine. One evening, 
 taking his glass with a friend in the coffee-room, the 
 pompous owner came in, when the gentleman after 
 apologizing, told him, he and his friend had laid a 
 wager, which he must decide, by telling him what 
 profession he was bred to. Mine host, after some 
 hesitation at the question, answered, that he was bred 
 to the law. " Then," said the gentleman, " I have 
 lost, for I laid that you was bred a packer." " A 
 packer, sir !" said the host swelling like a turkey- 
 cock, *' what could induce you, sir, to think I was 
 bred a packer 1" " Why, sir," said the other, " I 
 judged so from your wine measures, for I thought no 
 one but a skilful packer could put a quart of wine 
 into a pint bottle." 
 
 A DAY TOO LATE. 
 
 La. Fontaine was so absent as to call and visit a 
 friend whose funeral he had attended. He was much 
 surprised at first, but recollecting himself, said " It is 
 true enough, for I was there." 
 
 REMEDY FOR DTJLNESS. 
 
 An author reading a tragedy to a friend who was 
 a proctor, when he had gone through three acts, asked 
 him his opinion. " Why really," replied the proctor, 
 "the third act is so full of distress, that I do not see how 
 you can possibly heighten it in the following ones ; and 
 "then consequently it will grow flat." "O!" said the 
 author, " let me "alone for that, I intend in the very 
 next act to put my hero into the spiritual court." 
 
 ALL SAINTS' DAY. 
 
 A man having borrowed money of an acquaintance, 
 gave a bill for the sum, making it payable on a Saint's 
 day which was not mentioned in the calendar, by 
 which means he thought to render the bill invalid 
 and defraud the lender, but the business being brought 
 into court and the cause being heard, the judge de- 
 cided that the money should be refunded on the day 
 of All Saints. 
 
 MODERATE WISHES 
 
 Let Alexander's discontented soul 
 Sigh for another world's increased control ! 
 111-weaved Ambition has no charm for me, 
 Nor, sordid Avarice, am I slave to thee. 
 
 I only ask twelve thousand pounds a year, 
 And Curwen's country house on Windermere — 
 A beauteous wife, and sensible as fair, 
 And many a friend, and not a single care. 
 
 I am no glutton — no ! I never wish 
 A sturgeon floating in a golden dish — 
 
 At the Piazza satisfied to pay 
 
 Three guineas for my dinner every day. 
 
 What though shrewd Erskine at the bar we view, 
 
 As famed as Crassus and as wealthy too ; 
 
 I only ask the eloquence of Fox, 
 
 To jump like Ireland, and like Belcher box, 
 
 To act as Garrick did — or any how 
 
 Unlike our heroes of the buskin now ; 
 
 To range, like Garnerin, through fields of air, 
 
 To win, like V s, England's richest fair — 
 
 I only ask these blessings to enjoy, 
 
 And every varied talent well employ, 
 
 Thy life, Methuselah ! or, if not thine, 
 
 An immortality of love and wine. 
 
 HODGSON. 
 
 THE GHOST OF HAMLET 
 
 During the time of Mr. Garrick's performance in 
 Goodmau's-fields, the stage rose so much from the 
 lamps to the back scenery, that it was very difficult 
 for a performer to walk properly on it, and unfortu- 
 nately it was then the custom to introduce their ghosts 
 in a complete suit, not of gilt leather, but of real ar- 
 mour. The dress for this august personage was one 
 night, in honour of Mr. Garrick's Hamlet, borrowed 
 from the Tower, and was consequently rather too 
 ponderous for the ghost of the royal Dane. The mo- 
 ment, therefore, he was put up at the trap door, un- 
 able to keep his balance, he rolled down the stage to 
 the lamps, which catching the feathers of his helmet, 
 the ghost seemed in danger of being consumed by 
 mortal fires, till a gentleman roared from the pit, 
 
448 
 -' Help ' 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 help ! the lamps have caught the cask of 
 jour spirits, and hy G — if the iron hoops fly, the house 
 will be in a blaze." The attendants ran on the stage, 
 carried off the ghost, and laid him in a water tub. 
 
 THE MIRACLE. 
 
 An old mass priest in the reign of Henry VIII. 
 after the Bible was translated, was reading the mi- 
 racle of the five loaves and two fishes ; when he came 
 to the verse that reckons the number of the guests, he 
 paused a little, and at last said they were about Jive 
 hundred ; the clerk whispered in his ear that it was 
 Jive tiwusand. " Hold your tongue, sirrah,-' said the 
 priest, " we shall never persuade the people it was 
 fiye thousand." 
 
 PERFECTION. 
 
 A celebrated preacher having remarked in a sermon 
 that every thing made by God was perfect. " What 
 think you of me V said a deformed man in a pew 
 beneath, who arose from his seat and pointed at his 
 own back, *' Think of you," reiterated the preacher, 
 " why that you are the most perfect hunchback my 
 eyes ever beheld," 
 
 TAKING COUNSEL'S OPINION. 
 
 A pickpocket having been practising his trade in a 
 court of justice, was taken in the fact, and it was 
 deemed the best way to try him without further 
 delay. The fellow demanded counsel, when a gen- 
 tleman of the bar was allowed him, with whom he 
 retired to a chamber adjoining the court, in order to 
 consult him. The window of the room not being 
 many feet from the ground, the delinquent said, " I 
 think, sir, the most expedient way for me to extricate 
 myself would be to jump out of that window." ". Faith 
 it is mine too," said the counsellor, who immediately 
 suffered the fellow to escape. On returning into the 
 court he was asked concerning the prisoner. — " He 
 has escaped," replied the counsellor. "And why did 
 you suffer it without giving the alarm?" reiterated the 
 judge. " For the best of all reasons," replied the 
 other : " I was deputed his adviser, and as we both 
 agreed in opinion, he took his measures accordingly." 
 
 LAW. 
 
 Law is a crooked lying thing > 
 
 The source of every evil, 
 Allied to plunder and to sin, 
 
 And first-born of the devil. 
 It has no heart, no virtues kind, 
 
 No yearnings of compassion ; 
 But gripes as vultures tear the iamb, 
 
 For feeling's out of fashion. 
 It plunders honesty and lives 
 
 On bowels of the needy ; 
 But robs with smiles the purse of wealth. 
 
 With poverty 'tis greedy. 
 It has a stomach to devour 
 
 The gold of all the nation, 
 And then to hell would sue for more 
 
 And offer an oblation. 
 It is in ev'ry ill so school'd, 
 
 It has but one true master, 
 And troth there's odds if Nick, its sire, 
 
 Or law itself goes faster. 
 
 DEAF AND DUMB. 
 
 A 
 
 now 
 
 fellow, carrying a heavy load, exclaimed every 
 and then " Make way," but notwithstanding 
 this caution a conceited fellow would-take the wall of 
 him, whereby his coat was nearly torn off his back. 
 On being taken before a magistrate for this assault, as 
 it was deemed, the porter remained silent to every 
 interrogatory, upon which the complainant enraged, 
 exclaimed, " Why, the fellow is not dumb, he spoke 
 very well this morning." " What did he say 1" in- 
 quired the justice. (t He cried out make way, as loud 
 he could bawl," returned the other. " If so," reiterated 
 the magistrate, " he gave you timely notice, which 
 you should have profited bv, and then your coat would 
 not have been torn.'' 
 
 AMERICAN LAW. . 
 
 The following notice appeared in a Jersey journal : 
 " To be sold on the 8th of July, 151 suits in law, the 
 property of an eminent attorney about to retire from 
 business. Note, The clients are rich and obstinate." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 449 
 
 THE DEFUNCT INSOLVENT. 
 
 MM. Triphook & Co. having directed a letter, 
 " To George Hardinge, Esq. if living ; if dead, to his 
 executors;" beginning " Sir, or Gentlemen," and 
 stating that not having heard from Mr. Hardinge 
 after repeated application for settling an enclosed ac- 
 count, they concluded he must be dead; and if that 
 melancholy circumstance was true, requesting it might 
 be settled by his executor ; Mr. Hardinge immediately 
 wrote, 
 
 ,( Oh ' Messieurs Triphook, what is fear'd by you, 
 
 The melancholy circumstance is true ; 
 
 For I am dead ; and more afflicting still, 
 
 My legal assets will not pay your bill. 
 
 For oh ! to name it, I am broken-hearted, 
 
 My mortal life, insolvent, I departed ; 
 
 So, gentlemen, I'm yours, without a farthing, 
 
 For my executors and self, George Hardinge." 
 
 P. S. Excuse the postage which these lines have cost, 
 The dead their franking privilege have lost. 
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 A lady observing to lord Chesterfield that the French 
 were a more polite people than the English, he hesi- 
 tated for a few minutes : the observer continued to 
 corroborate her opinion by adding, " My Lord, the 
 English confess it themselves." " Nay then," re- 
 turned the peer, " that confession proves the English 
 superior in politeness." 
 
 TAM o' SHANTER. A TALE. 
 
 Of Brownyis and of Bogilis full is this Buke. 
 
 Gawin Douglas. 
 
 When chapman billies leave the street, 
 And drcuthy neebors, neebors meet, 
 As market days are wearing late, 
 An' folk begin to tak the gate ; 
 While we sit bousing at the nappy, 
 An' getting fou and unco happy, 
 
 We thinkna on the lang Scots miles, 
 The mosses, wateis, slaps, and styles, 
 That lie between us and our hame, 
 Whare sits our sulky sullen dame, 
 Gathering her brows like gathering storm, 
 Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. 
 
 This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter, 
 As he frae Ayr ae night did canter 
 (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses, 
 For honest men and bonnie lasses.) 
 
 O Tam ! hadst thou but been sae wise, 
 As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice! 
 She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum, 
 A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum ; 
 That frae November till October, 
 Ae market day thou wasna sober ; 
 That ilka melder, wi' the miller. 
 Tho\i sat as lang as thou had siller ; 
 That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on, 
 The smith and thee gat roaring fou on ; 
 That at the L — d's house, ev'n on Sunday, 
 Thou drank wi' Kirton Jean till Monday. 
 She prophesy'd, that late or soon, 
 Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon ; 
 Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, 
 By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. 
 
 Ah ! gentle dames ! it gars me greet, 
 To think how mony counsels sweet, 
 How mony lengthen'd, sage advices,. 
 The husband frae the wife despises ! 
 
 But to our tale : Ae market night, 
 Tam had got planted unco right ; 
 Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, 
 Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely 
 
 And at his elbow, souter Johnny, 
 His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony . 
 Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither ; 
 They had been fou for weeks thegither. 
 The night drave on wi' sangs an' clatter ; 
 And aye the ale was growing better : 
 The landlady and Tam grew gracious; 
 Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious: 
 The souter tauld his queerest stories ; 
 The landlord's laugh was ready chorus • 
 
450 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 The storm without might rair and rustle, 
 Tarn didna mind the storm a whistle. 
 Care, mad to see a man sae happy, 
 ~E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy ; 
 As .bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, 
 The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure : 
 Kings may be blest, but Tarn was glorious, 
 O'er a' the ills o' life victorious. 
 
 But pleasures are like poppies spread, 
 You seize the flower, its bloom is shed ; 
 Or like the snow-falls in the river, . 
 A moment white— then melts for ever j 
 Or like the borealis race, 
 That flit ere you can point their place ; 
 Or like the rainbow's lovely form 
 Evanishing amid the storm — 
 Nae man can tether time or tide— 
 The hour approaches Tarn maun ride ; 
 That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane, 
 That dreary hour he mounts his beast in ; 
 And sic a night he taks the road in, 
 As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. 
 
 The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last ; 
 The rattling showers rose on the blast ; 
 The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd ; 
 Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellow'd : 
 That night, a child might understand, 
 The deil had business on his hand. 
 
 Weel mounted on his grey mare Meg, 
 A better never lifted leg, 
 Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire, 
 Despising wind, and rain, and fire ; 
 Whiles hauding fast his guid blue bonnet ; 
 Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scot's sonnet ; 
 Whiles glowring round wi' prudent cares, . 
 Lest bogles catch him unawares ; 
 Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, 
 Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry.— 
 
 By this time he was cross the ford, 
 Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd ; 
 And past the birks and meikle stane, 
 Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane ; 
 And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, 
 Whare hunters fend the murder'd bairn : 
 
 And near the thorn, aboon the well, 
 Whare Mungo's mither hang'd hefsel. 
 Before him Doon pours all her floods ; 
 The doubling storm roars thro' the woods j 
 The lightnings flash from pole to pole ; 
 Near and more near the thunders roll ; 
 When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, 
 Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze ; 
 Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing ; 
 And loud resounded mirth and dancing. — 
 
 Inspiring bold John Barleycorn ! 
 What dangers thou canst make us scorn . 
 Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil ; 
 Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil !- 
 The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle, 
 Fair play, he car'd na deils a boddle. 
 But Maggie stood right sair astonish'd, 
 Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd, 
 She ventured forward on the light ; 
 And, Wow ! Tam saw an unco sight ! 
 Warlocks and witches in a dance ; 
 Nae cotillion brent new frae France, 
 But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, 
 Put life and mettle in their heels. 
 A winnock bunker in the east, 
 There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast ; 
 A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, 
 To gie them music was his charge : 
 He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl, 
 Till roof and rafters a' did dirl.— 
 Coffins stood round like open presses, 
 That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses ; 
 And by some devilish cantrip slight^ 
 Each in its cauld hand held a light, — 
 By which heroic Tam was able 
 To note upon the haly table, 
 A murderer's banes in gibbet aims ; 
 Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns ; 
 A thief, new cutted frae a rape, 
 Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape ; 
 Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red rusted ; 
 Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted ; 
 A garter, which a babe had strangled ; 
 A knife, a father's throat had mangled, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 451 
 
 Whom his ain son o* life bereft, 
 The gray hairs yet stack to the heft ; 
 Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', 
 Which even to name wad be unlawfu'. 
 
 As lammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious, 
 The mirth and fun grew fast and furious : 
 The piper loud and louder blew ; 
 The dancers quick and quicker flew ; 
 They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit, 
 Till ilka carlin swat and reekit, 
 And coost her duddies to the wark, 
 And linket at it in her sark ! 
 
 Now Tarn, O Tarn ! had they been queans 
 A' plump and strapping, in their teens ! 
 Their sarks, instead o* cheeshie flannen, 
 Been snaw-white seventeen hunder linen I 
 Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair. 
 
 That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, 
 I wad hae gi'en them aff my hurdies, 
 For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies ! 
 
 But wither'd beldams, auld and droll, 
 Bigwiddie hags wad spean a foal, 
 Lowping an' flinging on a cummock, 
 I wonder didna turn thy stomach. 
 
 But Tam keen'd what was what fu' brawlie, 
 There was ae winsome wench and walie, 
 That night inlisted in the core., 
 (Lang after ken'd on Carrick shore ! 
 For mony a beast to dead she shot, 
 And perish'd mony a bonnie boat, 
 And shook baith meikle corn and bear, 
 And kept the country-side in fear,) 
 Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn, 
 That while a lassie she had worn, 
 In longitude tho' sorely scanty, 
 It was her best, and she was vauntie. — ■ 
 Ah ! little ken'd thy reverend grannie, 
 That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, 
 Wi' twa pund Scots, ('twas a' her riches,) 
 Wad ever graced a dance of witches ! 
 
 But here my Muse her wing maun cour ; 
 Sic flights are far beyond her power ; 
 To sing how Nannie lap and flang, 
 (A souple jade she was and Strang,) 
 
 And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch'd, 
 And thought his very een enrich'd ; 
 Even Satan glowr'd,' and fidged fu' fain, 
 And hoch'd and blew wi' might and main; 
 Till first ae caper, syne anither, 
 Tam tint his reason a' thegither, 
 And roars out, " Weel done, Cutty-sark !" 
 And in an instant all was dark : 
 And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, 
 When out the hellish legion sallied. 
 
 As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, 
 When plundering herds assail their byke ; 
 As open pussie's mortal foes, 
 When, pop ! she starts before their nose ; 
 As eager runs the market crowd, 
 When, " Catch the thief!" resounds aloud ; 
 So Maggie runs, the witches follow, 
 Wi' mony an eldritch skreech and hollow. 
 
 Ah, Tam ! ah, Tam ! thou'll get thy fairin 
 In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin ! 
 In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin 1 
 Kate soon will be a woefu' woman ! 
 Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, 
 And win the key-stane* o' the brig ; 
 There at them thou thy tail may toss, 
 A running stream they dare na cross, 
 But ere the key-stane she could make, 
 The fient a tail she had to shake . 
 For Nannie, far before the rest, 
 Hard upon noble Maggie prest, 
 And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle ; 
 But little wist she Maggie's mettle— 
 Ae spring brought off her master hale, 
 But left behind her ain grey tail : 
 The carlin claught her by the rump, 
 And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. 
 
 Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read, 
 Ilk man and mother's son, tak heed : 
 
 * It is a well-known fact, that witches or any evil spirit* 
 have no power to follow a poor wight any further than the 
 middle of the next running stream.— It may be proper like- 
 wise to mention to the benighted traveller, that when he talis 
 in with bogles, whatever danger may be in his going forward, 
 there is much more hazard in turning back. 
 
452 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHIJLOSOPHEK. 
 
 Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd, 
 Or cutty-sarks run in your mind, 
 Think, ye may buy the joys owre dear 
 Remember Tam o' Sharker's mare. 
 
 BURNS. 
 
 THE SAINT AND THE DEVIL. 
 
 A very ugly gentleman was requested by a beauti- 
 ful woman to accompany her a little way, when she 
 led him to a painter's house, and having whispered 
 to the artist, she retired, saying that she would return 
 shortly. — On quitting the chamber the gentleman de- 
 manded what he was wanted for. " I thought you 
 knew," replied the painter, " that I am taking that 
 lady's likeness in the character of a saint being tempt- 
 ed fas/ the devil, and she means you to sit for the 
 iemj&er." 
 
 CAPABILITY BROWN. 
 
 Mr. Brown, the celebrated gardener and botanist, 
 ^surnamed Capability Brown, being at a nobleman's 
 .seat arranging his pleasure grounds, was met. on quit- 
 ting his lordship^s mansion by two rows of fine livery 
 servants. As it was then the custom to make a pre- 
 sent to each when a visitor left the mansion, upon 
 this occasion, Capability Brown turning round to 
 bis lordship produced the following extempore in a 
 whisper. 
 
 Of footmen faith you have a score, 
 They line your passage to the door, 
 
 But troth they put me in the dumps 
 I own, my lord, this alley's good, 
 Yet I would have it understood, 
 
 They had look'd better plac'd in clumps. 
 
 SIR SAMUEL GARTH. 
 
 This gentleman writing a letter one evening at a 
 coffee-house, was much embarrassed by an Irish gen- 
 tleman, who was Tude enough to look over his shoulder 
 all the time. Garth, however, seemed to take no 
 notice of this till towards the conclusion, when he 
 humorously added, by way of a postscript, " I 
 should write you more by this post, but there's a 
 
 damned tali impudent Irishman looking over my 
 shoulder all the time." — " What do you mean, sir?" 
 said the Irishman, u do you think I looked over your 
 letter?" "Sir," said Garth very gravely, " I never 
 once opened my lips to you." — " Aye, but by 
 
 J s, you have put it down for all that." " That's 
 
 impossible, sir," said Garth, " as you say you never 
 once looked over my letter." 
 
 A person in prison was asked by a friend what 
 it was for. — if For telling lies," said his friend. 
 " Telling lies ! how is that ?" demanded the other. — 
 " Why, telling people I would pay 'em, and not 
 keeping my word." 
 
 IMPROMPTU ON THE MARRIAGE OF CAPTAIN FOOT 
 WITH MISS PATTEN. 
 
 May the union cemented on Wednesday at Matin 
 Be blissful and crown'd with abundance of fruit ! 
 May the Foot ever closely adhere to the Patten ', 
 The Patten for ever stick close to the Foot ! 
 
 And tho' pattens are used but in moist dirty weather, 
 May their journey through life be unclouded and clean- 
 May they long fit each other ; — and moving together, 
 May only one sole (soul) be still cherish'd between. 
 
 SHORT RECKONING. 
 
 "There were a hundred justices," said one, "at 
 the monthly meeting. *' A hundred !" said another. 
 " Yes (said he) do you count, and I will name them. 
 There was justice Balance, put down one ; justice 
 Hall, put down a cipher, he is nobody ; justice House, 
 you may put down another cipher for him. Now 
 one, and two ciphers, are one hundred." 
 
 A BAD HABIT. 
 
 A Frenchman being reprehended for beating his 
 wife severely once every month, made this reply : " I 
 never do it but on the morning when I go to confes- 
 sion." "And why then?" said the other. " Because I 
 am sure of being ^reminded of every sin, whereas I 
 might forget some were it not for this expedient." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 453 
 
 CAUSE OF GENUINE SORROW 
 
 A gentleman taking an apartment, said to the land- 
 lady, " I assure you, madam, I never left a lodging 
 but my landlady shed tears." She answered, " I hope 
 it was not, sir, because you went away without 
 paying." 
 
 A QUIET DEATH. 
 
 Whitely the actor having stabbed himself, in the cha- 
 racter of Oroonoko, turned himself about two or three 
 times, like a spaniel before the fire, to see where he could 
 I lie most comfortably down. Two gentlemen in the 
 stage box, struck by the eccentricity of his manner, 
 could not forbear laughing aloud ; on which Whitely 
 turning to them, cried, " Be quiet, you thieves ! can't 
 you let a man die m])eace y and be d — d to you !" 
 
 THE PARSON, THE SQUIRE, AND THE SPANIEL. 
 A TALE. 
 
 A gentleman possessed a favourite spaniel, 
 That never treated maid nor man ill. : 
 This dog, of which we cannot too much say, 
 Got from his godfather the name of Tray. 
 After ten years of service just, 
 Tray, like the race of mortals, sougnt the dust — 
 That is to say, the spaniel died : 
 A coffin then was ordered to be made, 
 The dog was in the church-yard laid, 
 i While o'er his pale remains the master cried : 
 j Lamenting much his trusty fur-clad friend, 
 I And willing to commemorate his end, 
 | He raised a small blue stone, just after burial, 
 And weeping, wrote on it this sweet memorial : 
 
 Tray's Epitaph. 
 Here rest the relics of a friend below, 
 "blessed with more sense than half the folks I know ; 
 Fond of his ease, and to no parties prone, 
 He damn'd no sect, but calmly gnawed his bone ; 
 Performed his functions well in every way — 
 Blush, Christians, if you can, and copy Tray. 
 
 The curate of the Huntingtonian band, 
 
 Rare breed of gospel-hawks that scour the land, 
 
 And fierce on sins' their quarry fall, 
 
 Those locusts, that would eat up all : 
 
 Men who, with new-invented patent eyes;, 
 
 See heaven and all the angels in the skibs -^ 
 
 As plain as in the box of showman Swiss, 
 
 For little master made, or curious mi3K, 
 
 We see with huge delight the king on France 
 
 With all his lords and ladies dance. 
 
 This curate heard th' affair with deep emotion^ 
 
 And thus exclaimed, with infinite devotion ■ 
 
 " O Lord ! O Lord ! O Lord ! O Lord ! 
 
 Fine doings, these, upon my word ! 
 
 This, truly, is a very pretty thing ! 
 
 What will become of this most shocking world V. 
 How richly such a rogue deserves to swin°\ 
 
 And then to Satan's hottest flames be hurled ! 
 " Oh ! by this damned deed how I am hurried, 
 A dog in Christian ground, indeed, be buried ! 
 
 And have an epitaph forsooth, so civil : 
 Egad! old maids will presently be found 
 Clapping their dead ram cats in holy ground, 
 
 And writing verses on each mousing devil." 
 Against such future casualty providing, 
 The priest set off, like Homer s Neptune, striding- 
 Vowing to put the culprit in the court : 
 He found him at the spaniel's humble grave ; 
 Not praying, neither singing of a stave ; 
 
 And thus began t' abuse him, not exhort, — 
 
 " Son of the devil, what hast thou done ? 
 Nought for the action can atone — ■ 
 
 I should not wonder if the Great All-wise 
 Quick darted down his lightning all so red, 
 And dashed to earth that wretched head, 
 
 Which dared so foul, so base an act devise.. 
 " Bury a dog like Christian folk ! — 
 None but the fiend of darkness could provoke 
 
 A man to perpetrate a deed so odd : 
 Our inquisition soon the tale shall hear, 
 And quickly your fine fleece shall shear ; 
 
 Why, such a villain can't believe in God."' 
 " Softly, my reverend sir," the squire replied,— 
 " Tray was as good a dog us ever died— 
 
454 THE 
 
 No education could his morals mend. 
 And what, perhaps, sir, you may doubt, 
 Before his lamp of life went out, 
 
 He ordered you a legacy, my friend." 
 
 "Did he 1 — poor dog !" the softened priest rejoined, 
 
 In accents pitiful and kind ; — ; 
 " What ! was it Tray 1 I'm sorry for poor Trav. 
 
 Why, truly dogs of such rare merit, 
 
 Such real nobleness of spirit, 
 Should not like common dogs be put away. 
 " Well, pray what was it that he gave, 
 Poor fellow, e'er he sought the grave 1 
 
 I guess I may put confidence, sir, in ye." 
 " A piece of gold," the gentleman replied. — 
 " I'm much obliged to Tray," the parson cried ; 
 
 So left God's cause, and pocketed the guinea. 
 Cumberland's ingratitude. 
 
 Mr. Cumberland being asked his opinion of 
 Mr. Sheridan's School for Scandal, said, " I am 
 astonished that the town can be so duped ! I went to 
 see his comedy, and never laughed once from begin- 
 ning to end."— This being repeated to Sheridan — 
 " That's d — d ungrateful of him," cried he, ".-for 
 I went to see his tragedy the other night, and did 
 nothing but laugh from beginning to end." 
 
 THE PRAISE OF POTATOES. A BURLESQUE. 
 
 Hail, rare potatoes ! hot or cold, all hail ! 
 
 quickly come mine appetite's delight ! 
 Whether in oven's fiery concave clos'd, 
 By bakers' art delicious thou'rt embrown'd 
 While rills of purple gravy from the pores 
 Of mighty beef improve the luscious fare. 
 Whether the dame of culinary skill 
 
 Have rudely scalp 'd thee o'er, and to the rage 
 Of warring elements consign thee deep, 
 Beneath the cope of air- excluding lid 
 In humid dura ice plung'd. Or when with steaks 
 Of marbled vein, from rump of stall-fed steer 
 Disparted late — slic'd in the shallow pan 
 
 1 view thee kindly strew 'd, how joys my heart !- 
 How flash with eager glance my longing eves ! 
 Or in the tedious eve, when nipping frost . 
 
 LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Reigns potent, 'mid the smouldering embers roast 
 (From subterranean store selected) those 
 Of amplest size rotund, of native coat 
 Yet unbereft — and if my homely board 
 Penurious, add but few salubrious grains 
 Of humble salt, I bless the cheap repast ! — 
 But chiefly come at noon-tide hunger's call, 
 When from th' ebullient pot your mealy tribe, 
 With happiest art concoct, profusely pours ; 
 And be the mass with butter's plenteous aid 
 To rich consistence wrought : nor oh ! withhold j 
 The pepper's pungent pow'r, of grateful glow 
 Beneficent ! lest my insatiate claim 
 Ventose and wat'ry, cause the twinging gripe 
 Of cholic pang abdominal ! — And here 
 Need I relate how when for thee I slight 
 Thy rival roots and poignant sauces rare 
 Crown'd with exotic "name, my humble choice, 
 Mock'd with rude insult, wakes the latent spark 
 Of witling's fire — a feeble, glowworm ray 
 That beams, not burns I Nor feels my injur'd 
 
 taste 
 (Taste undeprav'd by fashion's varying art) 
 Alone the shaft, but person, fortune, fame, 
 All, all, invidious scann'd, with sneer malign 
 And scoff sarcastic— In the puddi?ig's praise 
 Let others rant loquacious— I despise 
 The doughy morsel for my fav'rite food. 
 Give me but this, ye gods ! scornful I pass 
 
 Each celebrated shop (Williams, or Birch,] 
 
 Or he of Belgic fame— idol supreme 
 
 Of city saint in city-hall ador'd ! — 
 
 By mortals Hojfinan hight) — where brittle puffs 
 
 Multangular— with custards, cakes, and creams, 
 
 And lucid jellies nodding o'er the brim 
 
 Of crystal vase, in pastry pomp combine 
 
 To lure the sense. These, these, unmov'd I pass, 
 
 While fond I antedate potatoes' charms, 
 
 " Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind." 
 
 EPITAPH ON A MRS. DEATH. 
 
 Here lies Death's wife ; when this way next you tread, 
 Be not surpris'd should. Death himself be dead. 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 wolsey's twins. 
 
 When tlie historical play of " Henry VIII." was 
 in rehearsal at Drury-lane theatre, and Mr. John 
 Kemble, who then acted Cromwell, in extolling the 
 merits of Wolsey, came to this passage 
 
 " ever witness for him 
 
 " Those twins of learning that he rats' d in you, 
 
 " Ipswich and Oxford I" 
 Mr. Dignum, who stood by, cried out, :e D — n me ! if 
 I knew that Cardinal Wolsey was married before !" 
 
 EPITAPH ON THREE INFANTS IN ST. IVES 
 CHURCHYARD. 
 
 Three sweeter babes no man did ever see, 
 Thau God Almighty gave to we ; 
 They were surprised by ager fits, 
 And here they lies, as dead as nits. 
 
 SIMPLICITY AND GRATITUDE. 
 
 The late Madame de Namours had charitably 
 brought up a poor child. When the child was about 
 nine years old, she said to her benefactress, " Madame, 
 no one can be more grateful for your charity than I 
 am, and I cannot acknowledge it better than by tell- 
 ing every body I am your daughter ; but do not be 
 alarmed, I will not say that I am your lawful child, 
 only your illegitimate daughter.''" 
 
 CTJRRAN's SHIRT. 
 
 Curran. while at college, was called before the 
 board for wearing a dirty shirt. " I pleaded/' said 
 he, " inability to wear a clean one, and I told their 
 reverences the story of poor Lord Avonmore, at that 
 time Barry Yelverton. ' I wish, mother,' said 
 Barry, ' I had eleven shirts.' — ' Eleven ! Barry, why 
 eleven ?' — ' Because, mother, I am of opinion that a 
 gentleman, to be comfortable, ought to have a dozen.' 
 Poor Barry had but one, and I made the precedent 
 my justification." 
 
 PLAIN REASONS. 
 
 A young Frenchman one day asked the Duke 
 Bernard de Weimar, " How happened it that you 
 
 lost the battle of V " I will tell you, sir," 
 
 replied the duke, coolly, " I thought I should not 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 win it, and so I lost it.' 
 himself slowly round, " 
 this question'?" 
 
 455 
 
 ' "But," added he, turning 
 who is the fool that asked me 
 
 AN APOLOGY FOR KINGS. 
 
 As want of candour really is not right, 
 
 I own my satire too inclined to bite : 
 
 On kings behold it breakfast, dine, and sup-^ 
 
 Now shall she praise, and try to make it up. 
 
 Why will the simple world expect wise things, 
 
 From lofty folks, particularly kings'? 
 
 Look on their poverty of education ! 
 Adored and flattered, taught that they are gods,, 
 And by their awful frowns and nods, 
 
 Jove-like, to shake the pillars of creation. 
 They scorn that little useful imp called mind, 
 Who fits them for the circle of mankind 
 Pride their companion, and the world their hate ; 
 Immured, tliey doze in ignorance and state. 
 Sometimes, indeed, great kings will condescend 
 A little with their subjects to unbend! 
 
 An instance take : — A king of this great land, 
 
 In days of yore, we understand, 
 Did visit Salisbury's old "church so fair : 
 
 An Earl of Pembroke was the monarch's guide; 
 
 hicog. they travelled, shuffling side by side; 
 And into the cathedral stole the pair. 
 
 The verger met them in his silken gown, 
 
 And humbly bowed his neck with reverence down, 
 Low as an ass to lick a lock of hay : 
 
 Looking the frightened verger through and through, 
 
 All with-his eve-glass-" Well, sir, who are you \ 
 What, what, sirV hey, sirl" deigned the king to 
 say. 
 
 u I am the verger here, most mighty king : 
 
 In this cathedral I do every thing ; 
 Sweep it, an't please ye, sir, and keep it clean. 
 
 "Hey ■? verger! verger ! — you the verger 1— hey 1 
 
 " Yes, please your glorious majesty, I be." 
 The verger answered with the mildest mien. 
 Then turned the king about towards the peer, 
 And winked, and laughed, then whispered in his ear. 
 
456 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 " Hey, hey— what, what— fine fellow, 'pon my word 
 
 knight him, knight him, knight him— hey, my 
 lord?" 
 
 Then with his glass, as hard as eye could strain, 
 He kenned the trembling verger o'er again. 
 *" He's a poor verger, sire," his lordship cried : 
 
 " Sixpence would handsomely requite him." 
 tC Poor verger, veiger, hey ?" the king replied : 
 
 " No, no, then, we won't knight him— no won't 
 knight him." 
 Now to the lofty roof the king did raise 
 His glass, and skipped it o'er with sounds of praise ! 
 
 For thus his marvelling majesty did speak :' 
 " Fine roof this, Master Verger, quite complete ; 
 High— high and lofty too, and clean, and neat : 
 
 What, verger, what? mop, mop it once a week ?" 
 " An't please your majesty." with marvelling chops, 
 The verger answered, " we have got no mops 
 
 In Salisbury that will reach so high." 
 " Not mop, no, no, not mop it V quoth the king 
 " No sir, our Salisbury mops do no such thing ; 
 
 They might as well pretend to scrub the sky." 
 From Salisbury church to Wilton-house, so grand, 
 Returned the mighty ruler of the land— 
 
 " My lord, you've got fine statues," said the king. 
 ' A few ! beneath your royal notice, sir," 
 Replied Lord Pembroke—" Stir, my lord, stir, stir; 
 
 Let's see them all. all, all, all, every thing. 
 "Who's this? — who's this?— who's this fine fellow 
 
 here ?" 
 " Sesostris," bowing low, replied the peer. 
 " Sir Sostris, hey? — Sir Sostris ?— 'pon my word ! 
 Knight or a baronet, my lord ? 
 
 One of my making ? — what, my lord, my making?" — 
 This, with a vengeance, was mistaking ! 
 " iSe-sostris, sire," so soft, the peer replied, 
 
 " A famous king of Egypt, sir, of old." 
 rt Poh, poh !" the instructed monarch snappish cried, 
 
 " I need not that— I need not that be toid. 
 " Pray, pray, my lord, who's that big fellow there?" 
 " 'Tis Hercules," replied the shrinking peer. 
 ** Strong fellow, hey, my lord? strong fellow, hey ? 
 
 Cleaned stables ! — cracked a lion like a flea ; 
 Killed snakes, great snakes, that in a cradle found 
 
 him— 
 The queen, queen's coming ! wrap an apron round 
 
 him." p. pin d ah. 
 
 THE MAN ABOUT TOWN. 
 
 Sir Wisky Whiffle is one of those mincing, tit- 
 tering, tip-toe tripping animalculae of the times, tha 
 flutter about fine women like flies in a flower garden > 
 as harmless, and as constant, as their shadows, they 
 dangle by the side of beauty, like part of their watch 
 equipage, as glittering, as light, and as useless. And 
 the ladies suffer such things about them, as they wear 
 soufflee gauze, not as things of value, merely to make a 
 show with ; they never say any thing to the purpose, 
 but, with an eye-glass in their hands, they stare at 
 ladies, as if they were a jury of astronomers, executing 
 a writ of inquiry upon some beautiful planet. They 
 imagine themselves possessed of the power of a rattle- 
 snake, who can, as it is said, fascinate by a look ; and 
 that every fine woman must, at first sight, fall into their 
 arms. — " Ha ! who's that, Jack? She's a devilish fine 
 woman ; 'pon honour, an immensely lovely creature I 
 Who is she? she must be one of us ; she must be 
 come-atable, 'pon honour." " No, sir," replied a 
 stranger that overheard him, " she is not come-atable ; 
 she's a lady of strict virtue." — " Is she so ? — I'll look 
 at her again ; ay, ay, she may be a lady of strict virtue, 
 for, now I look at her again, there is something 
 devilish ungenteel about her." 
 
 lord mansfield's wig. 
 Court of Requests.— Williams v. Lawrence. 
 
 This was a case which, by the parties concerned, 
 was considered of no small importance ; and which, 
 to the auditors, in the course of its discussion excited 
 no small merriment. 
 
 Mr. Williams, who is what is vulgarly called a 
 barber, but in more refined language is termed a 
 perruquier, appeared in this court a short time since, 
 and obtained a summons against the defendant, who 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOl'IIEIl. 
 
 is clerk to Mr. Reeves, an attorney in Tottenham- 
 court-road, calling upon him to attend on a given 
 day, to show cause why he should not pay a debt of 
 39s. Hid. 
 
 Mr. Williams, who spoke with a sort of lisping 
 squeak, garrulously addressed the Commissioner : 
 " He had," he said, " been a hair-dresser, man and 
 boy, for sixty-eight years. He had served his time in 
 the Temple, where he had the honour of making wigs 
 for some of the greatest men as ever lived — of all 
 professions, and of all ranks — judges, barristers, and 
 ■commoners — churchmen as well as laymen — illiterate 
 men as well as literate men ; and among the latter, 
 he had to rank the immortal Dr. Johnson : but of all 
 the wigs he had ever set comb to, there was none on 
 which he so much prided himself as a full state wig 
 which he had made for Lord Mansfield ; it was one 
 of the earliest proofs of his genius : it had excited 
 the warm commendation of his master, and the envy 
 of his brother shopmates ; but, above all, it had 
 pleased, nay, even delighted, the noble and learned 
 judge himself. Oh ! gemmen," exclaimed Mr. Wil- | 
 liams, " if you had known what joy I felt when I 
 first saw his noble Lordship on the bench with that 
 wig on his head !" (in an under tone, but rubbing his 
 hands with ecstacy.) " Upon my say so, I was 
 fuddled for three days after!' 
 
 The Commissioner — What has this wig to do with 
 the defendant's debt 
 
 Mr. Williams— A great deal • that's the very bone 
 of contention. 
 
 The Commissioner— Doubtless ; but you must come 
 to the marrow, if you can, as soon as possible. 
 
 Mr. Wdliams — I will. Well, as I was saving— 
 where did I leave off - ! — Oh ! when I was fuddled. 
 
 The Commissioner— I hope you have left off that 
 habit, now, my good man. 
 
 Mr. Williams — Upon my say so, I have, trust 
 me ; but as I was a saying, to make a long story 
 short, in course of time I left my master in the 
 Temple, set up for myself, and did a great stroke of 
 business. Ay, I could tell you such a list of customers. 
 There was— • 
 
 Commisssioner — Xever mind, we don't want your 
 list — go on. 
 Mr. 
 
 ■For God's sake, do come to the 
 
 Williams — Well, then, at last I set up in 
 Bosweli-court, Queen-square. Lawk me ! what 
 alterations I have seen in that square, surely in my 
 time. I remember when I used to go to shave old 
 
 Lord 
 
 Commissioner- 
 end of your story. 
 
 Mr. Williams— Well, I will. Where was I ? Oh ! 
 in Boswell-court — [Commissioner, aside : I wish you 
 were there now.] — Well, then, you must know when 
 Lord Mansfield (God rest his soul !) died, his wig— 
 the very, very wig I made — got back to my old 
 master's shop, and he kept it as a pattern for other 
 judge's wigs: and at last who should die but my 
 master himself. Ay, its what we must all come to. 
 
 The Commissioner — Go on, go on man, and come 
 to the end of your story. 
 
 Mr. Williams — I will, I will. Well, where was 
 I' Oh! in my poor master's shop. Well, so when 
 he died, my mistress gave me — for she knew, poor 
 soul! how I loved it— this 'deritical wig; and I car- 
 ried it home with as much delight as it it had been 
 one of my children. Ah, poor little things! they';e 
 all gone before me . 
 
 The Commissioner- Come, if you don't cut this 
 matter short, I must, and send you after them. 
 
 Mr. Williams — Dearee me! you put me out. 
 Well, as I was a saying, I kept this here wig as 
 the apple of my eye ; when, as ill-luck would have it, 
 that ere M:. Lawrence came to my shop, and often 
 asked me to lend it to him to act with in a play 
 — I think he called it Shycock, 01 Shylock, for he 
 said he was to play the judge. I long refused, but 
 he over persuaded me, and on an uulucky day I let 
 him have it, and have never (weeping and wiping 
 his little eye with his white apron) seen it since. 
 
 The Commissioner— And so you have summoned 
 him for the price of this wig 1 
 
 Mr. Williams— You have just hit the nail on the 
 head. 
 
 The Commissioner— Well, Mr. Lawrence, what 
 have you to say to this 1 
 
45S 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence (with great pomposity) — Why, sir, 
 I have a great deal to say. 
 
 The Commissioner— Well, then, sir, I desire you 
 will say as little as you can, for there are a great 
 many persons waiting here whose time is very pre- 
 cious. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence— Not more precious than mine, I 
 presume, sir. I submit that this case is in the nature 
 of an action of trover, to recover the possession of this 
 wig ; and this admitted, sir, I have humbly to con- 
 tend, that the plaintiff must be nonsuited; for, sir, 
 you will not find one word of or concerning a wig in 
 his declaration. The plaintiff must not travel out of 
 his record. 
 
 Commissioner— What record 1 
 
 Mr. Lawrence— The record in Court. 
 
 Commissioner— We have no record. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence— You have a summons, on which I 
 attend to defend myself ; and that is, to all intents 
 and purposes, de facto, as well as de jure, a record 
 similar to, and of the essence of a record in the Court 
 above. 
 
 Commissioner— Sir, we are not guided by the 
 precedents of Courts above here. Our jurisdiction 
 and our powers are defined by particular Acts of 
 Parliament. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence— Sir, I contend, according to the 
 common law of these realms, that I am right. 
 
 Commissioner — I say, according to the rules of 
 common sense, you are wrong. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence— Sir, I have cases. 
 
 Commissioner— Sir, I desire you will confine your- 
 self to this case. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence — What says Kitty upon the nature 
 of these pleadings 1 
 
 The Commissioner — And pray who is Kitty 1 
 
 Mr. Lawrence — The most eminent pleader of the 
 present day. 
 
 The Commissioner — I never heard of a woman 
 being a special pleader. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence — He is not a woman, sir ; he is a 
 man, sir, and a great man, sir — and a man, sir 
 
 The Commissioner —Do you mean Mr. Chitty. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence — I mean the gentleman you call 
 
 Chitty, and most erroneously so call him ; for you 
 ought to know that the Ch in Italian sounds like an 
 English K : and Mr. Kitty, by lineal descent, is an 
 Italian. It is a vulgar error to spell his name with a 
 y final, it ought to be i, and then it would properly 
 sound Kittee. 
 
 The Commissioner — I should rather take Mr. 
 Chitty's authority for this than yours. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence (in anger) — Sir, do v6u contradict 
 me? 
 
 The Commissioner — Sir, I will bring this case to a 
 short issue. Did you borrow this man's wig 1 
 
 Mr. Lawrence — I did. 
 
 The Commissioner — Do you choose to return it ? 
 
 Mr. Lawrence — It is destroyed. 
 
 The Commissioner — How destroyed? 
 
 Mr. Lawrence — It was burnt by accident. 
 
 The Commissioner — Who burnt it 1 
 
 Mr. Lawrence — I did, in performing the part of 
 the Judge in Shakspeare's inimitable play of the 
 Merchant of Venice. While too intent on the plead- 
 ings of Portia, the candle caught the curls, and I, 
 with difficulty, escaped having my eyes burnt out. 
 
 The plaintiff here uttered an ejaculation of mental 
 suffering, something between a groan and a curse. 
 
 The Commissioner — Well then, sir, I have only to 
 tell you, you are responsible for the property thus 
 intrusted to your care ; and, without farther comment, 
 I order and adjudge that you pay to the plaintiff the 
 sum of 39s. list?., which is the sum he is prepared to 
 swear it is worth. 
 
 Mr. Williams — Swear ! Lord love you, I'd swear 
 it was worth a Jew's eye. Indeed, no money can 
 compensate me for its loss. 
 
 Commissioner — I cannot order you a Jew's eye, 
 Mr. Williams, unless Mr. Lawrence can persuade his 
 friend Shylock to part with one of his ; but I will 
 order you such a sum in monies numbered, as you will 
 swear this wig is fairly and honestly worth. 
 
 A long dispute followed, as to the value of the wig, 
 when Mr. Williams ultimately agreed to take 20*. 
 and costs, and the parties were dismissed mutually 
 grumbling at each other. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 A SET-DOWN. 
 
 Swift was one day in company with a young cox- 
 comb, who rose with some conceited gesticulation, 
 and with a confident air, said, " I would have you to 
 know, Mr. Dean, I set up for a wit." '■* Do you, 
 indeed," said the Dean, " then take my advice, and 
 sit down again." 
 
 45i) 
 
 THE LIKENESS ; OR, MY COUSIN. 
 
 My lord was all kind, and my lady all fair, 
 
 And in conjugal fetters were link'd ; 
 Yet one thing was wanting, and that was an heir, 
 
 That the title might not be extinct. 
 E'en this came at last, and a sweet rosy boy, 
 
 So like, — but the truth we'll record ; 
 Like an angel it look'd, but to lessen the joy, 
 
 It somehow was not like — My lord. 
 The babe grew in beauty, the christening came, 
 
 And to it flock'd friends by the dozen : 
 When the likeness, O yes, ev'ry gossip could name, 
 
 'Twas so like her ladyship's cousin ! 
 Then sure, at the moment her cousin came in, 
 
 The captain, all pleasing and grace ! 
 When his forehead, his nose, and his sweet dimpled 
 chin, 
 
 All present could easily trace. 
 The ladies sat smiling ; the captain smil'd too ; 
 
 But vow'd he no likeness could see : 
 Which my lord, nay my lady, affirm'd to be true, 
 
 And must with the captain agree. 
 The party, on this, would again view the child : 
 
 When each looking wise, hemm'd and haw'd; 
 Then, blaming their folly, (by fancy beguil'd,) 
 
 Declar'd it was just like — my lord ! 
 The next day was fix'd to go down to the grove, 
 
 When, my lady, good-humour'd and kind, 
 Said, her grandfather's age might an hindrance prove, 
 
 So fain wish'd to leave him behind. 
 " Then, my lord, all our friends are inclin'd to be 
 
 And we must not have more than a dozen.' 
 " Why then," cried my lord, " let your grandfather 
 stay, 
 And, my dear, we'll dispense with my cousin." 
 x2 
 
 MISERIES OF .AN AMERICAN STAGE-COACH. 
 
 " After all," says Madame de Stael, " it is a 
 melancholy pleasure to travel." My dear Coiinna, 
 what an expression ! *' a pleasure to travel !" You 
 might as well have said, " D'abord ce n'est qu'uu 
 triste plaisir que de se faire arracher le dent !" 
 However pleasant it might be to you to roll in your 
 baronial travelling carriage from Geneva to Paris, to 
 meet the incense of your adoring beaux esprits, I 
 can assure your illustrious shade, that the American 
 stage-coach is quite another affair. The very genius of 
 inconvenience seems to have invented them, and to 
 continue his ungracious assistance to* arrange their 
 evolutions. 
 
 Misery 1st. Packing. 
 
 2. After a sleepless night of anxiety, on the eve of 
 the fatal day, mixed with the interesting reflections — 
 is every thing right in my valise?— Will Mary re- 
 member to wake me at four?— where did I "pack" my 
 shaving apparatus? &c— you drop into a perturbed 
 sleep, which in half an hour is broken by the appall- 
 ing cry — " The stage is come, sir" You wake with 
 aching head and low spirits, and would give every 
 thing in the world, except your already paid passage- 
 money to sleep till nine. 
 
 3. Getting into the coach in the dark, treading on 
 the feet of the peevish, sleepy, occupants — you are 
 stuck upon the midst of the narrow, tottering, middle 
 seat, with no back to lean against, and two or three 
 trunks already in possession of the place destined for 
 your legs. A sick child is awaked by your entree, 
 and the mother opens an octave higher than concert 
 pitch, to drown his cries and aid iu waking him 
 thoroughly. After keeping you in this state half an 
 hour, the coachman drives on, and you are greeted 
 with the muttered " d — n" of your opposite male 
 fellow-passenger, as you pitch against him, and the 
 whining "dear me ! luddy mercy" of the " ladies," 
 (to use the coachman's hyperbolical compliment to 
 the gingham draped travellers,) on whom in turn you 
 recoil. 
 
 4. A breakfast at a poor tavern. Domestic coffee, 
 
460 
 
 tHE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 sweetened with maple sugar ; heavy, coarse bread- 
 tough, cold ham. No napkins, no salt-spoons, no 
 egg-cups, no toast, no nothing, you have now a 
 view of your fellow-passengers, who are to bear you 
 company throughout a long summer's day. And first 
 of the "ladies" — the sick child's cross mother— a 
 red, fat, snuff-faced widow, and two old maids with 
 faded silk gowns and gold necklaces. The men 
 ignorant and presuming, wrangling about manufac- 
 tures and politics, and treating their salivary glands 
 to a profusion of tobacco. You have a fine time to 
 reflect on your folly, in leaving the charming, Cheer- 
 ful breakfast at C 's, the strong, hot amber of the 
 
 coffee, the light French rolls, the Vauxhall ham, 
 and, above all, the rosy, laughing girls, blooming and 
 giggling from their morning slumbers, and full of the 
 amusements and sports of the day, — " a longing, 
 lingering look behind !" 
 
 5. As you are about to mount the mud-fleckered 
 coach, you look with tardy prudence for your valise. 
 Remember, at this convenient, season, you fcr/got it. 
 You thus endure, like the man in the play, not only 
 disgrace and inconvenience, but positive loss. Forced 
 to open your heavy, large, close-packed trunk twenty 
 times a day, for want of the valise as a tender. Your 
 imagination dwelling on it with nervous tenacity. 
 So neat a valise— so convenient — all my dressing 
 articles— the very valise I had abroad— how could I 
 lose my valise ? &e. &c. 
 
 6. A rough, stony road, wooden springs to the 
 carriage, the horses, as well as the driver, in spirits, 
 or deep clinging mud, lazy driver and tired horses — 
 long stages of twelve or fifteen miles, with a heavy 
 load. 
 
 7. Wishing to make a cross-cut, you are told that, 
 at the next village, you will certainly find horses. 
 Arrive, and while seeking the landlord, let the former 
 stage drive off. Find out that there are no horses in. 
 Perquisitions reluctantly and indolently made for you 
 at the Doctor's, Squire L.'s, &c. unsuccessful, it being 
 the landlord's interest to detain you, and hence 
 
 8. A day at a country tavern, no books, amuse- 
 ments, or company. (See Washington living's Stout 
 Gentleman "* No good wine— no agreeable prospect 
 
 —no pleasant scenery— no pretty chambermaids. 
 The day seems like a little eternity 
 
 " Nothing there is to come, and nothing past." 
 9. Arrive at your destination— hotel full— are 
 corkscrewed up five pair of stairs to a littie, low, 
 dark chamber, with two beds. The servant vanishes 
 under the artful pretence of filling your dressing 
 pitcher, but returns not : — no bell— grope down to the 
 bar— every one busy with the previous customers, in 
 their new coats and smooth chins— barkeeper, from 
 your muddy travelling frock and long beard, takes 
 you for your own servant, and minds nothing you say 
 — dressing to go out— find that every thing you want 
 is precisely at the nadir of your trunk, which is not 
 quite so handy as an elephant's — clothes full of 
 wrinkles— cravats yellow — quizzed by the native 
 dandies in the reading and bar-rooms — nobody to 
 whom you have cards at home— your banker in the 
 country to stay a fortnight — little money and no cre- 
 dit—see a fine girl in the street— laughs at your 
 y3nkee coat instead of falling in love with you, camme 
 de raison—fini the reverse of the proverb about a 
 prophet in his own country true— treated rudely at 
 the table d'h6te— quorrel — no friend to take your 
 note— make your dying arrangements; no friend to 
 leave them with— bound over to keep the peace— uo 
 friend to be bail — get into the coach to return — every 
 thing worse than before, because you have no cu- 
 riosity to gratify, and have tired your body and mind 
 into a state of querulous despondence. — Arrive at 
 home, and learn that in your absence your firm has 
 failed, and your mistress married your rival. 
 
 what's an epigram. 
 The first known English Epigram. 
 A student at his book so plast, 
 
 That wealth he might have wonne, 
 From book to wife did flete in haste, 
 
 From wealth to wo to run. 
 Now who hath paid a feater cast, 
 
 Since juggling first beganne 
 In knitting of himself so fast, 
 
 Himself he hath undone. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 461 
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE PREACHING, 
 
 A clergyman preaching a charity-sermon, February 
 
 4, 1778, at a church in the city, during his discourse 
 
 pulled out of his pocket a newspaper, and read out 
 
 of it the following paragraph, viz. — On Sunday, the 
 
 18th of January, two ponies ran on the Uxbridge 
 
 j road twenty miles for twenty guineas, and one gained 
 
 j it by about half a head ; both ponies ridden by their 
 
 I owners. Also another paragraph of the like kind, 
 
 i of a race on the Romford road, on a Sunday. He 
 
 j made an apology for reading part of a newspaper in 
 
 the pulpit, said he believed it was the first instance 
 
 i of the kind, and he sincerely wished that there never 
 
 j might be occasion for the like again. He then pointed 
 
 out the heinous sin of Sabbath breaking. 
 
 Hugh Peters, one of the fanatics of Cromwell's 
 time, preaching en Psalm cvii. 7.—" He led them 
 forth by the right way, that they might go to a city 
 of habitation," — told his audience that God was forty 
 years leading Israel through the wilderness to Ca- 
 naan, which was not forty days' march ; but that 
 God's way was a great way about. He then made a 
 circumflex on his cushion, and said that the Israelites 
 were led " crinkledom cum crankledom." 
 
 A preacher in a mosque began the history of Noah 
 with this text from the Koran : — " I have called 
 Noah ;" but forgetting the rest of the verse, repeated 
 the same words over and over. At length one of his 
 hearers cried out, " If Noah will not come, call 
 somebody else." 
 
 PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 
 
 A city auctioneer, one Samuel Stubbs, 
 Did greater execution with his hammer, 
 Assisted by his puffing clamour, 
 
 Than Gog and Magog with their clubs, 
 
 Or that great Fee-fa fum of war, 
 
 The Scandinavian Thor, 
 
 Did with his mallet, which (see Bryant's 
 
 Mythology) fell'd stoutest giants : 
 
 For Samuel knock'd down nouses, churches, 
 
 And woods of oak, and elms and birches, 
 
 With greater ease than mad Orlando 
 Tore the first tree he laid his hand to. 
 
 He ought, in reason, to have raised his own 
 Lot by knocking others down ; 
 And had he been content with shaking 
 His hammer and his hand, and taking- 
 Advantage of what brought him grist, he 
 Might have been as rich as Christie ; — 
 But somehow when thy midnight bell, Bow, 
 
 Sounded along Cheapside its knell, 
 
 Our spark was busy in Pall-mall 
 Shaking his elbow, — 
 Marking, with paw upon his mazzard 
 The turns of hazard ; 
 Or rattling in a box the dice, 
 
 Which seem'd as if a grudge they bore 
 To Stubbs ; for often in a trice, 
 Down on the nail be was compell'd to p?y 
 All that his hammer brought him in the day, 
 
 And sometimes more. 
 Thus, like a male Penelope, our wight, 
 What he had done by day undid at night, 
 No wonder, therefore, if, like her 
 
 He was beset by clamorous brutes 
 Who crowded round him to prefer 
 
 Their several suits. 
 One Mr. Snipps, the tailor, had the longest 
 
 Bill for many suits — of raiment, 
 And naturally thought he had the strongest 
 
 Claim for payment. 
 But debts of honour must be paid, 
 Whate'er becomes of debts of trade ; 
 And so our stylish auctioneer, 
 From month to month throughout the year, 
 Excuses, falsehoods, pleas alleges 
 Or flatteries, compliments, and pledges, 
 When in the latter mood one day 
 He squeezed his hand, and swore to pay, — 
 « But when ]" — " Next month. — You may de 
 
 pend on't 
 My dearest Snipps, before the end on't — 
 Your face proclaims in every feature, 
 You wouldn't harm a fellow-creature — 
 
462 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 You're a kind soul, I know you are Snipps." 
 ' Ay, so you said six months ago> 
 But such fine words, I'd have you know 
 
 Butter no parsnips.''* 
 This said, he bade his lawyer draw 
 
 A special writ, 
 
 Serve it on Stubbs, and follow it 
 Up with the utmost rigour of the law. 
 This lawyer was a friend of Stubbs, 
 
 That is to say, 
 
 In a civic way, 
 Where business interposes not its rubs ; 
 Tor where the main chance is in question, 
 
 Damon leaves Pythias to the stake, 
 
 Pylades and Orestes break, 
 And Alexander cuts Hephaestion ; 
 But when our man of law must sue his friends, 
 Tenfold politeness makes amends. 
 So when he met our Auctioneer, 
 
 Into his outstretch'd hand he thrust his 
 Writ, and said with friendly leer, 
 
 " My dear, dear Stubbs, pray do me justice; 
 In this affair I hope you see 
 No censure can attach to me — 
 Don't entertain a wrong impression • 
 
 I'm doing now what must be done 
 
 In my profession." . 
 
 "And so am I," Stubbs answered with a frown, 
 
 So crying " Going — going — gone !" 
 He knock'd him down ! — — 
 
 POETICAL BALANCE. 
 
 An Italian poet presented some verses to the pope, 
 who had not gone far before he met with a line too 
 short in quantity, which he observed. The poet sub- 
 missively entreated his holiness to read on, and he 
 would probably meet with a line that was a syllable 
 too long, so that that account would be balanced. 
 
 THE FROLICSOME DUKE, OR THE" TINKER'S GOOD 
 FORTUNE. 
 
 The following story is told of Philip the Good, 
 Duke of Burgundy, by an old English writer. 
 
 " The said duke, at the marriage of Eleonora, sister 
 to the King of Portugal, at Bruges in Flanders, 
 which was solemnized in the depth of winter ; when 
 as by reason of unseasonable weather he could nei- 
 ther hawk nor hunt, and was now tired with cards, 
 dice, &c. and such other domestic sports, or to see 
 ladies dance ; with some of his courtiers he would in 
 the evening walk disguised all about the town. It 
 so fortuned, as he was walking late one night, he 
 found a country fellow dead drunk, snorting on a 
 bulk ; he caused his followers to bring him to his 
 palace, and there stripping him of his old clothes, 
 and attiring him after the court fashion, when he 
 wakened, he and they were all ready to attend upon 
 his excellency, and persuade him that he was some 
 great duke. The poor fellow, admiring how he came 
 there, was served in state all day long : after supper 
 he saw them dance, heard music, and all the rest 
 of those court-like pleasures : but late at night, when 
 he was well-tippled, and again fast asleep, they put on 
 his old robes, and so conveyed him to the place where 
 they first found him. Now the fellow had not made 
 them so good sport the day before, as he did now, 
 when he returned to himself; all the jest was to see 
 how he looked upon it. In conclusion, after some 
 little admiration, the poor man told his friends he 
 had seen a vision ; constantly believed it ; would not 
 otherwise be persuaded, and so the jest ended." - 
 
 Now as fame does report, a young duke keeps a 
 
 court, 
 One that pleases his fancy with frolicsome sport : 
 But among all the rest, here is one, I protest, 
 Which will make you to smile when you hear the 
 
 true jest : 
 A poor tinker he found lying drunk on the ground, 
 As secure in a sleep as if laid in a swound. 
 The duke said to his men, William, Richard, and Ben, 
 Take him home to my palace, we'll sport with him then. 
 O'er a horse he was laid, and with care soon convey'd 
 To the palace, altho' he was poorly array'd : 
 Then they stript off his clothes, both his shirt, shoes, and 
 
 hose. 
 And they put him to bed for to take his repose. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 463 
 
 Having pull'd off his shirt, which was all over dirt, 
 They did give him clean holland, this was no great hurt : 
 i On a bed of soft down, like a lord of renown, 
 
 They did lay him, to sleep the drink out of his crown. 
 ! In the morning when day, then admiring he lay, 
 ! For to see the rich chamber both gaudy and gay. 
 ' Now he lay something late, in his rich bed of state, 
 ! Till at last knights and squires they on him did wait ; 
 ; And the chamberlain bare, then did likewise declare, 
 • He desir'd to know what apparel he'd wear : 
 ! The poor tinker amaz'd, on the gentleman gaz'd, 
 And admired how he to his honour was rais'd. 
 Tho' he seem'd something mute, yet he chose a rich 
 
 suit, 
 Which he straightways put on without longer dispute ; 
 With a star on his side, which the tinker oft eyed, 
 And it seem'd for to swell him no little with pride ; 
 For he said to himself, Where is Joan my sweet wife ? 
 Sure she never did see me so fine in her life. 
 From a convenient place the right duke his good grace, 
 Did observe his behaviour in every case. 
 To a garden of state on the tinker they wait, 
 Trumpets sounding before him ; thought he, this is 
 
 great ; 
 Where an hour or two, pleasant walks he did view, 
 With commanders and squires in scarlet and blue. 
 A fine dinner was drest, both for him and his guests ; 
 He was plac'd at the table above all the rest, 
 In a rich chair or bed lin'd with fine crimson red, 
 With a rich golden canopy over his head 
 As he sat at his meat the music play'd sweet, 
 With the choicest of singing his joys to complete. 
 While the tinker did dine, he had plenty of wine, 
 Rich canary and sherry, and tent superfine. 
 Like a right honest soul, faith, he took off his bowl, 
 i Till at last he began for to tumble and roll 
 From his chair to the floor, where he sleeping did 
 
 snore, 
 Being seven times drunker than ever before. 
 Then the duke did ordain, they should strip him 
 
 amain, 
 And restore him his old leather garments again : 
 
 'Twas a point next the worst, yet perform it they 
 
 must, 
 And they carried him straight where they found him 
 
 at first ; 
 Then he slept all the night, as indeed well he might ; 
 But when he did waken, his joys took their flight. 
 For his glory to him so pleasant did seem, 
 That he thought it to be but a mere golden dream : 
 Till at length he was brought to the duke, where he 
 
 sought 
 For a pardon, as fearing he had set him at nought ; 
 But his highness he said, Thou'rt a jolly bold blade, 
 Such a frolic before I think never was play'd. 
 Then his highness bespoke him a new suit and cloke, 
 Which he gave for the sake of this frolicsome joke, 
 Nay, and five hundred pound, with ten acres of 
 
 ground, 
 Thou shalt never, said he, range the countries round, 
 Crying, old brass to mend, for I'll be thy good friend, 
 Nay, and Joan thy sweet wife shall my dutchess at- 
 tend. 
 Then the tinker reply'd, What ! must Joan my sweet 
 
 bride 
 Be a lady, in chariots of pleasure to ride ? 
 Must we have gold and land ev'ry day at command 1 
 Then I shall be a squire I well understand : 
 Well, I thank your good grace, and your love I em- 
 brace ; 
 I was never before in so happy a case. 
 
 GLOVES AND ARMS. 
 
 A very brave soldier had both his arms carried off 
 in a battle ; his colonel offered him half a crown : 
 u Undoubtedly, colonel," replied the soldier, " you 
 think J have only lost a pair of gloves J' 
 
 THIEF OUTWITTED. 
 
 A citizen missed two pounds of fresh butter, which 
 was to be reserved for himself. The maid, however, 
 had not only stole it, but fastened the theft upon the 
 cat ; averring, moreover, she caught her in the act of 
 finishing the last morsel. The wily cit immediately 
 put the kitten into the scales, and found it to weigh 
 
464 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 but a pound and a half ! This city mode of accurate 
 reasoning being quite conclusive, the girl confessed 
 her crime. 
 
 A CONNOISSEUR 
 
 Though born in this kingdom, he has travelled long 
 enough to fall in love Avith every thing foreign, and 
 despise every thing belonging to his own country, 
 except himself. He pretends to be a great judge of 
 paintings, but only admires those done a great way 
 off. and a great while ago ; he caunot bear any thing 
 done by any of his own countrymen, and one day 
 being in an auction room where there was a number 
 of capital pictures, and among the rest an inimitable 
 piece of painting of fruits and flowers ; the connoisseur 
 would not give his opinion of the picture until he had 
 examined his catalogue, and finding it was done by 
 an Englishman, he pulled out his eye-glass, " O Sir," 
 said he, tl these English fellows have no more idea 
 of genius than a Dutch skipper has of dancing a 
 cotillion ; the dog has spoiled a fine piece of canvas ; 
 he's worse than a Harp-alley sign-post dauber ; there's 
 no keeping, no perspective, no fore-ground ; why 
 there now, the fellow has attempted to paint a fly 
 upon that rose-bud ; why its no more like a fly than 
 I am like an a — " But as the connoisseur approached 
 his finger to the picture, the fly flew away. — His eyes 
 being half closed, this is called the vise man's wink, 
 and shows he cau see the world with half an eye ; he 
 has so wonderful a penetration, so inimitable a fore- 
 cast, he always can see how every thing was to be — 
 after the. affair is over. 
 
 THE FARMER AND THE COUNSELLOR. 
 
 A counsel in the Common Pleas, 
 Who was esteem'd a mighty wit, 
 Upon the strength of a chance hit 
 
 Amid a. thousand flippancies, 
 
 And his occasional bad jokes 
 
 In bullying, bantering, browbeating, 
 Ridiculing and maltreating 
 
 Women or other timid folks, 
 
 In a late cause resolved to hoax 
 
 .. 
 
 A clownish Yorkshire farmer — one 
 Who by his uncouth look and gait, 
 Appear'd expressly meant by fate, 
 For being quizz'd and play'd upon. 
 So having tipp'd the wink to those 
 
 In the back rows, 
 Who kept their laughter bottled down 
 
 Until our wag should draw the cork, 
 He smiled jocosely on the clown, 
 
 And went to work. 
 " Well, Farmer Numscull, how goes calves 
 York?" 
 
 ' ' Why — not, sir, as they do wi' you, 
 But on four legs instead of two," 
 " Officer !" cried the legal elf, 
 Piqued at the laugh against himself, 
 " Do pray keep silence down below there. 
 Now look at me, clown, and attend, 
 Have Ijiot seen you somewhere, friend?" — 
 " Yees — very like — I often go there." 
 " Our rustic's waggish — quite laconic," 
 The counsel cried with grin sardonic :— 
 " I wish I'd known this prodigy, 
 This genius of the clods, when ] 
 
 On circuit was at York residing.' — 
 Now, farmer, do for once speak true, 1 
 Mind, you're on oath, so tell me, you 
 Who doubtless think yourself so clever, 
 Are there as many fools as ever 
 
 In the West Biding ?" 
 " Why no, sir, no ; we've got our share, 
 But not so many as when you we're there." 
 
 NATIONAL ANTIPATHY. 
 
 An Indian, being condemned to die by the Spa- 
 niards, (who had already caused the death of ten 
 millions of men, in their conversion,) was persuaded, 
 by a Franciscan friar, to turn Christian, and then he 
 would go to heaven. " Are there any Spaniards 
 there?" inquired the heathen. "Yes, (said the 
 friar,) it is full of them." — " Nay, then, (said the 
 Indian,) I prefer going to hell, rather than having 
 any more of their company." 
 
ISLINGTON WORTHIES. 
 
 Here is Mr. Quick, who can scarcely walk, 
 
 Mrs. White a decided tawny ; 
 And Rhodes is supported by milk and chalk, 
 
 And Miss Hogg is too lean to be brawny j 
 Mr. Flower's a flourishing Aaron's Rod, 
 
 Hogarth's a garden-painter, 
 French out of Britain has never trod, 
 
 And Miss Rose than a lily is fainter. 
 Bracebridge an arch has never made, 
 
 Smith never beaten an anvil ; 
 Miller knows nought of the floury trade, 
 
 And Stockstill will never be stand still ; 
 Grammar is heard in a public house, 
 
 A Post is as prim as a quaker ; 
 And good Mister Lion, he squeaks like a mouse 
 
 While old Mistress Stiff* is a shaker. 
 Miss Brown is fair, and Miss Black is red, 
 
 And Peter Blunt is civil ; 
 Nelson to sea was never bred, 
 
 Old Angel's a very " devil." 
 Parry beats all by parrying law, 
 
 Stringer ne'er wound a reel. 
 Edge never used nor set a saw, 
 
 Nor Fast withstood a meal. 
 Le Dieu, sirs, keeps a house for beer; 
 
 Tom Paine's a godly fellow, 
 And in spite of Cobbett, he will appear 
 
 In flesh and bones, though sallow; 
 Tailor a stitch has never sown, 
 
 Serjeant was ne'er enlisted, 
 Slim, with surprise, is lusty grown, 
 
 And Miss Roper's still untwisted. 
 Miss Martins never fledged their wings, 
 
 Miss Swallows never travel, 
 Miss Bird nor Starling ever sings, 
 
 Miss Stone is as soft as gravel. 
 Here's widow Jay completely dumb, 
 
 Here's widow Cross good-natured ; 
 Here's Mr.* Handy without a thumb, 
 
 And Cowie human featured. 
 x3 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Here's Mr. Fox without a tail 
 who is no poet. 
 
 465 
 
 Thomson, 
 Cooper who cannot make a pail, 
 
 And Sell who will not show it. 
 Draper has never dealt in cloth, 
 
 Excepting his' profession, 
 Armstrong has never killed a moth, 
 
 Or Garret kept possession. 
 Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, have ne'er 
 
 Been scribes in sacred writ ; 
 Water's so dry, he covets beer, 
 
 And Lack entraps with wit; 
 Jolly is sick, Gay is sad, 
 
 Badger's a gentle fellow ; 
 Good, like his name, is rarely bad, 
 
 Or Pearman ever mellow. 
 I've hosts of others left in store — 
 
 Anon, I'll ring their changes, 
 When memory flings their pleasures o'er, 
 
 And fancy round them ranges ; 
 For Islington contains such folks 
 
 As love with friends to mingle — 
 To please the married with the jokes, 
 
 And marry all the single. 
 
 BELL KINGING. 
 
 A poor Swiss, who was in the mad-house of Zu- 
 rich, was rather afflicted by imbecility than madness, 
 and was allowed his occasional liberty, which he 
 never abused. All his happiness consisted in ringing 
 the bells of the parish church ; of this he was some- 
 how deprived, and it plunged him into despair. At 
 lenght he sought the governor, and said to him, " I 
 come, sir, to ask a favour of you. I used to ring the 
 bells ; it was the only thing in the world in which I 
 could make myself useful, but they will not let me do 
 it any longer. Ho me the pleasure then of cutting 
 off my head ; I cannot do it myself, or I would save 
 you the trouble." Such an appeal produced his re- 
 establishment in his former honours, and he died 
 ringing the bells. 
 
466 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 COOKE THE COMEDIAN AND THE DIRTY BEAU. 
 
 After performing one evening at Manchester, 
 Cooke repaired to a small tavern near the theatre, in 
 company with a friend ; mirth and good-humour pre- 
 vailed till twelve o'clock, when bis friend perceiving, 
 as he thought, a something lurking in his expressive 
 eye which foretold a storm, he anxiously endeavoured 
 to get him home before it burst forth. The importu- 
 nity of his friend, instead of having the desired effect, 
 precipitated what he had foreseen ; with a haughty, 
 supercilious look, he-said, " I see what you are about, 
 you hypocritical scoundrel ! you canting, methodisti- 
 cal thief! Am I, George Frederick Co«ke, to be 
 controlled by such a would-be puritan as you ? I'll 
 teach you to dictate to a tragedian !" — then pulling 
 off his coat, and holding his fist in a menacing atti- 
 tude, "Come out," said he, " thou prince of deceivers! 
 though thou hast faith to remove mountains, thou 
 shalt not remove me — come out>, I say !" With some 
 difficulty he was pacified, and resumed his coat. 
 There was a large fire in the room, before which stood 
 a figure with his skirts under each arm, a pitiful imi- 
 tation of buckism, very deficient in cleanliness and 
 costume ; his face was grimy, and his neckcloth of the 
 same tint, which nevertheless was rolled in various 
 folds about his throat ; his hair was matted, and turn- 
 ed up under a round greasy hat, with narrow brims, 
 conceitedly placed on one side of his head. Thus 
 equipped, the filthy fop straddled before the fire, 
 which he completely monopolized. At length he 
 caught the eye of Cooke, who in silent amazement, 
 for the space of half a minute, examined him from top 
 to toe ; then turning to his friend, he burst into a 
 horse laugh, and roared out, "Beau nasty, by 
 Heaven f' Perhaps intimidated by Cooke's former 
 bluster, this insensible puppy took little notice. 
 Cooke now rose from his seat, and taking up the 
 skirts of his own coat in imitation of the beau, turned 
 his back to the fire. " Warm work in the back set- 
 tlements, sir," said he; then approaching still nearer, 
 as if he had some secret to communicate, whispered, 
 though loud enough for every one to hear, " Pray, sir, 
 how is soap V J ( Soap ['[ " Yes, sir, soap — they say 
 
 it is coming down." " I am glad of it." " Indeed, 
 sir, you have cause, if one may judge from your ap- 
 pearance." Here was a general laugh, which the 
 beau seemed not to regard, but nodding his head and 
 hitting his boots with a small rattan, rang the bell 
 with an air of importance, and inquired if he could 
 have a " weal kitlet, or a mutten chip .<"' " What do J 
 you think," said Cooke, " of a roasted puppy ? be- 
 cause," taking up the poker, "I will spit you and 
 roast you in a minute." This had a visible effect 
 upon the dirty beau ; he retreated towards the door, 
 Cooke following with the poker. " A vaunt, and quit 
 my sight ; thy face is dirty, and thy hands unwashed, 
 avaunt ! avaunt ! I say :" — then replacing the poker 
 and returning to his seat, he continued, "being gone, 
 I am a man again." 
 
 DOMESTIC JARS. 
 
 The following curious advertisement appeared in 
 an American paper : " Whereas I, Daniel Clay, 
 thiough misrepresentation, was induced to post my 
 wife, Rhoda, in the papers : now I beg leave to in- 
 form the public, that I have again taken her to wife, 
 after settling all our domestic broils in an amicable 
 manner ; so that every thing, as usual, goes on like f 
 clockwork." 
 
 " Divorc'd like scissars rent in twain, 
 
 Each mourn'd the rivet out : 
 Now whet and rivetted again, 
 
 They'll make the old shears cut." 
 
 GRACE MAL-A-PROPOS. 
 
 A milliner's apprentice being obliged to wait upon 
 a duchess, was fearful of committing some error in 
 her deportment. She therefore went to consult a 
 friend as to the manner in which she should address 
 this great personage : who told her that when she 
 came before the duchess she must say her Grace, 
 and so forth. Accordingly away went the girl, and 
 being introduced, after a very low courtesy, she said, 
 " For what I am going to receive the Lord make me 
 truly thankful." To which the duchess answered, 
 Amen ! 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER.' 
 
 467 
 
 THE QUAKER AND THE BARN, 
 
 When old Methuselah gave up the ghost, 
 And sought his fathers in the silent tomb 
 He left Aminadab to rule the roast, 
 
 And winged ins soul away to kingdom come. 
 Scarcely had Death his glimmering eyelids closed, 
 The latent ebb of life composed, 
 When master Broadbrim, like a hopeful heir, 
 Pored o'er his father's will and dropped the onioned 
 tear. 
 Onion's a very useful thing, 
 Wrapped in. a muslin handkerchief so white ! 
 To draw the tear from etiquette's soft spring, 
 At funerals — a pretty sight — 
 And much in vogue with mutes and undertakers ; 
 Whose frothy sorrows foam, like ocean's breakers. 
 Thus young Aminadab, in Irish knell, . 
 O'er father's corse and will 'gan yearn ; 
 When, lo ! a gift of half a barn 
 
 To Hezekiah, 
 Stopp'd short at once the dismal yell, 
 And made his glistening eyeballs glow with ire. 
 Whoe'er has felt blithe Cupid's golden dart, 
 
 Tipt with that Mohawk Jealousy's cursed poison, 
 Won't wonder our young squire should start 
 To fix his willow-weeping eyes on 
 A gift to neighbour Hezekiah, 
 Who had just robbed his arms of prime Miss Dinah. 
 Kowe'er he plaited o'er his frantic face, 
 
 Tho' most tremendously against the grain, 
 And vented passion with a grace, 
 
 When father safely in the ground was lain. 
 Writing a billet to his rival, 
 (Which, to be sure, was wonderous civil) 
 He told him, in a style so warm,, 
 " Friend Hez, I find part of a barn, 
 Has been bequeathed thee by my honoured sire— » 
 i therefore trust thy stars will be so kind, 
 As to give thee a western wind, < 
 
 When of the eastern part I make a fire !" 
 
 garrick's acting. 
 Lord Chesterfield once said to Mr. Garrick, 
 " David, you are an actor every where but upon the 
 stage." 
 
 KEEPING A SECRET. 
 
 Dr. Paul Hiffernan, an author of no celebrity, but 
 kept in countenance by Garrick, sober or drunk never 
 revealed his residence : he frequented the coffee- 
 houses, and had his letters addressed there, but he 
 ever adroitly evaded letting any one know where he 
 lodged. The wits and wags of the day tried every 
 expedient, but in vain. Mr. Dossie, secretary to the 
 Duke of Northumberland, used to spend his even- 
 ings at Slaughter's coffee-house, and he had the 
 eccentric, or odd way of insisting upon seeing the lust 
 of the company home ; and, as Hiffernan was no 
 starter from the bottle, they were frequently the last. 
 The latter, however, had the address to defeat his 
 friend's politeness ; "for finding that " apologies," 
 and " declining the friendly office," " that he lodged 
 a long way off," &c, all in vain, he then fairly set 
 out towards the city. Dossie persisted till he had got 
 to St. Paul's church-yard: " Pray, doctor, do you 
 Jive much farther ?" — " Oh yes, sir"!" says the doctor, 
 " and on that account I told you it would be giving 
 you a great deal of trouble." This revived the other's 
 civility, and on they marched till they reached the 
 Royal Exchange. Here the question was asked 
 again, when the doctor, who found him lagging, and 
 thought he could venture to name some place, replied, 
 that (i he lived at Bow." This answer decided the 
 contest ; Mr. D. confessing he was not able to walk 
 so far, and wishing the doctor a good night, walked 
 back to his lodgings, near Charing Cross, with great 
 composure. And as soon as Mr. Dossie had fairly 
 got the start. Dr. Hiffernan walked home to his own 
 lodgings, in one of the little courts in St. Martin's 
 Lane. 
 
 BOWELS OF COMPASSION. 
 
 Caroline, queen of George II. died of a mortifica- 
 tion in her bowels, and her body was twisted with 
 towels ; the usual method practised in that disorder. 
 As she would not be reconciled to her son even on 
 her death-bed, the circumstance gave rise to the fol- 
 lowing lines : 
 
 Here lies wrapt up in twenty towels, 
 The only proof that Caroline had bowels. 
 
468 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 TORYISM. 
 
 Lord Chesterfield, on seeing a lady who was a re- 
 puted jacobite., adorned- with orange ribands, at the 
 anniversary ball at Dublin, in memory of king 
 William, thus addressed her extempore ■ 
 
 Thoit little tor//, where' s the jest 
 To wear those ribands in thy breast ; 
 When that same breast, betraying, shows 
 The whiteness of the rebel rose. 
 
 PUFFING BURLESQUED. 
 
 The following whimsical account of Mrs. Siddons's 
 first appearance in Dublin, is extracted from an old 
 Irish newspaper. — "On Saturday, Mrs. Siddons, 
 about whom all the world has been talking, exposed 
 her beautiful, adamantine, soft, and lovely person, for 
 the first time, at Smock-Alley Theatre, in the bewitch- 
 ing, melting, and all-tearful character of Isabella. 
 From the repeated panegyrics in the impartial London 
 newspapers, we were taught to expect the sight of a 
 heavenly angel ; but how were we supernaturally 
 surprised into the most awful joy, at beholding a 
 mortal goddess. The house was crowded with hun- 
 dreds more than it could hold, with thousands of ad- 
 miring spectators, that went away without a sight. 
 This extraordinary phenomenon of tragic excellence ! 
 this star of Melpomene ! this comet of the stage ! this 
 sun of the firmament of the Muses! this moon of 
 blank verse ! this queen and princess of tears ! this 
 Donnellan of the poisoned bowl ! this empress of the 
 pistol and dagger ! this chaos of Shakspeare !. this 
 world of weeping clouds ! this Juno of commanding 
 aspects ! this Terpsichore of the curtains and scenes! 
 this Proserpine of fire and earthquake ! this Katter- 
 felto of wonders ! exceeded expectation, went beyond 
 belief, and soared above all the natural powers of 
 description! She was nature itself! She was the 
 most exquisite work of art ! She was the very daisy, 
 primrose, tuberose, sweet-brier, furze-blossom, gilli- 
 flower, wallflower, cauliflower, aurica, and rosemary ! 
 In short, she was the bouquet of Parnassus ! Where 
 expectation was raised so high, it was thought she 
 would be injured by her appearance ; but it was the 
 audience who were injured : several fainted before 
 
 the curtain drew up ! but, when she came to the 
 scene of parting with her wedding-ring, ah ! what a 
 sight was there ! the very fiddlers in the orchestra, 
 " albeit, unused to the "melting mood," blubbered 
 like hungry children crying for their bread and but- 
 ter ; and when the bell rang for music between the 
 acts, the tears ran from the bassoon players' eyes in 
 such plentiful showers, that they choked the finger- 
 stops, and making a spout, of the instrument, poured 
 in such torrents on the first fiddler's book, that, not 
 seeing the overture was in two sharps, the leader of 
 the band actually played in one flat. But the sobs 
 and sighs of the groaning audience, and the noise of 
 corks drawn from the smelling-bottles, prevented the 
 mistake between the flats and sharps being discovered. 
 One hundred and nine ladies fainted ! forty-six went 
 into fits ! and ninety-five had strong hysterics '. The 
 world will scarcely credit the truth, when they are 
 told that fourteen children, five old women, one hun- 
 dred tailors, and six common-councilmen, were ac- 
 tually drowned in the inundation of tears that flowed 
 from the galleries, the slips, and the boxes, to in- 
 crease the briny pond in the pit ; the water was three 
 feet deep, and the people that were obliged to stand 
 upon the benches, were in that position up to their 
 ankles in tears ! An act of parliament against her 
 playing any more will certainly pass." 
 
 ■ THE CHURCHWARDEN, OR THE FEAST ON A CHILD. 
 A TALE. 
 
 The phrase " eating a- child," is probably of mys- 
 terious import to many persons, though perfectly well 
 understood by those versed in the dialect used among 
 parochial officers. To assist the uninitiated, the fol- 
 lowing story, founded on fact, may be a sufficient 
 illustration. 
 
 At Knightsbridge, at a tavern called the Swan, 
 Churchwardens, overseers, a jolly clan, 
 
 Ordered a dinner, for themselves and friends ; 
 A very handsome dinner, of the best : 
 Lo ! to a turn the different joints were dressed — 
 
 Their lips, wild licking, every man commends. 
 Loud was the clang of plates, and knives, and forks ; 
 Delightful was the sound of claret corks, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 469 
 
 That stopped so close and lovingly the bottle : 
 Thou Savoir vivre club, and ,/<?«' sais qnoi, 
 Full well the voice of honest corks ye know, 
 
 Deep and deep-blushing from the generous pottle. 
 All ear, all eye, to listen and to see, 
 The landlord was as busy as a bee — 
 
 Yes, Larder skipped like harlequin so light ; 
 In bread, beer, wine, removal swift of dishes, 
 Nimbly anticipating all their wishes — 
 
 Now this, to man voracious as a kite, 
 Is pleasant — as the trencher-heroes hate 
 All obstacles that keep them from the plate, 
 As much as jockeys on a running horse 
 Curse cows or jack-asses that cross the course. 
 Nay, here's a solid reason too ; for mind, 
 Bawling for things, demandeth mouth and wind : 
 Whatever therefore weakeneth wind and jaws, 
 Is hostile to the gormandizing cause. [sung, 
 
 Having weli crammed, and swilled, and laughed, and 
 And toasted girls, and clapped, and roared, and rung, 
 And broken bones of tables, chairs, and glasses, 
 Like happy bears, in honour of their lasses, 
 Not wives ! not one was toasted all the time— « 
 Thus were they decent — it had been a crime, 
 As wives are delicate and sacred names, 
 Not to be mixed indeed with whores and flames : 
 I say, when all were crammed unto the chin, 
 And every one with wine had filled his skin, 
 
 In came the landlord with a cherub smile : 
 Around to every one he lowly bowed, 
 Was vastly happy — honoured — vastly proud — > 
 
 And then he bowed again in such a style ! 
 " Hoped gemmen liked the dinner and the wine :" 
 To whom the gemmen answered, " Very fine 
 
 A glorious - dinner, Larder, to be sure*" — 
 To which the landlord, laden deep with bliss, 
 Did with his bows so humble almost kiss 
 
 The floor. 
 Now in an altered tone — a tone of gravity, 
 Unto the landlord full of smiles and suavity, 
 
 Did Mister Guttle, the churchwarden, call — 
 " Come hither, Larder," said soft Mister Guttle, 
 With solemn voice and fox- like face so subtle — 
 
 " Larder, a little word or two, that's all." 
 
 Forth ran th' obedient landlord with good will, 
 Thinking most naturally upon the bill. 
 "Landlord," quoth Guttle, in a soft sly sound, 
 
 Not to be heard by any in the room, 
 Yet which, like claps of thunder, did confound, 
 " Do you know any thing of Betty Broom V 
 " Sir V answered Larder, stammering — " Sir? what 
 sir, 
 Yes, sir, yes — yes — she lived with Mistress 
 Larder ; 
 But may I never move, nor never stir, 
 
 If but for impudence we did discard her ! 
 No, Mister Guttle — Betty was too brassy — 
 We never keep a servant that is saucy." 
 "But, landlord — Betty says she is with child." 
 " What's that to me ?" quoth Larder, looking wild — 
 
 " I never kissed the hussy in my life, 
 Nor hugged her round the waist, nor pinched her 
 
 cheek ; 
 Never once put my hand upon her neck — 
 
 Lord, sir, you know that I have got a wife. 
 Lord ! nothing comely to the girl belongs — 
 I would not touch her with a pair of tongs : 
 A little puling chit, as white as paste ; 
 I'm sure that never suited with my taste. 
 But then, suppose — I only say, suppose 
 
 I had been wicked with the girl — alack, 
 My wife hath got the cursed'st keenest nose, 
 
 Why, zounds, she would have catched me in a 
 crack ; 
 Then quickly in the fire had been the fat — 
 Curse her ! she always watched me like a cat. 
 Theu, as I say, Bet did not hit my taste 
 It was impossible to be unchaste : 
 Therefore it never can be true, you see — 
 And mistress Larder's full enough for me /" 
 " Well," answered Guttle, " Man, I'll tell ye what — 
 
 Your wind and eloquence you now are wasting : 
 Whether Miss Betty hit your taste or not, 
 
 There's good round proof enough that you've been 
 tasting. 
 And, Larder, you've a wife, 'tis very true, 
 Perhaps a little somewhat of a shrew j 
 
 
470 
 
 ' But Betty was not a bad piece of stuff."— 
 " Well, Mister Guttle, may I drop down dead, 
 If ever once I crept to Betty's bed ? 
 
 And that, I'm sure, is swearing strong enough.'' 
 " But, Larder, all your swearing will not do> 
 1/ Betty swears that she's with child by you. 
 
 Now Betty came and said she'd swear at once — < 
 But you know best — yet mind, if Betty'll swear, 
 And then again ! should Mistress Larder hear, v . 
 
 The Lord have mercy, Larder, on thy sconce. 
 Why, man, were this affair of Betty told her, 
 Not all the devils in hell would hold her. [all — 
 
 Then there's your modest stiff-rumped neighbours 
 There'd be a pretty kick up — what a squall !— 
 
 You could not put your nose into a shop — 
 There's lofty Mrs. Wick, the chandler's wife, 
 And Mrs. Bull, the butcher's imp of strife, 
 
 With Mrs. Bobbin, Salmon, Muff, and Slop, 
 With fifty others of such old compeers — 
 Zounds, what a hornet's nest about thy ears J 
 From cheerful smiles, and looks, like Sol, so 
 
 bright, 
 Poor Larder fell to looks as black as night ; 
 
 And now his head he scratched, importing guilt— 
 For people who are innocent indeed, 
 Never look down, so black, and scratch the head ; 
 
 But, tipped with confidence, their noses tilt, 
 Replying with an unembarrassed front 
 Bold to the charge, and fixed to stand the brunt — ; 
 Truth is a towering dame — divine her air ; 
 
 In native bloom she walks the world with state ; 
 But falsehood is a meretricious fair, 
 
 Painted and mean, and shuffling in her gait ; 
 Dares not look up with resolution's mien, 
 But sneaking hides, and hopes not to be seen ; 
 For ever haunted by a doubt 
 That all the world will find her out. 
 Again — there's honesty in eyes, 
 That shrinking show when tongues tell lies— « 
 With Larder this was verily the case : 
 Informers were the eyes of Larder's face. 
 '« Well, sir," said Larder, whispering, hemming, 
 
 ha-ing, 
 Each word so heavy, like a cart-horse drawing— 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 " This is a damn'd affair, I can't but say — 
 Sir, please to accept a note of twenty pound , 
 Contrive another father may be found } 
 
 And, sir, here's not a halfpenny to pay." 
 Thus ended the affair, by prudent treaty ; 
 
 For who, alas ! would wish to make a pother I 
 Guttle next morning went and talked to Betty, 
 
 When Betty swore the bantling to another. 
 
 P. PrNDAH. 
 WONDERS OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 Writing elephants I — Caelius Rhodiginus says, that 
 elephants have been sometimes known to write. 
 
 Large tortoises. — Diodorus Siculus tells us, that 
 the tortoises in the Indian sea are so large, that the 
 people sail in their shells on the rivers, as well as in 
 little cock-boats. 
 
 A bull cha?igi?ig his colour like the chameleon. — 
 Macrobius describes a wonderful bull in the city of 
 Hermynta, that the people worshipped, which changed 
 his colour every hour in the day. 
 
 A Woman becoming a man. — Pliny says, (see also 
 Cicero de Divinatione,) that Lelia Cossuria, being a 
 woman, was turned into a man upon the day of her 
 marriage. 
 
 Large ants. — Rhodius says, the ants in India are 
 larger than foxes. 
 
 Women more modest when drowned than men. — 
 Pliny tells us, that a dead body in the water, if it 
 be a man, in rising, hath his face upward towards 
 heaven ; but, if it be a woman, she ariseth with her 
 face downward. 
 
 Some men walk after their heads are cut off. — 
 Averroes de Med. said, that^e saw a poor unfortunate 
 patient, who, having his head taken off, walked to 
 and fro, for a small while, in sight of all the people. 
 It is also written of Dionysius Aeropagita, that, after 
 his head was smitten off, he walked certain paces. 
 Some say it was a league and more from the place of 
 his execution. St. Denys did the same. 
 
 Peacock's flesh will never corrupt. — This is de- 
 monstrated by St. Augustine, when treating of the 
 resurrection ! 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 A talking ox. — Livy gravely relates, that an ox, 
 in full market, cried out — " Rome ! take care of 
 thyself." 
 
 A talking dog. — Pliny, in his 8th book, tells us, 
 that a dog spoke when Tarquin was driven from the 
 throne. 
 
 A talking rook. — Suetonius says, a rook exclaimed 
 in the capitol, when they were going to assassinate 
 Domitian, " Estai panta kalon." — Well done. 
 
 Hewing blocks with a razor. — Livy says, that king 
 Priscus, defying the powers of an augur, desired him 
 to cut a whetstone in two with a razor as a proof of 
 his magic, which he did ! 
 
 An old gentleman who drank no liquid. — Pliny, in 
 his Natural History, tells of a gentleman, whose name 
 was Julius Viator, at Rome, who, having been pre- 
 scribed not to drink largely, in all his old age forbore 
 to drink at all. 
 
 A boy losing fifty-seven years of his life in sleep. — 
 Pliny tells of Epimenides the gnostic, who, when a 
 boy, being wearied with heat and travel, laid himself 
 down in a certain cave, and there slept fifty-seven 
 years; then awaking, he marvelled (like Nourjahad) 
 at the great changes he observed in the world. 
 
 Men with dogs' heads and tails, and fountains of 
 liquid gold. — Pliny tells of men in India with dogs' 
 heads ; others with only one leg, though perfect 
 Achilles' for swiftness of foot; of a nation of pigmies; 
 of some who lived by the smell ; of tribes who had 
 only one eye in their forehead ; and of some whose 
 ears hung down to the ground. — Ctesias, as cited by 
 Photius, talks of fountains of liquid gold, and of men 
 with tails in India — true we ought to remember, that 
 Fernando Alarchon, a Spanish voyager, of undoubted 
 credit, saw men with tails on the coast of Califor- 
 nia ; and that several others have seen men with 
 dogs' heads. Monboddo rejoiced at this testimony, 
 although Alarchon tells us that these tails were dis- 
 covered to be fictitious ; and we are also assured, 
 that the dog-headed men were found to wear vizards. 
 As to the fountains of gold, the Indian legends say so 
 metaphorically, and so they are credited as real. 
 
 A serpent one hundred and twenty feet long. — 
 Valerius Maximus says, that the artillery of Regu- 
 
 471 
 
 lus, in Africa, had to contend with, and at length 
 killed, such a serpent by stoning him j the serpent's 
 hide was sent to Rome. 
 
 A man bom laughing. — Pliny says, that Zoroas- 
 ter laughed the same day wherein he was born ; and 
 that the brain of this young philosopher so panted 
 and beat, that it would raise up the hands of those 
 who laid them on his head. 
 
 Triton. — Pausanias relates a story of a monstrously 
 large triton, which often came on shore in the 
 meadows of Boeotia. Over his head was a kind of 
 finny cartilage, which, at a distance, appeared like 
 hair ; the body covered with brown scales ; and nose 
 and ears like the human ; the mouth of a dreadful 
 width, jagged with teeth, like those of a panther ; 
 the eyes of a greenish hue ; the hands divided into 
 fingers, the nails of which were crooked, and of a 
 shelly substance. This monster, whose extremities 
 ended in a tail, like a dolphin, devoured both men and 
 beasts as they chanced in his way. The citizens of 
 Tanagra at last contrived his destruction. They set 
 a large vessel, full of wine, on the sea-shore ; Triton 
 got drunk with it, and fell into a profound sleep ; in 
 which condition the Tanagrians beheaded him, and 
 afterwards, with great propriety, hung up his body in 
 the temple of Bacchus: where, says Pausanias, it con- 
 tinued a long time. 
 
 Five hundred thousand wild beasts killed in the 
 Coliseum. — Historians say, that on the first day of Ihe 
 opening of the Coliseum, at Rome, Titus produced 
 five hundred thousand wild beasts, which were all 
 killed in the arena. 
 
 WOMANHOOD, IN IMITATION OF CHAUCER. 
 
 Right welle of lerned clerkis it is said, 
 
 That womanhood for man his use is made ; 
 
 But naughtie man liketh not one or soe, 
 
 But wisheth aye unthriftilie for moe. 
 
 And when by holy church to one he's ty'd 
 
 Then for his soul he cannot her abyde : 
 
 Thus when a dogge first lighteth on a bone, 
 
 His tayle he waggeth, gladde therefore y growne ; 
 
 But if"thilke bone unto'his tayle you tye, 
 
 Pardie, he feareth it. awaie doth flie. 
 
472 
 
 THE TURNCOAT. 
 
 Buck, the player at York, being asked how he 
 came to turn his coat twice ; replied, smartly, 
 "that one good turn deserved another !" 
 
 THE LOST CORKSCREW. 
 
 When Oliver Cromwell and some of his saints 
 "Were over a bottle, quite free from restraints, 
 The corkscrew by accident fell from the table, 
 And to find it at first the drunk guests were unable, 
 When as Noll got impatient, and went en his knees, 
 A messenger entered, and said, " If you please, 
 The kirk's deputation would wish to be heard." 
 " Not at present (cried Noll) we are seeking the 
 
 Lord." 
 Then observed to his friends, " They are not without 
 
 merit 
 Who seek the means humbly to get at the spirit." 
 
 ADVERTISEMENTS EXTRAORDINARY. 
 
 The walk of a deceased blind beggar, (in a chari- 
 table neighbourhood,) with his clog and staff, were 
 actually advertised for sale in the newspapers of 
 1804. 
 
 "A person, in his twenty-sixth year, tired of the dis- 
 sipation of the great world, is forming a comfortable 
 establishment in one of the least frequented quarters 
 of the city. His domestics are a coachman, cook, 
 three footmen, and a chambermaid. He is in search 
 of a young girl, of good family, to improve this ho- 
 nourable situation : she must be well educated, ac- 
 complished, and of an agreeable figure, and will be 
 entertained in the quality of demoiselle de compagnie 
 (female companion.) She shall receive the utmost 
 attention from the household, and be as well served, 
 in every respect, or better, than if she were its mis- 
 tress '." — Paris Papers. 
 
 " Wanted immediately, fifteen hundred or a thou- 
 sand pounds, by a person not worth a groat ; who, 
 having neither houses, land, annuities, or public 
 funds, can offer no other security than that of simple 
 bond, bearing simple interest, and engaging the re- 
 . payment of the sum borrowed in five, six, or seven 
 years, as may be agreed on by the parties. Whoever 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 this may suit, (for it is hoped it will suit somebody,) 
 by directing a line for A. Z. in Rochester, shall be 
 immediately replied to, or waited on, as may appear 
 necessary." — St. James's Chronicle, 1772. 
 
 " Lately published, the trial of Mr. Papillon ; by 
 which it is manifest that (the then) lord chief jus- 
 tice Jefferies had neither learning, law, nor good J 
 manners, but more impudence than ten carted whores, 
 (as was said of him by king Charles the Second,) in 
 abusing all those worthy citizens who voted for Mr. 
 Papillon and Mr. Dubois, calling them a parcel of 
 factious, pragmatical, sneaking, whoring, canting, 
 sniveling, prick-eared, crop-eared, atheistical fellows, 
 rascals and scoundrels, as in page 19 of that trial may 
 be seen. Sold by Michael Janeway, and most book- 
 sellers." — St. James's Chronicle, 1768. 
 
 " Wanted a person to take care of children, whose 
 patience is inexhaustible, whose temper is tireless, 
 whose vigilance is unwinking, whose power of pleas- 
 ing is boundless, whose industry is matchless, and 
 whose neatness is unparalleled." — American Paper. 
 
 NATHANIEL LEE's RHAPSODY 
 
 When Nathaniel Lee, the celebrated dramatist, 
 was confined in Bedlam, Moorfields, he wrote the 
 following lines on the walls of his cell. 
 
 Oh ! that my lungs could bleat like butter'd peas ! 
 
 That e'en with bleating, they might catch the 
 itch ; 
 And grow as mangy as the Irish seas ; 
 
 T' engender whirlwinds for a scabby witch. 
 Not, that a dry dead herring dare presume 
 
 To swing a tythe pig in a cat skin purse, 
 Because the great hail-stones which fell at Rome, 
 
 By lessening of their price, might make it worse. 
 I grant, that drunken rainbows, lull'd to sleep, 
 
 Snort, like to flesh-hooks, in fair ladies' eyes : 
 Which made him laugh, to see a pudding creep 
 
 For creeping puddings only please the wise. 
 The reason's plain ; for Charon's western barge, 
 
 Running a tilt with the subjunctive mood, 
 Beckon'd to Basil Grove ; and gave in charge 
 
 To fatten padlocks with Antarctic food. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 473 
 
 ERICAL SIN. 
 
 A rector, in his discourse on the heinous sins of 
 cheating and defrauding one's neighbours, unluckily 
 leaued a good deal over the pulpit ; when a wag re- 
 marked, that he had omitted to mention the most 
 monstrous of all, that of over-reaching I 
 
 LIKE MOTHER LIKE CHILD. 
 
 A Yorkshire gentleman was one day at a dinner, 
 where the discourse fell on the breeding a good racer, 
 and that a thorough bred race horse on the male side 
 was best. (( Nay/' said he, " without they have it 
 on the mother's side also, I am sure they will be 
 good for nothing. Ye'll all allow that I have com- 
 mon sense, but my wife is a great fool, and my 
 children take after her." 
 
 THE SAILOR BOY AT PRAYERS. 
 
 A great law chief, whom God nor demon scares, 
 Compelled to kneel and pray, who swore his prayers, 
 
 The devil behind him pleased and grinning, 
 Patting the angry lawyer on the shoulder, 
 Declaring nought was ever bolder, 
 
 Admiring such a novel mode of sinning : 
 Like this, a subject would be reckoned rare, 
 Which proves what blood game-infidels can dare j 
 Which to my memory brings a fact, 
 Which nothing but an English tar would act. 
 In ships of war, on Sundays, prayers are given ; 
 For though so wicked, sailors think of heaven, 
 
 Particularly in a storm ; 
 Where, if they find no brandy to get drunk. 
 Their souls are in a miserable funk, 
 
 Then vow they to th' Almighty to reform, 
 If in his goodness only once, once more, 
 He'll suffer them to clap a foot on shore. 
 In calms, indeed, or gentle airs, 
 They ne'er on week-days pester heaven with prayers ; 
 For 'tis amongst the Jacks a common saying, [ing." 
 " Where there's no danger, there's no need of pray- 
 One Sunday morning all were met 
 
 To hear the parson preach and pray, 
 All but a boy, who willing to forget 
 
 That prayers were handing out, had stolen away ; 
 
 And, thinking praying but a useless task, 
 
 Had crawled to take a nap, into a cask. 
 
 The boy was soon found missing, and full soon 
 
 The boatswain's cat, sagacious smelt him out 
 Gave him a clawing to some tune — 
 
 This cat's a cousin-german to the knout. 
 "Come out, you scuiking dog," the boatswain cried, 
 
 " And save your damned young sinful soul." 
 He then the moral-mending cat applied, 
 
 And turned him like a badger from his hole. 
 Sulky the boy marched on, and did not mind him, 
 Altho' the boatswain flogging kept behind him : 
 " Flog," cried the boy, " flog — curse me, flogawav — 
 I'll go — but mind — deuce take me if I'll pray." 
 
 COMPULSORY TEARS. 
 
 A countryman in the north of England had been 
 so unkind a husband, so severe a father, so rigid a 
 master, and so bad a neighboui in general, that not 
 a tear was shed at his funeral. The sexton observed, 
 that he had officiated in that capacity forty-five years, 
 and that an instance of the sort had never happened 
 before, and that it might not disgrace the village, he 
 seized a litttle boy and lugged his ears most severely, 
 which soon produced the desired effect of tears. 
 
 THE SECRET. 
 
 In a fair lady's heart, once, a secret was lurking, 
 
 It toss'd and it tumbled, it long'd to get out, 
 The lips half betrayed it by smiling and smirking, 
 
 And tongue was impatient to blab it, no doubt. 
 But honour look'd gruff on the subject, and gave it 
 
 In charge to the teeth, so enchantingly white ; — 
 Should the captive attempt an elopement to save it, 
 
 By giving the lips an admonishing bite. 
 'Twas said, and 'twas settled, and honour departed, 
 
 Tongue quivered and trembled, but dared not rebel, 
 When right to its tip, secret suddenly started, 
 
 And half, in a whisper, escaped from its cell. 
 Quoth the teeth, in a pet, we'll be even for this, 
 
 And they bit very smartly above and beneath, 
 But the lips at that instant were bribed with a kiss, 
 
 And they popt out the secret in spite of the teeth. 
 
474 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 EASE UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 A man very much in debt, being reprimanded by 
 his friends for his disgraceful situation, and the 
 anxiety of a debtor being urged by them in very 
 strong expressions : " Ah ! that may be' the case," 
 said he, "' with a person who thinks of paying." 
 
 THE DEVIL'S RAMBLE ON EARTH. 
 
 JThe late Professor Porson being once solicited in 
 
 company to give some jocular proof of his abilities, 
 
 complied by producing the following lines.] 
 From his brimstone bed at break ot° day, 
 
 The devil's a walking gone ; 
 To visit his snug little farm of the earth, 
 
 And see how his stock there goes on. 
 And over the hili, and over the dale 
 
 He rambled, and over the plain : 
 And backwards and forwards he switch'd his long 
 tail, 
 
 As a gentleman switches his cane. 
 'And pray now, how was the devil drest f ' 
 
 Oh, he was in his Sunday's best ; 
 His coat it was red, and his breeches were blue, 
 
 With a hole behind, which his tail went through. 
 He saw a lawyer killing a viper 
 
 On a dunghill by his own stable ; 
 And the devil he smiled, for it put him in mind 
 
 Of Cain and his brother Abel 
 He saw an apothecary on a white horse, 
 
 Ride by on his avocations, 
 The devil smiled, for it put him in mind 
 
 Of death in the Revelations. 
 He stept into a rich bookseller's shop, 
 
 Said he, " We are both of one college 
 For I myself sat, like a cormorant, once 
 
 Hard by the tree of knowledge." 
 He saw school -boys acting prayers at morn, 
 
 And naughty plays at night. 
 And, " Oho, Mr. Dean," he shouted, " I ween 
 
 My own good trade goes right." 
 He saw a cottage with a double coach-house, 
 
 A cottage of gentility ; 
 And the devil did grin, for his darling sin 
 
 Is pride that apes humility. 
 
 Down the river did glide with wind and with tide, 
 
 A pig, with vast celerity ; 
 And the devil grinn'd, for he saw all the while 
 How it cut its own throat, and he thought with a 
 smile, 
 
 Of England's commercial prosperity. 
 As he pass'd thro' Cold-Bath-Fields, he saw 
 
 A solitary cell ; 
 And the devil he paused, for it gave him a hint 
 
 For improving his prisons in hell. 
 
 He saw a turnkey in a trice 
 
 Fetter a troublesome jade ; 
 Nimbly, quoth he, do the fingers move 
 
 If a man be but used to his trade. 
 He saw the same turnkey unfetter a man 
 
 With but little expedition ; 
 Which put him in mind of the long debates 
 
 On the slave trade abolition. 
 He saw a certain minister 
 
 (A minister to his mind,) 
 Go up into a certain house, 
 
 With a majority behind ; 
 The devil quoted Genesis, 
 
 Like a very learned clerk, 
 How " Noah and his creeping things 
 
 Went up into the ark." 
 Sir Nicholas grinn'd, and switch'd his tail 
 
 With joy and admiration ; 
 For he thought of his daughter Victory, 
 
 And his darling babe Taxation. 
 He saw General Gascoigne's* burning face, 
 
 Which put him into consternation ; 
 So he hied to his lake, for, by a slight mistake 
 
 He thought 'twas a general conflagration. 
 
 OUT OF PLACE. 
 
 When the beau-monde held their coteries and pitch- 
 ed tents upon the leads of the houses, it was referred 
 to a person, who not approving of it, said that it was 
 making too great an encroachment upon the cats. 
 
 *This gentleman had been very facetious whilst soliciting 
 some proof of the Professor's poetical talents. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 475 
 
 TOM LONGFELLOW S INN. 
 
 j [The following lines are written on a pane of glass at 
 an inn in South Wales. The proprietor's name is 
 Longf&llow :] 
 Tom Longfellow's name is most justly his due, 
 Long his neck, long his bill, which is very long too ; 
 Long the time 'ere your horse to the stable is led, 
 Long before he's rubbed down, and much longer till 
 
 fed; 
 Long, indeed, may you sit in a comfortless room, 
 'Till from kitchen long dirty, your dinner shall come : 
 Long the often-told-tale that your host will relate, 
 Long his face whilst complaining, how long people 
 
 eat 
 Long may Longfellow long ere he see me again, 
 Long 'twill be ere 1 long for Tom Longfellow's inn. 
 
 TOM MOOR OF FLEET STREET. 
 
 You must all have heard of Tom Moor, the linen- 
 draper in Fleet-street. His father, when he died, 
 left him an affluent fortune, and a shop of excellent 
 trade. 
 
 As he was standing at the door one day, a coun- 
 tryman came up to him with a nest of jackdaws, and 
 accosting him, says, " Measter, wool he buy a nest 
 of daws V — " No ; I don't want any." — " Measter," 
 replied the man, " I'll sell them all cheap ; you shall 
 have the whole nest for noinpence." — " I don't want 
 'em," answered Tom Moor, " so go about your busi- 
 ness." 
 
 As the man was walking away, one of the daws 
 pops up his head, and cries, " Mawk, mawk." — 
 " Damn it," says Tom Moor, " the bird knows my 
 name, — Halloo, countryman, what will you take for 
 that bird V — " Whoy, you shall have him for three- 
 pence." Tom Moor bought him, had a cage made, 
 and hung him up in the shop. 
 
 The journeymen took much notice of the bird, and 
 would frequently tap at the bottom of the cage, and 
 say, " Who are you 1 who are you V and immedi- 
 ately reply, " Tom Moor of Fleet-street." 
 
 In a short time the jackdaw learnt these woras ; and 
 if he wanted victuals or water, would strike his bill 
 against the cage, turn up the white of his eyes, cock 
 
 his head, and cry, " Who are you T who are you ? 
 Tom Moor of Fleet-street. Tom Moor of Fleet-street." 
 
 Tom Moor was fond of gaming, and often lost large 
 sums of money ; finding his business neglected in his 
 absence, he had a small hazard-table set up in one 
 corner of his dining-room, and invited a party of his 
 friends to play at it. 
 
 The jackdaw had by this time become familiar ; 
 his cage was left open, and be hopped into every part 
 of the house, sometimes he got into the dining-room, 
 where the gentlemen were at play ; one of them being 
 a constant winner, the other would say, " Damn it 
 how he nicks 'em;" the bird learnt these words also, 
 and adding them to the former, would call, " Who 
 are you ? who are you 1 Tom Moor of Fleet-street, 
 Tom Moor of Fleet-street ; damn it how he nicks 
 'em." 
 
 Tom Moor, from repeated losses and neglect 
 business, failed in trade, and became a prisoner in 
 the Fleet ; he took his bird with him, and lived on 
 the master's side, supported by his friends in a decent 
 manner. They would sometimes ask, " What brought 
 you here!" when he used to lift up his hands, and 
 answer, " Bad company, by G — d." The bird learnt 
 this likewise, and at the end of the former words 
 would say, " What brought you here ?" and to imi- 
 tate his master, lift up his pinion, and cry, " Bad 
 company by G — d." 
 
 Some of Tom Moor's friends died, others went 
 abroad, and by degrees he was totally deserted, and 
 removed to the common side of the prison ; where the 
 gaol-distemper had broken out ; he caught it, and in 
 the last stage of life lying on a straw-bed, the poor 
 bird, who had been two days without food or water, 
 came to his feet, and striking his bill on the floor, 
 called out, "Who are you 1 who are you 1 Tom Moor 
 of Fleet-street. Damn it how he nicks 'em, damn it 
 how he nicks 'em. What brought you here ? what 
 brought you here 1 Bad company, by G — , bad com- 
 pany, by G — ." 
 
 Tom Moor, who had attended to the bird, was 
 struck with his words, and reflecting on himself, cried 
 out, " Good God ! to what a situation am I reduced 1 
 My father, when he died, left me a good fortune and 
 
476 
 
 an established trade ; I have spent my fortune, mined 
 nvy business, and am now dying in a loathsome goal, 
 and to complete all, keeping that poor thing confined 
 without support : I'll endeavour to do one piece of 
 justice before I die, by setting him at liberty." 
 
 He made shift to crawl from his straw-bed, opened 
 the casement, and out flew ,the bird. A flight of 
 jackdaws from the Temple was going over the gaol, 
 and Tom Moor's bird mixed among them. The gar- 
 deners were then laying the plats of the Temple gar- 
 dens, and as often as they placed them in the day, 
 the jackdaws pulled them up by night. They got a 
 gun, and attempted to shoot some of them ; but being 
 cunning birds, they always placed one as a watch in 
 the stump of a willow tree ; who, as soon as the gun 
 was levelled, cried "Mawk, mawk," and away they all 
 flew, so that the men could never shoot one of them. 
 
 The gardeners were advised to get a net, and the 
 first night it was spread, they caught fifteen ; Tom 
 Moor's bird was amongst them. One of the men took 
 the net into the garret of an uninhabited house, fastens 
 the door and windows, and turns the birds loose. 
 " Now," says he, "you black rascals, I'll be revenged 
 on you." Taking hold of the first at hand, he twisted 
 his neck, and throwing him down, cries, "There goes 
 one." Tom Mocr's bird, who had hopped upon a 
 beam in one corner of the room unobserved, as the 
 man laid hold of the second, calls out, "Damn it how 
 he nicks 'em." The man alarmed cries, " Sure I 
 heard a voice ! but the house is uninhabited, and 
 the door fast : it could not be imagination." On lay- 
 ing hold of the third, and twisting his neck, Tom 
 Moor's bird again says, "Damn it how he nicks 'em." 
 The man dropped the bird in his hand, and turning 
 to where the voice came from, seeing the other with 
 his mouth open calls out, " Who are you V' to which 
 the bird answered, " Tom Moor of Fleet-street, Tom 
 Moor of Fleet-street." — "The devil you are; and 
 what brought you here V* — " Bad company, by G — . 
 Bad company, by G — ." The fellow, frightened 
 almost out of his wits, opened the door, and ran 
 down stairs out of the house, followed by all the 
 birds, who by this means saved their lives, and gained 
 their liberty. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE SICK LADY AND THE ALMANACK 
 
 A poor old woman with a diarrhoea, 
 Brought od by slip-slop tea and rot-gut beer, 
 
 Went to Sangrado with a woful face ; 
 And, hawking twice or thrice, to clear her throat, 
 She told him in a plaintive note, 
 Her case ! 
 ****** 
 
 Disease had brought her to a doleful state, 
 Her legs seemed tottering with a lifeless weight ; 
 Her bosom panted for the lack of breath, 
 Her voice seemed echoing from the vale of death ; 
 Her sunken orbs of light but dimly shone ; 
 
 A gasping spectre ! hardly skin and bone ! 
 
 The doctor being in a wonderous hurry, 
 
 To still a lady in hysteric flurry, 
 
 Could hardly stop to hear pale misery's moan ; 
 
 So, jumping in his coach, he bawled — " Go on !" 
 
 Howe'er, to keep the dame from kingdom corne, 
 
 From the sharp gripe of grinning Death, so cruel, 
 He told her that she need but hurry home, 
 
 And boil some bole ammoniac in her gruel : 
 Then call upon him in a day or two, 
 And let him know 
 
 If things went better, or in static quo. 
 
 The dame, obedient to the doctor's order, 
 
 Came when the time prefixed was ended ; 
 Henlth seemed to triumph o'er the dire disorder, 
 
 But still she seemed a little broken-winded. 
 Sangrado felt her pulse, and tongue inspected, 
 Then asked her if she'd done as he directed. — - 
 " Zook, Sir, for tho'f I sent my godson Jack, 
 From house to house, amongst my neighbours, 
 
 To beg a Moore's Almanack, 
 He could not geet un, after all his labours : — 
 And zo — I took and boiled the Babes i'the Wood ; 
 And, praise the Lord ! it's done a mort of good." 
 
 p. PINDAK. 
 TRANSLATIONS. 
 
 Dryden's translation of Virgil being commended 
 by a bishop, Lord Chesterfield said, " The original is 
 indeed excellent, but every thing suffers by a transla-« 
 tion, except a bishop." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ERASMUS AND SIR THOMAS MORE. 
 
 On the arrival of the great reformer Erasmus in 
 England, it was the wish of several eminent literary 
 persons that a meeting between him and Sir Thomas 
 More, the celebrated author of Utopia, should be con- 
 trived in such a manner that neither party should sus- 
 pect his being in the company of the other. 
 
 At the period alluded to, the hospitality of the 
 Lord Major of London was uniformly extended to all 
 whose attainments in learning rendered them com- 
 petent to converse in Latin. How different is the 
 doom of the Latinist in the present day ! 
 
 " Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis." 
 
 It was therefore agreed that at this seat of the 
 learned, these two distinguished scholars should meet. 
 Conversation ensuing, a dispute arose between them 
 on the much contested doctrine of transubstantiation, 
 and the polemical skill evinced in the controversy 
 excited mutual astonishment. At length Erasmus, 
 entertaining a suspicion of the character to whom he 
 was opposed, exclaimed, "Aut Moras es, aut n alius •" 
 to which Sir Thomas replied, "Aut Erasmus es, aut 
 .Diabolus." So much was More delighted with the 
 talents of his illustrious antagonist, that he gave him 
 an invitation to his country seat, at which Erasmus 
 passed a considerable time. In the course of the ar- 
 gument at the Lord Mayor's table, on the subject of 
 the real presence, Sir Thomas had urged that the 
 want of any saving influence to the heretic, in partak- 
 ing of the sacred elements, was no proof against 
 transubstantiation, since it was hy the faithful only 
 that the body and blood of Christ were verily and in- 
 deed taken and received in the Lord's Supper ; and 
 that there, faith was itself the great instrument in the 
 conversion of the said elements to the receivers. 
 During Erasmus's stay at Sir Thomas's residence, he 
 was repeatedly pressed by the latter to accept of some 
 I token of his regard and remembrance. Erasmus had 
 j fixed for the object of his choice on a favourite horse 
 | of More's ; but remembering his sophistry in the de- 
 ibate alluded to, instead of acquainting the chancellor 
 j with his intention, he rode off with the steed the day 
 
 of his departure from Sir Thomas's, leaving 
 following note for his host , 
 
 Quod mihi dixisti, 
 
 De corpore Christi, 
 Crede ut edas, et edes ; 
 
 Sic tibi rescribo, 
 
 De tuo palfride, 
 Crede ut habeas, habes ! 
 
 MR. AND MRS. VTTE. 
 
 A vorthy cit von Vitsunday, 
 Vith vile rode out in von horse chay, 
 And down the street, as they did trot, 
 Says Mrs. Vite, I tell you vot, 
 Dear Villiam Vite 'tis my delight, 
 
 Ven our veek's bills ve stick 'em, 
 That side by side ve thus should ride 
 
 To Vindsor, or Vest Vickhain. 
 My loving vife, full veil you know 
 Ve used to ride to Valthamstow, 
 But now I thinks its much the best 
 That ve should ride tovards the vest, 
 If you agree dear vife vith me, 
 
 And vish to change the scene — ■ 
 Then, ven the dust excites our thirst, 
 
 Ve'll stop at Valham Green. 
 Veil then, says Mrs. Vite, says she, 
 Vat pleases you must sure please me : 
 But veekly vorkings all must go, 
 If ve this day go cheerful through ; 
 For veil I loves the voods and groves, 
 
 They raptures put me in ; 
 For, you know Vite. von Vitsun-night, 
 
 You did my poor heart vin ! 
 
 Then, Mrs. Vite, she took the vip, 
 And vack'd poor Dobbin on the hip, 
 Vich made him from a valk go fast, 
 And reach the long vish'd sign at last ; 
 So ven they stopt, out vaiter popt, 
 
 Vat vould you vish to take ? 
 Said Vite, vith grin, I'll take some gin, 
 
 My vife takes vine and cake. 
 
 77 
 the 
 
478 
 
 Ven Mrs. Vite had took her vine, 
 To Vindsor on they vent to dine ; 
 Ven dinner done now Vite did talk, 
 My darling vife ve'll take a valk j 
 The path is vide by vater side, 
 
 So ve vill valk together, 
 Vile they gets tea for you and me, 
 
 Ve vill enjoy the veather. 
 Some vanton Eaton boys there vere, 
 Vich marked for vaggery the pair ; 
 Mrs. Vite cried out, vat are you arterl 
 Ven in they put Vite in the vater ; 
 The vicked vits then left the cits, 
 
 And Vite the vaves sunk under ; 
 She vept, she bawl'd, she vail'd, she squall 'd, 
 
 Vill not one help I vonder. 
 Her vimpering vords assistance brought, 
 And vith a boat-hook Vite they sought, 
 Mrs. Vite, with expectation big, 
 Thought Vite was found, but 'twas his vig. 
 Vite.vas not found, for he vas drown'd,- 
 
 To stop her grief each bid her, 
 Alas ! she cried, I vas a bride, 
 , But now I is a vidder. 
 
 CONSUMMATE EPICURISM AND COARSE MANNERS OF 
 QUIN. 
 
 Quin dining one day with the duchess of Marlbo- 
 rough, her grace, to his great surprise, helped herself 
 to the leanest part of a haunch of venison which stood 
 near her. " What !" said Quin, "and does your grace 
 eat no fat V " Not of venison, sir." " Never, my 
 lady duchess V " Never, I assure you." Too much 
 affected to restrain his genuine sentiments, the epi- 
 cure exclaimed, " I like to dine with such fools." 
 
 jew's journal for the week. 
 
 Sunday — No business to be done — de Christians 
 all out making holiday — waited at home for Levi : 
 he never come — took a walk in St. George's fields — 
 put me in mind of Newgate — called dere — supped 
 and smoked a pipe with one of our peoples. 
 
 Monday — At 'Change till two — man in red coat 
 wanted to borrow monies — did not like his looks — in 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 de afternoon called in St. James's-street — not at 
 home — very bad luck — thought to have tcuchcd 
 something dere. 
 
 Tuesday — Went to de west end of de town — \ 
 bought some old clothes — took in — gave great price | 
 for de breeches, thinking I felt guinea in de fob left 
 there by mistake — only done to cheat me— nothing in 
 de world but counterfeit halfpenny — sold dem again! 
 to Levi — took him.in de same way — very good dat. H 
 
 Wednesday — Went to St. James's-street again — ■ I 
 de devil is in de man — not at home — met Levi ; he 
 scolded me about de breeches — not mind dat at all — 
 went to poff at de auction — very well paid — engaged , 
 to poff-dX anoder in the evening — found out dere — , 
 obliged to sneakoff — found a pair of candlesticks in my | 
 coat-pocket — dropped, in by uccshident — sold dem to [ 
 Mr. Polishplate, de silversmith — did very well by dat., 
 
 Thursday — On 'Change — met de gentleman with , 
 de white wig — wanted more monies — let him have it 
 — very good securities — like white wigs — carried my 
 advertisement to de newspaper, signed Z — pretty 
 crooked letter dat — always sure to bring customers. '■ 
 
 Friday — Found a watch in my coat pocket — drop- 
 ped in by accshident — made some money by dat— 
 met my good friend Mr. Smash — not seen him since j 
 he was a bankrupt — arrested him for de monies he \ 
 owed me — went home, and prepared for de sabbath. 
 
 THE ROCHDALE VICARS, OR FISH, FLESH, AND 
 FOWL.* 
 
 The Arch-cook at Lambeth, three dishes has sent, ,l 
 
 To please us at Rochdale ; — how kind ! 
 The first was plain Wray, with a sauce of content, 
 
 The second was venison Hind. 
 The next that he sent was a very fine Drake, 
 
 A dainty nice fowl in its way : 
 On the clerical chairman, no comments I'll make, 
 
 For a brute is the best judge of Hay. 
 We have had a full feast of Fish, Flesh, and Fow /, 
 
 But. alas ! they have all passed away ; 
 The parish of Bochdale, now grumble and growl, 
 
 For no one can relish Old Hay 
 
 * " Wray, Hind, Brake, and Hay" are the names of the 
 four successive vicars of Rochdale. 
 
THE. LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 A GOOD REASOff FOR STAYISS FROM CHURCH. 
 
 A zealous priest, and in his way 
 
 A pious man, as people say, 
 
 For weeks had miss'd from church and station 
 
 A member of his congregation, 
 
 And having long made the remark, 
 
 Anxious to learn, he ask'd his clerk, 
 
 If he could any cause assign 
 
 Why he rejected grace divine, 
 
 " 1 hope poor man, he's not unwell ; 
 
 Perhaps become an infidel ! 
 
 Pray heaven 'tis not Socinianism 
 
 Or any strange fanaticism, 
 
 That keeps him from us thus away 
 
 And leads him from the flock astray V y 
 
 " Oh ! no, sir," said the clerk — " 'tis worse 
 
 Than these alas ! a greater curse." 
 
 " What worse than Socinianism, 
 
 It surely cannot be Deism V 
 
 " Oh worse than that," replied the clerk, 
 
 " Your worship stiil is in the dark." 
 
 " Worse than Deism, it cannot be ;" 
 
 " 'Tis bad enough, sir, I agree." 
 
 " Good God, 'tis not Atheism sure. 
 
 We'll try and work the apostate's cure." 
 
 " You're wrong again, Sir, I confess 
 
 The cause is difficult to guess, 
 
 'Tis neither heresy nor schism, 
 
 But that accursed — Rheuma — tism." 
 
 HUMOURS OF A COUNTRY THEATRE. 
 
 With mortgaged scenery, an empty exchequer, and 
 a rebellious orchestra, a country manager must still 
 keep up his spirits and his importance. It would in- 
 deed be impossible to bring before you all the mi- 
 series of a manager, for, alas ! they are numberless ! 
 Suppose, therefore, that we introduce you to Manager 
 Varnish, of strolling notoriety, collecting a new com- 
 pauy of barn-door comedians to provincialize, alias 
 to vagabondize over his stage of six deal boards, and 
 saw-dust in the boxes. Behold him at his morning 
 levee then —bursting with importance and swelling 
 " like a shirt bleaching in a high wind !" — " Ahem ! 
 
 479 
 
 Timothy ! — this is my court of Apollo, my morning 
 nuisance, my — why Timothy, I say ! — Oh ! here you 
 come sir, crawling in, like the half-price on a rainy 
 evening ! Well sir, who waits 1 Any body want- 
 ing the manager V 
 
 " Oh, yes \ lots of them, sir ; there s a one-armed 
 man inquires if you want another hand — a wooden- 
 legg ed gentleman to play the Lame Lover — a real 
 Blackamoor for Othello, four Romeos, one Harlequin, 
 three Fools, and a French marquess to come out in 
 Richard. 1 " 
 
 " All waiting now, eh Timothy 1" " Yes, sir." 
 " Then tell the one-armed man to take to his heels, 
 and the wooden-legged gentleman to hop the twig, 
 and skip to another branch. Harlequin and the 
 Romeos may keep the Fools company ; and send me 
 up the Blackamoor and the French gentleman, one at 
 a time." 
 
 The man of colour having made his entre, aftd 
 much grinning and gesticulation, thus addressed the 
 astonished manager — "You massa Jonkooman?— 
 keep play-house, show fine tragedy ?" 
 
 " Massa Jonkoo man ! — why — Oh ! that's blacky 
 language for an acting manager, I suppose! — I am, 
 sir, at your service — you wish to appear in Othello, 
 I understand, and to do you justice, you'll look the 
 part certainly." — " Iss, massa, blacky all through 
 through , no come off, when hug ! Now me show 
 how act, massa, Othelly speech to him father-in-law." 
 " What with that cursed twang, fellow ] — Do you 
 imagine the noble Moor spoke after that fashion 1 — • 
 however, e'en let's have it." Upon which Chingaree 
 assumed what might be an elegant attitude among his 
 native tribes, and thus commenced the famous oration 
 to the Venetian Senate. 
 
 " Most potented sir reverences ! 
 
 My very good massas ! dat I take away 
 
 Old buckra man him daughter, 
 
 It all true, true, no lie was ; 
 
 Den she marry, I make her my chumchum, 
 
 Dat all I do, cause I do no more was !" 
 The manager could listen no longer. " Well, sir, 
 if Othello did harangue in that fashion, he might well 
 
480 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHIL0S0FHEK. 
 
 say — " Rude am I in speech !" " Oh ! the more 
 angel he, and you the blacker devil !" You may be- 
 gone, fellow, for much as the public like novelty, they 
 never could endure your abominable chumchum ; 
 and the greatest favour you can do me, is to make 
 your exit as fast as possible." Othello having fol- 
 lowed the manager's advice, was very speedily suc- 
 ceeded by the Trench gentleman, whose ambition 
 was to enact Richard, Duke of Glo'ster. " Aha ! 
 sare, je suis, I am come to surprise you — I shall asto- 
 nish the town, ma foi ! — De play has never been 
 personee — it was never performe, as I shall perform 
 it — Mais, vous etes silent — to all dis you say nothing !" 
 "Then I will say that I shall be extremely happy 
 to have a specimen, Monsieur \" 
 
 " Ecoutez-vous, shut your mout, listen, and you 
 shall hear — I speak wid your tongue eu perfection, 
 je parle Inglish just like un Inglishman. Aha, sare, 
 je commence wid de beginning. Richard enter solo, 
 all alone by himself ! He speake de grande soliloque, 
 attendez moi, look at me 
 
 ** Now is de winter of our uneasiness 
 
 Made into summer by York little boy, 
 Dat is, vat you call, de son of York ! 
 And de dark cloud, which stick at top 
 Of de house, is in de bottom of de sea, 
 Dead and buried ! But as for me, aha ! 
 I have de hump on my back, I have 
 De bandy leg, I am unfashionable, and 
 For all dis — de dog he bark bow wow at me 
 As I walk by him ! 
 " Monsieur, sare, dat is suffisant, I hope — dat is quite 
 enough." / 
 
 " Quite enough, sir, and as I fear the audience 
 would think it a great deal too much, I must now 
 bid you good morning I" 
 
 SINGULAR CHARITY. 
 
 A Russian countess being persecuted by her cre- 
 ditors for debt, on the porter's acquainting her ex- 
 cellency that the poorer class attended at the gate ; 
 she ordered the servant to throw out a bag of copper 
 money among them, and while they were scrambling 
 for it to let loose a bear at them. 
 
 BENEPIT OF WIGS. 
 
 At a peruke-maker's on the London-road there 
 was formerly a sign, with Absalom hanging on a tree,, 
 and David lamenting over him; underneath wete 
 these lines : 
 
 Oh ! Absalom, my son, my son, 
 
 If thou hadst worn a wig 
 Thou hadst not been undone. 
 
 PHISIOGNOMY OF A FUN-LOVER 
 
 A head full charged for fun exhibits a comical 
 half-foolish face; what a great many upon the stage 
 can put on, and what a great many people not upon the 
 stage can't put off. The owner always laughs at what 
 he says himself, and he imagines a man of wit must 
 always be upon the broad grin ; and whenever he is in 
 company he is always teazing some one to be merry, say- 
 ing, Now you, Muster what do you call 'em ? do now 
 say something to make us all laugh; come do now 
 be comical a little. But if there is no other persou 
 will speak, lie will threaten to tell you a story to 
 make you die with laughing, and he will assure you, 
 it is the most bestest and most commicallesi story 
 that ever you heard in all your born days ; and -he 
 always interlards his narration with, So as I was a 
 saying, says I, and so ashe was a saying, says he ; so 
 says he to me, and I to him, and he to one again ; — ■ 
 did ever you hear any thing more comical in all your 
 born days? But after he has concluded his narra- 
 tion, not finding any person even to smile at what he 
 says, struck with the disappointment, he puts on a 
 sad face himself, and looking round upon the com- 
 pany, he says, It was a good story when I heard 
 it too : why then, so, and so, and so, that's all, that's 
 all, gentlemen. 
 
 A QUAKER ANSWERED. 
 
 Aminadab, with phyz demure, 
 Knocked at Mr. Owen's door ; 
 With widen'd mouth and lengthen'd chin 
 
 He asked, " Is friend O n within]" 
 
 Now John, who dearly lov'd a joke ; 
 In tone, like that the Quaker spoke. 
 With bow most reverently low, 
 As drawlingly, replied " N o.'* 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 481 
 
 CALEB CALLOUT S ANNOTATION'S ON SUA KSI'EARE. 
 
 I went to the playhouse as other folks do, 
 And T heard and I saw such a hubbub baboo : 
 There was righting, and screeching — but this here my 
 
 song 
 Shall tell you the story — the short and the long — 
 It was Richard the Third that I saw, you must know, 
 But O dear '. it was such a tragical show — 
 They stuck men and poor babes — but Richmond so 
 
 tall, 
 Stuck Dicky, who died and said nothing at all. 
 The next play I seed, O dear and O lack ! 
 "Where's a man called Othello, like sweepers was 
 
 black, 
 And he had a wife that was fair as a rose : 
 But wanting one morning to blow his black nose, 
 Asked his dear for a wiper — which she told him was 
 
 lost, 
 Which so greatly this sooty-like general crost, 
 ! That he took up a pillow, and swore it should fall 
 On her head — and for a woman she said little at all. 
 At the Merchant of Venice I stared with amaze, 
 | "Where a black-bearded Jew a nation sight pays 
 For one pound of flesh — nor could he once rest 
 'Till he cut a rump-steak from another man's breast. 
 Then Macbeth so fine, spurred on by his wife, 
 Tickled up an old king with the end of a knife, 
 Then rome hags told his fate, in a sort of a bawl, 
 "When trees marched like men — he'd say nothing at 
 
 all. 
 Then Hamlet I saw, the next heir to a crown, 
 Who came to a lady with stockings half down ; 
 He walked with a ghost, and he jumped in a grave, 
 And he fought, killed, and died, most wounuily brave. 
 Then Juliet and Romeo I saw by the moon, 
 Who made love in the morning, and married at noon ; 
 She shamm'd dead — her husband for poison made 
 
 call- 
 He found her awake — they kissed — and said nothing 
 
 at all. 
 
 ON A WIFE. 
 
 i Here lies my poor wife, without bed or blanket ; 
 
 But dead as a door nail 
 
 God be thanked. 
 
 Y 
 
 MR. CURRAN AND THE FEASANT. 
 
 JVE r . Curran, in some way or other, generally con- 
 trived to throw witnesses or!* tneir centre, and he took 
 care they seldom should recover it. " My lard — my 
 lard" — vociferated a peasant witness, writhing un- 
 der this mental excruciation — " My lard — my lard, 
 
 1 can't answer yon little gentleman, he's putting 
 
 me in such a doldrum." — " A doldrum! Mr. Curran, 
 what does he mean by a doldrum 1" exclaimed Lord 
 Avonmore. " O ! my lord, its a very common 
 complaint with persons of this description — its merely 
 a confusion of the head arising from a corruption of 
 the heart." 
 
 which road ? 
 
 All you that stop this stone to see, 
 Pray mark my steps and follow me. 
 
 Underwritten on the Tombstone. 
 
 To follow you I'm not content, 
 Unless I knew the road you went. 
 
 TWO OF A TRADE. 
 
 A physician being summoned to a vestry, to repri- 
 mand the sexton for drunkenness, dwelt so long 
 on the sexton's misconduct, that the latter indignantly 
 replied, " Sir ! I v/as in hopes you would have treated 
 my failings with more gentleness, or that you would 
 have been the last man alive to appear against me, 
 as I have covered so many blunders of yours .'" 
 
 A MERRY MAN. 
 
 A merrier man, 
 Within the limit of becoming mirth, 
 I never spent an hour's talk withal 
 His eye begets occasion for his wit ; 
 For every object that the one doth catch, 
 The other turns to a mirth-moving jest ; 
 Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor) 
 Delivers in such apt and gracious words, 
 That aged years play truant at his tales, 
 And younger hearings are quite ravished ; 
 So sweet and voluble is his discourse. 
 
482 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 CLARET MATCH. 
 
 When Mr. Rigby was in Ireland, he was challeng- 
 ed by a nobleman to a match at drinking claret, for 
 twenty guineas. Mr. Rigby at first declined it ; but 
 finding the Irishman triumph in his unwillingness to 
 engage, he was at last provoked to accept it. Two 
 dozen of claret were introduced ; the first dozen went 
 off well, but upon entering on the second, the noble- 
 man's tongue began to falter, and he fell under the 
 table. Mr. Rigby called up the landlord, had the 
 peer put to bed, and then finished the remainder of 
 the liquor with his host. Next day, meeting his an- 
 tagonist, his lordship acknowledged he had lost, and 
 was going to pay the twenty guineas. " No, my lord," 
 said Rigby, " it was two to one against you ; and 
 you know the odds in liquor always lose, where the 
 bubble is not barred." 
 
 THE PETITION OF I. 
 
 In 1759, Dr. Hill wrote a pamphlet, "To David 
 Garrick, Esq. the Petition of I, in behalf of herself 
 and sisters." The purport of it was to charge Mr. 
 Garrick with mispronouncing some words includ- 
 ing the letter I; as furm for firm, vurtue for virtue, 
 and others ; on which occasion Garrick wrote the 
 following epigram. 
 
 If 'tis true, as you say, that I've injured a letter, 
 I'll change my notes soon, and I hope for the better, 
 May the just right of letters, as well as of men, 
 Hereafter be fixed by the tongue and the pen ! 
 Most devoutly I wish they may both have their due, 
 And that I may be never mistaken for U. 
 
 PREVENTIVE OF JEALOUSY. 
 
 A beautiful young lady having called out an ugly 
 gentleman to dance with her, he was astonished at the 
 condescension, and believing that she was in love with 
 him, in a very pressing manner desired to know why 
 she had selected him from the rest of the company. 
 •' Because, sir," replied the lady, " my husband 
 commanded me to select such a partner as should not 
 give him cause for jealousy." 
 
 KNIGHTS OF THE SCREW. 
 
 Composed by Mr. Curran, on his i?istalletion as 
 Grand Prior of the Order. 
 
 When Saint Patrick our order created, 
 And called us the Monks of the Screw, 
 
 Good rules he revealed to our Abbot, 
 To guide us in what we should do. 
 
 But first he replenished his fountain 
 
 With liquor the best in the sky, 
 And he swore by the word of his saintship, 
 
 That fountain should never run dry. 
 My children, be chaste till you're tempted — 
 
 While sober, be wise and discreet — ■ 
 And humbie your bodies with fasting, 
 
 Whene'er you've got nothing to eat. 
 Then be not a glass in the convent, 
 
 Except on a festival, found — 
 And this rule to enforce, I ordain it 
 
 A festival — all the year round. 
 
 THE BACHELOR'S RECANTATION. 
 
 This can be no trick : the conference was sadly 
 borne. — They have the truth of this. They 
 seem to pity the lady ; it seems her affections 
 have their full bent. Love me ! why it must be re- 
 quited. I hear how I am censured : they say, I will 
 bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from 
 her : they say too, that she will rather die than give 
 any sign of affection. — I did never think to marry: 
 — I must, not seem proud. Happy are they that hear 
 their detractions, and can put them to mending. 
 They say, the lady is fair ; 'tis a truth, I can bear 
 them witness : and virtuous ; — 'tis so, I cannot re- 
 prove it ; and wise, but for loving me. — By my troth, 
 it is no addition to her wit ; — nor no great argument 
 of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. — ■ 
 I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of 
 wit broken on me, because I have railed so long 
 against marriage : — but doth not the appetite alter 1 
 A man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot 
 endure in his age : Shall quips, and sentences, and 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 these paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the 
 career of his humour 1 No : the world must be peo- 
 pled. When I said, I would die a bachelor, I did 
 not think I should live till I were married. — •Here 
 comes Beatrice. By this day, she's a fair lady ; I 
 do spy some marks of love in her. 
 
 ON THREE WIVES. 
 
 Though marriage by most folks 
 
 Be reckoned a curse, 
 Three wives I did marry, 
 
 For better or worse. 
 The first for her person, 
 
 The next for her purse— 
 The third for a warming-pan, 
 
 Doctress, and nurse. 
 
 METHODIST SERMON. 
 
 The floor of the world is filthy, the mud of Mam- 
 mon eats up all your upper-leathers, and we are all 
 become sad souls. Brethren, the word brethren comes 
 from the tabernacle, because we all breathe therein ; 
 if you are drowzy I'll rouze you, I'll beat a tatoo 
 upon the parchment case of your conscience, and I'll 
 whisk the Devil like a whirligig among you. Now 
 let me ask you a question seriously : Did you ever 
 see any body eat any hasty-pudding 1 What faces 
 they make when it scalds their mouths, phoo, phoo, 
 phoo ; what faces will you all make when old Nick 
 nicks you 1 Now unto a bowl of punch I compare 
 matrimony ; there's the sweet part of it, which is the 
 honey-moon ; then there's the largest part of it, that's 
 the most insipid that comes after, and that's the wa- 
 ter ; then there's the strong spirits, that's the hus- 
 band's ; then there's the sour spirit, that's the wife. 
 But you don't mind me, no more than a dead horse does 
 a pair of spectacles, if you did, the sweet words which 
 I utter would be like a treacle posset to your palates. 
 Do you know how many tailors make a man ? Why 
 nine.— How many half a man ? Why four journey- 
 men and an apprentice. So have ye all been bound 
 prentices to MadamFaddle, the fashion-maker; ye have 
 served your times out, and now you set up for your- 
 selves. My bowels and my small guts groan for you ; 
 as the cat on the house-top is caterwauling, so from 
 y2 
 
 483 
 
 the top of my voice will I be bawling,— put — put 
 some money in the plate, then your abomination 
 shall be scalded off like bristles from the hog's 
 back, and ye shall be scalped of them ail as easily 
 as I pull off my periwig. 
 
 ENGLISH SIR-LOIN. 
 
 The sirloin of beef is said to owe its name to King 
 Charles the Second, who dining upon a loin of beef, 
 and being particularly pleased with it, asked the name 
 of the joint. On being told, he said, " For its merit 
 then I will knight it, and henceforth it shall be called 
 Sir-Loin." 
 
 In a ballad of " The new Sir John Barleycorn," 
 thfe circumstance is thus mentioned : 
 
 " Our Second Charles of fame fac£te, 
 
 On loin of beef did dine ; 
 He held his sword, pleas 'd, o'er the meat, 
 Arise, thou fam'd Sir-Loin." 
 In another ballad, "* The Gates of Calais," it is 
 thus noticed : 
 
 " Renown'd Sir-Loin, ofttimes decreed, 
 
 The theme of English ballad ; 
 On thee our kings oft deign to feed, 
 Unknown to Frenchman's palate; 
 Then, how much doth thy taste exceed 
 Soup maigre, frogs, and salad !" 
 
 MAN IN LOVE. 
 
 Marry, by these special marks s first, you have 
 learned, like sir Proteus, to wreath your arms like a 
 male-content : to relish a lovesong, like a robin-red- 
 breast ; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence ; 
 to sigh, like a schoolboy that had lost his A,B,C ; to 
 weep, like a young wench that had buried her gran- 
 dam ; to fast, like one that takes diet ;* to watch, like 
 one that fears robbing ; to speak puling, like a beggar 
 at Hallo wmas.f You were wont, when you laughed, 
 to crow like a cock ; when you walked, to walk like one 
 of the lions ; when you fasted, it was presently after 
 dinner ; when you looked sadly, it was for want of mo- 
 ney : and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, 
 that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my 
 master. 
 
 * Under a regimen. t Allhallowmas, 
 
484 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 LAMENTATIONS OF AN OLD SHOE. 
 
 Thro' all my days, I've sore been press'd, 
 
 And trampled under feet. ; 
 Stranger alike to joy and rest,. 
 
 Or liberty so sweet ! 
 At length I'm gone, and quite decay'd, 
 
 And nought can me condole ; 
 For he, whose power and wisdom made 
 
 Me — cannot save my sole. ' 
 
 A SHORT LIFE AND A MERRY ONE. 
 
 In 1813, a sailor, who had just returned from In- 
 dia, with more money than he well knew what to do 
 ■with, took up his residence at a public house in Chel- 
 sea, and spent his time and his money in the follow- 
 ing manner. He walked out before breakfast in the 
 morning, and the first persons he met of the labouring 
 class, both men and women, he hired for the day. He 
 then brought them to the house, and first paying them 
 their wages, ordered each a couple of glasses of shrub 
 and brandy, by way of a whet for breakfast, which 
 consisted of hot rolls, toast, bread and butter, tea, 
 coffee, eggs, beef-steaks, and brandy. The remainder 
 of the day, till dinner, he kept them singing, daucing, 
 drinking, &c. 
 
 At one o'clock, the sailor had dinner served up, 
 ■which consisted of good roast beef, boiled legs of mut- 
 ton, plumb pudding, and porter; and after dinner, 
 there was plenty of pert wine, and other liquors. 
 The wine was brought by a dozen bottles at a time. 
 This social tar never hired the same persons to be 
 merry a second day,, but had a fresh party every 
 morning ; and his company, each day, was limited to 
 twelve persons, besides the musician, 
 
 bIKGULAR INTERMARRIAGE. 
 
 Mr. Hardwood had two daughters by his first wife, 
 the eldest of whom was marrie'd to John Coshick : 
 this Coshick had a daughter by his first wife whom 
 old Hardwood married, and by her had a son : 
 therefore John Coshick's second wife could say, 
 My father is my son, and I'm my mother's mother ; 
 My sister is my daughter, and I'm grandmother to 
 my brother. 
 
 NO GRUMBLING. 
 
 An odd whim once possessed a country squire, 
 that he would not hire any servant whatever, until 
 ten pounds should be deposited between the master 
 and servant, and the first that grumbled at any thing 
 was to forfeit the money. Being in want of a coach- 
 man, not one round the country would venture to go 
 after the place, but at length one ThomasWinterbourn, 
 being acquainted with the oddity of the squire's 
 whim, resolved to accept of the place, and, on appli- 
 cation, was admitted into the family. 
 
 Thomas was greatly surprised, after living there 
 about two months, that nothing was allowed him for 
 breakfast, dinner, or supper, but bread and cheese and 
 small beer ; being heartily tired of this kind of fare, 
 he applied to the cook, " Cookee," says Thomas, " is 
 it the standing rule of this family, to feed their ser- 
 vants on nothing but bread and cheese 1" " What !" 
 says the cook, " do you grumble 1" " No, no, by no 
 means, cookee," replied Thomas, being fearful of 
 forfeiting the money; but recollecting his master's park 
 was stocked with fine deer, he took a musket, and shot 
 a fawn, skinned it, and brought it to the cook. " Here, 
 cookee," said Thomas, " take and roast this fawn for 
 me immediately, for I have an acquaintance or two 
 to come down from London to pay me a visit." The 
 cook seemed to object to it, having some meat to 
 dress directly for her master. " What !" says Thomas, 
 " cookee, do you grumble?" " No," replied the cook ; 
 so the fawn was roasted. — The appointed time arrived 
 that the master ordered dinner, and no sign of any { 
 coming to his table, occasioned him to ring the bell, 
 to know -the reason of it; the cook acquainted the 
 squire with Thomas's proceedings, who, in a great 
 hurry, bolted down stairs into the kitchen, where he 
 found Thomas very busy in basting the fawn.' "How- 
 got you that fawn V said the squire. — " Shot it,", 
 replied Thomas. — " Where 1" asked the squire. — u In i 
 your park," replied Thomas. — " By whose orders?" 
 quoth the squire. — '* Do you grumble V says Thomas. 
 — " No, Thomas," said the squire, and retired. — He 
 immediately wrote a letter to a gentleman who lived 
 -I near six miles from the house, and ordered that 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 485 
 
 Thomas should carry it immediately. Poor Thomas was 
 obliged to comply, though with a sorrowful heart to 
 leave the fawn. After his departure, the squire 
 ordered the fawn, when dressed, to be brought to his 
 table, which was done accordingly. On Thomas's re- 
 turn, he found himself tricked out of the fawn ; and 
 instead of it, to his mortification, bread and cheese 
 and small beer, his old diet. — A little while after, the 
 squire gave orders to Thomas to get his carriage, 
 together with the horses and harness, well cleaned. 
 Thomas obeyed the order, and on the road from the 
 stable to the squire's house, he met a man with a 
 small sand-cart, drawn by two fine jack-asses. Tho- 
 mas insisted upon an exchange, the horses for the asses, 
 which being obtained, he cut all his master's fine har- 
 ness to fit these Arabian poneys, as he styled them. 
 Matters being completed, he drove boldly up to the 
 squire's, and knocked at the gate ; the porter perceiv- 
 ing the droll figure his master's equipage cut, burst 
 out into an immoderate fit of laughter. — Shortly after 
 the squire came, and seeing his carriage so beauti- 
 fully adorned with cattle, was struck with astonish- 
 ment. " Why, what the devil," quoth the squire, 
 " have you got harnessed to my carriage V " I will 
 tell you," said Thomas. " As I was driving from 
 your stables to the gate, I met a fellow driving a sand 
 cart drawn by these two fine Arabian poneys, and 
 knowing you to be fond of good cattle, I gave your 
 horses for these twq fine creatures ; they draw well, 
 
 and are an ornament to your carriage." " D n 
 
 then ears and ornaments too," said the squire, " why 
 the fellow's mad!" — "What!" cries Thomas, "do 
 you grumble V — "Grumble!" quoth the squire, 
 "by G — d, I think it's high time to grumble: the 
 next thing, I suppose, my carriage is to be given away 
 for a sand cart." — On Thomas's procuring the horses 
 again, he paid him his wages and forfeit money, being 
 heartily tired of the oddity of his whim, and declared 
 that Thomas, the London coachman, was the drollest 
 dog he ever met with. 
 
 THE DELUGE. 
 
 Sir Thomas Browne hearing a person oppugn the 
 scriptural deluge, replied — " That there was a deluge 
 
 once, seems not to me so great a miracle, as that 
 there is not one always." 
 
 AMENDE HONOURABLE. 
 
 From a Lincoln Mercury for February , 1806. 
 
 Whereas I Benjamin Birch, 
 Of Boston town (and near the church,) 
 At Stamford market, o'er the bowl, 
 Got drunk and slandered neighbour Cole : 
 For which he hath, to my vexation, 
 By law compelled this declaration : 
 That I, without just cause or reason, 
 Made use of words as bad as treason, 
 I therefore do his pardon ask, 
 A most unpleasant, painful task ; 
 But as I own I was to blame, 
 Why dang it then I'll sign my name. 
 Eoston, Jan. 7, 1806. B. Birch. 
 
 A SEASONABLE HINT. 
 
 Dean Cowper of Durham, who was very economi- 
 cal of his wine, descanting one day on the extraordi- 
 nary performance of a man who was blind, he re- 
 marked, that the poor fellow could see no more than 
 " that bottle." " I do not wonder at it at all, sir," 
 replied Mr. Drake, a minor canon, " for we have 
 seen no more than " that bottle," all the afternoon." 
 
 THE TAILOR'S DREAM. 
 
 At Hippocrene's fount I would fain take a sip 
 
 Of wit from the clear-flowing stream, 
 To sing of a luckless descendant from Snip, 
 Who fell ill, and was mournful ashen with the pip, 
 
 Because of an ominous dream. 
 He dream'd that the angel, who pilfering watches, 
 
 Expos'd a large cloth to his view. 
 And, as he show'd this collection of patches, 
 Compos'd of the pieces he'd cribb'd by small snatches, 
 
 That he beat him black, yellow, and blue. 
 Poor Snip, though asleep, with Stentorian might, 
 
 'Gan to bellow and hideously roar ; 
 And awoke from his dream in a terrible fright, 
 Devoutly determin'd, from that very night, 
 
 He'd be honest, and ne'er cabbage more. 
 
486 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 But attach d to his trade, like a thorough-pac'd varlet, 
 
 He soon found a reason to cheat— 
 For an officer ordering a new suit of scarlet, 
 " In the patch-work I saw, there was none," cried 
 the varlet, 
 
 " So I'll crib some to make it complete,'* 
 
 LATE HOURS. 
 
 " Mr. Pitt," said the duchess of Gordon, " I wish 
 you to dine with me at ten this evening." " I must 
 decline the honour," said the premier, "for I am 
 engaged to sup with the bishop of Lincoln at nine" 
 
 FATE OF GENIUS. 
 
 Sic vos non vobis nidificatis, aves •, 
 
 Sic vos non vobis vellera fertis, oves ; 
 
 Sic vos non vobis mellificatis, apes ; 
 
 Sic vos noii vobis fertis aratra, boves. 
 Thus birds for others build the downy nest ; 
 Thus sheep for others bear the fleecy vest ; 
 Thus bees collect for others honeyed food ; 
 Thus ploughs the patient ox for others' good. 
 
 FAULKNOR AND DEAN SWIFT. 
 
 When Faulknor returned from London, where he 
 had been soliciting subscriptions for his edition of 
 Swift's works, he went to pay his respects to the dean, 
 dressed in a laced waistcoat, bag wig, and other fop- 
 peries. Swift received him as a perfect stranger. 
 " Pray, sir, what are your commands with me. V — 
 " I thought it my duty to wait on you immediately 
 after my arrival from London." " Pray, sir, who are 
 you V — " George Faulknor, the printer." " You 
 George Faulknor, the printer ! Why, you are the 
 most impudent, barefaced impostor I ever heard of. 
 Faulknor is a sober, sedate citizen, and would never 
 trick himself out in lace and other fopperies. Get 
 about your business, and thank your stars I do not 
 send you to the house of correction." Poor George 
 hobbled away as fast as he could, and, having changed 
 his dress, returned immediately to the deanery. Swift, 
 on his return, went up and shook him by the hand 
 with the utmcs* cordiality. " My good friend, 
 George, I am heartily glad to see you safe returned. 
 
 Here was an impudent fellow in a laced waistcoat, 
 who would fain have passed for you : but I soon sent 
 him packing with a flea in his ear," 
 
 FIRST COME FIRST SERVED. 
 
 A fellow having been adjudged, on a conviction of 
 perjury, to lose his ears ; when the executioner came 
 to put the sentence of the law in force, he found that 
 he had been already cropped. The hangman seemed 
 a little surprised.' " What," said the criminal, with 
 all the sangfroid imaginable, " am I obliged to fur- 
 nish you with ears every time you are pleased to crop 
 me?" 
 
 BEGONE DULL CARE, 
 
 Come fill the bowl ! — oh ! fill it up — 
 • Shun schoolmen's lore to night : 
 The well, Truth dwells in, is the cup 
 
 That sparkles ruby-bright. 
 Count not the minutes as they pass, 
 
 Nor at old Time repine ; 
 But shake the sands from out his glass, 
 
 And fill it up with wine. 
 
 A POETICAL NIGHT. 
 
 Piron, the celebrated satirist, and Gallet and Colle, 
 two congenial spirits, after spending an evening, of 
 great hilarity at the house of a lady, celebrated for 
 her bel esprit, took their departure together, and on 
 foot. On reaching the corner of La Rue du Harlay, 
 Piron proposed to take leave of his companions, as his 
 way henee lay by the Pauxbourg St. Germain, while 
 theirs lay in the opposite directions of the Quartier 
 St. Eustache. The two friends, however, would not 
 hear of parting ; they pressed to be allowed to escort 
 Piron to his own door , expatiated on the danger 
 which a solitary individual, at such an hour of the 
 night, was in, of being way-laid by robbers ; and en- 
 forced their representations, by a thousand stories of 
 unfortunate persons, pillaged and murdered. Piron 
 was not to be frightened ; he persisted in going alone, 
 and, as an excuse for his obstinacy, pretended that 
 he had a piece of verse in his head, which he wished 
 to compose by the way. '« But you *orget," observed 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 his friends, " that poets don't go in such noble suits 
 of velvet as that you have on ; the first rogue you 
 meet, deceived by appearances, will take you for a 
 financier at least, and will attack and kill you for the 
 sake of your clothes and money. How melancholy 
 to hear to-morrow that " "Ah ! gentlemen," in- 
 terrupted Piron, briskly, " it is my clothes then that 
 you wish to escort, and not me. Why did not you 
 say so sooner 1" In the twinkling of an eye, off went 
 coat and doublet, and throwing them to Gallet and 
 Colle, he bolted from them with the rapidity of light- 
 ning. After a moment lost in surprise at this fantas- 
 tic proceeding, the two friends ran after him, calling- 
 out to him, " for God's sake to stop," that " he would 
 catch his death of cold." Piron, however, paid no 
 regard to their entreaties, and being a good runner, 
 was soon so much a head, that they begaa to think of 
 giving up the pursuit ; when, to their astonishment, 
 they beheld Piron returning on his steps, accompanied 
 by a party of police. " Ah !" exclaimed the sergeant 
 of the party, to whom Piron had told a wonderful 
 story of his being stripped and robbed, " there are the 
 villains : see, they have the clothes in their hands." 
 " Yes, yes," said Piron, " the very men." The guard 
 instantly laid hold of them, restored to Piron his 
 clothes, and told the astonished friends, that they 
 must go before the commissary, to answer for the 
 robbery. Gallet wished to explain, very seriously, 
 how the matter stood, but the sergeant would not 
 listen to him. Coll£, who entered more into the hu- 
 mour of the scene, being ordered to deliver up a 
 sword which he wore, thus parodied the words of the 
 earl of Essex, in the tragedy of that name, as he sur- 
 rendered his weapon into their hands : 
 
 " Prenez, 
 Vous avez dans vos mains ce que toute la terre 
 A,vu plus d'une fois terrible a l'Angleterre. 
 Marchons ; quelque douleur que j'en puisse sentir, 
 Vous voulez votre perte, il faut y consentir." 
 
 The whole party now proceeded towards the house 
 of the commissary of the district. Piron, who was at 
 full liberty, walked by the side of the sergeant, whom 
 he questioned very- comically by the way, as to what { 
 
 487 
 
 would be done with the two robbers 1 The sergeant, 
 with unaffected gravity, replied, that at the very 
 least they would be hung, though worse might hap- 
 pen to them. After amusing himself in this strain tor 
 some time, Piron, afraid of pushing the adventure 
 too far, changed his tone, represented the whole 
 affair as a mere frolic, and claimed the two prisoners 
 as two of his best friends.. "Ah! ah!" exclaimed 
 the sergeant, " you are a fine fellow truly ; now that 
 you have got your clothes back, the robbers are ho- 
 nest people, and your best friends. No, sir, you 
 must not think to dupe us in this way." The party 
 had now reached the house of the commissary, who 
 was in bed, but had left his clerk to officiate for him. 
 The sergeant began to make his report of the affair to 
 this commissary- substitute, but was so often inter- 
 rupted by the pleasantries of Piron, that he could not 
 get through with it. Piron then addressing the clerk 
 described, in its true colours, the midnight adventure 
 of himself and friends • but the clerk proved as slow 
 of belief as the sergeant ; treated the whole story as 
 a fiction, and the narrator as an impostor. Taking up 
 his pen, he prepared to go into an examination of 
 the matter, with all the formality required in the 
 gravest proceedings, and ordered Piron to answer 
 distinctly the questions he would put to him. 
 
 Piron. "As you please, monsieur, only make de- 
 spatch ; I will assist, if you like, to put the process- 
 verbal into verse." 
 
 Clerk. " Come, sir, none of your nonsense, let us 
 proceed. What is your name 1" 
 
 P. " Piron ; at your service." 
 
 C. " What, is your occupation 1" 
 
 P. " I make verses." 
 
 C. " Verses ! what are verses ? Ah ! you are 
 making game of me." 
 
 P. " No, sir ; I do make verses ; and to prove it 
 to you, I will instantly make some on yourself, either 
 for^or against you, as you please." 
 
 C. " I have already told you, sir, that I will have 
 none of this verbiage ; if you persist, you shall have 
 cause to repent it." 
 
 The clerk now turned to Gallet, and having ob- 
 
488 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 tained his name, thus proceeded to interrogate 
 him : 
 
 C. " What is your profession 1 what do you do 1" 
 G. " I make songs, sir." 
 
 C. "Ah ! I see how it is, you are all in a plot ; I 
 must call up the commissary. He will show you 
 what it is to make a mockery of justice." 
 
 G. " O, pray, sir, do not disturb the repose of M. 
 Commissary ; allow him to sleep on ; you are so much 
 awake, that, without flattery, you are worth a dozen 
 commissaries. I mock not justice, believe me ; I am 
 indeed a maker of songs ; and you, a man of taste, 
 must yourself have by heart the last which I wrote, 
 and which has been for a month past the admiration 
 of all Paris. Ah, sir, need I repeat, 
 
 ' Daphnis m'amait, 
 
 Le disait, 
 
 Si joliment, 
 
 Qu'il me plaisait 
 
 Infinhnent !' 
 
 ** You see, sir, that I do not impose upon you. I 
 am really a sonneteer ; and what is more, sir, (making 
 a profound reverence to the clerk,) a dealer in spi- 
 ceries, at your service, in the Rue de la Truanderie." 
 Scarcely had Gallet finished, when Coils' began : 
 "I wish," said he, "to save you the trouble of 
 asking questions. My name is Charles Coll6, I live 
 in the Rue du Jour, parish of St. Eustache ; my bu- 
 siness is to do nothing ; but when the couplets of 
 my friend here (pointing to Gallet) are good, I sing 
 them." 
 
 Colle then sung, by way of example, the following 
 smart anacreontic : 
 
 Avoir dans sa cave profonde 
 Vin excellent, en quantite ; 
 Faire l'amour, boire a la ronde, 
 Est la seule f&icite*, 
 II n'est point de vrais biens au monde, 
 Sans vin, sans amour, sans gaieteV' 
 '' And," continued Colle*, '* when my other friend 
 here (pointing to Piron) makes good verses, I de- 
 claim them ;" to illustrate which, he, with equal feli- 
 
 city, repeated the following appropriate couplet from 
 Piron's Calisthenes : 
 
 " J'ai tout dit, tout, seigneur; cela doit vous suffire ; 
 Qu'cn me mene a- la mort, je n'ai plus rien a dire." 
 
 As he finished these words, Colle. with all the air 
 of a genuine traged}'-hero, strutted towards the guard, 
 bidding them " lead o?i." So burlesque a conclu- 
 sion to the examination, called forth a general burst 
 of laughter. The clerk alone, far from laughing, 
 grew pale with rage, and denouncing vengeance, ran 
 to awake the commissary. " Ah, sir," exclaimed 
 Piron, in a tone of raillery, " do not ruin us ; we are 
 persons of family." 
 
 The commissary was in so profound a sleep, that 
 some time passed before he made his appearance. 
 Piron and his friends, however, did not suffer the 
 action to cool ; but kept the guard in a constant roar 
 of laughter with their drolleries. At length M. Com- 
 missary was announced. " What is all this noise 
 about V demanded he, gruffly. " Who are you, sir V 
 addressing himself taPiron ; "your name 1" "Piron." 
 " What are youl" "A poet." " A poet ?" " Yes, 
 sir, a poet, the most noble and sublime of all profes- 
 sions. Alas ! where can you have lived all your days, 
 that you have not heard of the poet Piron 1 I think 
 nothing of your clerk being ignorant of my name and 
 quality ; but what a scandal for a great public officer, 
 like you M. Commissary, not to know the great Pi- 
 ron, author of Fils Ingrats, so justly applauded by 
 all Paris ; and of Calisthenes, so unjustly damned, as 
 I have shown to the public by some verses, which 
 prove it to a demonstration." 
 
 Piron would have gone on farther in his gascon- 
 ading strain, but the commissary interrupted him, by 
 pleasantly observing, 
 
 " You speak of plays, M. Piron ; don't you know 
 that Lafosse is my brother ; that, he writes excellent 
 ones, and that he is the author of Manlius ? Ah, sir, 
 there is a man of great genius." " I believe it, sir," 
 replied Piron, '* for I too have a brother who is a great 
 fool, although he is a priest, and although I write 
 tragedies'' 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 The commissar}' either felt not the smart of this 
 • repartee, or had the good sense to conceal it. After 
 a few more inquiries, he saw into the real character 
 of the affair, invited Piron to relate it at length, and 
 (to the satisfaction of all present but his sagacious 
 clerk) not only believed, but laughed most heartily at 
 it. He then dismissed the three friends, not with a 
 rebuke, but with a polite invitation to dine with him 
 at his house on the day following. " Ah ! my 
 friends," exclaimed Piron, as he left the office, " no- 
 thing more is wanting to my glory ■ I have made 
 even the alguazils laugh." 
 
 EPITAPH ON DOLLY'S CHARMS. 
 
 Within this tomb a lover lies, 
 
 Who fell an early sacrifice 
 
 To Dolly's unrelenting ej'es : 
 
 For Dolly's charms poor Damon burn'd — 
 
 Disdain the cruel maid return 'd: 
 
 But, as she danc'd in Mayday pride, 
 
 Dolly fell down, and Dolly died ; 
 
 And now she lies by Damon's side. 
 
 Be not hard-hearted then, ye fair ! 
 
 Of Dolly's hapless fate beware ! 
 
 For sure you'd better go to bed 
 
 To one alive, than one who's dead ! 
 
 CAUSE AND EFFECT. 
 
 A physician calling one day on a gentleman who 
 had been severely afiiicted with the gout, found, to 
 his surprise, the disease gone, and the patient re- 
 joicing in his recovery over a bottle of wine. " Come 
 along, doctor," exclaimed the valetudinarian, " you 
 are just in time to taste this bottle of Madeira ; it is 
 the first of a pipe that hasjust been broached." "Ah!" 
 replied the doctor, " these pipes of Madeira will never 
 do ; they are the cause of ail your suffering," "Well, 
 then," rejoined the gay incurable, " fill up your glass, 
 for now that we have found out the cause, the sooner 
 we get rid of it the better." 
 
 BIGAMY AND TRIGAMY. 
 
 A woman brought an action against her husband 
 for bigamy, which was set aside by her proving a 
 trigaray. He had married three wives, and she was 
 the second. 
 
 y3 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 4S9 
 
 NICE MEASUREMENT. 
 
 An idler who had more wit than money, went to 
 an inn in Smithfield, during a market day, and 
 seeing a country farmer with a tankard of mulled 
 wine before him, entered into conversation with him, 
 and after enumerating several extraordinary things 
 he could do, said, he could drink the exact quantity 
 of a wine glass from the full tankard, and neither 
 more nor less ; the farmer expressed some doubts, 
 when, tc prove it, the fellow said, " I do not like to 
 lay heavy wagers, but I will just bet you a penny I 
 do it." The farmer agreed ; when the stranger took 
 the tankard, and drinking the whole off at a draught, 
 turned to the farmer, and said, " I own, sir, I have 
 lost, there is my penny." 
 
 JOHNSONIAN MAXIMS. 
 
 It has been said of Dr. Johnson, by his biographer, 
 that many a day did he fast, many a year did he 
 abstain from wine ; but when he eat, it was vora- 
 ciously ; when he drank, it was copiously. The doc- 
 tor, however, was not insensible to the pleasures of 
 the table, or the relative effect of liquors, which he 
 thus fixed ; claret for boys, port for men, and brandy 
 for heroes. Mr. Burke, on hearing the doctor thus 
 apportion liquors, said, " Then let me have claret, I 
 love to be a boy, to have the careless gaiety of boyish 
 days." " I should drink claret too," replied John- 
 son, " if it would give me that ; but it does not ; it 
 neither makes boys men, nor men boys. You and I 
 would be drowned in claret, before it would have any 
 effect on us." 
 
 LOQUACITY. 
 
 The abbe" P„aynal and the abbe* Galignani, who 
 were both incessant talkers, were invited to the house 
 of a mutual friend, who wished to amuse himself by 
 bringing them together. Galignani, who began the 
 conversation, engrossed it so thoroughly, and talked 
 with such volubility, that Raynal could not find the 
 least opening to introduce a word ; but turning to his 
 friend, said in a low voice, " S'il crache, il est 
 perdu." 
 
490 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ALL IN ONE STORY. 
 
 One day, behind my lady's back, 
 
 My lord attack'd her maid, 
 
 And stole a kiss, which she repaid, 
 
 And gave him smack for smack. 
 
 Pert with such freedoms, " Pray," (said she) 
 
 ** Who kisses with the greatest glee 1 
 
 Is it my lady, is it 1 !" — 
 
 " 'Tis you no doubt," he made reply. 
 
 " Why, in good faith, it must be true," 
 
 Resum'd the wanton dame ; 
 " For Tom, and John, and chaplain too, 
 
 All say the very same." 
 
 DROPPING THE KING. 
 
 At one of the literary entertainments of Frederick 
 the Great, in order to promote free Conversation, he 
 reminded the circle that there was no monarch pre- 
 sent, and that every one might think aloud. The con- 
 versation soon turned upon the faults of different go- 
 vernments and rulers, and general censures were 
 passing from mouth to mouth, with that freedom 
 which such hints were calculated, and apparently in- 
 tended to inspire. But Frederick suddenly put a stop 
 to the topic, by saying, ". Peace, peace, gentlemen, 
 have a care, the king is coming ; it may be as well if 
 he does not hear you, lest he should be obliged to be 
 still worse than you." 
 
 GENIUS DEFINED. 
 
 A wit being asked what the word genius meant, 
 replied, " If you had it in you, you would not ask 
 the question ; but as you have not, you will never 
 know what it means." 
 
 NO ALTERNATIVE. 
 
 A porter passing near Temple-bar, with a load on 
 his shoulders, having unintentionally jostled by a 
 man who was going that way, the fellow gave the 
 porter a violent box on the ear, upon which a gentle- 
 man passing exclaimed, " Why, my friend, will you 
 take that?" " Take it," replied the porter, rubbing 
 his cheek, " don't you see he has given it me." 
 
 CARDS AND CHESS. 
 
 Cards were invented about the year 1390, to di- 
 vert the melancholy of Charles VI. of France, the four 
 classes of whose subjects were intended to be repre- 
 sented by the four suits. By the coeurs (hearts) were 
 signified the gens de chositr, choir-men or ecclesias- 
 tics ; the pike heads or ends of lances, which we 
 ignorantly term spades, typified the nobles or mili- 
 tary part of the nation ; the carreaux, (square stones 
 or tiles,) by us designated diamonds, figured the cit 
 zens and tradesmen ; the trefoil, (our clubs,) alludes 
 to the husbandmen and peasants ; and the court cards 
 have all their appropriate significations. Thus, if a king 
 of France had not been attacked with blue devils four 
 hundred years ago, how would all the intermediate 
 dowagers, and old maids, and nabobs, and hypochon- 
 driacs, and whist-players, have contrived to shuffle and 
 cut away time ? What must have become of Bath, and 
 of the long winter evenings, from the days of ombre 
 and piquet down to the present reign of short whist 
 and £carte? The city must have been swallowed up 
 in a mouth-quake of yawns, and the inhabitants have 
 all perished of ennui. Chess is another recreation, or 
 rather a study, which also owes it's origin to courts, 
 having been devised for one of the brothers to the 
 sun and uncles to the moon of China, who could not 
 be brought to understand any thing of political eco- 
 nomy until these hieroglyphics were placed before 
 him, and all the various estates of his empire, toge- 
 ther with their attributes and privileges, were sha- 
 dowed forth in the figures and powers of these wooden 
 representatives. We have net availed ourselves of 
 an expedient devised for one of the young French 
 princes, who being too indolent or stupid to acquire 
 his alphabet by the ordinary process, twenty-four 
 servants were placed in attendance upon him, with 
 each a huge letter painted upon his stomach; and, 
 as he knew not their names, he was obliged to call 
 them by their letter whenever he had occasion for 
 their services, which in due time gave him the re- 
 quisite degree of literature for the exercise of the royal 
 functions. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 491 
 
 THE KING AND MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 
 
 Part the First. 
 
 Henry, our royall king, would ride a hunting 
 
 To the greene forest so pleasant and faire ; 
 To see the harts skipping, and dainty does tripping ; 
 
 Unto merry Sherwood his nobles repair ; 
 Hawke and hound were unbound, all things prepar'd 
 For the game, in the same, with good regard. 
 All a long summers day rode the king pleasantlye, 
 
 With all his princes and nobles eche one ; 
 Chasing the hart and hind, and the bucke gallantlye, 
 
 Till the dark evening forc'd all to turne home. 
 Then at last, riding fast, he had lost quite 
 All the lords in the wood, late in the night. 
 Wandering thus wearilye, all alone, up and downe, 
 
 With a rude miller he mett at the last : 
 Asking the ready way unto faire Nottingham ; 
 
 Sir, quoth the miller, I mean not to jest, 
 Yet I thinke, what I thinke, sooth for to say, 
 You doe not lightlye ride out of your way. 
 Why, what dost thou think of me, quoth our king 
 merrily, 
 
 Passing thy judgment on me so briefe 1 
 Good faith, sayd the miller, I meane not to flatter 
 thee ; 
 
 I guess thee to bee but some gentleman thiefe ; 
 Stand thee backe, in the darke; light not adowne, 
 
 Lest I presentlye eracke thy knave's crowne. 
 Thou dost abuse me much, quoth the king, saying 
 thus ; 
 
 I am a gentleman; lodging I lacke. 
 Thou hast not, quoth th' miller, one groat in thy purse ; 
 
 All thy inheritance hanges on thy backe ; 
 I have gold to discharge all that I call, 
 If it be forty pence, I will pay all. 
 If thou beest a true man, then quoth the miller, 
 
 I sweare by my toll-dish, I'll lodge thee all night. 
 Here's my hand, quoth the king, that was I ever. 
 
 Nay, soft, quoth the miller, thou may'st be a sprite. 
 Better I'll "know thee, ere hands we will shake, 
 With none but honest men hands will I take. 
 
 Thus they went all along unto the miller's house, 
 
 Where they were seething of puddings and souse : 
 The miller first enter'd in, after him went the king ; 
 
 Never came hee in soe smoakye a house. 
 Now, quoth he, let me see here what you are. 
 Quoth our king, look your fill, and do not spare. 
 I like well thy countenance, thou hast an honest face j 
 
 With my son Richard this night thou shalt lye. 
 Quoth his wife, by my troth, it is a handsome youth ; 
 
 Yet its best, husband, to deal warilye. 
 Art thou no run-away ? prythee, youth, tell ; 
 Shew me thy passport, and all shall be well. 
 Then our king presentlye, making lowe courtesye, 
 
 With his hatt in hand, thus he did say ; 
 I have no passport, nor never was servitor, 
 
 But a poor courtyer, rode out of my way : 
 And for your kindness here offered to mee, 
 I will lequite you in everye degree. 
 Then to the miller his wife whisper'd secretlye, 
 
 Saying, It seemeth, this youth's of good kin, 
 Both by his apparel, and eke by his manners ; 
 
 To turne him out, certainlye, were a great sin. 
 Yea, quoth hee, you may see, he hath some grace, 
 When he doth speake to his betters in place. 
 Well quo' the millers wife, young man, ye're welcome 
 here ; 
 
 And, though I say it. well lodged shall be : 
 Fresh straw will I have laid on thy bed so brave, 
 
 And good brown hempen sheetes likewise, quoth 
 shee, 
 Aye, quoth the good man ; and when that is done, 
 Thou shalt lye with no worse than our own sonne. 
 
 Nay, first, quoth Richard, good-fellowe, tell me true, 
 
 Hast thou noe creepers within thy gay hose "i 
 Or, art thou nfft troubled with the scabbado 1 
 
 I pray, quoth the king, what creatures are those 1 
 Art thou not lowsy, nor scabby? quoth he : 
 If thou beest, surely thou lyest not with mee. 
 This caus'd the king suddenlye to laugh most heartilye. 
 
 Till the teares trickled fast downe from his eyes. 
 Then to their supper were they set orderlye, 
 
 With hot bag-puddings and good apple-pyes ; 
 
492 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Nappy ale, good and stale, in a browne bowle, 
 
 Which did about the board merrily trowie. 
 
 Here, quoth the miller, good fellowe, I drinketo thee, 
 
 And to all cuckolds, wherever they bee. 
 I pledge thee, quoth our king, and thanke thee 
 heartilye 
 
 For my good welcome in every degree . 
 And here, in like manner, I drinke to thy sonne. 
 Do then, quoth Richard, and quicke let it come. 
 
 Wife, quoth the miller, fetch me forth lightfoote, 
 And of his sweetnesse a little we'll taste. 
 
 A faire ven'son pastye brought she out presentlye. 
 Eate, quoth the miller, but, sir, make no waste : 
 
 Here's dainty lightfoote ! In faith, sayd the king, 
 
 I never before eate so dainty a thing. 
 
 I wis, quoth Richard, no dainty at all it is, 
 
 For we doe eat of it everye day. 
 In what place, sayd our king, may be bought like to 
 this ? 
 
 We never pay pennye for itt, by my fay : 
 From merry Sherwood we fetch it home here ; 
 How and then we make bold with our king's deer 
 
 Then I thinke, sayd our king, that it is venison. 
 
 Eche foole, qucth Richard, full well may know that : 
 Never are wee without two or three in the foof, 
 
 Very well fleshed and excellent fat : 
 But, pr'ythee, say nothing wherever thou goe ; 
 We would not for twopence the king should it knowe. 
 
 Doubt not, then sayd the king, my promised secresye ; 
 
 The king shall never know more on't for me. 
 A cupp of lambs-wool they dranke unto him then, 
 
 And to their bedds they past presentlie. 
 The nobles, next morning, went all up and 4own, 
 For to seeke out the king in everye towne. 
 
 At last, at the millers cott, soone they espy'd him out, 
 As he was mounting upon his faire steede ; 
 
 To whom they came presently, falling down on their 
 knee ; 
 Which made the miller's heart wo fully bleede : 
 
 Shaking and quaking, before him he stood, 
 
 Thinking he should have been hang'd by the rood. 
 
 The king perceiving him fearfully trembling, 
 Drew forth his sword, but nothing he sed : 
 
 The miller downe did fail, crying before them all, 
 Doubting the king would have cut off his head : 
 
 But he his kind courtesy for to requite, 
 
 Gave him great living, and dubb'd him a knight. 
 
 Part the Second. 
 When as our royall king home from Nottingham, 
 
 And with his nobles at Westminster lay ; 
 Recounting the sports and pastimes they had taken, 
 
 In this late progress alocg on the way ; 
 Of them all, great and small, he did protest, 
 The miller of Mansfield's sport liked him best. 
 And now, my lords, quoth the king, I am determined, 
 
 Against St. George's next sumptuous feast, 
 That this old miiier our new confirmed knight, 
 
 With his son Richard, shall here be my guest : 
 For, in this mei riment, 'tis my desire 
 To talke with the jolly knight, and the young squire. 
 When as the noble lords saw the kinge's pleasantness 
 
 They were right joyfull and glad in their hearts ; 
 A pivrsuivante there w.as sent straight on the business, 
 
 The which had often-times been in those parts, 
 When he came to the place where they did dwell, 
 His message orderlye then 'gan he tell. 
 God save your worshippe, then said the messenger, 
 
 And grant your lauye her owue heart's desire ; 
 And to your sonne Richard good fortune and happiness j 
 
 That sweet, gentle, and gallant young squire. 
 Our king greets you well, and thus he doth say, 
 You must come to the court on St. George's day ; 
 Therefore, in any case, faile not to be in place. 
 
 I wis, quoth the miller, this is an odd jest ; 
 What should we do there ? faith, I am halfe afraid. 
 
 I doubt, quoth Richard, to be hang'd at the least. 
 Nay, quoth the messenger, you doe mistake ; 
 Our king he provides a great feast for youf sake. 
 Then sayd the miller, By my troth, messenger, 
 
 Thou hast contented my worshippe full well. 
 Hold, here are three farthings, to quite thy gentleness, 
 
 For these happy tydings, which thou dost tell. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 493 
 
 We'll wayt on his mastershipp in everye thing. 
 
 The pursuivant smiled at their sirnplicitye, 
 
 And, making many leggs, tocke their reward ; 
 And his leave taking with great humilitye, 
 
 To the king's court againe he repair'd ; 
 Shewing unto his grace, merry and free, 
 The knighte's most liberail gift and bountie. 
 When he was gone away, thus gan the miller say, 
 
 Here comes expences and charges indeed ; 
 Now must we needs be brave, tho' we spend all we 
 have ; 
 
 For of new garments we have great need : 
 Of horses and serving-men we must have store, 
 With bridles and saddles, and twentye things more, 
 
 Tushe, Sir John, quoth his wife, why should you frett 
 or frown 'I 
 
 You shall ne'er be att no charges for mee ; 
 For I will turn and trim up my old russet gowne, 
 
 With every thing else as fine as may bee : 
 
 And on our mill-horses 
 
 we will ride, 
 
 With pillowes and pannells as we shall provide. 
 
 In this most statelye sort rode they unto the court ; 
 
 Their jolly sonne Richard rede foremost of all, 
 Who set up, for good hap, a cock's feather in his cap ; 
 
 And so they jetted downe to the king's hall : 
 The merry old miller with hands on his side : 
 His wife, like maid Marian, did mince at that tide. 
 
 The king and his nobles, that heard of their coming, 
 Meeting this gallant knight with his brave traine ; 
 
 Welcome, sir knight, quoth he, with your gay lady: 
 Good sir John Cockle, once welcome againe : 
 
 And so is the-squire of courage soe free. 
 
 Quoth Dicke, A bots on you ! do you know me 1 
 
 Quoth our king gentlye, How should I forget thee? 
 
 . That wast my own bed-fellowe, well it I wot. 
 Yea, sir, quoth Richard, and by the same token, 
 Thou with thy farting didst make the bed hot, 
 Thou whore-son unhappy knave, then quothe the 
 
 knight, 
 Speak cleanly to our king, or else go sh*t*. 
 
 The king and his courtiers laugh ai this heartily, 
 While the king taketh them both by the hand ; 
 
 With the court- dames and maids, like to the queen of 
 spades, 
 The miller's wife did soe orderly stand, 
 
 A milk maid's courtesye at every word ; 
 
 And downe all the folkes were set to the board. 
 
 There the king royally, in princelye majestye, 
 Sate at his dinner with joy and delight ; 
 When they had eaten well, then he to jesting fell, 
 And in a bowle of wine dranke to the knight : 
 Here's to you both, in wine, ale, and beer ; 
 Thanking you heartilye for my good cheer. 
 
 Quoth sir John Cockle, I'll pledge you a pottle,. 
 
 Were it the best ale in Nottinghamshire : 
 But then said our king, now I think of a thing, 
 
 Some of your lightfoot I would we had here. 
 Ho ! ho ! quoth Richard, full well I may say it, 
 'Tis knavery to eate, and then to betray it. 
 
 What art thou angry e ? quoth our king merrily e ; 
 
 In faith, I take it now very unkind : 
 I thought thou wouldst pledge me in ale and wine 
 heartily. 
 
 Quoth Dicke, You are like to stay till I have din'd : 
 You feed us with twatling dishes soe small ; 
 Zounds, a black pudding is better than all. 
 
 Aye, marry, quoth our kyng, that were a dainty e 
 thing, 
 Could a man get but one here for to eat. 
 With that Dick strait arose, and plucked one from 
 his hose, 
 Which with heat of his breech gan to sweate. 
 The king made a proffer to snatch it away : 
 Tis meat for your master: good siiv you must 
 stay. 
 
 Thus in great merriment was the time wholly spent, 
 And then the ladyes prepared to dance : 
 
 Old Sir John Cockle, and Richard incontinent, 
 Unto their places the king did advance : 
 
 Here with the ladyes such sport they did make, 
 
 The nobles with laughing did make their sides ake. 
 
4<M 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Many thankes for their pames did the king give them, 
 Asking young Richard then, if he would wed ; 
 Among these ladyes free, tell me which liketh thee? 
 
 Quoth he, Jugg Grumball, sir, with the red head : 
 She's my love, she's my life, her will I wed; 
 She hath sworn I shall have her maidenhead. 
 Then Sir John Cockle the king call'd unto him, 
 
 And of merry Sherwood made him o'er-seer ; 
 And gave him out of hand three hundred pound 
 yearlye ; 
 
 Take heed now you steal no more of my deer : 
 And snce a quarter let's here have your view , 
 And now, Sir John Cockle, I bid you adieu. 
 
 DEFINITION OF LAW. 
 
 Law is — law, — Law is — law, and as in such and 
 so forth, and hereby, and aforesaid, provided always, 
 nevertheless, notwithstanding. Law is like a country 
 dance, people are led up and down in it till they are 
 tired. — Law is like a book of surgery, there are a 
 great many terrible cases in it. It is also like physic, 
 they that take least of it are best off. Law is like a 
 homely gentlewoman, very well to follow. Law is 
 also like a scolding wife, very bad, when it follows 
 us. Law is like a new fashion, people are bewitched 
 to get into it ; it is also like bad weather, most peo- 
 ple are glad when they get out of it. 
 
 HUMANE JURYMAN. 
 
 " Look at the juryman in the blue coat," said one 
 of the Old Bailey court to Justice Nares ; " do you 
 see him?" " Yes," " Well, we shall not have a sin- 
 gle conviction to clay for any capital offence." The 
 observation was verified. The juryman was Mr. 
 Phillips of St. Paul's church-yard, afterwards sheriff ; 
 and during his shrievalty no execution took place. 
 
 TJ30 LATE. 
 
 An appointment was made with an astronomer, to 
 be at his observatory, there to see an eclipse. The 
 good company, considering celestial and terrestrial 
 engagements in the same light, attended the philoso- 
 pher, and, after chatting some time, at last recollected 
 their business, and begged to see the eclipse. I am 
 
 sorry, says the doctor, that I could not prevail on the 
 sun and moon to wait for you, — the eclipse was ended 
 long before your arrival. 
 
 EPILOGUE TO A WOMAN KILL'd WITH KINDNE3S. 
 
 An honest crew, disposed to be merry, 
 
 Came to a tavern by, and call'd for wine : 
 The drawer brought it (smiling like a cherry) 
 And told them it was pleasant, neat, and fine. 
 Taste it, quoth one : he did; Oh, fie ! (quoth he) 
 This wine was good ; now't turns too near the lee, 
 Another sipp'd, to give the wine his due, 
 
 And said unto the rest, it drank too flat : 
 The third said, it was old ; the fourth too new ; 
 Nay, quoth the fifth, the sharpness likes me not. 
 Thus, gentlemen, you see how in one hour 
 The wine wasnew,old, flat, sharp, sweet, and sour. 
 Unto this wine do we allude our play : 
 
 Which some will judge "too trivial, some too grave : 
 You, as our guests, we entertain this day, 
 And bid you welcome to the best we have. 
 
 Excuse us, then ; good wine may be disgrac'd, 
 When every several mouth hath sundry taste, 
 
 GARRICK. AT LAW. 
 
 The following jeu d' esprit, from the pen of David 
 Garrick, was sent by him to Mr. Counsellor Hotchkin, 
 at a time when Garrick was involved in a lawsuit 
 respecting the possession of a house at Hampton. 
 
 David Garrick to Mr. Hotchkin, his counsellor and 
 friend. 
 
 On your care must depend the success of my suit, 
 The possession I mean of the house in dispute ; 
 Remember, my friend, an attorney's my foe, 
 And the worst of his tribe, tho' the best are so so ; 
 In law, as in life, I well know 'tis a rule, 
 That the knave should be ever too hard for the fool ; 
 To this rule one exception your client implores, 
 That the fool may for once kick the knave out of 
 doors, 
 
 THE TABLES TURNED. 
 
 A very respectable gentleman once appeared at 
 Westminster Hall, to justify bail. The counsel de- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 termined to be very witty upon him, opened upon 
 hjm in the following extraordinary manner : 
 
 " Pray, sir, is there not a certain lady who lives 
 with you?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, there is." 
 
 " Oh, there is ; and I suppose, if the truth were 
 known, that lady has been very expensive to you V 
 
 " Yes, sir, that lady has been very expensive to 
 me." 
 
 " And T suppose you have had children by that 
 lady, and they too have cost you a good deal of 
 money V 
 
 " Yes, they have." 
 
 " And yet you have come here to justify bail to a 
 large amount !" 
 
 The counsel thought he had now done enough to 
 prevent the confidence of the court being placed in 
 the gentleman ; when the latter raising his voice, in- 
 dignantly said, " It is true, Mr. Counsellor, that 
 there is a lady lives with me, but that lady is my wife ; 
 we have been married these fifteen years, and have 
 children ; and whoever has a wife and children will 
 find them expensive." 
 
 COURTSHIP AND MARRIACtE. 
 
 Courtship is a fine bowling-green turf, all galloping 
 round, and sweet-hearting, a sunshine holiday in 
 summer time. But when once through matrimony's 
 turnpike, the weather becomes wintry, and some 
 husbands are seized with a cold aguish fit, to which 
 the faculty gives the name of indifference. Court- 
 ship is matrimony's running footman, but seldom 
 stays to see the stocking thrown ; it is too often car- 
 ried away by the two grand preservatives of matri- 
 monial friendship, delicacy and gratitude. There is 
 also another distemper very mortal to the honey-moon, 
 'tis what the ladies sometimes are seized with, and 
 the college of physicians call it sullenness. This 
 distemper generally arises from some ill-conditioned 
 speech, with which the lady 'has been hurt; who 
 then, leaning on her elbow upon the breakfast table, 
 her cheek resting upon the palm of her hand, her eyes 
 fixed earnestly upon the fire, her feet beating tat-toq 
 
 495 
 
 time ; — the husband in the mean while biting his lips, 
 pulling down his ruffles, stamping about the room, 
 and looking at his lady like the devil. At last he 
 abruptly demands of her, " What's the matter with 
 you, madam V The lady mildly replies* — '* Nothing." 
 "What is it you do mean, madam 1" — "Nothing." 
 " What would you make me, madam?" — " Nothing." 
 " What is it I have done to you, madam 1" — " O — h. 
 — nothing." And this quarrel arose as they sat at 
 breakfast : the lady very innocently observed, " She 
 believed the tea was made with Thames water." The 
 husband in mere contradiction insisted upon it that 
 the tea-kettle was filled out of the New River. 
 
 The late Earl of Londsdale was so extensive a 
 proprietor and patron of boroughs, that he returned 
 nine members every parliament, who were facetiously 
 called, " Lord Lonsdale's nine pins." One of the 
 members thus designated having made a very extra- 
 vagant speech in the House of Commons, was an- 
 swered by Mr. Burke in a vein of the happiest sarcasm, 
 which elicited from the House loud and continued 
 cheers. Mr. Fox entering the House just as Mr. 
 Burke was sitting down, inquired of Sheridan what 
 the House was cheering ? " O, nothing of conse- 
 quence," replied Sheridan, "only Burke has knocked 
 down one of Lord Londsdale's nine pins." 
 
 MORAL REFLECTIONS. 
 
 Written on the Cross of St. Paufs. 
 The man that pays his pence, and goes 
 
 Up to thy lofty cross, St. Paid, 
 Looks over London's naked nose, 
 Women and men : 
 The world is all beneath his ken, 
 He sits above the ball. 
 He seems on Mount Olympus' top, 
 Among the Gods, by Jupiter ! and lets drop 
 His eyes from the empyreal clouds 
 On mortal crowds. 
 Seen from these skies, 
 How small those emmets in our eyes ! 
 
49o 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Some carry utile sticks— and one 
 His eggs — to warm them in the sun : 
 
 Dear ! what a hustle 
 
 And bustle ! 
 And there's my aunt. I know her by her waist, 
 
 So long and thin, 
 
 And sc pinch'd in, 
 Just in the pismire taste. 
 Oh '< what are men 1 — Beings so small, 
 
 That should I fall 
 Upon their little heads, I must 
 Crush them by hundreds into dust ! '■ 
 And what is life ! and all its ages — 
 
 There's seven stages ! 
 Turnham Green ! Chelsea ! Putney ! Fulham ! 
 
 Brentford ! and Kew ! 
 
 And Tooting too ! 
 And oh ! what very little nags to pull 'em. 
 
 Yet each would seem' a horse indeed, 
 If here at Paul's tip-top we'd got 'em, 
 
 Although like Cinderella's breed. 
 They're mice at bottom. 
 
 Then let me not despise a horse, 
 " Though he looks small from Paul's high cross ! 
 Since he would be as near the sky, 
 
 Fourteen hands high. 
 
 What is this world with London in its lap ? 
 
 Mogg's Map. 
 The Thames, that ebbs and flows in its broad 
 channel 1 
 
 A tidy kennel. 
 The bridges stretching from its banks 1 
 
 Stone planks. 
 Ah me ! hence I could read an admonition 
 
 To mad Ambition ! 
 But that he would not listen to my call, 
 Though I should stand upon the cross and ball. 
 
 PURITY OF ELECTION. 
 
 The day of election is madman's holiday, 'tis the 
 golden day of liberty which every voter, on that day, 
 takes to market, and is his own salesman ; for man 
 at that time being considered as a mere machine, is 
 
 acted upon as machines are, and to make his wheels 
 move properly, he is properly greased in the fist. 
 Every freeholder enjoys his portion of septennial 
 insanity ; he'll eat and drink with every body without 
 paying for it, because he's bold and free ; then he 11 
 knock down every body who won't say as he says, to 
 prove his abhorrence of arbitrary power, and preserve 
 the liberty of Old England for ever, huzza "J . 
 
 THE VICAK OF BRAY. 
 
 In good king Charles's golden days, 
 
 When loyalty no harm meant, . 
 A zealous high-church man I was, 
 
 And so I got preferment : 
 To teach my flock I never miss'd, 
 
 Kings are by God appointed, 
 And damn'd are those that do resist, 
 
 Or touch the Lord's anointed. 
 And this is law I will maintain 
 
 Until my dying day, sir, 
 That whatsoever king shall reign, 
 I'll be the vicar of Bray, sir. 
 When royal Janfes obtain'd the crown, 
 
 And popery came in fashion, 
 The penal laws I hooted down, 
 
 And read the Declaration : 
 The church of Rome I found would fit 
 
 Full well my constitution ; 
 And had become a Jesuit, 
 
 But for the Revolution. 
 And this is lav/, &c. 
 When William was our king declar'd, 
 
 To ease the nation's grievance ; 
 With this new wind about I steer'd, 
 
 And swore to him allegiance : 
 Old principles I did revoke, 
 
 Set conscience at a distance ; 
 Passive obedience was a joke, 
 
 A jest was non-resistance. 
 And this is law, &c. 
 When gracious Anne became our queen, 
 
 The church of England's glory, 
 Another face of things was seen, 
 
 And I became a tory • 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Occasional conformists base, 
 
 I dainn'd their moderation ; 
 And thought the church in danger was 
 
 By such prevarication. 
 And this is law, &c. 
 
 When George in pudding time came o'er, 
 
 And moderate men look'd big, sir ; 
 I turn'd a cat-in-pan once more, 
 
 And so became a whig, sir ; 
 And thus preferment I procur'd 
 
 From our new faith's defender ; 
 And almost every day abjur'd 
 
 The pope and the pretender. 
 And this is law, &c. 
 
 TV illustrious House of Hanover, 
 
 And Protestant succession ; 
 To these I do allegiance swear — 
 
 While they can keep possession : 
 For in my faith and loyalty, 
 
 I never more will falter, 
 And George my lawful king shall be — 
 Until the times do alter. 
 
 And this is law I will maintain 
 
 Until my dying day, sir, 
 That whatsoever king shall reign, 
 I'll be the vicar of Bray, sir. 
 
 NEGRO SERMON, PREACHED BY SAM QUACO, A BLACK 
 CLERGYMAN, NATIVE OF JAMAICA. 
 
 A man dat born ob a woman hab long time to lib, 
 he trouble ebery day too much ; he grow up like a 
 planthi, he cut down like a bannana. Pose a man do 
 good, he get good ; pose de man do bad, he get bad. 
 Pose he do good, he go to da place call him Glolio, 
 where Goramity tan upon a top, and debble on a bot- 
 tom; pose he do bad, he go to da place call him Hell, 
 where he mot burn like a pepper cod ; he call for 
 drink a wara, nobody give him drop a wara to 
 cool him dam tongue. Tan, breren, you know one 
 man, dey call he Sampson, he kill twenty tousand 
 Fillestans with the jaw bone jackmorass. Tan you 
 know tora man, call Jonass, he swallow whale ; he 
 mugin hell ob a fellow for fish ; and tora man, he call 
 
 497 
 
 him King George, he lib at tora side wara, he hab 
 ting on he head, call him crown, and a grand ting, 
 all sam com basket; so breren, Goramity bless you 
 all. — AMEN. 
 
 EPILOGUE TO TYRANNIC LOVE. 
 
 Spoken by Nell Gwyn, when she was to be carried off 
 
 dead by the Bearers 
 
 To the Bearer. 
 
 Hold ! are you mad, you d — d confounded dog \ 
 
 I am to rise, and speak the epilogue. 
 To the Audience. 
 
 T come, kind gentlemen, strange news to tell ye ; 
 
 I am the ghost of poor departed Nelly. 
 
 Sweet ladies, be not frighted, I'll be civil : 
 
 I'm what I was, a little harmless devil ; 
 
 For after death, we sprites have just such natures 
 
 We had, for all the world, when human creatures : 
 
 And therefore I, that was an actress here, 
 
 Play all my tricks in hell, a goblin there. 
 
 Gallants, lock to't; you say there are no sprites; 
 
 But I'll come dance about your beds at nights ; 
 
 And faith you'll be in a sweet kind of taking, 
 
 When I surprise you between sleep and waking. 
 
 To tell you true, I walk, because I die 
 
 Out of my calling, in a tragedy. 
 
 Oh poet, d — d dull poet ! who could prove 
 
 So senseless to make Nelly die for love ? 
 
 Nay, what's yet worse, to kill me in the prime 
 
 Of Easter-term, in tart and cheesecake time ! 
 
 I'll fit the fop ; for I'll not one word say, 
 
 T' excuse his godly, out of- fashion play ; 
 
 A play which if you dare but twice sit out, 
 
 You'll all be slander'd and be thought devout. 
 
 But farewell, gentlemen ; make haste to me ; 
 
 I'm sure ere long to have your company. 
 
 As for my epitaph, when I am gone, 
 
 I'll trust no poet, but will write my own : 
 
 Here Nelly lies, who, tho' she liv'd a slattern ;* 
 Yet died a princess, acting in St. Cath'riue.t 
 
 DRY DEN. 
 
 * Her real character. 
 
 t The character she represented in the play. 
 
498 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 JONAS, THE JEW CONJUROR. 
 
 Among the many characters that have played upon 
 the passions of the public, Jonas, or the card-playing 
 conjuring Jew, cut a figure in his way. He could 
 make matadores with a snap of his fingers, command 
 
 the four aces with a whistle, and get odd tricks- 
 
 but there are a great many people in London, besides 
 this man, famous for playing odd tricks, and yet no 
 conjurors neither. This man would have made a 
 great figure in the law, as he was so dexterous a con- 
 veyancer. But the law is a profession that does not 
 want any jugglers. Nor do we need any longer to 
 load our heads with the weight of learning, or pore 
 for years over arts and sciences, when a few months 
 practice with pasteboard pages can make any man's 
 fortune, without his understanding a single letter 
 of the alphabet, provided he can but slip the cards, 
 snap his fingers, and utter the unintelligible jargon of 
 presto, passu, largo, mento, cocolorwm, yaw, like 
 
 this Jonas. The moment he comes into company 
 
 and takes up a pack of cards, he begins — " I am 
 no common slight of hand man ; the common slight 
 of hand men they turn the things up their sleeves, 
 and make you believe their fingers deceive your eyes. 
 — Now, sir, you shall draw one card,, two cards, three 
 cards, four cards, five cards, half a dozen cards, you 
 look at the card at this side, you look at the card at 
 that side, and I say blow the blast; the blast is 
 blown, the card is flown, yaw, yaw ; and now, sir, I 
 will do it once more over again, to see- whether my 
 fingers can once more deceive your eyes ; I'll give 
 any man Ten thousand pounds if he does the like — 
 You look at the card of this side, you look at the 
 card on that side, when I say blow the blast, the 
 blast is blown, the card is flown, yaw, yaw;" but 
 this conjuror at length discovering that most practi- 
 tioners on cards, now-a-days, know as many tricks 
 as himself, and finding his slights of hand turned to 
 little or no account, now practises on notes of hand by 
 discount, and is to be found every morning at twelve 
 in Duke's-place, up to his knuckles in dirt, and at 
 two at the Bank coffee-house, up to his elbows in 
 money, where these locusts of society, over a dish of 
 
 coffee and the book of interest, supply the temporary 
 wants of necessitous men, and are sure to out-wit'em 
 had they even the cunning of a Fox. 
 
 MISERIES OF MATRIMONY- 
 
 What, what is Marriage ! Harris, Priscian, 
 
 Assist me with a definition. 
 
 " Oh !" cries a charming silly fool, 
 
 Emerging from her boarding school, 
 
 " Marriage is — love, without disguises, 
 
 It is a — something that arises 
 
 From raptures and from stolen glances, 
 
 To be the end of all romances ; 
 
 Vows — quarrels — moonshine — babes — but hush ! 
 
 I must not have you see me blush." 
 
 " Pshaw !" says a modern modish wife, 
 " Marriage is splendour, fashion, life ; 
 A house in town, and villa shady ; 
 Balls, diamond bracelets, and ' My Lady !' 
 Then for Finale, angry words, 
 ' Some people's' — ' obstinates,' — ' absurds !' 
 And peevish hearts and silly heads. 
 And oaths, and ' betes,' and separate beds." 
 
 An aged bachelor, whose life 
 Has just been " sweeten' d" with a wife, 
 Tells out the latent grievance thus : " 
 *' Marriage is — odd ! for one of us 
 'Tis worse a mile than rope or tree; 
 Hemlock, or sword, or slavery ; 
 An end at once to all our ways, 
 Dismission to the one-horse chaise ; 
 Adieu to Sunday can and pig, 
 Adieu to wine, and whist, and wig ; 
 Our friends turn out — our wives are clapt in, 
 'Tis * exit Crony,' — * enter Captain.' 
 Then hurry in a thousand thorns, 
 Quarrels and compliments— and horns ! 
 This is the yoke, — and I must wear it ; 
 Marriage is— Hell, or something near it." 
 
 " "Why, Marriage," says an Exquisite 
 Sick from the supper of last night, 
 " Marriage is — after one by me ! 
 I promised Tom to ride at three.— 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Marriage is — Gad ! I'm rather late ! 
 La Fleur, my stays, — and chocolate ! 
 D — n the Champagne ! — so plaguy sour, 
 It gives the headach in an hour ; 
 Marriage is — really though, 'twas hard 
 To lose a thousand on a card ; 
 Sink the old Duchess ! — three revokes ! 
 Gad ! I must feU\the Abbey oaks ; 
 Mary has lost a thousand more ; 
 Marriage is — Gad ! a cursed bore !" 
 
 Hymen, who hears the blockheads groan, 
 Rises indignant from his throne, 
 And mocks their self-reviling tears, 
 And whispers thus in Folly's ears ! — 
 " Oh ! frivolous of heart and head ! 
 If strifes infest your nuptial bed, 
 Not Hymen's hand, but Guilt and Sin, 
 Fashion, and Folly, force them in ; 
 If on your couch is seated Care, 
 / did not bring the scoffer there ; 
 If Hymen's torch is feebler grown, 
 The hand that quench'd it was your own; 
 And what I am, unthinking elves ! 
 Ye all have made me for yourselves !" 
 
 HAVE PATIENCE. 
 
 A simple countryman, who had in his person all 
 the health and vigour which a rustic life affords, and 
 about the age of thirty-two, having, three years 
 before married an honest maid, of whom he always 
 appeared doatingly fond, was attending her corpse at 
 the grave with many heavy sighs and floods of tears. 
 At the end of the funeral-service, as they began to 
 fill the grave with the earth, he wrung his hands, tore 
 his hair, and was ready to throw himself into the 
 grave upon the coffin, vehemently exclaiming that 
 he should not survive her. — It happened that a buxom 
 maid of the same parish, whose name was Pativnce, 
 was standing by, and on whom the honest country- 
 man at times had cast a wistful look, who seeing him 
 so agitated, and grieving so much for the loss of his 
 wife, with great concern said to him, " John, John, 
 have Patience" — The honest countryman turning 
 
 499 
 
 round, and seeing who it was that spoke to him, in a 
 fit of ecstasy replied, " Egad, so I will, to-monow, if 
 thou wilt have me." 
 
 PROLOGUE TO THE INCONSTANT, 
 
 Like hungry guests a sitting audience looks : 
 Plays are like suppers ; poets are the cooks : 
 The founders you : the table is the place : 
 The carvers we : the prologue is the grace : 
 Each act a course ; each scene a different dish : 
 Tho' we're in Lent, I doubt you're still for flesh, 
 Satire's the sauce, high-season'd, sharp, and rough ; 
 Kind masks and beaux, I hope you're pepper-proof. 
 Wit, is the wine ; but 'tis so scarce the true, 
 Poets, like vintners, balderdash and brew. 
 Your surly scenes, where rant and bloodshed join, 
 Are butcher's meat ; a battle's a sirloin : 
 Your scenes of love, so flowing, soft, and chaste, 
 Are water-gruel, without salt or taste. 
 Bawdy's fat venison, which, tho' stale, can please : 
 Your rakes love haut-gouts, like your d — d French 
 
 cheese. 
 Your rarity, for the fair guest to gape on, 
 Is your nice squeaker, or Italian capon ; 
 Or your French virgin-pullet, garnish'd round, 
 And dress'd with sauce of some — four hundred pound, 
 An opera, like an oglio, nicks the age ; 
 Farce is the hasty-pudding of the stage ; 
 For when you're treated with indifferent cheer, 
 You can dispense with slender stage-coach fare. 
 A pastoral's whipt cream ; stage whims, mere trash £ 
 And tragi-comedy, half fish and flesh. 
 But comedy, that, that's the darling cheer ; 
 This night, we hope, you'll an Inconstant bear : 
 Wild fowl is lik'd in playhouse all the year. 
 
 Yet since each mind betrays a different taste, 
 And every dish scarce pleases ev'ry guest, 
 If aught you relish, do not damn the rest. 
 This favour crav'd, up let the music strike : 
 You're welcome all — Now fall too where you like. 
 
 Fahquhak, 
 
 recovery of a spendthrift. 
 A nobleman whose son was a hard drinker, and had 
 been cutting down all the trees upon his estate, in- 
 
500 
 
 quired of Charles Townshend, who had just returned 
 from a visit to him, " Well Charles, how does my 
 graceless dog of a son go on V " Why, I should 
 think, my lord," said Charles, " he is on the recovery, 
 as I left him drinking the woods." 
 
 LEARNED APOTHECARY. 
 
 In an Act of Parliament made in 1815, entitled 
 "*' Au Act for the better regulating the practice of 
 Apothecaries," there is a very salutary clause, which 
 enacts, "that from and after the first day of August, 
 1815, it shall not be lawful for any person (except 
 persons already in practice as such) to practise as an 
 apothecary in any part of England or Wales, unless 
 he or they shall have been examined by the Court of 
 Examiners of the Apothecaries' Company, and shall 
 have received a certificate as such." 
 
 The first conviction under this Act took place at 
 the Staffordshire Lent Assizes of 1819, before Sir 
 William Garrow, when the Apothecaries' Company 
 brought an action against a man of the name of War- 
 burton, for having practised as an apothecary without 
 being duly qualified. The defendant it appeared was 
 the son of a man who in the early part of his life had 
 been a gardener, but afterwards set up as a cow leech. 
 The facts were stated by Mr. Dauncey for the prose- 
 cution, and supported by evidence. 
 
 Mr. Jervis, for the defence, called the father of the 
 defendant, Arnold Warburton, to prove that he had 
 practised as an apothecary before the passing of the 
 Act. 
 
 Cross-examined, by Mr. Dauncey. 
 
 Mr. Dauncey. Mr. Warburton, have you always 
 been a surgeon 1 
 
 Witness appealed to the judge whether this was 
 a proper answer. 
 
 The Judge. I have not heard any answer ; Mr. 
 Dauncey has put a question. 
 
 Witness. Must I answer it ? 
 
 Judge. Yes : why do you object? 
 
 Witness. I don't think it a proper answer. 
 
 Judge. I presume you mean question, and I differ 
 from you in opinion. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 havf 
 
 hear- 
 have 
 
 The witness not answering, Mr. Dauncey repeated 
 — Have you always been a surgeon'? 
 
 Witness. I am a surjent. 
 
 Dauncey. Can you spell the word you 
 mentioned \ 
 
 Witness. My lord, is that a fair answer 1 
 
 Judge. I think it a fair question. 
 
 Witness. "Syurgun t." 
 
 Mr. Dauncey. I am unfortunately hard of 
 ing ; have the goodness to repeat what you 
 said, sir. 
 
 Witness. " Suigen d." 
 
 Mr. Dauncey. S — , what did you say next to S, sir ? 
 
 Witness. "Syurgun d." 
 
 Mr. Dauncey. Very well, sir, I am perfectly 
 satisfied. 
 
 Judge. As I take down the word sur — , please to 
 favour me with it once more. 
 
 Witness. " S u r g u n t.'\ 
 
 Judge. How, sir ? 
 
 Witness. "Sergut d." 
 
 Judge. Very well. 
 
 Mr. Dauncey. Sir, have you always been what 
 you say ? that word, I mean, which you have just 
 spelt ? (A long pause.) 
 
 Mr. Dauncey. I am afraid, sir, you do not often 
 take so much time to study the cases which come 
 before you, as you do to answer my question. — " I 
 do not, sir." " Well, sir, will you please to answer 
 it?" (A long pause, but no reply.) —" Well, what 
 were you originally, Doctor Warburton ? 
 
 Witness. "Syurgen d." — AVhen you first took 
 to business, what was that business ? Were you a 
 gardener, Doctor Warburton?" — " S u r g e n t." — 
 " I do not ask you to spell that word again ; but be- 
 fore you were of that profession, what were you V 
 — " S e r g u n t." 
 
 Mr. Dauncey. My lord, I fear I have thrown a 
 spell over this poor man, which he cannot get rid of. 
 
 Judge. Attend, witness ; you are now to answer 
 the questions put to you. You need not spell that 
 word any more. 
 
 Mr. Dauncey. When were you a gardener ? 
 
 Witness. I never was, — The witness then stated, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 501 
 
 . that he never employed himself in gardening ; he first 
 was a farmer, his father was a farmer. He (witness) 
 ceased to be a farmer fifteen or sixteen years ago ; 
 he ceased because he had then learnt that business 
 which he now is. " Who did you learn it of ?" — " Is 
 that a proper question, my lord ?" " I see no objec- 
 tion to it." — " Then I will answer it ; I learnt of 
 Dr. Hulme, my brother-in-law ; he practised the same 
 as the Whitworth doctors, and they were regular 
 physicians. 
 
 Mr. Dauncey. Where did they take their degrees ? 
 
 Witness. . I don't believe they ever took a degree. 
 — "Then were they regular physicians?—*' No ! I 
 believe they were not, they were only doctors." — 
 " Only doctors ; were they doctors in law, physic, or 
 divinity..?" — '< They doctored cows, and other things, 
 and humans as well." " Doubtless, as well: and 
 you, I doubt not, have doctored brute animals as well 
 as human creatures 1" — " I have." 
 
 Judge to Witness. " Did you ever make up any 
 medicine by the prescription of a physician'?" — " I 
 never did." " Do you understand the characters they 
 use for ounces, scruples, and drachms ? ' — " I do not." 
 " Then you cannot make up their prescriptions from 
 reading them ?" — " I cannot, but J can make up as 
 good medicines in my way, as they can in theirs." 
 " What proportion does an ounce bear to a pound 1" — 
 [A pause] — " There are 16 ounces to the pound, but 
 we do not go by any regular weight, we mix ours by 
 the hand." " Do you bleed ?" — " Yes." " With a 
 fleam or with a lancet?" — : " With a lancet." " Do 
 you bleed from the vein or from the artery?" — 
 " From the vein." " There is an artery somewhere 
 about the temples ; what is the name of that artery ?" 
 — " I do not pretend to have as much learning as some 
 have." " Can you tell me the name of that 
 artery?" 
 
 " I do not know which you mean." " Suppose, then, 
 I -was to direct you to bleed my servant or my horse 
 (which God forbid) in a vein, say for instance in the 
 jugular vein, where should you bleed him ?" — " In 
 the neck, to be sure." 
 
 THE PLEASURES OF BRIGHTON. 
 A new Song by the Civic Visitants, 
 Here's fine. Mrs. Hoggins fiom Aldgate, 
 
 Miss Dobson aud Deputy Dump, 
 Mr. Spriggins has left Norton-Falgate, 
 And so has Sir Christopher Crump. 
 From Shoreditch, Whitechapel, and Wapping, 
 
 Miss Potts, Mr. Grub, Mrs. Keats, 
 In the waters of Brighton are popping, 
 Or killing their time in its streets. 
 And it's ! what will become of us ? 
 
 Dear ! the vapours and blue- 
 Devils will seize upon some of us 
 If we have nothing to do. 
 
 This here, ma'am, is Sally, my daughter, 
 
 Whose shoulder has taken a start, 
 And they tell me, a dip in salt water 
 
 Will soon make it straight as a dart : — 
 Mr. Banter assured Mrs. Mumps, 
 
 (But he's always a playing his fun,) 
 That the camel that bathes with two humps, 
 
 Very often comes out with but one. 
 And it's O ! Sec. 
 
 And here is my little boy Jacky, 
 
 Whose godfather gave me a hint, 
 That by salt-water baths in a crack he 
 
 Would cure his unfortunate squint. 
 Mr. Yellowly's looking but poorly, 
 
 It isn't the jaundice, I hope ; 
 Wou'd you recommend bathing ? O surely, 
 
 And let him take plenty of soap. 
 
 And it's O ! &c. 
 Your children torment you to jog 'em 
 
 On donkeys that stand in a row, 
 But the more you belabour and flog 'em, 
 
 The more the cross creatures won't go. 
 T'other day, ma'am, I thump'd and I cried, 
 
 And rny darling, roar'd louder than me, 
 But the beast wouldn't budge till the tide 
 
 Had bedraggled me up to the knee ! 
 And it's 6 ! &c. 
 
50 c 2 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 We have pored on the sea 1 ill we're weary, 
 
 And lounged up and down on the shore 
 Till we find all its gaiety dreary, 
 
 And taking our pleasure a bore. 
 There's nothing so charming as Brighton, 
 
 We cry as we're scampering down ; 
 But we look with still greater delight on 
 The day that we go back to town. 
 For it's O ! what will become of us ? 
 
 Dear ! the vapours and blue- 
 Devils will seize upon some of us 
 If we have nothing to do. 
 
 SAINT PETER AVD THE BLACKSMITH. 
 
 In Roman Catholic countries it was a very ancient 
 custom for the preacher to divert his congregation 
 in due season with what is termed an Eastern tale, 
 which was received by the auditors with peals of 
 Eastern laughter. During Lent the good people had 
 mortified themselves and prayed so much, that they 
 began to be discontented and ill tempered ; so that 
 the clergy deemed it necessary to make a little fun 
 from the pulpit for them, and thus give as it were the 
 first impulse towards the revival of mirth and cheer- 
 fulness. This practice lasted till the seventeenth 
 century. The following is by the Rev. Father 
 Attansy. 
 
 Our Lord was journeying with St. Peter and had 
 passed through many countries. One day he came to 
 a place where there was no inn, and entered the house 
 of a blacksmith. This man had a wife who paid the 
 utmost respect to the strangers, and treated them with 
 the best that her house would afford. When they 
 were about to depart, our Lord and St. Peter wished 
 her all that was good, and heaven beside. Said the 
 woman : " Ah ! if I do but go to heaven, I care for 
 nothing else." " Doubt not," said St. Peter, u for 
 it would be contrary to scripture if thou shouldst not. 
 go. : Open thy mouth. Did I not say so 1 Why, thou 
 canst not be sent to hell, where there is wailing and 
 gnashing of teeth — for thou hast not a tooth left in 
 thy head. Thou art safe enough ; be of good cheer." 
 Who was so overjoyed as the good woman 1 Without 
 
 doubt she took another cup on the strength of this 
 assurance. 
 
 But our Lord was desirous to testify his thanks to 
 the man also, and promised to grant him four wishes. 
 ;< Well," said the smith, " I am heartily obliged to 
 you, and wish, that if anyone climbs up the pear-tree 
 behind my house, he may not be able to get down again 
 without my leave." This grieved St. Peter not a lit- 
 tle, for he thought that the smith ought rather to have 
 wished for the kingdom of heaven. But our Lord, 
 with his wonted kindness, granted his petition. The 
 smith's next wish was that if any one sat down upon 
 his anvil, he might not be able to" rise without his 
 permission : and the third, that if any one crept into 
 his old flue, he might not get out without hi3 consent. 
 
 St. Peter said, " Friend smith, beware what thou 
 dost. These are all wishes that can bring thee no ad- 
 vantage. Be wise, and let the remaining one be for 
 everlasting life with the blest in heaven." The smith 
 was not to be put out of his way, and thus proceeded j 
 " My fourth wish is, that my green cap may belong 
 to me for ever ; and that whenever T sit down upon it 
 no power or force may be able to drive me away." 
 
 Thereupon our Lord went his way with St. Peter, 
 and the smith lived some years longer with his old 
 woman. At the end of this time, grim death ap- 
 peared, and summoned him to the other world. " Stop 
 a moment," said the smith ; " let me just put on a 
 clean shirt, meanwhile you may pick some of the 
 pears on yonder tree." Death climbed up the tree, 
 but he could not get down again ; he was forced to 
 submit to the smith's terms, a respite for twenty years, 
 before he returned. 
 
 When the twenty years were expired, he again ap- 
 peared and commanded him, in the name of the Lord 
 and St. Peter, to go along with him. " I know St. 
 Peter too," said the smith ; " sit down a little on my 
 anvil, for thou must be tired ; I will just drink a cup 
 to cheer me, and take leave of my old woman, and 
 be with thee presently." But death could not rise 
 again from his seat, and was obliged to promise the 
 smith another delay 7 of twenty years. 
 
 When these had elapsed, old Satan came, and 
 would fain have dragged the smith away by force. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 SOS 
 
 * Halloo, fellow !" said the latter, " that won't do. 
 I have other letters and whiter than thou with thy 
 black carta bianca. But if thou art such a conjurer 
 as to imagine that thou hast any power over me, let 
 me see if thou canst get into this old rusty flue." No 
 sooner said than the old one slipped into the flue. 
 The smith and his men put the flue into the fire, then 
 carried it to the anvil, a_nd hammered away at the old 
 one most unmercifully. He howled, and begged, and 
 prayed ; and at last promised that he would have 
 nothing to do with the smith if he would but let him 
 depart. 
 
 At length the smith's guardian-angal made his ap- 
 pearance. The business was now serious. He was 
 obliged to go. The angel conducted him to torment. 
 Satan, whom he had so terribly belaboured, was just 
 then attending the gate ; he looked out at the little 
 window, but quickly shut it again, and would have 
 nothing to do with the smith. The angel then con- 
 ducted him to the gate of heaven. St. Peter refused 
 to admit him. '' Let me just peep in," said the 
 smith, " that I may see how it looks there." No 
 sooner was the wicket opened than the smith threw 
 in his cap and said : " Thou knowestit is my property, 
 I must go and fetch it." — Then slipping past, he 
 clapped himself down upon it and said : " Now I am 
 sitting on my own property ; I should like to see 
 who dares drive me away from it." Thus the smith 
 got into heaven at last. 
 
 TRAGEDY AND COMEDY. 
 
 Housseau makes this distinction between tragedy 
 and comedy. In comedy, the plot turns on marriage ; 
 in tragedy, it turns on murder. The whole intrigue, 
 in the one and the other, turns on this grand event ; 
 will they marry 1 will they not marry ? will they 
 murder ? will they not murder ] There will be a mar- 
 riage ; there will be murder ; and this forms act the 
 first. There will be no marriage ; there will be no 
 murder ; and this gives birth to act the second. A 
 new mode of marrying and of murdering is prepared 
 for the third act. A new difficulty impedes the mar- 
 riage or the murder, which the fourth act discusses. 
 At last, the marriage and the murder are effected 
 for the benefit of the last act. 
 
 ON THE LATE LORD ELLENBOROUGH TERMING 
 ADULTERY A VENIAL OFFENCE. 
 
 When Mrs. Pot behav'd amiss, 
 And ask'd poor Joseph for a kiss, 
 
 Fearing the snare of vice, 
 He held his passions in command, 
 Pie left his garment in her hand, 
 
 And mov'd off in a trice. 
 Said he (which some will think but odd) 
 "I cannot sin against my God, 
 
 My conscience, and my friend." 
 The virtuous youth felt honour's tie 
 Uniting with firm piety, 
 
 Which truth must still commend. 
 But had he listen'd to our bench, 
 He would have gratified the wench, 
 
 Who made such kind advances : 
 Venial the sin, and none the shame, 
 So very willing was the dame, 
 
 And such the circumstances. 
 
 BEQUEATHING THE AGUE. 
 
 A farmer, in a parish not far from Liverpool, had 
 been sorely afflicted with the ague for between two 
 and three years ; it was sometimes quotidian, some- 
 times tertian, and for a long time together quartan. 
 This lingering strange disorder had, in short, reduced 
 this poor man to a perfect skeleton ; his spirits were 
 exhausted, and nature seemed to be quite worn out ; 
 he expected nothing but death ; yet as he was, when 
 in health, a jocose merry man, he thought he would 
 appear jocular in his will, which his friends advised 
 him to make. After bequeathing some small le- 
 gacies, he says, " Item, I give and bequeath these 
 
 plaguy ague fits to Mr. , the parson of the 
 
 parish." Whether it was by making this bequest 
 that the fits left him, our readers are at liberty to 
 guess ; but leave him they did, and the next day 
 seized upon the poor parson, and handled him se- 
 verely. The parson, on being told that his neighbour 
 
 J had bequeathed them to him in his will, was so 
 
 much exasperated that he would not speak to the 
 poor man for some years after. 
 
504 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 THE WIFE. 
 
 Does fortune smile, how grateful must it prove, 
 To tread life's pleasing round with one we love ! 
 Or does- she frown, the fair, with softening art, 
 Will soothe our woes or bear a willing part. 
 wycherley's plain dealing. 
 Wycherley being atTunbridge for the benefit of his 
 health, was walking one day on the Wells Walk with 
 his friend, Mr. Fairbeard, of Gray's Inn, and just as he 
 came up to a bookseller's shop, the Countess of Dro- 
 gheda, a young widow, rich, noble, and beautiful, 
 came to a bookseller's, and inquired for the " Plain 
 Dealer." " Madam," said Mr. Fairbeard, " since 
 you are for the ' Plain Dealer,' there he is for you, 
 pushing Wycherley towards her. " Yes," says Wy- 
 cherley, " this lady can bear plain dealing; for she 
 appears to be so accomplished, that what would be 
 compliment said to others, would be plain dealing 
 spoken to her." " No, truly, sir," said the countess, 
 " I am not without my faults, any more than the rest 
 of my sex ; and yet I love plain dealing, and am 
 never more fond of it, than when it tells me of them." 
 " Then, Madam," says Mr. Fairbeard, " you and the 
 Plain Dealer seem designed by Heaven for each 
 other." In short, Wycherley walked Avith the coun- 
 tess, waited upon her home, visited, her daily while 
 she was at Tunbridge, and afterwards, in London ; 
 where, in a little time, a marriage was concluded 
 between them. 
 
 SECRECY. 
 
 Kiss me again ! there's no one near ! 
 " Nay, nay, you'll kiss and tell. I fear j" 
 Well, kiss me, dear, until I die, 
 You're sure, then, of my secrecy. 
 
 FLESH AND BONE. 
 
 Nay, woman is not the soft sex, my dear Fan, 
 
 Or why is her heart hard as stone ? 
 Pray tellme^was Eveform'd of flesh, like the man? 
 
 No, no, she was form'd of the bone. 
 
 origin of clubs. 
 Undoubtedly the owners of ale-houses and taverns 
 must live j and really it appears that they and their 
 
 families do live exceedingly well out of the congrega- 
 tion of social souls, who meet together, from time to 
 time, at noon and at even, to celebrate the orgies 
 of ±5acchus, in companies, perhaps to keep one 
 another in countenance ; and when we consider what 
 sums are annually expended in the metropolis, 
 whereby the cares of life are temporarily drowned by 
 deep potations, it becomes a question whether the 
 system of going to clubs, among people of mediocrity 
 is not worthy of some attention. We all know very 
 well that the revenues flourish wonderfully through 
 this good fellowship of malt-and-spirit-drinking 
 citizens, and that they have friendly societies to boot, 
 where, under the pretence of laying by a shilling 
 a week, to help them to be buried comfortably, 
 they spend another shilling on the back of it. 
 
 In the year 1745, was published " Ned Ward's 
 complete and humorous Account of all the remark- 
 able Clubs and Societies in the Cities of London and 
 Westminster, from the Royal Society down to the 
 Lumber Troop, &c." It is dedicated "To that luci- 
 ferous and sublime Lunatic, the Emperor of the 
 Moon ; Governor of the Tides ; Corrector of Female 
 Constitutions ; Cornuted Metropolitan of all revolv- 
 ing Cities, and Principal Director of those Churches 
 most subject to Mutation." He then, after giving a 
 dissertation on Clubs in general, describes the Clubs 
 of his day ; viz. — the Virtuoso's Club — the Knights 
 of the Order of the Golden Fleece — the No-nose. 
 Club — the -Man-killing or (Duelling) Club — of the 
 Surly Club— the Atheistical Club— Club of Ugly 
 Faces— the Split-farthing Club— the Club of Broken 
 Shopkeepers — the Man Hunter's Club — the Yorkshire 
 Club — the Beau's Club — the Wrangling or Hustle- 
 farthing Club — the Quack's Club, or the Physical 
 Society — the Weekly Dancing Club — the Bird Fan- 
 cier's Club — the Lying Club — the Beggar's Club — 
 the Chatterwit Club — the Florist's Club — Bob We- 
 den's Cellar Club — the Molly's Club — Sam Soot's 
 Smoking Club — the Market Women's Club— the 
 Thieves' Club— the Small Coal Man's Music Club— 
 the Kit-kat Club — the. Beef Sleak Club, &c. &c. 
 
 The Virtuoso's Club. — Part of the notable inven- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 505 
 
 tions of this club were the conveying of Hampstead 
 air into the city of London, by subterraneous pipes, 
 for the benefit of all sickly families. To make sea- 
 water fresh— to bring- fowls to be cheaper than 
 butcher's meat — a nuptial calendar exactly calculated 
 for the meridian of London, wherein a married man 
 may look at any time, and see how often he has been 
 cornuted ; to which is added a very useful table, by 
 which he may discover the who, how, where, and the 
 when. The new art of cookery, by that excellent 
 contrivance of a potato kitchen, called by some a 
 digester, and by others a dogstarver ; by the use of 
 which a man may stew a leg of beef at a half-penny 
 charge, till the flesh is dissolved into strong broth, ana 
 the bones became as soft as butter'd apple pie. This 
 society were so philosophical, that if a member who 
 smoked a pipe could not give a reason for the blue- 
 ness of the smoke, he would undoubtedly be expelled. 
 
 The No-Xose Club. — This club was established by 
 a merry gentleman, who, having steered an improper 
 course in the straits of pleas-ure, and having observed 
 in his walks that several others had unluckily fallen 
 into the Egyptian fashion of flat faces, pleased him- 
 self by collecting together all these imperfect vizards 
 into one noseless and snuffling society. It was rather 
 aptly observed by one of the society, that if by chance 
 they should fall together by the ears, they would 
 fight long enough before they'd have bloody noses ; 
 and when they had a young pig for dinner, the snout 
 was always cut off, by way of compliment, by the 
 cook. 
 
 The Man-hilling Club. — This was a club of duel- 
 lists and bravoes, and none were admitted that had 
 not killed their man. It is needless to say they were 
 all men of honour, and to prove it, their limbs and 
 features were so lopped and scratched, that they 
 looked like the Elgin, marbles. Blood, wounds, bul- 
 lets, and slaughter were the topics of their conversa- 
 tion. The Spectator says, "The president of this club 
 was said to have killed half a dozen men in single 
 combat ; and as for the other members, they took 
 their seats according to the number of their slain. 
 There was likewise a side table for such as had only 
 
 drawn blood. This club, consisting only of me?i of 
 honour however, did not continue long ; most of the 
 members of it being put to the sword, or hanged, a 
 little after its institution." 
 
 The Surly Club was established near Billingsgate 
 to keep up the genuine vernacular — the vulgar tongue. 
 Coachmen, watchmen, carmen, and such like, 
 met like gentlemen once a week, to exercise in the 
 art or mystery of fine language, that they might not 
 be at a loss to abuse those whom they drove, &c. If 
 any of these members had by mistake uttered a civil 
 expression, or was suspected to be corrupted with 
 good manners, he was looked upon as an effeminate 
 coxcomb, who had sucked in too much of his mother's 
 milk, and was most likely expelled. By this society was 
 erected the bumping post at Billingsgate, to harden 
 the latter ends of the members once a year, in order 
 to prevent a cowardly fear of being kicked, by being 
 thus used to it. 
 
 The Club of Ugly Faces. — This society consisted 
 of those to whom nature had been exceedingly unkind. 
 The first member had a nose of immense magnitude ; 
 the second a chin like and as long as a shoe-horn ; 
 the third, disfigured with a mouth like a gallon pot, 
 when both the sides are nearly squeezed together ; a 
 fourth, with eyes like a tumbler, and one bigger than 
 the other; a fifth, with a pair of convex cheeks, as if 
 like Eolus, the god of the winds, he had stopped his 
 breath for a time, to be the better able to discharge 
 a hurricane ; a sixth with as many wens and warts 
 as there are knots and prickles upon an old thorn- 
 back ; a seventh, with a pair of skinny jaws that 
 wrapped over in folds like the hide of a rhinoceros, 
 and that with a tusk strutting beyond his lips, as if 
 he had been begot by a man-tiger ; a ninth, with a 
 hare-lip that had drawn his mouth into several cor- 
 ners ; the tenth, with a huge " Lauderdale" head, as 
 big in circumference as the golden ball under St. 
 Paul's cross, and a face so fiery, that the ruddy front 
 of the orbicular lump which stood so elevated upon 
 his lofty shoulders made it look like the flaming urn 
 on the top of the monument, &c. &c. and such like, 
 who might resemble barbers' blocks in expression. 
 
506 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER , 
 
 These gentlemen seldom distinguished one another 
 by their names, but generally saluted each other when 
 they drank round, after the following manner, viz. 
 * Here, Nose, my service to you ;' ' Thank ye, Chin.' 
 ' Here's to you, Blubber-lip ;' ' Your servant, Mr. 
 Squint.' * My love to you, neighbour Goggle ;' * I am 
 yours, neighbour Allmouth.' ' Here's towards you 
 brother Thinjaws ;' ' I'll pledge you, brother Plump- 
 cheeks.' None were admitted into this club who, by 
 their general appearance, could not make a woman 
 miscarry, or frighten children into fits. And it was 
 proposed that every new member should, upon his 
 inauguration, make a speech in favour of vEsop, whose 
 portrait should hang over the chimney : and also that 
 they should purchase the heads of Thersites, Duns 
 Scotus, Scarron, (who compared his body to the letter 
 Z,) and Hudibras, with all the celebrated ill faces of 
 antiquity, as furniture for the club-room. 
 
 The Split-farthing Club was an assemblage of mi- 
 sers who met to consult how they might improve their 
 riches, by punishing their bellies, and pinching others 
 by usury. One would applaud the frugality of the 
 former, who never wore any other clothes, than what 
 was made of the wool that he picked off the hedges. 
 Another would extol the prudence of the citizen who 
 kept a load of faggots in his house, to warm his ser- 
 vants in cold weather, by handing them up stairs and 
 down between the garret and the cellar. Thus went 
 their conversation. Their dresses seemed to be made 
 in the days of Robin Hood, and their stockings 
 almost darned as much as the good housewife's hose 
 in the library at Oxford, which has not enough left 
 of the first knitting to show its original contexture. 
 This society had such a starved appearance, that it 
 was suspected there was not an ounce of fat among 
 the whole. 
 
 The Female Intellectual Club.— In the year 1720 
 was published in 4to, " An Account of the Fair In- 
 tellectual Club in Edinburgh, in a Letter to an ho- 
 nourable Member of an Athenian Society there, by a 
 young Lady, the Secretary of the Club !" There were 
 sixteen rules and constitutions : the first ran thus : 
 That we shall maintain a sincere and constant mutual 
 
 friendship, while we live ; and never directly nor indi- 
 rectly reveal or make known, without consent of the 
 whole club asked, and given, the names of the members 
 or nature of the club. The fifth : that none shall be in- 
 vited or admitted into our club before she be fifteen 
 years of age nor after her twentieth year is expired. 
 
 Six o' Clock Club. — There was a club existing 
 about sixty years since, with the name of Number Six. 
 Dr. Brooks and Professor Porson were members. It 
 consisted of six members, who met at six in the even- 
 ing, and who never parted till six in the morning ! 
 
 The Kit-Cat Club.— "This club," says Walpole, 
 " generally mentioned as a set of wits, were in reality 
 the patriots that saved Britain." Under the mask of 
 conviviality, and the encouragement of the belles 
 lettres, the place of rendezvous was at a pastry-cook's 
 in Shire-lane, Temple Bar ; afterwards as Kit (Chris- 
 topher) Cat got up in the world, at a tavern, in the 
 Strand ; for a young lady to be toasted as the reign- 
 ing beauty of the day at this club, was to set her up 
 for life. Jacob Tonson the bookseller, who had a 
 principal share in the formation of it, was presented 
 with all the portraits, and all painted by Sir Godfrey 
 Kneller. Ned Ward describes it thus : " This inge- 
 nious society of Apollo's sons, who for many years 
 have been the grand monopolizers of those scandalous ! 
 commodities in this flighty age, viz. Wit and Poetry y \ 
 had the first honour to be forwarded by an amphibi- I 
 ous mortal, chief merchant to the Muses, and, in these j 
 times of piracy, both bookseller and printer ; who 
 having, many years since, conceived a wonderful i 
 kindness for one of the brethren of the greasy frater- j 
 nity, then living at the end of Bell Court, in Gray's ! 
 Inn Lane, where, finding out the knack of humour- [ 
 ing his neighbour Bocai's (Jacob Tonson the book- | 
 seller) palate, had by his culinary qualifications so ! 
 highly advanced himself in the favours of his good \ 
 friend, that through his advice and assistance he s 
 removed out of Gray's Inn Lane, to keep a pudding- • 
 pie-shop near the Fountain tavern in the Strand, t) - 
 encouraged by an assurance that Bocai and his friendaj 
 would come every week, to storm the crusty walls of; 
 his mutton-pies, and make a consumption of his cus- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 so; 
 
 tards. About this time Bocai, who had always a 
 sharp eye towards his own interest, having wriggled 
 himself into the company of a parcel of poetical 
 young sprigs, who had just weaned themselves of 
 their mother university, and by their proline parts and 
 promising endowments had made themselves the 
 favourites of the late bountiful Mecaenas, who had 
 generously promised to be an indulgent father to the 
 rhyming brotherhood, who had uuited themselves in 
 friendship, but were as yet unprovided for ; so that 
 now, between their youth and the narrowness of their 
 fortunes, Bocai had a fair prospect of feathering his 
 nest by his new profitable chaps. Besides the happy 
 acquaintance of those sons of Parnassus, it gave him 
 a lucky opportunity of promoting the interest of his 
 beloved engineer, so skilled in the fortifications of 
 cheese-cakes, pies, and custards ; so that Bocai, to 
 ingratiate himself with his new set of authors, invited 
 them to a collection of oven-trumpery at his friend's 
 house, where they were nobly entertained with as 
 curious a batch of pastry delicacies as ever were seen 
 at the winding up of a Lord Mayor's feast, upon the 
 day of his triumphs. There was not a mathematical 
 figure in all " Euclid's Elements" but what was pre- 
 sented to the table in baked wares, whose cavities were 
 filled with fine eatable varieties, fit for gods or poets; 
 this procured the cook such a mighty reputation among 
 his new rhyming customers, that they thought it a scan- 
 dal to the "Muses that so heavenly a banquet should go 
 untagged with poetry, where the ornamental folds of 
 every luscious cheese-cake, and the artful walls of every 
 goldeu custard, deserved to be immortalized : they 
 could therefore scarcely demolish the embellished 
 covering of a pigeon pie, without a distich • or break 
 through the sundry tunics of a puff-paste apple tart, 
 without a smart epigram upon the glorious occasion. 
 The cook's name being Christopher, for brevity called 
 Kit, and his sign being the Cat and Fiddle, thus was 
 merrily derived a quaint denomination from puss and 
 her master, and from thence they called themselves the 
 Kit-Cat Club. Bocai was resolved to venture at all the 
 club, giving little else but pies for poetry, well consi- 
 dering he had this advantage, that what the publisher 
 z2 
 
 returned, his friend the pastry-cook took off his hands 
 at a better price than the. trunk-maker ; so that the 
 poetical fraternity had most of their pies bottomed with 
 their own productions, which proved so considerable 
 an advantage to all chance customers, that whoever 
 came in for a twopenny tart was assured to have a 
 pennyworth of wit, or at least poetry, given into the 
 bargain, that when they had emptied the shell, they 
 might have taught their children to read upon the 
 bottoin-crust as well as a horn-book. 
 
 The George s Club. — There was formerly a club 
 called the George's Club, consisting of members 
 whose Christian names were George, who used to 
 meet at the sign of the George, and on St. George's 
 day ; and always swore, when they did swear, by 
 George. 
 
 The Humdrum Club was entirely made up 
 of gentlemen of very peaceable dispositions, that used 
 to sit together to smoke their pipes and say nothing 
 till midnight. — The Mum Club was of a similar na- 
 ture, being as great enemies to noise, as inveterate 
 smokers. 
 
 The Sighing Club consisted of certain gentlemen 
 inamoratos getting together into a society, where they, 
 being totally absorbed in the contemplation of their 
 several mistresses, had full liberty to talk to them- 
 selves and sigh. Each of these had a bit of ribbon, a 
 lock of hair, a netted purse, or a garter, which they 
 mused over and addressed from time to time, as gifts 
 or relics stolen from or received from their idols. He 
 who was remarked to apostrophise the most passion- 
 ately and loudly was elected president. No one was 
 admitted without a poem in praise of his mistress. A 
 member who did not sigh fives times in a quarter of 
 an hour was looked upon with suspicion ; and a 
 member giving a direct answer to a question, looked 
 on as so absurd as to run the risk of expulsion : a 
 complete absence of mind showed the best member. 
 This distracted society always existed; but as the 
 dulcineas relented, the old members made place for 
 the new. 
 
 The Everlasting Club.— The Everlasting Club con- 
 sisted of a hundred members, who divided the whole 
 
50S 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 twenty -four hours among them in such a manner, that 
 the club sat day and night from one end of the year 
 to another ; no party persuming to rise till they were 
 relieved by those who were in course to relieve them. 
 By this means the Everlasting Club never wanted 
 company ; for though a member was not on duty 
 himself, he was sure to find some who were ; so that 
 if he was disposed to take a whet or lunch, an even- 
 ing's draught, or a bottle after midnight, he went to 
 the club, and found a knot of friends to his mind. It 
 was a maxim in this club, that the steward never 
 dies ; for, as they succeed one another by way of ro- 
 tation, no man was to quit the great elbow-chair 
 which stands at the upper end of the table till his 
 successor is in reality able to fill it ; insomuch that 
 there has not been a sede vacante in the memory of 
 man. This club was instituted about the time of the 
 civil wars, and lasted till the great fire, which burnt 
 them out and dispersed them for several weeks. The 
 steward at that time maintained his post till he had 
 like to have been blown up with a neighbouring 
 house, (which was demolished in order to stop the 
 fire,) and would not leave the chair at last, till he 
 had emptied all the bottles upon the table, and re- 
 ceived repeated orders from the club to withdraw 
 himself. This steward was frequently talked of in 
 the club, and looked upon as a far greater man than 
 the famous captain, mentioned byLord Ciarendon,who 
 was burnt in his ship because he would not quit it 
 without orders. It is said that towards the close of 
 1700, being the great year of jubilee, the club had it 
 under consideration whether they should break up or 
 continue their session ; but, after many speeches and 
 debates, it was at length agreed to sit out the other 
 century. — It appears by their books in general, that 
 since their first institution, they have smoked fifty 
 tons of tobacco, drank thirty thousand butts of ale, 
 one thousand pipes of red port, two hundred barrels 
 of brandy, and one kilderkin of small beer ; also a 
 great consumption of cards. A fire was constantly 
 kept up to light their pipes. They had an old woman, 
 in the nature of a vestal, whose business it was to 
 cherish and perpetuate the fire from generation to 
 generation.— Spectator. 
 
 The SmithfieldClub was a very coarse and beefish 
 fraternity. The object of the members of this club, 
 and which had noblemen in the society, was to pro- 
 duce a beef-steak of two yards long, and a foot's 
 width of fat encircling it, at Christmas ; and by means 
 of oil-cakes and other extraneous and superfine modes 
 of feeding oxen and sheep, to render the. said cattle 
 as near the elephant standard as possible, insomuch 
 that they were brought to the club in carriages, the 
 only ride they had in their lives, like the malefactors 
 of old to Tyburn. 
 
 The Four-in-hand Club was at first established 
 by certain young noblemen and gentlemen of more 
 cash than consequence. To ape the coachman was the 
 acme' of their delight : they therefore squared their 
 elbows, had a front tooth extracted to spit secundum 
 artem, and dressed themselves with coats and dollar- 
 sized buttons, and sixteen strings to their knees. Thus 
 equipped and accomplished, they met in cavalcade, 
 and the string of noble Jehus performed their journies 
 to Salt Hill and Bedfont,-and all the way back again. 
 It is needless to say that the horses were fine- ones, 
 that the carriages were elegant, and that the vehicle, 
 being empty, was of a piece with the drivers cf the 
 Four-in-hand Club. 
 
 CONSOLATION FOR MANAGEES. 
 
 Handel's early oratorios were but thinly attended. 
 That great composer would himself, however, often 
 joke upon the emptiness of the house, which, he said, 
 " would make de moosic sound all de petter." 
 
 WOODEN HEADS. 
 
 The phrase of wooden-heads is no longer paradoxi- 
 cal ; some people fit up wooden studies, cabinet- 
 makers become book-makers, and a man may show a 
 parade of much reading, by only the assistance of a 
 timber-merchant : a student in the Temple may be 
 furnished with a collection of lav/ books cut from a 
 whipping post ; Physical Dictionaries may be had in 
 Jesuits' -bark ; a Treatise upon Duels in touch-iuood ; 
 the History of Opposition in worm-wood ; Shakspeare's 
 Works in cedar, his Commentators in rotten-wood ,• 
 the Reviewers in birch, and the History of England 
 in heart of oak. steevens. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 FLYING COLOURS. 
 
 Two gentlemen were at a coffee-house, when the 
 discourse falling upou Sir Joshua Reynolds's painting, 
 one of them said, that liis tints were admirable, but 
 the colours flew. Sir Joshua, who was in the next 
 stall, took up his hat, and accosted them thus, with a 
 low bow : " Gentlemen, I return you many thanks 
 for bringing me off with flying colours." 
 
 STRA TILING VeTSUS STILES. 
 
 Those who are of the law, and have not perused this 
 cause, will find it eminently useful as a precedent ; 
 and old gentlemen about to make their wills, will see 
 the necessity of being as explicit as possible, par- 
 ticularly in the colour of the horses they have to be- 
 | queatb . 
 
 Le Report del Case argue en le Common Banke 
 devant tout les Justices de memes le Banke, en 
 le quart an du Raygne de Roy Jacques, entre 
 Matthew StradUng, Plant., et Peter Styles, 
 Def., et un Action propter certos Equos colora- 
 tos, Anglice, Pied Horses, post, per le dit 
 Matthew, versle dit Peter. 
 Le Recite! del Case. — Sir John Swale, of Swale 
 Kali, in Swale Dale, fast by the River Swale, Knt., 
 ; made his last will and testament ; in which, among 
 other bequests, was this, viz. " Out of the kind love 
 I and respect that I bear unto my much honoured and 
 I good friend Mr. Matthew StradUng, gent., I do be- 
 queath unto the said Matthew StradUng, gent, all 
 my black and white horses." The testator had six 
 black horses, six white horses, and six pied horses. 
 
 Le Point. — The debate therefore was, whether or 
 no the said Matthew StradUng should have the said 
 pied horses by virtue of the safd bequest. 
 
 Pour le Plaint. — Atkins, apprentice pour le 
 plaintiffe, moy semble que le plaintiffe reccvera. 
 
 And first of all it seemeth expedient to consider 
 
 what is the nature of horses, and also what is- the 
 
 j nature of colours ; and so the argument will con- 
 
 i sequently divide itself in a two-fold way ; that is to 
 
 j say, the formal part and the substantial part. Horses 
 
 509 
 
 are the substantial part, or thing bequeathed : black 
 and white, the formal or descriptive part. 
 
 Horse, in a physical sense, doth import a certain 
 quadruped or four-footed animal, which, by the apt 
 and regular disposition of certain proper and con- 
 venient parts, is adapted, fitted, and constituted for 
 the use and need of man. Yea, so necessary and 
 conducive was this animal conceived to be to the be- 
 hoof of the commonweal, that sundry and divers acts 
 of parliament have, from time to time, been made in 
 favour of horses. 
 
 1 Edw. IV. makes the transporting of horses out 
 of the kingdom no less a penalty than the forfeiture of 
 40/. 
 
 2 & 3 Edw. VI. takes from horse-stealers the bene- 
 fit of their clergy." 
 
 And the statutes of 27 & 32 Hen. VIII. condescends 
 so far as to take care of their very breed ; these, ouf 
 wise ancestors, prudently foreseeing, that they could 
 not better take care of their own posterity, than by 
 also taking care of that of their horses. 
 
 And of so great esteem are horses in the eye of the 
 common law, that when a knight of the bath commit- 
 ed any great and enormous crime, his punishment was 
 to have his spurs chopped off with a cleaver, "being 
 (as Master Bracton well observeth) unworthy to ride 
 a horse." 
 
 Littleton, sec. 315, saith, " If tenants in common 
 make a lease, reserving for rent a horse, they 
 shall have but one assize ; because, saith the book, 
 the law will not suffer ahorse to be severed: another 
 argument of what high estimation the law maketh of 
 a horse." 
 
 But as the great difference seemeth not to be so 
 much touching the substantial part, horses ; let us 
 proceed to the formal or descriptive part, viz. what 
 horses they are that come within this bequest. 
 
 Colours are commonly of various kinds and dif- 
 ferent sorts : of which white and black are the two 
 extremes, and consequently comprehend within them 
 all other colours whatsoever. 
 
 By a bequest, therefore, of black and white horses, 
 grey or pied horses may well pass ; for when two 
 
510 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 extremes, or remotest ends, of any thing devised, the 
 law, by common intendment, will intend whatsoever 
 is contained between them to be devised too. 
 
 But the present case is still stronger ; coming not 
 only within the intendment, but also the very letter 
 of the words. 
 
 By the word black, all the horses that are black 
 are devised ; by the word white, are devised those 
 that are white ; and by the same words, with the 
 conjunction copulative "and" between them, the 
 horses that are black and white, that is to say, pied, 
 are devised also. 
 
 Whatever is black and white, is pied ; and what- 
 ever is pied, is black and white ; ergo, black and 
 white is pied ; and vice versa, pied is black and 
 white. 
 
 If therefore black and white horses are devised, 
 pied horses shall pass by such devise ; but black and 
 while horses ».re devised ; ergo the plaintiff shall 
 have the pied horses. 
 
 Pour le Defend. — Catlyne, Serjeant, moy semble, 
 al'contrary. The plaintiff shall net have the pied 
 horses by intendment ; for if by the devise of black 
 and white horses, not only black and white horses, 
 but horses of any colour between these two extremes, 
 may pass ; then not only pied and grey horses, but 
 also red or bay horses should pass likewise, which 
 would be absurd, and against reason. And this is 
 another strong argument in law, Nihil quod est 
 rationem, est licitum ; for reason is the life of the 
 law, nay the common law is nothing but reason ; 
 which is to be understood of artificial perfection and 
 reason gotten by long study, and not of man's natural 
 reason ; for Nemo nascitur artifex, and legal rea- 
 son est summa ratio; and therefore, if all the reason 
 that is dispersed into so many different heads, were 
 united into one, he could not make such a law as 
 the law of England ; because, by many successions 
 of ages, it has been fixed and refixed by grave and 
 learned men ; so that the old rule may be verified in 
 it ; Neminem oportet esse legibus sapientiorem. 
 
 As therefore pied horses do not come within the 
 intendment of the said bequest, so neither do they 
 within the letter of the words. 
 
 A pied horse is not a white horse, neither is a pied 
 horse a black horse ; how then can pied horses come 
 under the words of black and white horses ? 
 
 Besides, where custom hath adapted a certain 
 determinate name to any oneWhing, in all devises, 
 feoffments and grants, that certain name shall be 
 made use of, and no uncertain circumlocutory de- 
 scriptions shall be allowed ; for certainty is the father 
 of right, and the mother of justice. 
 
 Le rest del argument je no pouvois oyer, car jeo fui 
 disturb en mon place. 
 
 Le Court fuit longement en doubt de e'est matter; 
 et apres grand deliberation eu, 
 
 Judgment fuit donne" pour le PI. nisi causa. 
 
 Motion in arrest of judgment; that the pied 
 horses were mares ; and thereupon an inspection was 
 prayed. 
 
 Et sur ceo le court advisare vult. 
 
 The above case with its law, French and Latin 
 decorations, as evidently unlike the modern French, 
 as it was unlike English, was thus humorously re- 
 ported by Mr. Fortescue, afterwards a judge, and an 
 intimate friend of Pope and Swift ; and therefore in- 
 serted in their " Martinus Scriblerus.'' 
 
 VILLIAM VICES, 
 
 Or, Do us other people do. 
 Von Villiam Vicks, as I've heard tell, 
 A wintner vas at Clerkenvell : 
 His vife she vas a vixen vile, 
 And oft poor Vill she vould rewile ; 
 For, ever vanting something new, 
 She'd cry, " Dear Vill, I vish as you 
 You'd do as other people do .' 
 
 " There's neighbour Vite's, they keep a shay, 
 
 And vhen they vants to dash avay, 
 
 And vie with all the beaux and belles, 
 
 Avay they vhip to Hornsey Veils; 
 
 Then, since ve all vant something new, 
 
 Dear Villiam Vicks, I vish as you 
 
 Vou'd do as other people do .'" 
 
 "Vat now," says Vill, " vat vant you next ! : * 
 
 " Vy Vill, I wow it makes me wext 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 511 
 
 To think ve lives in dirt and filth ! 
 
 & country-house would save my health ; 
 
 And here's a spot with charming woo i 
 
 Dear Villiam Vicks, I vish as you 
 
 Vou'd do as other people do i 
 
 The house was bought — and Madam now 
 
 Must have a coach and servants too ; 
 
 A pair of geldings smooth and sleek, 
 
 And routs and parties thrice a veek ; 
 
 Andven poor Vill impatient grew, 
 
 "Dear Vill," says she, " you know that you 
 
 Must do as other people do J" 
 
 But now Vill's cash run wery brief, 
 
 So Vill turn'd o'er another leaf; 
 
 The maids dismiss'd — the house was sold — 
 
 And coach and horses, too, we're told : 
 
 " Lord, Vicks," she scream'd, " vat shall ve do V 
 
 " In troth," says Vicks, "you know that you 
 
 Must do as other people do /" 
 
 Ma'am did not like this change of life, 
 So death vhipp'd off poor Vicks's vife— 
 And now retrieving his affairs, 
 Most Christianlike his loss he bears ; 
 And vhen you ask him "How d'ye do !" 
 Vill cries, " Indeed, to tell you true, 
 / do as other people do !" 
 
 LOYAL WELCOME. 
 
 Hugh Peters, the Jesuit, was preaching at the 
 chapel royal upon these words : Hast thotc not poured 
 me out as milk a?id curdled me lihe cheese ? Job x. 10. 
 when in the height of his discourse the news came 
 that king William was landed, and the congregation 
 in consequence left him. On which he said he would 
 conclude the discourse, " Come life, come death, 
 come William, come the devil !" 
 
 VENTILATION. 
 
 Garrick told Cibber, * That his pieces were the 
 best ventilators to his theatre at Drury-lane ; for as 
 soon as any of them were played, the audience di- 
 rectly left the house." 
 
 CLERICAL CHASTISEMENT. 
 
 A clergyman once quarrelled with a country squire, 
 who said, " Doctor, your gown is your protection." 
 "It is so," replied the parson, " but it shall not be 
 yours." He then pulled it off, and thrashed the squire 
 soundly. 
 
 HARMONY OF NATURE. 
 
 Horace Walpole, telling his nurseryman that he 
 would have his trees planted irregularly, he replied, 
 " Yes, sir, I understand ; you would have them hung 
 down — somewhat poetical.'" 
 
 A CREDITOR. 
 
 I send it in, we shall 
 Now mark the excuses in 
 
 LACONIC REFUSAL. 
 
 Clifford, countess of Dorset, having been applied 
 to by her secretary to be allowed to recommend a per- 
 son to her for member for Appleby, wrote the follow- 
 ing reply : 
 
 " 1 have been bullied by an usurper, I have been 
 neglected by an usurper, I have been neglected by a 
 court, but I won't be dictated to by a subject; — your 
 man sha'nt stand. 
 
 tl Ann Dorset, Pembroke and Montgomery." 
 
 GRIEVANCES OF 
 
 Z. Y. owes me a bill, 
 suppose, the 1st of July, 
 succession. 
 
 j u jyi_"Oh! this is Mr. Mercer's bill— Call 
 again any day next week." 
 
 July g, — ""Not at home." — "When will he be at 
 home !" — " Any time to-morrow." 
 
 July 10. — " Has a gentleman with him," wait an 
 hour — " Oh ! ah ! this is the bill — ay — hum — look 
 in on Monday." 
 
 Monday. — "Not at home, gone to 'Change." 
 
 Thursday. — " Leave the bill, and I will look it 
 over." 
 
 20. — "There seems to be a mistake in the bill ; I 
 never had this article — take it back to your master, 
 and tell him to examine his books." 
 
 24. — " Just gone out." 
 
 29. — " I arn busy now ; tell your master I'll call 
 [ on him as I go into the city '' 
 
512 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 August 16. — "Bless me! I quite forgot to call. 
 The bill is not discharged — bring me a receipt any 
 time to-morrow or next day." 
 
 17. — --'Gone to Margate, and wo'nt be home till 
 next month." 
 
 Sept. 12.—" What ! did I not pay that bill before 
 I went out of town? Are you going farther ?" — 
 "Yes." — " Very well ; call as you come back, and I'll 
 settle it." — Calls, and he is gone to dinner at Clap- 
 ham. 
 
 16. — " Plague of this bill! I don't believe I have 
 as much cash in the house — Can you give me change 
 for a £100 note ?" — " No." — " Then call in, as you 
 pass, to-morrow." 
 
 18. — " Not at home." 
 
 25. — "Appoint a day ! Damme what does your 
 master mean ? Tell him I'll call upon him, and 
 know what he means by such a message." 
 
 October 14.— "What ! no discount!" — "Sir, it 
 has been due these two years." — "There's your 
 money then." — " These guineas are light." — "Then 
 you must call again ; I have no loose cash in the 
 house." 
 
 And here ends the payment of £9. 14*. 6d. with 
 three of the guineas light. 
 
 THE LAWYER AND THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER. 
 
 A roguish old lawyer was planning new sin, 
 As he lay on his bed in a fit of the gout, 
 The mails and the daylight were just coming in, 
 The milkmaids and rushlights were just going out: 
 
 When a chimney-sweep's boy, who had made a mis- 
 take. 
 Came flop down the flue with a clattering rush, 
 And bawl'd, as he gave his black muzzle a shake, 
 -" My master's a coming to give you a brush." 
 
 ''If that be the case," said the cunning old elf, 
 " There's no moment to lose — it is high time to flee ; 
 Ere he gives me a brush, I will brush off myself, 
 If I wait for the Devil, the Devil take me !" 
 
 So he limp'd to the door without saying his prayers ; 
 But Old Nick was too deep to be nick'd of his prey, 
 For the knave broke his neck by a tumble down 
 
 stairs, 
 And thus ran to the Devil by running away. 
 hibernicism. 
 I will be ruined, said a Dublin trader to his 
 English friend. "I am sorry for it," said the other ; 
 " but if you will be ruined, you know no one else can 
 prevent it." 
 
 AMERICAN STAGE COACH DIALOGUE. 
 
 Q. "Where are you going, middle on? — A. Yes. 
 
 Q. Do you keep at Boston. — A. No. 
 
 Q. Where do you keep ? — A. Fairfield. 
 
 Q. Have you been a lengthy time in Boston? eh, 
 say? — A. Seven days. 
 
 Q. Where did you sleep last night? — A. 
 
 street. 
 
 Q. What number? — A. Seven. 
 
 Q. That is Thomas Adonis's house ? — A. No ; it is 
 my son's. 
 
 Q. What, have you a son ? — A. Yes, and daugh- 
 ters . 
 
 Q. What is your name ? — A. — William Henry 
 ■ , I guess. 
 
 Q. Is your wife alive? — A. No; she is dead,/ 
 guess. 
 
 Q. Did she die slick right away? — A. No, not by 
 any manner of means. 
 
 Q. How long have you been married?- -A. Thirty 
 years, I guess. 
 
 Q. What age were you when you were married ? 
 A. 1 g?iess mighty near thirty-three. 
 
 Q. If you were young again, I guess you would 
 marry earlier ?— A. No ; I guess thirty-three is a 
 mighty grand age for marrying. 
 
 Q. How old is your daughter?— A. Twenty-five. 
 
 Q. / guess she would like a husband ? — A. No ; 
 she is mighty careless about that. 
 
 Q. She is not awful, (ugly,) J guess? — A. No ; I 
 guess she is not. , 
 
 Q. Is she sick 1— A. Yes. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 513 
 
 Q. What is her sickness? — A. Consumption. 
 
 Q. I had an item of that ; you have got a doctor, 
 I guess ? — Guess I have. 
 
 Q. Is your son a trader? — A. Yes. 
 
 Q. Is he his own boss ? — A. Yes. 
 
 Q. Are his spirits kedge (brisk?) — Yes ; I expect 
 they were yesterday. 
 
 Q. How did he get in business? — A. I planted 
 him there : I was his sponsor for a thousand dallars : 
 Iguesshe paid me within time; and he is now pro- 
 gressing slick. 
 
 OBSTINACY IN GRAIN. 
 
 Bob had a wife, but so perverse, 
 He almost wish'd her in her hearse ; 
 To mend her temper was in vain ; 
 Her spirit work'd against the grain. 
 A fishing once she went in dudgeon, 
 And tried the river for a gudgeon ; 
 When reaching far to hook a bite, 
 Plump in she fell, went down outright, 
 Which Robin saw, but, in his fright, 
 Could scarcely hobble to the river, 
 His Kate from drowning to deliver ; 
 Yet call'd aloud for some assistance, 
 When Will and Tom from no small distance 
 Flew to the bank, and found their master 
 Quite frantic at the sad disaster. 
 The current was in rapid force, 
 And with it all things went of course ; 
 They therefore put their boat-hooks down, 
 As the stream ran, to hitch her gown ; 
 But lower they began their search, 
 Than where she'd fallen off the perch. 
 " What fools you are," exclaim'dold Robin, 
 " Thus with the tide your hooks to bob in ; 
 Go higher up," said patient Bob ; 
 " The other were a fruitless job : 
 Try, try above the place, where fate 
 Thus robb'd me of my dearest Kate ; 
 Some chance there is in such a scheme, 
 She ever went against the stream." 
 The servants followed in a trice 
 Their master's orders and advice, 
 z3 
 
 And found he was a knowing guide, 
 They hook'd her buffeting the tide. 
 
 THE EPIGRAM CLUB. 
 
 On the removal of the cloth, the president 
 
 gave three knocks with his hammer on the table, 
 Silence being procured, he commenced his harangue 
 by reminding the society that nobody was required 
 to sing : that it was gothic barbarity to call upon any 
 gentleman to struggle with a cold and hoarseness ; 
 that the organs of singing were frequently deranged, 
 those of speaking very seldom; and therefore that 
 the usages of this institution were highly rational, 
 inasmuch as no man was there called upon for a 
 song, but every one for an epigram. 
 
 " Mr. Morris," said the deputy chairman, 
 
 to a member on his right hand, "were you at the 
 late masquerade?" "I was," answered Morris, 
 with all the elation of a man who sees an oppor- 
 tunity of throwing in a good thing. " I went with 
 Lump, the leather-seller. He wore a domino, but 
 he wanted to go in character." " What character?" 
 " Charles the second." "Indeed! and what made 
 him alter his determination ?" " My epigram." "Oh 
 pray let us have it." " Certainly — 
 
 To this night's masquerade, quoth Dick, 
 
 By pleasure I am beckon'd, 
 And think 't would be a pleasant trick 
 
 To go as Charles the Second. 
 Tom felt for repartee a thirst, 
 
 And thus to Richard said : 
 You'd better go as Charles the First, 
 
 For that requires no head." 
 
 " Bravo!" exclaimed the president, " your health 
 Mr. Morris, I think you are in a fair way of winning 
 the silver medal. But we shall see. Mr. Vice, you 
 will please to call upon Mr. Snaggs. We must take 
 him in time, or the Hampstead stage will be too 
 sharp for us." Snaggs started from a doze, and 
 begged to inform the company that in his village re- 
 sided a physician and a vicar, who often walked arm 
 in arm together. "Which circumstance," said 
 
514 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Snaggs, induced me to squib them after the follow- 
 ing fashion— 
 
 " How D. D. swaggers, M. D. rolls ! 
 
 I dub them both a brace of noddies : 
 Old D. D. has the cure of souls, 
 
 And M. D. has the care of bodies. 
 Betweeen them both what treatment rare 
 
 Our souls and bodies must endure, 
 One has the cure without the care, 
 
 And one the care without the cure." 
 
 The applause which followed this effusion made 
 Morris tremble for his silver medal. 
 
 The president now looked at his watch : it pointed 
 to the hour of nine : he exchanged a significant 
 glance with the vice-president, (who also officiated 
 as secretary,) and the latter cast his eye towards a 
 mahogany box in the window-seat, and began to 
 fumble for his keys. " Silence, gentlemen," ex- 
 claimed the former, "and listen to a report of our 
 committee, setting forth the objects and prospects of 
 this institution." The secretary then drew forth a 
 book, and proceeded to business. 
 
 The report commenced by stating, that the ob- 
 ject of the Epigram Club was to induce writers and 
 speakers in general, by their precept and example, 
 to compress what they might have to utter into as 
 small a compass as possible. The report dilated upon 
 the alarming increase of forensic and parliamentary 
 eloquence, and then enumerated the number of epi- 
 grams which, with a view of stopping the farther in- 
 crease of the mischief, the committee had caused to 
 be distributed in England, Scotland, and Ireland, a 
 great portion of which had been translated into the 
 Hindostan and Catabaw languages ; so that, to 
 adopt their own phraseology, " they had the heartfelt 
 delight of epigrammatizing the naked Gentoo and the 
 tatooed Otaheitean." The report then stated, that, 
 by the exertions of the committee, seventeen epic 
 poems had been strangled in their birth. 
 
 " A dry subject, Mr. Secretary," exclaimed the 
 chairman, — " Mr. Daffodil, pray favour us with an 
 epigram." This request was addressed to a slender 
 
 young man, who sat ** like a lily drooping, and had 
 all the air of having been recently jilted. Thus 
 called upon, he started from the reverie in which he 
 appeared to be plunged, and in a silver tone spoke as 
 folio ws : — 
 
 " To Flavia's shrine two suitors run 
 
 And woo the fair at once : 
 A needy fortune-hunter one, 
 
 And one a wealthy dunce. 
 How, thus twin-courted she'll behave 
 
 Depends upon this rule — 
 If she's a fool she'll wed the knave, 
 
 And if a knave the fool." 
 
 This effort was received with some applause, but 
 it did not quite amount to a hit. The company 
 semed to opine that knave and fool were not fit 
 names to call a lady. It mattered little what they 
 thought, young Daffodil had relapsed into his 
 reverie. The following was pronounced considerably 
 better : 
 
 " My thrifty spouse, her taste to please, 
 
 With rival dames at auctions vies ; 
 She doats on every thing she sees, 
 
 And every thing she doats on buys. 
 I with her taste am quite enchanted ; 
 
 Such costly wares, so wisely sought ! 
 Bought, because they may be wanted ; 
 
 Wanted, because they may be bought." 
 
 " I should not be at all surprised,'" said Captain 
 Thackeray to the utterer of the j en d 'esprit, " if Mrs. 
 Backhouse gave you that idea. You must know her 
 — she lives in Castle-street, Holborn, and spends the 
 whole of the morning in picking up things remark- 
 ably cheap. She bought the late Irish giant's boots; 
 she has no occasion for them at present, but they may 
 come into play.— Last Wednesday she met with a 
 capital bargain in Brokers'-row, Moorfields — a brass 
 door-plate, with Mr. Henderson engraved upon it ; 
 it only cost her ninepence halfpenny. Should any 
 thing happen to Mr, Backhouse, and she be after- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 wards courted by any body of the name of Henderson, 
 there is a door-plate ready." 
 
 This sally proving successful, drew the attention of 
 the club towards the utterer ; and the chairman told 
 him, that, when his turn arrived, he had no doubt of 
 his favouring the company with an excellent epigram. 
 "Gentlemen," said the member whose turn was 
 next in succession, " I have a weighty objection to all 
 I that has been uttered. An epigram should not be 
 extended to eight lines; and I believe all that we 
 have heard this evening, have been of that length. 
 Four lines ought to be the ne plus ultra ,■ if only two 
 so much the better. Allow me to deliver one which 
 was uttered by an old gentleman, whose daughter 
 Arabella importuned him for money : — 
 
 Dear Bell, to gain money, sure, silence is best, 
 For dumb Bells are fittest to open the chest." 
 " I am quite of your opinion," said he who fol- 
 lowed ; " and in narrating an epitaph by a disconsolate 
 husband upon his late wife, I mean to confine myself 
 within the same Spartan limits : 
 
 Two bones from my body have taken a trip, 
 I've buried my Rib, and got rid of my Hyp" 
 u Now, captain," said the president, addressing 
 himself to young Culpepper's mustachio'd associate. 
 The dragoon started, and waxed rather red. " I'm 
 very sorry— I can't at this moment— Really its very 
 ridiculous. — Pray must it be in English V " No, 
 sir, we are not confined to any language." " Well, 
 then, I will give you a Latin one. My friend Cul- 
 pepper and I, on coming out of the opera the other 
 night, got into dispute with a hackney-coachman. 
 Upon which T collared him, and he collared me, and 
 tore the silk facing of my cloak. Upon which, says 
 Culpepper, who is to mend it ? Upon which said I, 
 nobody can replace the silk facing but the man who 
 made the cape ; because, according to the Latin adage, 
 Qui capit ille facit. 
 
 " Now I think I have beaten the two gentlemen who 
 epigrammatized last. They have made a great merit 
 of having confined themselves to two lines, and, 
 egad ! I have confined myself to one." 
 
 515 
 
 The ballot-box was produced — the several epi- 
 grams proposed and balloted for in succession*-and 
 the captain had the silver medal, each member hav- 
 ing given one ball to his own production, and one to 
 Captain Thackeray's : thus intimating, that next to 
 his own production, the superior merit lay with the 
 Latin adage. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A FOOL, AND HIS MORALIZING ON 
 TIME. 
 
 Good-morrow, fool, quoth I : No, sir, quoth he, 
 
 Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune ; 
 
 And then he drew a dial from his poke ; 
 
 And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, 
 
 Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock : 
 
 Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags : 
 
 'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine ; 
 
 And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven : 
 
 And so, from hour to hour, we ripe, and ripe. 
 
 And then from hour to hour, we rot, and rot, 
 
 And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear 
 
 The motley fool thus moral on the time, 
 
 My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, 
 
 That fools should be so deep contemplative ; 
 
 And I did laugh, sans intermission, 
 
 An hour by his dial. — O noble fool ! 
 
 A worthy fool ! Motley's the only wear.* 
 
 OCEANS OF PUNCH. 
 
 The honourable Edward Russel, who was captain 
 general and commander in chief of the English forces 
 in the Mediterranean, during the reign of William 
 the Third, had a mighty bowl of punch made at his 
 house, on the 25th of October, 1694. It was made 
 in a fountain in the garden, in the centre of four 
 walks, all of which were arched with lemon and 
 orange trees, and along every walk tables were 
 placed the whole length, which were covered with 
 cold collations, &c. In the fountain were the follow- 
 ing ingredients : four hogsheads of brandy, eight 
 hogsheads of water, twenty-five thousand lemons, 
 twenty gallons of lime juice, thirteen hundred weight 
 of fine Lisbon sugar, five pounds of grated nutmegs, 
 
 * The fool was anciently dressed in a party-coloured coat. 
 
516 
 
 three hundred toasted biscuits, and a pipe of^ moun- 
 tain ^nalaga. Over the fountain was a large canopy- 
 to keep off the rain ; and there was built on purpose a 
 little boat, in which was a boy belonging to the fleet, 
 who rowed round the fountain, and filled the cups of 
 the company, who exceeded six thousand in number. 
 
 PROLOGUE TO THE BUSY BODY. 
 
 Though modern prophets were exposed of late, 
 
 The author could not prophesy his fate : 
 
 If with such scenes an audience had been fir'd, 
 
 The poet, must have really been inspir'd. 
 
 But these, alas ! are melancholy days 
 
 For modern prophets, and for modern plays. 
 
 Yet since prophetic lies please fools of fashion, 
 
 And women are so fond of agitation,- 
 
 To men of sense I'll prophesy anew, 
 
 And tell you wondrous things that will prove true : 
 
 Undaunted colonels will to camps repair, 
 
 Assur'd there'll be no skirmishes this year ; 
 
 On our own terms will flow the wish'd-for peace, 
 
 All wars, except 'twixt man and wife shall cease, 
 
 The Grand Monaro x ue may wish his son a throne, 
 
 But hardly will advance to lose his own. 
 
 This season most things bear a smiling face ; 
 
 But play'rs in summer have a dismal case, 
 
 Since your appearance only is our act of grace 
 
 Court ladies will to country seats be gone, 
 
 My lord can't all the year live great in town ; 
 
 Where, wanting operas, basset, and a play, 
 
 They'll sigh, and stitch a gown to pass the time away, 
 
 Gay city wives at Tunbridge will appear, 
 
 "Whose husbands long have wished for an heir; 
 
 Where many a courtier may their wants relieve, 
 
 But by the waters only they conceive. 
 
 The Fleet-street sempstress— tcast of Temple sparks, 
 
 That runs spruce neckcloths for attornies' clerks, 
 
 At Cupid's gardens will her hours regale, 
 
 Sing fair Dorinda, and drink bottled ale. 
 
 At all assemblies rakes are up and down, 
 
 Andfgamesters, when they think they are not known 
 
 Should I denounce our author's fate to-day, 
 To cry down prophecies, you'd damn the lay j 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 } 
 
 Yet whims like these have sometimes made you laugh, 
 
 'Tis tattling all like Isaac Bickerstaff. 
 
 Since war and places claim the bards that write, 
 
 Be kind, and bear a worn an 's treat, to-night ; 
 
 Let your indulgence all her fears allay, 
 
 And none but women-haters damn this play. 
 
 CENTLIVRE. 
 THE JUDGE OUTWITTED. 
 
 The late Lord Kenyon was once listening very at- 
 tentively, in the Boll's Court, to a young clerk, who 
 was reading to him the conveyance of an estate ; 
 and, on coming to the word enough, pronounced it 
 enow. His honour immediately interrupted him ; 
 " Hold, hold ! you must stand corrected ; enough is, 
 according to the vernacular custom, pronounced enuff, 
 and so must all other English words which terminate 
 in ough ; as, for example, tough, rough, cough, 
 trough," &c. The clerk bowed, blushed, and went 
 on for some time ; when, coming to the word plough, 
 he, with increased emphatical voice, and a penetrat- 
 ing look at his honour, called it fluff ! The great 
 lawyer stroked his chin, and, with a. smile, politely 
 said, " Young man ! I sit corrected.' 
 
 DANIEL verSUS DISHCLOUT. 
 
 Daniel was groom in the same family wherein 
 Dishclout was ccokmaid, and Daniel returning home 
 one day fuddled, he stooped down to take a sop out 
 of the pan ; Dishclout pushed him into the dripping- 
 pan, which spoiled his clothes, and he was advised 
 to bring his action against the ccokmaid; the pleadings 
 of which were as follows : The first person who spoke 
 was Mr. Serjeant Snuffle. He began, saying, "Since 
 I have the honour to be pitched upon to open this 
 cause to your lordship; I shall not impertinently pre- 
 sume to take up any of your lordship's time, by a 
 round about circumlocutory manner of speaking or 
 talking, quite foreign to the purpose, and not any 
 ways relating to the matter in hand, I shall, I will, 
 I design to show what damages my client has sus- 
 tained hereupon, whereupon, and thereupon. Now, my 
 lord, my client being a servant in the same family with 
 Dishclout, and not being at board wages, imagined 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 he had a right to the fee-simple of the dripping-pan 
 therefore he made an attachment to the sop with his 
 right hand, which the defendant replevied with her 
 left, tripp'd us up, and tumbled us into the dripping- 
 pan : Now, in Broughton's reports, Slack versus 
 Smallwood, it is said that primus strokus, sine joeus, 
 absolutus est provokus ; now, who gave the primus 
 strokus? who gave the first offence ? why the cock : 
 she brought the dripping-pan there ; for, my lord, 
 though we will allow, if we had not been there, we 
 could not have been thrown down there ; yet, my 
 lord, if the dripping-pan had not been there, for us 
 to have tumbled down into, we could not have tum- 
 bled into the dripping-pan." The next counsel on 
 the same side began with, " My lord, he who makes 
 use of many words to no purpose, has not much to 
 say for himself, therefore I shall come to the point at 
 once, at once and immediately I shall come to the 
 point. My client was in liquor, the liquor in him 
 having served an ejectment upon his understanding, 
 common sense was nonsuited, and he was a man be- 
 side himself, as Dr. Biblibus declares, in his Dis- 
 sertation upon Bumpers, in the 139th folio volume of 
 the Abridgement of the Statutes, page 1286, he says, 
 that a drunken man is homo duplicans, or a double 
 man. Not only because he sees things double, but 
 also because he is not as he should be profecto ipse 
 he, but is as he should not be, defecto tivse he." 
 
 The counsel on the other side rose up gracefully, 
 playing with his ruffles prettily, and tossing the ties 
 of his wig about emphatically. He began with, 
 " My lord, and you, gentlemen of the jury, I hum- 
 bly do conceive, 1 have the authority to declare, that 
 I am couusel in this case for the defendant ; there- 
 fore, my lord, I shall not flourish away in words ; 
 words are no more than fillagree works. Some people 
 may think them an embellishment, but to me 'tis a 
 matter of astonishment, how any one can be so im- 
 pertinent .to the detriment of all rudiment. But, my 
 lord, this is not to be looked at through the medium 
 of right and wrong : for the law knows no medium, 
 and right and wrong are but its shadows. Now, in 
 the first place, they have called a kitchen my client's 
 premises : now a kitchen is nobody's premises ; a 
 
 517 
 
 kitchen is not a ware-house, nor a wash-house, a 
 brew-house, nor a bake-house, an inn-house, nor an 
 out-house, nor a dwelling-house ; no, my lord, 'tis 
 absolutely and bona fide neither more nor less then 
 a kitchen, or as the law more classically expresses, a 
 kitchen is, camera necessaria pro usu cookure, cum 
 sauce-pannis, stew pannis, scullero, dressero, coal- 
 holo, siovis, smoak-jacko, pro roastandum, boilan- 
 dum, fryandum, et plumpudding mixandum, pro 
 turtle soupos, calve ' s-headhashibus, cmn calipee et 
 calepashibus. 
 
 " But we shall not avail ourselves of an alibi, but 
 admit of the existence of a cookmaid : now, my 
 lord, we shall take it upon a new ground, and beg a 
 neiv trial ; for as they have curtailed our name, from 
 plain Mary into Moll, I hope the court will not 
 allow of this ; for if they were to allow of mistakes, 
 what would the law do ; for when the law don't find 
 mistakes, it is the business of the law to make them." 
 
 Therefore the court allowed them the liberty of a 
 new trial : foe the law is oun liberty, and it 
 
 FOR US WE HAVE THE LIBERTY TO GO 
 
 IS HAPPY 
 TO LAW. 
 
 EPITAPHS. 
 
 On a Person in the Country, who occasionally per- 
 formed the business of Tailor and Barber. 
 In a timber surtout here are wrapt the remains 
 
 Of a mower of beards, and a user of ska ins ; 
 
 'Twas the shears of grim death cut his staytape 
 of life, 
 
 And press'd him away from twist, razors, and 
 wife ; 
 
 But the pray'r of all people, he sew'd for or 
 shav'd, 
 
 Is that he's with the remnant of those that are sav'd. 
 
 on a wife. 
 
 Grieve not for me, my dearest dear, 
 I am not dead, but sleeping here ; 
 With patience wait, prepare to die, 
 And in a short time you'll come to I. 
 I am net griev'd, my dearest life ; 
 Sleep on, I've got another wife ; 
 
518 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Therefore I cannot come to thee, 
 For I must go to bed to she. 
 
 Thetford in Norfolk. 
 
 My grandmother was buried here, 
 
 My cousin jane and two uncles dear ; 
 
 My father perish'd with a mortification in his 
 
 thighs ; 
 My sister dropp'd down dead in the Minories : 
 But the reason why I'm here interr'd, according to 
 
 my thinking, 
 Is owing to my good living, and hard drinking. 
 If, therefore, good christians, you wish to live 
 
 ■long, 
 Don't drink too much wine, brandy, gin, or any 
 
 thing strong. 
 
 FEMALE VIRTUES. 
 
 Dean Swift amused himself with the endings of 
 words, and particularly upon the word ending in ling ! 
 He says, " I have been very curious in considering 
 that fruitful word ling, which explains many fine 
 qualities in ladies ; such as grow-ling, rai-ling, tip- 
 ling, (seldom,) toi-ling, mumb-ling, grumb-ling, cur- 
 ling, puzz-ling, bust-ling, strol-ling, ramb-ling, quar- 
 rel-ling, tatt-iing, whiff-ling, dabb-ling, doub-ling." 
 
 THE DREAM, OR THE STRAND TRAGEDY. 
 
 From " Warreniana," a merry jeu d 'esprit after the 
 manner of the Rejected Addresses, and consisting of 
 puffs of Warren's blacking, in imitation of the several 
 styles of the leading and best known writers. 
 
 Ten minutes to ten by Saint Dunstan's clock, 
 And the owl has awakened the crowing cock : 
 
 Cock-a-doodle-doo, 
 
 Cock-a-doodle-doo. 
 If he crows at this rate in so thrilling a note, 
 Jesu-Maria ! he'll catch a sore throat. 
 
 Warren, the manufacturer rich, 
 Hath a spectral mastiff bitch ; 
 To Saint Dunstan's clock, tho' silent enow, 
 She barked her chorus of bow, wow, wow : 
 
 Bow for the quarters, and wow for the hour ; 
 Nought cares she for the sun or the shower ; 
 But when, like a ghost all arrayed in its shroud, 
 The wheels of the thunder are muffled in cloud, 
 When the moon, sole chandelier of the night, 
 Bathes the blessed earth in light, 
 As wizard to wizard, or witch to witch, 
 Howleth to heaven this mastiff bitch. 
 
 Buried in thought O'Warren lay, 
 Like a village queen on the birth of May, 
 He listed the tones of Saint Dunstan's clock, 
 Of the mastiff bitch and the crowing cock ; 
 But louder, far louder, he listed a roar 
 Loud as the billow that booms on the shore ; 
 Bang, bang, with a pause between, 
 Rung the weird sound at his door, I ween. 
 Up from his couch he leaped in affright, 
 Op'd his gray lattice and looked on the night, 
 Then put on his coat, and with harlequin hop 
 Stood like a phaiftom in midst of the shop j 
 In midst of his shop he stood like a sprite, 
 Till peering to left and peering to right, 
 Beside his counter with tail in hand, 
 He saw a spirit of darkness stand ; 
 I guess 'twas frightful there to see 
 A lady so scantily clad as she, 
 Ugly and old exceedingly. 
 
 In height her figure was six feet two, 
 In breadth exactly two feet six, 
 One eye as summer skies was blue, 
 The other black as the waves of Styx. 
 Her bloodless lips did aught but pair, 
 For one was brown and one was fair, 
 And clattered like maid in hysteric fit, 
 Or jack that turned a kitchen spit; 
 Jesu-Maria ! with awe, I trow, 
 O'Warren beheld this worricow, 
 For dreary and dun the death hue came 
 O'er her cheek, as she traced the words of flame j 
 The words of flame that with mystic fuss 
 Are hatched from a still-born incubus, 
 And doom each wight who reads to dwell, 
 Till the birth of day, in the caves of hell, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 519 
 
 Oh ! read thee not, read thee not, lord of the Strand, 
 The spell that subjects thee to elfin command ; 
 Vain hope ! the bogle hath marked her hour, 
 And Warren hath read the words of power j 
 Letter by letter he traced the spell, 
 Till the sullen toll of Saint Dunstan's bell, 
 And the midnight howl of the mastiff bitch, 
 Announced his doom to the Hallowmas witch. 
 Still in her grandeur she stood by, 
 Like an oak that uplooketh to sun and sky ; 
 Then shouted to Warren with fitful breath, 
 " I'm old mother Nightmare- life-in-death ; 
 Halloo ! halloo ! we may not stay, 
 Satan is waiting ; away, away ; 
 Halloo ! halloo ! we've far to go, 
 Then hey for the devil ; jee-up ! jee-hoe. — " 
 O' Warren requested a little delay, 
 But the evil one muttered " too late, by my fay ;" 
 So he put on his breeches and scampered away. 
 [They arrive at their destination, and find Satan at home.] 
 Proudly he strode to his palace gate 
 Which the witch and the Warren approached in state, 
 But paused at the threshold as onward they came, 
 And thus, with words of fever and flame, 
 The tradesman addressed, " Your name, sir, is 
 
 known, 
 As a vender of sables wide over the town ; 
 But in hell with proviso this praise we must mix, 
 For though brilliant your blacking, the water of Styx 
 Is blacker by far, and can throw, as it suits, 
 A handsomer gloss o'er our shoes and our boots." 
 
 Answered the Warren with choleric eye,. 
 " Oh, king of the cock-tailed incubi ! 
 The sneer of a fiend to your puffs you may fix, 
 But if, what is worse, you assert that your Styx 
 Surpasses my blacking, ('twas clear he was vexed,) 
 By Jove ! you will ne'er stick at any thing next. 
 I have dandies who laud me at Paine's and Almack's, 
 Despite Day and Martin, those emulous quacks, 
 Aud they all in one spirit of concord agree, 
 That my blacking is better than any black sea 
 Which flows thro' your paltry Avernus, I wis," 
 " Pshaw," Satan replied, " I'll be d— d if it is." 
 
 The tradesman he laughed at this pitiful sneer, 
 And drew from his pocket, unmoved by the jeer 
 Of the gathering demons, blue, yellow, and pink, 
 A bottle of blacking more sable than ink ; — 
 With the waves of the Styx in a jiffey they tried it, 
 But the waves of the Styx looked foolish beside it ; 
 " You mote as well liken the summer sky," 
 Quoth Warren the bold, " with an Irish stye ; 
 The nightingale's note with the cockatoo's whine, 
 As your lily-white river with me or mine." 
 
 Round the brow of Abaddon fierce anger played, 
 At the Strand manufacturer's gasconade ; 
 And lifting a fist that mote slaughter an ox, 
 He wrathfully challenged his foeman to box • 
 
 Then summoned each demon to form a ring, 
 
 And witness his truculent triumphing. — 
 The ring was formed and the twain set to, 
 Like little Puss with Belasco the Jew, 
 Satan was seconded in a crack, 
 By Molineux, the American Black, 
 (Who sported an oath as a civil salam,) 
 While Warren was backed by the ghost of Dutch Sam. 
 Gentles, who fondly peruse these lays, 
 Wild as a colt o'er the moorland that strays, 
 Who thrill at each wondrous rede I tell, 
 As fancy roams o'er the floor of hell, 
 Now list ye with kindness, the whiles I rehearse 
 In shapely pugilistic verse, 
 (Albeit my fancy preferreth still 
 The quiet of nature,) this desperate mill. 
 
 The Fight. 
 
 Both men on peeling- showed nerve and bone, 
 And weighed on an average fourteen stone ; 
 Doft their silk / ogle, for battle agog, 
 Yellowman, castor, and white upper tog ,■ 
 They sparred for a second their ardour to cool, 
 And rushed at each other like bull to bull. 
 
 Romids. 
 
 1. Was a smasher, for Brummagem Bob 
 Let fly a topper on Beelzebub's nob ,- 
 Then followed him over the ring with ease, 
 And doubled him up by a blow in the squeeze. 
 
520 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 2. Satan was cautious in making play, 
 
 But stuck to his sparring and pummelled away ; 
 Till the ogles of Warren look'd queer in their hue 
 (Here, bets upon Beelzebub ; three to two.) 
 
 3. Fibhings, and facers, and toppers abound, 
 
 But Satan, it seems, had the worse of the round, 
 
 4. Satan was floored by a lunge in the hip, 
 
 And the blood from his peepers went drip 3 drip, 
 
 drip, 
 Like fat from a goose in the dripping-pan, 
 Or ale from the brim of a flowing can ; 
 His box of dominos chattered aloud, 
 (Here, " Go it, Nick !*' from an imp in the crowd,) 
 And he dropped with a Lancashire purr on his 
 
 back, 
 While Bob with a clincher fell over him, whack. 
 
 5. Both men piping came up to the scratch, 
 
 But Bob for Abaddon was more than a match ; 
 He lapped his claret, his mug he rent, 
 And made him so groggy with punishment, 
 That he gladly gave in at the close of the round, 
 And Warren in triumph was led from the ground. 
 
 MATRIMONY AMD DIVORCE. 
 
 An aged Indian, who for many years had spent 
 uch of his time among the white people both in 
 Pennsylvania and New Jersey, one day about the 
 year 1770 observed that the Indians had not only a 
 much easier way of getting a wife than the whites, 
 but were also more certain of getting a good one ; 
 " For," (said he in his broken English) " White man 
 court, — court, — may be one whole year ! — may be 
 two years before he marry ! — well ! — may be then 
 got very good wife — but may be not ! — may be very 
 cross ! — Well now, suppose cross ! scold so soon as 
 get awake in the morning ! scold all day i scold until 
 sleep ; all one ! — he must keep him ! White people 
 have law forbidding throwing away wife, be he ever 
 so cross ! must keep him always ! Well ! how does 
 Indian do ! — Indian, when he see industrious Squaw, 
 which he like, he go to him, place his two fore-fingers 
 close aside each other, make two look like one — look 
 Squaw in the face — see him smile — which is all one 
 
 — he says Yes ! so he take him home — no danger he 
 be cross ! no, no! Squaw know too well what Indian 
 do if he cross ! — throw him away and take another ! 
 Squaw love to eat meat ! no husband ! no meat ! 
 Squaw do every thing to please husband ! he do the 
 same to please Squaw ! live happy !" 
 
 THE SEVEN AGES. 
 
 All the world's a stage, '•" 
 
 And all the men and women merely players ! 
 They have their exits, and their entrances ; 
 And" one man in his time plays many parts, 
 His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, 
 Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms ; 
 And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel, 
 And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
 Unwillingly to school ; And then, the lover ; 
 Sighing like furnace, with woful ballad 
 Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then, a soldier ; 
 Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
 Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, 
 Seeking the bubble reputation 
 
 Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice , 
 In fair round belly, with good capon Un'd, 
 With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, 
 Full of wise saws and modern instances, 
 And so he plays his part : The sixth age shifts 
 Into the lean and slippered pantaloon ; 
 With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; 
 His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide 
 For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, 
 Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
 And whistles m the sound: Last scene of all 
 That ends this strange eventful history, 
 Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ; 
 Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans ever}' thing. 
 
 ULTRA LOYALTY. 
 
 I have read in a book, says a certain author, that 
 when apeasant, during the troublescf Charles the First, 
 found the crown in a bush, he showed it all marks of 
 reverence ; but I will go a step farther, for though I 
 should nnd the king's commission even upon a bram- 
 ble, still I shall respect it. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 521 
 
 »IVAL LIARS. 
 
 A French nobleman, addressing 1 himself to three 
 of his servants, promised to reward the one who 
 should tell him the greatest lie. — The first said that 
 he never had told a lie— the second averred that he 
 could not tell one —the third candidate, however, 
 proved himself the best adept in the art, and obtained 
 the prize, for he assured his master that both his fel- 
 low-servants had just told him the truth ! 
 
 COUNTRY COMMISSIONS. 
 
 Dear cousin, T write this in haste, 
 
 To beg you will get for mamma 
 A pot of best jessamine paste, 
 
 And a pair of shoe-buckles for pa', 
 At Exeter 'Change; — then just pop 
 
 Iato Aldersgate-street for the prints — 
 And while you are there you can stop 
 
 For a skein of white worsted at Flint's. 
 Papa wants a new razor strop. 
 
 And mamma wants a Chinchilli muff; 
 Little Bobby's in want of a top, 
 
 And my aunt wants six-pen'orth of snuff. 
 Just call in St. Martin's-le-Grand 
 
 For some goggles for Mary, (who squints) 
 Get a pound of bee's-wax in the Strand, 
 
 And the skein of white worsted at Flint's. 
 And while you are there you may stop 
 
 For some Souchong in Monument-yard ; 
 And while you are there you can pop 
 
 Into Mary-la-bonne for some lard ; 
 And while you are there you can call 
 
 For some silk of the latest new tints 
 At the mercer's, not far from White -hall : 
 
 And remember the worsted at Flint's. 
 And while you are there, 'twere as well 
 
 If you'd call in Whitechapel, to see 
 For the needles ; and then in Pali-Mall, 
 
 For some lavender water for me : 
 And while you are there you can go 
 
 To Wapping, to old Mr. Chint's — 
 But all this you may easily do 
 
 When you get the vvhite worsted at Flint's. 
 
 I send in this parcel from Bet, 
 An old spelling book to be bound, 
 
 A cornelian brooch to be set, 
 
 And some razors of pa's to be ground. 
 
 O dear, what a memory have I ! 
 
 Notwithstanding all Deborah's hints, 
 
 I've forgotten to tell you to buy, 
 
 A skein of white worsted from Flint's. 
 
 THE DEVIL'S TAVERN. 
 
 The devil's tavern, immortalized by Ben Jonson, 
 was situated in Fleet street, near Temple-bar, on the 
 site where Child's-place now stands. The poet wrote 
 his Leges Conviviales for a club of wits who assem- 
 bled in a room at this tavern, which he dedicated to 
 Apollo, over the chimney of which the laws were 
 preserved. 
 
 In an ancient MS. preserved at Dulwich College, 
 there are some of this comic writer's memoranda, 
 which prove that he owed much of his inspiration 
 to good wine, and the convivial hours he passed at 
 this tavern. The following passages from the MS. 
 justify the opinion. 
 
 " Mem. I laid the plot of my Volpone, and wrote 
 most of it, after a present of ten dozen of palm sack, 
 from my very good Lord T — ; that play, I am posi- 
 tive, will last to posterity, and be acted, when I and 
 envy be friends, with applause. 
 
 " Mem. The first speech in my Catiline, .spoken 
 by Sylla's ghost, was writ after I parted with my 
 friend at the Devil's Tavern ; I had drank well that 
 night, and had brave notions. There is one scene in 
 that play which I think is flat. I resolve to drink no 
 more water ivith my wine. 
 
 "Mem. Upon the 20th of May, the king (heaven 
 reward him) sent me a hundred pounds. At that 
 time I went oftentimes to the Devil ; and before I 
 had spent forty of it, wrote my Alchymist. 
 
 " Mem. The Devil an Assa, the Tale of a Tub, 
 and some other comedies which did not succeed, 
 written by me (in the winter honest Ralph died) 
 when I and my boys drank bad wine at the Devil," 
 
522 
 
 PLOT AND UNDERPLOT. 
 
 Dr. Busby was asked how he contrived to keep all 
 his preferments, and the head mastership of West- 
 minster school, through the successive, but turbulent, 
 reigns of Charles the First, Oliver Cromwell, Charles 
 the Second, and James ; he replied, " The fathers 
 govern the nation ; the mothers govern the fathers ; 
 but the boys govern the mothers, and I govern the 
 boys." 
 
 PTtOLGGUE EXTRAORDINARY. 
 
 An Hibernian member of a strolling company of 
 comedians, in the north of England, once advertised 
 for his benefit, " An occasional Address to be spoken 
 by a new actor." This excited great expectations 
 among the town's people.— Upon the benefit-night, 
 the Hibernian stepped forward, and in a deep brogue 
 thus addressed the audience : — > 
 
 " To night, a new actor appears on your stage, 
 To claim your protection and your patron-age ;• 
 Now, who do you think this new actor may be "? 
 Why, turn round your eyes, and look full upon me, 
 And then you'll be sure this new actor to see." 
 
 DRINKING-CUSTOMS IN ENGLAND. 
 
 We have a very common expression to describe a 
 man in a state of ebriety, that " he is as drunk as a 
 beast," or that " he is beastly drunk." This is a libel 
 on the brutes, for the vice of ebriety is perfectly hu- 
 man. When ebriety became first prevalent in our 
 nation, during the reign of Elizabeth, it was a fa- 
 vourite notion among the writers of the time, and on 
 which they have exhausted their fancy, that a man in 
 the different stages of ebriety showed the most vicious 
 quality of different animals ; or that a company of 
 drunkards exhibited a collection of brutes, with their 
 different characteristics. 
 
 "All dronkardes are beasts," says George Gas- 
 coi'gne in a curious treatise on them, and he proceeds 
 in illustrating his proposition ; but the satirist Nash 
 has classified eight kinds of "drunkards ;" a fanciful 
 sketch from the hand of a master in humour, and 
 which could only have been composed by a close 
 spectator of their manners and habits. 
 
 " The first is ape-drunk, and he leaps and sings 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 and hollows and danceth for the heavens ; the second 
 is lyon-drunk, and he flings the pots about the house, 
 calls the hostess w — e, breaks the glass-windows with 
 his dagger, and is apt to quarrel with any man that 
 speaks to him j the third is swine-drunk, heavy, 
 lumpish, and sleepy, and cries for a little more drink 
 and a few more clothes ; the fourth is sheepe-drunk, 
 wise in his own conceit when he cannot bring forth a 
 right word ; the fifth is maudlen-drunk, when a fel- 
 low will weep for kindness in the midst of his drink, 
 and kiss you, saying, ' By God ! captain, I love thee, 
 go thy ways, thou dost not think so often of me, as 1 
 do of thee : I would (if it pleased God) I could not 
 love thee so well as I do,' and then he puts his fingei 
 in his eye and cries. The sixth is martin-drunk 
 when a man is drunk, and drinks himself sober ere 
 he stir ; the seventh is goat-drunk, when in his 
 drunkenness he hath no mind but on lechery. The 
 eighth is fox-drunk, when he is crafty-drunk, as man j 
 of the Dutchmen be, which will never bargain bu; 
 when they are drunk. All these species, and more. 
 I have seen practised in one company at one sitting, 
 when I have been permitted to remain sober amongst 
 them only to note their several humours." 
 
 THE CIVIC DINNER. 
 
 The guests assembled in Budge-row, 
 
 Sir Peter Pruin mumbles grace, 
 The covers are removed — and lo ! 
 
 A terrible attack takes place : 
 Knives, spoons, and glasses clitter-clatter, 
 
 None seem to think of indigestions ; 
 But all together stuff and chatter, 
 
 Like gluttons playing at cross-questions. 
 What's that on Mrs. Firkin's head ? — 
 
 Boast hare and sweet sauce — wears a wig- 
 So Lady Lump is put to bed, — 
 
 What has she got ? — -"a roasted pig. 
 Your little darling, Mrs. Aggs — 
 
 A rein-deer tongue — begins to chatter. — 
 How's little Tommy 'I — boil'd to rags ; — 
 
 And Miss Augusta! — fried in batter. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 How well he carves ! —he's named by will 
 
 My joint executor — the papers 
 Say Noblet's corning to fulfil — 
 
 Some mint-sauce, and a few more capers— >■ 
 Lord Byron's cantos — where's the salt ! 
 
 This trifle makes us lick our lips ; 
 Angel's syllabubs some exalt, 
 
 But Birch is surely best for whips. — 
 Nice chickens — Mrs. Fry must carry 
 
 A tender heart — but toughish gizzard — 
 Do stick your fork in— little Harry 
 
 Knows all his letters down to izzard.-^— 
 There's tripple Ex — fine calf's head — 
 
 What's your gown made of? — currant jelly : 
 Fat Mrs. Fubbs they say is dead—* 
 
 A famous buttock — vermicelli — ■ 
 Black puddings — pepper'd — dish'd — Belzoni ;— • 
 
 A glass of — Probert's pond with Thurtell ;— 
 Lord Petersham — bad macaroni ; — 
 
 She's a most loving wife — mock-turtle. — ■ 
 Yes, Miss — pig's face — had caught his eye, 
 
 She loved his — mutton chops — and so 
 They jumped into — a pigeon pie, 
 
 Some kissing crust — and off they go. 
 I eat for lunch — a handkerchief — 
 
 A green goose — lost at Charing-cross ; 
 I seiz'd the rascal — collared beef — 
 
 And we both roll'd in — lobster-sauce. 
 St. Ronan's Well — Scot's collops — fetch up 
 
 Another bottle, this is flat. — 
 The Princess Olive — mushroom ketchup — 
 
 His Royal Highness — lots of fat. 
 Poor Miss — red-herring— we must give her 
 
 Grand Signior — turkey dish'd in grease : 
 Hand me the captain's — lights and liver, 
 
 And just cut open — Mrs. Bees. 
 So Fanny Flirt is going to marry — 
 
 A nice Welsh-rabbit — muffins — mummery— 
 Grimaldi— ices — Captain Parry — 
 
 Crimp'd cod — crim-con — Crim Tartars — flum- 
 mery. 
 
 ALMACK's ON FRIDAY. 
 
 523 
 
 St. James's-square, called Almack's. The proprietor 
 of the mansion is named Willis. Six lady patron- 
 esses, of the first distinction, govern the assembly. 
 Their fiat is decisive as to admission or rejection : 
 consequently " their nods men and gods keep in awe." 
 The nights of meeting fall upon every Wednesday 
 during the season. This is selection with a ven- 
 geance : the very quintessence of aristocracy. Three- 
 fourths even of the nobility knock in vain tor admis- 
 sion. Into this sanctum sanctorum, of course, the 
 sons of commerce never think of intruding on the 
 sacred Wednesday evenings : and yet into this very 
 " blue chamber," in the absence of the six necroman- 
 cers, have the votaries of trade contrived to intrude 
 themselves. The following are the particulars. 
 
 At a numerous and respectable meeting of trades- 
 men's ladies, held at the King's-Head Tavern in the 
 Poultry, Lady Simms in the chair, it was resolved, in 
 order to mortify the proud flesh of the six occidental 
 countesses above alluded to, that a rival Almack's be 
 forthwith established, 
 that Mr. Willis 
 
 to meet on every Friday even- 
 ng : tnat Mr. Willis be treated with as to the hiring 
 of his rooms : that the worthy chairwoman,with the ad- 
 dition of Lady Brown, Lady Roberts, Mrs. Chambers, 
 Mrs. Wells, and Miss Jones, be appointed six lady 
 patronesses to govern the establishment : that those 
 ladies be empowered to draw a line of demarcation 
 round the most fashionable part of the city, and that 
 no residents beyond that circle be, on any account, 
 entitled to subscriptions. The six lady patronesses, 
 who originated these resolutions, dwell in the most 
 fashionable part of the city, viz. Lady Simms, on Corn- 
 hill, Lady Brown in Mansion-house-street, Lady 
 Roberts, in Birchin-lane, Mrs. Chambers, in Throg- 
 morton- street, Mrs. Wells, in Copthall-court, and 
 Miss Jones, in Bucklersbury. It is astonishing with 
 what rapidity the subscriptions filled ; and the govern- 
 esses of the establishment have acted with great 
 circumspection in confining the amusement to none 
 but their upper circles. The chief members are ware- 
 housemen and wholesale linen-drapers, with, of 
 course, their wives and daughters. The original plan 
 
 There is a dancing establishment in King-street J was to exclude all retail trades; but, as this would 
 
524 
 
 have made- the ball rather too select, the scheme was 
 abandoned. Grocers dealing both wholesale and re- 
 tail, silversmiths, glovers, packers, dyers, and paper- 
 stainers, are admissible, provided their moral charac- 
 ters be unimpeachable and their residences be not too 
 eastward. Some discord has arisen in consequence 
 of black-balling a very reputable pawnbroker in East 
 Smithfield. West Smithfield is within the line of 
 demarcation, but not East ; and the exhibitor of three 
 blue balls, who has been thus rejected, complains 
 loudly that he is thrust aside to make room for a set 
 of vulgar innholders and cattle-keepers from Smithfield 
 in the West. But to squalls like this the best regu- 
 lated establishments are liable. The line of demar- 
 cation includes Bow-lane, Queen-street, and Bucklers- 
 bury, on the south side of Cheapside ; and. King- 
 street, the Old Jewry, and Saint Martin's-le- Grand 
 on the north ; but not a step beyond. The conse- 
 quence is-, that in the regions of Fore-street, Cripple- 
 gate and Moorfields, northward ; and in those of 
 Watling street, Old Fish-street and Tower-royal, 
 southward ; a great mass of disaffection has been en- 
 gendered. Wardmotes have been called, select 
 vestries have been summoned, and special meetings 
 have been convened; but Almack's on Friday 
 flourishes notwithstanding. In the delivering out of 
 subscriptions, it has been whispered that some 
 tokens of partiality are discernible. Undue prefer- 
 ences are alleged to be given, which, if done in the 
 way of trade, would force the obliged party to refund 
 his debt for the equal benefit of himself and the rest 
 of the creditors. Lady Simms's husband is a lottery- 
 office keeper in Cornhill, and " they do say/' that 
 young men have but slender prospects of admission if 
 they omit to buy their sixteenths at his shop. Lady 
 Brown's lord and master is a wax-chandler in Man- 
 sion-house-street ; let no man who hopes to visit 
 Almack's on Friday seek his spermaceti in any other 
 shop. Sir Ralph Roberts is a wholesale ironmonger 
 in Birch in-1 ane ; it has never been said that he is open 
 to corruption in the way of trade ; but he and Lady 
 Roberts have six grown-up daughters, and the sub- 
 scriber who fails to dance with them &!i m one night 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 may look in vain for a renewal of his subscription* 
 Mrs. Chambers's helpmate is a tailor. A rule has 
 recently crept into the establishment that no gentle- 
 men shall be attired otherwise than in the old school 
 of inexpressibles terminating at the knee. This regu- 
 lation (which is said to have originated with Mrs. 
 Chambers) has been productive of much confusior. 
 The common attire of most of the young men of the 
 present day is trowsers. These are uniformly stopped 
 at the door, and the unhappy wearer is forced either 
 to return home to re-dress, or to suffer himself to be 
 sewed up by a member of the Merchant Tailor's 
 Company, who attends in a private room for that 
 purpose. This ceremony consists in doubling up the 
 trowsers under the knee, and stitching them in that 
 position with black silk : the culprit is then allowed 
 to enter the ball-room, with his lower man strongly 
 resembling one of those broad immoveable Dutch 
 captains who ply in the long room at the Custom- 
 house. It sometimes happens that the party thus 
 acted upon by the needle, little anticipating such a 
 process, has worn white under-stockings, and a pair 
 of half-black silk upper hose reaching but to the com- 
 mencement of his calf. The metamorphosis, in these 
 cases, is rather ludicrous, inasmuch as the subscriber 
 reappears with a pair of black and white magpie legs, 
 and looks as if he had by accident stepped ancle-deep 
 into a couple of ink bottles. These poor fellows are 
 necessarily forced, by the following Friday, to furnish 
 themselves with a new pair of shorts. No corrupt 
 motive has been assigned to Mrs. Wells ; and Miss 
 Jones is a maiden lady of forty four, living upon a 
 genteel independence. 
 
 About eight o'slock on every Friday evening dur- 
 ing the- season, (for certainly the city has its sea- 
 sons — "A negro has a soul, your honour") .a large 
 mass of hackney coaches may be seen plying about 
 the purlieus of Cheapside, the same having been hired 
 to eonvey-our city fashionables to the scene of festi- 
 vity. Dancing commences precisely at nine, and the 
 display of jewels would not discredit the parish of 
 Mary-la-bonne. The large room with the mirror at the 
 lower end is devoted to quadrilles. Waltzes were at 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 first proscribed, as foreign, and consequently indecent; 
 but three of the six Miss Robertses discovered acci- 
 | dentally one morning, while two of the other three 
 J were tormenting poor Mozart into an undulating see- 
 i saw on the piano, that they waltzed remarkably well. 
 The rule thenceforward was less rigidly enforced. 
 i Yet still the practice is rather scouted by the more 
 I sober part of the community. Lady Brown bridles, 
 j and heartily regrets that such filthy doings are not 
 ! confined to Paris : while Lady Sunms thanks God 
 J that her daughter never danced a single waltz in the 
 I whale course of her life. This instance of self-denial 
 I ought to be recorded, for Miss Simms's left lug is 
 shorter than her right. Nature evidently meant her 
 for a waltzer of the first water and magnitude, 
 but philosophy has operated upon her as it did 
 upon Socrates. There is a young broker named 
 Carter, who has no very extensive connection, in 
 Mark-lane, but he has notwithstanding contrived 
 to waltz himself into a subscription. He re- 
 gularly takes out Harriet Roberts, and, aftei 
 swinging with her round the room till the young 
 woman is sick and faint, he performs a like feat with 
 Jane Roberts, and successively with Betsy. The 
 exhibitor of samples, when this is well over, is as 
 giddy as a goose. He therefore retires to take a little 
 breath ; but in about ten minutes returns to the large 
 apartment like a giant refreshed, claps his hands, calls 
 out " Zitti zitti" to the leader of the band, and starts 
 afresh with Lucy, Charlotte, and Jemima Roberts, 
 in three consecutive quadrilles The pertinacity of 
 this young man is indeed prodigious. When the 
 most experienced quadrillers are bowled out of the 
 ring, he may be seen spinning by himself, like an 
 Arabian dervise. He is no great beauty, his head 
 being several degrees too big for his body ; but this 
 disproportion does not extend lower down, for Lady 
 Roberts says there is not a better-hearted young man 
 in all Portsoken ward. According to the rules of the 
 establishment, nobody is admitted after ten o'clock, 
 except gentlemen of the common council : their 
 senatorial duties are paramount. An odd incident 
 is said to have occurred one Friday evening. 
 One Mrs. Ferguson and her daughter alighted at 
 
 525 
 
 the outer door from a very clean hackney coach, 
 delivered her card to Mr. Wiliis, and swept ma- 
 jestically past the grating up stairs into the ball- 
 room. On a more minute inspecotin of the docu- 
 ment, it was discovered to be a forgery. What 
 was to be done ? The mother was sitting under the 
 mirror, and the daughter was dancing for dear 
 life. Lady Simms, Mrs. Weils, and Miss Jones, 
 (three make a quorum) laid their heads together, 
 and the result was a civil message to Mrs. Ferguson, 
 requesting her and her daughter to abdicate. Mrs. 
 Ferguson at first felt disposed to " show fight," but, 
 feeling the current too strong, had recourse to suppli- 
 cation. This was equally vain : the rule was impe- 
 rative : indeed, according to Sir R-alph Roberts, as 
 unalterable as the laws of the Sweetb and Stertio7is. 
 The difference was at length split. A young stock- 
 broker of fashion had just driven up from Capel-court 
 in a hackney cabriolet. Mamma was consigned to 
 the pepper-and-salt coat driver of the vehicle ; aud 
 Miss Ferguson was allowed to dance her dance, out, 
 Lady Brown undertaking to drop her safe and sound 
 in Friday-street, in her way homeward, at the conclu- 
 sion of the festivity. 
 
 Before the conclusion of the evening's diversion, 
 the ladies and their partners walk the Polonaise 
 round the room. One Friday evening the order of 
 march was suddenly impeded. Miss .Donaldson, the 
 grocer's daughter, having insisted upon taking pre- 
 cedence of Miss Jackson, whose father sells Stiltons 
 that mock the eye with the semblance of pine-apples, 
 at the corner of St. Swithin's-lane. The matter was 
 referred to the patronesses, who gave it in favour of 
 Miss Jackson, inasmuch as at dinner, cheese comes 
 before figs. Certain caustic tradesmen, who dwell 
 eastward of the magic circle, are said to be in 
 the habit of throwing out sarcasms upon those who 
 choose to go so far west in quest of diversion. " If 
 you must have a bail," say these crabbed philoso- 
 phers, " why not hold it at the London Tavern, or at 
 the George and Vulture, Lombard-street:" But 
 surely this is bad reasoning. If the pilgrim glows 
 with a wanner devotion from visiting the shrine of 
 Loretto, well may a Miss Dawson or a Mr. Toms 
 
526 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 move with a lighter heel when kicking up a dust upon 
 the very same boards, which, on the Wednesday pre- 
 ceding, were jumped upon by a Lord John or a Lady 
 Arabella. 
 
 ON MITRE-COURT, FLEET-STREET. 
 
 Proper terms here are met — for, whatever our forte, 
 There's no way to the mitre, except through the 
 court ! 
 
 TRUISMS, OR INCONTROVERTIBLE TACTS. 
 
 I'm Simon Bore, just come from college, 
 
 My studies I've pursued so far, 
 I'm called for my surprising knowledge, 
 
 The walking 'Cyclopaedia. 
 Tho' some, perhaps, may call me quiz, 
 
 Their jeers I value not a jot ; 
 In art, in nature, all that is 
 
 I'll tell you — aye, and what is not. 
 So you must all acknowledge, O, 
 I've made good use of college, O ; 
 When I was there, completely bare, 
 I stripp'd the tree of knowledge, O. 
 
 Hay is brought to town in carts, 
 
 Ham sandwiches a'n't made of tin ; 
 They don't feed cows on apple-tarts, 
 
 Nor wear gilt spurs upon the chin. 
 Bullocks don't wear opera hats, 
 
 Fiddles are not made of cheese, 
 Nor pigeon-pies of water-rats ; 
 
 Boil'd salmon does not grow on trees, 
 
 So you must all acknowledge, O, &c. 
 
 Putty is not good to eat, 
 
 Fryingpans ar'n't made of gauze, 
 Penny rolls are made of wheat, 
 
 Straw bonnets too, are made of straws 
 Horses don't wear Hessian boots, 
 
 The Thames is not mock turtle soup, 
 A child can't eat an iron hoop, 
 
 And pigs don't play the German flute. 
 So you must all, &c. 
 
 Kittens are but little cats, 
 
 Mouse traps are not county jails, 
 Whales are full as big as sprats, 
 
 They don't stuff geese with copper nails^ 
 A German waltz is not a hymn, 
 
 The French are mostly born in France, 
 Fishes ar'n't afraid to swim, 
 
 And turkeys seldom learn to dance. 
 So you must all, &c. 
 
 Twenty turnips make a score, 
 
 Dustmen rarely drink Champagne, 
 A cow's tail seldom grows before, 
 
 They don't make wigs of bamboo cane. 
 Dutchmen sometimes lay abeds, 
 
 A cabbage cannot dance a jig. 
 Grass dees not grow en ladies' heads, 
 
 A bull dog need not wear a wig. 
 So you must all, &c. 
 
 Fifty pounds of yellow soap, 
 
 Weigh more than twenty-five of cheese, 
 An oyster cannot chew a rope, 
 
 Poor people have a right to sneeze. 
 Pigs don't read the Morning Post, 
 
 Watch chains are not roasting jacks, 
 They don't make boots of butter'd. toast, 
 
 Red herrings don't pay powder tax. 
 So you must all, &e. 
 
 I 
 
 CLERICAL CALL. 
 
 A certain divine, about to change his congrega- ! 
 tion, mentioned that subject from the pulpit. After | 
 service was over, an old negro man, who was one of 
 his admirers, went up to him and desired to know the ' 
 motives of his leaving his first flock ; the parson an- J 
 swered, " He had a call." " I, massa," returned the 
 negro, "who called you?" "God Almighty/' an- 
 swered the parson. " I, massa, he call ye 1" "Yes, I 
 Jack, he called me." — " Massa, what you get here 1" 
 "I get 200/." "And what you get 'toder place!" ; 
 "Why I am to get 400/." " I, massa, God Almighty I 
 call you till he be blind fiom 400/. to 200/. you no 
 go." 
 
 I 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ONT A DEACON S WRITING EPIGRAMS. 
 
 " A deacon write epigrams?" Why should he not? 
 A great name in the church by so doing is got ; 
 With innocent wit let his verses be fraught, 
 And a deacon shall then an a>rA-deacon be thought. 
 
 AT ALNWICK, IN NORTHUMBERLAND. 
 
 Here lieth Martin Elphinston, 
 Who with his sword did cut in sun- 
 der the daughter of Sir Harry 
 Crispe, who did his daughter marry : 
 She was fat and fulsome ; 
 But men will some- 
 times eat bacon with their bean, 
 And love the fat as well as lean. 
 
 POLITE INVITATION. 
 
 A convict who was executed at Leicester, and 
 adopted the singular mode of travelling in a post- 
 chaise to the place of execution, was no less remark- 
 able for his crimes, than a copious fund of low hu- 
 mour. He got the following notice put up in the 
 most frequented houses in the town : " Wanted, an 
 agreeable companion in a post-chaise, to go a journey 
 of considerable length, and upon equal terms." 
 
 COURT FOOLS. 
 
 Unquestionably the most sprightly of all inventions 
 which we owe to the dulness of courts is that of the 
 professional jester or fool, than which nothing could 
 nave been more expressly and admirably adapted to 
 its end. If not witty himself, he was at least the 
 cause of wit in others — the butt at which the shafts 
 of their ridicule were shot, and through whom they 
 sometimes launched them at their neighbours. The 
 jokes might be poor, quibbling, bald, bad ; but the 
 contest was at all events mental ; not so sparkling, 
 perhaps, as the fight' between Congreve's intellectual 
 gladiators, but still preferable to what it displaced, 
 for a play upon words is more comical than a play 
 upon the ribs ; it is better to elicit bad puns from 
 one another's sculls, than to be drinking wine out of 
 them ; it is quite as facetious to smoke a quiz as a 
 segar ; a quibble in the head is as comical as a bump 
 
 527 
 
 upon it ; and cutting jokes, however common-place, is 
 assuredly as sprightly as cutting cards, and as hu- 
 morous as cutting capers. Whoever first established 
 these chartered merry-andrews, we ought to wear his 
 name in our heart's core. Strange that these omni- 
 loquent professors of facetiae should have left so few 
 names upon the rolls of fame. Brutus was only an 
 amateur fool, who assumed the character for a politi- 
 cal object. We should have known nothing of Yo- 
 rick, the Danish king's jester, had not the gravedigger 
 in Hamlet knocked him about the mazzard with a 
 spade. Killigrewwas a sort of court jester to Charles 
 the Second ; but, not content with saying good things, 
 he ventured upon publishing them ; and as his pen 
 was very inferior to his tongue, in which he afforded a 
 contrast to Cowley, Sir John Denham took occasion 
 to exclaim — 
 
 " Had Cowley ne'er spoke — Killig rewne'er writ — 
 
 Combined in one they'd made a matchless wit." 
 Considering how few offices and sinecures are abo- 
 lished now-a-days, we cannot help regretting that 
 this should have been selected for extinction, and we 
 are tempted to inquire 
 
 " Why, pray, of late do Europe's kings 
 No jester in their courts admit 1 
 
 They 're grown such stately solemn things 
 To bear a joke they think not fit. — < 
 
 But though each court a jester lacks 
 To laugh at monarchs to their face, 
 
 All mankind do behind their backs 
 Supply the honest jester's place." 
 
 NEW CHURCHES. 
 
 Our rulers still anxious for John Bull's enjoyment, 
 Propose this decree, father Moses to lurch ; 
 
 Six days shalt thou pine, without food or employment, 
 And march on the seventh devoutly to church. 
 
 IN GRANTHAM CHURCH-YARD. 
 
 John Palfrey man, who is buried here, 
 Was aged four and twenty year ; 
 And near this place his mother lies, 
 Likewise his father— when he dies. 
 
528 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 AMUSEMENTS AT CHELTENHAM. 
 
 The first consideration on rising in the morning at 
 a place of fashionable resort is, how shall the day be 
 spent. The journey thither has been performed for 
 relaxation ; and the idea of reading, writing, or think- 
 ing within doors, is out of the question, or why have 
 we left London 1 The visitant, therefore, usually de- 
 termines on a promenade, for the purpose of seeing 
 and being seen. The springs are sadly deficient in 
 the quantity of water ; and by no means, in this re- 
 spect, to be compared to the sweet, retired, and snug 
 Leamington, where there is enough and to spare for 
 bathers and drinkers at all seasons, .however numerous 
 they -may become. The walks in the shade of the trees 
 at Cheltenham are delightful. The constant resi- 
 dents at these watering-places are msde up of a large 
 proportion of card-playing old maids, retiring widows, 
 half-pay officers with a small fortune, and hypochon- 
 driacs. These are to be found at all times and sea- 
 sons, and afford an example how vapidly some of our 
 fellow-mortals pass their hours. Small-talk, cards, 
 compliments, remarks upon the weather, with a 
 sprinkling of scandal that serves to keep the appetite 
 alive for more, perform the same round incessantly, 
 till life's " fitful fever," is over, and one is at a loss 
 to find any reasonable excuse for the purpose of such 
 mere mechanical existence. There is no better sample 
 of what may be called stagnant life, than this species 
 of inhabitant of our spas and watering places ex- 
 hibits. Existence seems in a state of negation — they 
 look too vacant for any residence but the shores of 
 Lethe — "thought would destroy their paradise" — 
 they seem a forlorn corps, exiled from the mass of the 
 people, high or low; a condemned regiment, kept 
 apart from the army to live and die in inglorious ob- 
 scurity. The other classes consist of sick visitants, 
 whom the healthy seem inclined to expel from their 
 rightful abodes ; and the busy and active inhabitants, 
 who draw the means of subsistence equally from all 
 the other classes. 
 
 It might naturally be supposed that towns which 
 have grown up under the pretence of pleasure and 
 relaxation, would abound with entertainments, cal- 
 
 culated to relieve tedium and increase the charm of 
 society. Such would actually be the case in any 
 other country than this, where the reverse is really 
 the fact. A starving theatrical company may (if a 
 theatre exists in the place at all) be seen playing be- 
 fore empty boxes, or a few strangers, unknowing and 
 unknown. A' ball now and then, where exclusion 
 and stiffness govern every thing, and pleasure is little 
 more than a name, and a promenade on the same 
 given spot, constitute all the amusements to be found 
 in them. A relentless antisocial spirit rules every 
 thing. All look at each other with suspicion. The 
 aristocracy, real or feigned, legitimate or illegitimate, 
 dread coming in contact with the tradesman ; and the 
 tradesman often labours to pass for one of the aristo- 
 cracy, and he often labours so well that he can 
 scarcely be distinguished, except by sometimes over- 
 acting his pail;. Coteries, are formed, the members 
 of which imagine themselves the most select and high- 
 bred circle in the realm. The horror of an amalga- 
 mation by some of the visitants, even in the streets, 
 with those whom they pretend to despise, is only 
 equalled by the patient's dread of water in hydropho- 
 bia. The pretty faces of the girls are taught by their 
 mammas to assume a look of unwonted scorn at the 
 strangers whom mixed company may throw in their 
 way. The silly pretensions of the vain are never so 
 strongly marked as in a fashionable spa ; and all the 
 brood of folly may be seen tinkling its showy bells 
 and strutting in inflated inanity of mind in a manner 
 very different from its appearance in the general run 
 of our cities and towns. Indeed, the best entertain- 
 ment for the idler is to watch their workings, from 
 the brainless coachman-aping peer, to the soap- 
 maker's lady of Wapping. Like fantoccini moving 
 along in the same dance, full of self-pretension — ig- 
 norant, but fashionable — coarse in manners, but 
 wealthy — how amusing it is to contemplate such a 
 scene : to view it with all " its gaily-gilded trim .. 
 quick glancing to the sun," and to read in it one of 
 the bitterest lessons of reason's humiliation, of worth- 
 lessness of purpose, that the picture of man's life 
 affords 1 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 529 
 
 ECHO IN THE REIGN OF CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 Now Echo, on what's religion grounded? 
 
 Round-head . 
 Whose its professor most considerable 1 
 
 Rabble 1 
 How do these prove themselves to be the godly 1 
 
 Oddly t - 
 But they in life are known to be the holy. 
 
 O lie ! 
 Who are these preachers, men or women-common ! 
 
 Common ! 
 Come they from any universities 
 
 Citie ! 
 Do they not learning from their doctrine sever 1 
 
 Ever ! 
 Yet thev pretend that they do edifie ; 
 
 Ofie! 
 What do you call it then, to fructify? 
 
 Ay I 
 What church have they, and what pulpits 
 
 Pitts ! 
 But now in chambers the conventicle ; 
 
 Tickle! 
 The godly sisters shrewdly are belied. 
 
 Bellied ! 
 The godly number then will soon transcend. 
 
 End ! 
 As for the temples they with zeal embrace them. 
 
 Rase them.' 
 What do they make of bishop's hierarchy 1 
 
 Archie . * 
 Are crosses, images, ornaments their scandall ] 
 
 All ! 
 Nor will they leave us many ceremonies. 
 
 Monies ! 
 Must even religion down for satisfaction. 
 
 Faction I 
 
 * An allusion probably to Archibald Armstrong, the fool 
 or privileged jester of Charles I. usually called Archy, who 
 had a quarrel with archbishop Laud, and of whom many arch 
 things are on record : there is a little jest-hook very high- 
 priced and of little worth which bears the title of Archee's 
 Jests. 
 
 2a 
 
 How stand they affected to the government civil ? 
 
 Evil ! 
 But to the king they say they are most loyal. 
 
 Lye all ! 
 Then God keep king and state from these same men. 
 
 Amen I 
 
 THE UPSTART. 
 
 There was a friend of my own,— if we may take 
 his own word for it, a left-handed branch of the Plan- 
 tagenets, but, when I first knew him, one of the dull- 
 est dogs in all Noodledum, — grave as a justice of 
 peace, solemn as an undertaker, and as silent as a 
 quaker deserted by the spirit. Though a high-church 
 Tory, you might have taken the family fireside for a 
 nonconformist conventicle, so simple and unadorned 
 was the conversation : at present, every one of its 
 members might be bound up " to face the title" of 
 Colman's Broad Grins. For you are to know that it 
 pleased heaven, and an eighty-horse powered steam- 
 engine, to make a man of a small cotton-spinner, 
 residing in a neighbouring town. This honest trades- 
 man, as he grew rich, grew ambitious. He built a 
 handsome square mansion, which he (being of Cock- 
 ney origin) christened " The All ;" and he turned an 
 oak fence round six acres of meadow, which he dubb- 
 ed " The Park." He rode likewise in his coach and 
 four, and, agreeably to the dictum of Mons. Cottu, 
 got himself enlisted on the grand jury. Certain pe- 
 cuniary obligations conferred by old Twist upon my 
 friend Black acre enforced an invitation of the former 
 to the manor-house, which has since grown, not with- 
 out substantial reasons, into an intimacy; and though 
 old Twist is himself as dull as a post, yet has he dis- 
 covered to the Blackacres a mine of wit and fun, 
 which in their whole previous lives they " had never 
 dreamed of in their philosophy." " Twist's All" 
 stands very high, and commands an extensive pros- 
 pect ; on the very first visit the Blackacres were called 
 on to admire its c«7y-ation ; and ever since it has been 
 a standing joke in the family to make old Twist recur 
 twenty times a-day to the cityation of his house, the 
 cityation of public affairs, or the cityation of any 
 thing else, that can press into the service the ill- 
 
530 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 fated but obsequious polysyllable. The eldest Miss 
 Twist has likewise an unfortunate predilection for the 
 French word naivete, though two hundred per annum 
 spent during six years at a French boarding-school 
 failed in purchasing its right pronunciation. Some- 
 times she admires navette in the abstract ; sometimes 
 she praises her sisters for their great naviete ; but 
 most frequently she gives herself credit for an extra- 
 ordinary share of navitie; — so ingeniously does she 
 go wide of her mark ! This little bit of slip-slop is 
 the source of inextinguishable mirth to the Black- 
 acres j the girls take off " the Twists" in every pos- 
 sible mode of malaprop accentuation ; and the father 
 invariably brings up the rear with a customary doubt 
 of the genuineness of the article ; affirming that the 
 lady is as cunning as a fox, and that her navietie is, 
 in plain English, nothing more than mere knavery. 
 In this manner has the spectacle of the inferiority of 
 the Twists roused the Blackacres to a sense of their 
 own wit and spirit. The lapsus linguae ot tlie manu- 
 facturers keep the tongues of the agriculturalists in in- 
 cessant activity. The incongruities in their dress and 
 furniture preserve their gentle-blooded neighbours in 
 perpetual good-humour with themselves ; and old 
 Twist's mismanagement of his land, which, he will 
 farm himself at a loss of thirty per cent, has almost 
 reconciled Blackacre to the idea that the ground is 
 no longer his own. 
 
 SHERIDAN S ANCESTORS. 
 
 Sheridan's father one day descanting on the pedi- 
 gree of his family, was regretting that they were no 
 longer styled O'Sheridan, as they had been formerly; 
 " Indeed, father," replied the late celebrated charac- 
 ter, then a boy, " we have more right to the O than 
 any one else — for we owe every body.' 
 
 BILLIARDS. 
 
 A Scene from Nightmare Abbey. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Larynx approached the sofa, and 
 proposed a game at billiards. 
 
 The Hon, Mr. Listless. — Billiards ! really I should 
 
 be very happy ; but in my present exhausted state, I 
 fear the exertion would be too much for me. I do 
 not know when 1 have been equal to such an effort. 
 (He rang for his valet, Fatout entered.) — Fatout, 
 when did I play at billiards last 1 
 
 Fatout. — De fourteenth December, de last year, 
 Monsieur. — (Fatout bowed and retired.) 
 
 The Hon. Mr. Listless. — So it was seven months 
 ago. You see Mr. Larynx, you see, sir. My nerves, 
 Miss O'Carroll, my nerves- are shattered. I have 
 been advised to try Bath. Some of the faculty re- 
 commend Cheltenham. I think of trying both, as the 
 seasons don't clash. The season you know Mr. La- 
 rynx— the season, Miss O'Carroll — the season is every 
 thing. 
 
 Marionetta. — And health is something, n'est ce 
 pas, Larynx 1 
 
 The Rev, Mr. Larynx. — Most assuredly Miss 
 O'Carroll — for however reasoners may dispute about 
 the summum bonum, none of them will deny that a 
 very good dinner is a very good thing, and what is a 
 good dinner without a- good appetite? and whence is 
 a good appetite but from good health 1 Now Chel- 
 tenham, Mr. Listless, is famous for good appetites. 
 
 The Hon. Mr. Listless. — The best piece of logic I 
 ever heard. Mr. Larynx, the very best I assure you. 
 I have thought, very seriously and profoundly, I 
 have thought of it — let me see — when did I think of 
 it 1 (he rang again, and Fatout re-appeared.) Fa- 
 tout ! when did I think of going to Cheltenham, and 
 did not go 1 
 
 Fatout. — De Juillet twenty-one de last summer, 
 Monsieur. (Fatout retired.) 
 
 The Hon. Mr. Listless. — So it was. An invaluable 
 fellow that, Mr. Larynx — invaluable, Miss O'Carroll. 
 
 Marionetta. — So I should judge, indeed. He seems 
 to serve you as a walking memory, and to be a living 
 chronicle not of your actions only, but of your 
 thoughts. 
 
 The Hon. Mr. Listless. — An excellent definition of 
 the fellow. Miss O'Carroll — excellent, upon my ho- 
 nour — Ha! ha! ha! Heigh ho ! laughter is a plea- 
 sure, but the exertion of it is too much for me. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 531 
 
 PHYSIOGNOMY DECEITFUL, 
 
 A gentleman presenting, familiarly, Mr. Penn, the 
 pedestrian, to a lady of his acquaintance, " Madam, 
 (said he) this is the queer Penn, that walked against 
 Danvers Butler, and he is not so great a fool as he 
 looks to be." — "Madam, (answered Penn) there lies 
 the difference between him and me." 
 
 STANZAS TO PUNCHINELLO. 
 
 Thou lignum- vita Roscius, who 
 Dost the old vagrant stage renew, 
 
 Peerless, inimitable Punchinello ! 
 The queen of smiles is quite undone 
 By thee, all-glorious king of fun, 
 
 Thou grinning, giggling, laugh-extorting fellow ! 
 At other times mine ear is wrung, 
 Whene'er I hear the trumpet's tongue 
 
 Waking associations melancholic ; 
 But that which heralds thee, recalls 
 All childhood's joys and festivals, 
 
 And makes the heart rebound with freak and frolic. 
 Ere of thy face I get a snatch, 
 O with what boyish glee I catch 
 
 Tby twittering, cackling, bubbling, squeaking 
 gibber— 
 Sweeter than siren voices — fraught 
 With richer merriment than aught 
 
 That drops from witling mouths, though utter'd 
 glibber ! 
 What wag was ever known before 
 To keep the circle in a roar, 
 
 Nor wound the feelings of a single hearer ? 
 Engrossing all the jibes and jokes, 
 Unenvied by the duller folks, 
 
 A harmless wit — an unmalignant jeerer. 
 The upturn'd eyes I love to trace. 
 Of wondering mortals, when their face 
 
 Is all alight with an expectant gladness ; 
 To mark the flickering giggle first, 
 The growing grin — the sudden burst, 
 
 And universal shout of merry madness. 
 2a2 
 
 I love those sounds to analyze, 
 Prom childhood's shrill ecstatic cries, 
 
 To age's chuckle with its coughing after; 
 To see the grave and the genteel 
 Rein in awhile the mirth they feel, 
 
 Then loose their muscles, and let out the laughter. 
 Sometimes I note a hen-peck'd wight, 
 Enjoying thy marital might, 
 
 To him a beatific beau ideal ; 
 He counts each crack on Judy's pate, 
 Then homeward creeps to cogitate 
 
 The difference 'twixt dramatic wives and real. 
 But, Punch, thou'rt ungallant and rude 
 In plying thy persuasive wood ; 
 
 Remember that thy cudgel's girth is good, 
 Than that compassionate, thumb-thick. 
 Establish'd wife-compelling stick, 
 
 Made legal by the dictum of judge Buller. 
 When the officious doctor hies 
 To cure thy spouse, there's no surprise 
 
 Thou shouldst receive him with nose-tweaking 
 grappling 
 Nor can -we wonder that the mob 
 Encores each crack upon his nob, 
 
 When thou art feeing him with oaken sapling. 
 As for cur common enemy 
 Old Nick, we all rejoice to see 
 
 The coup de grace that silences his wrangle ; 
 But, lo, Jack Ketch ! — ah, weliaday ! 
 Dramatic justice claims its prey, 
 
 And thou in hempen handkerchief must dangle. 
 Now helpless hang those arms which once 
 Rattled such music on the sconce ; 
 
 Hush'd is that tongue which late out-jested Yorick; 
 That hunch behind is shrugg'd no more, 
 No longer heaves that paunch before, 
 
 Which swagg'd with such a pleasantry plethoric. 
 But Thespian deaths are transient woes, 
 And still less durable are those 
 
 Suffer'd by lignum-vitae malefactors ; 
 Thou wilt return, alert, alive, 
 And long, oh long may'st thou survive, 
 
 first of head-breaking and side-splitting actors ! 
 
532 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 7, 
 
 THE SCRIBBLERUS CLUB. 
 
 The Scribblerus Club, which consisted of Pope, 
 Gay, Swift, Arbuthnot, Parnell, &c. &c. when the 
 members were in town, were seldom asunder, and 
 they often made excursions together into the country, 
 and generally on foot. Swift was usually the butt of 
 the company, and if a trick was played, he was 
 always the sufferer. The whole party once agreed 
 
 to walk, down to the house of lord B , whose 
 
 seat was about twelve miles from town. As every 
 one agreed to make the best of his way, Swift, who 
 was remarkable for walking, soon left all the rest be- 
 hind him, fully resolved, upon his arrival, to choose 
 the very best bed for himself, for that was his custom. 
 In the mean time Parnell was determined to prevent 
 his intentions, and, taking a horse, arrived at lord 
 
 B 's by another way, long before him. Having 
 
 apprized his lordship of Swift's design, it was re- 
 solved, at any rate, to keep him out of the house, but 
 how to effect this was the question. Swift never had 
 the small-pox, and was very much afraid of catching 
 it : as soon, therefore, as he appeared striding along, 
 at some distance from the house, one of his lordship's 
 sevants was despatched to acquaint him, that the 
 small-pox was then making great ravages in the fa- 
 mily, but that there was a summer-house with a field 
 bed at his service, at the end of the garden. There 
 the disappointed dean was obliged to retire, and take 
 a cold supper that was sent out to him, while the rest 
 were feasting within. However, at last they took 
 compassion on him, and upon his promising never to 
 choose the best bed again, they permitted him to make 
 one of the company. There is something satisfac- 
 tory in these accounts of the follies of the wise ; they 
 give a natural air to the picture, and reconcile us to 
 our own. There have been few poetical societies 
 more talked of, or productive of a greater variety of 
 whimsical concerts, than this of the Scribblerus Club ; 
 but how long it lasted is not known. . The whole of 
 Parnell's poetical existence was not of more than 
 eight or ten years continuance ; his first excursion to 
 England began about the year 1706, and he died 
 in the year 1718, so that it is probable the club 
 began with him, and his death ended the connection. 
 
 DEAN SWIFT. 
 
 An accomplished and beautiful new-married lady, 
 being once in company with Swift, spoke of her hus- 
 band in very high terms, and, as the dean thought, 
 gave him rather more praise than he deserved ; he, 
 however, let it pass ; but, finding her disposed to re- 
 new the subject on another occasion, he changed it, 
 by the following elegant impromptu : — 
 
 " You always are making a god of your spouse ; 
 But this neither reason nor conscience allows : — « 
 Perhaps you will say, 'tis to gratitude due, 
 And you adore him, because he adores you. 
 Your argument's weak, and so you will find ; 
 For you, by this rule, must adore all mankind." 
 
 A musical gentleman, while pei forming, was ar- 
 rested by two bailiffs, who requested him to join them 
 in a trio. — '* I should rather imagine (said the unfor- 
 tunate gentleman) you wish for a catch* 
 
 DAILY MORTIFICATIONS IN DRESS. 
 
 My shoemaker always gives me boots which pinch 
 my ancle, and are too wide in the calf of the leg. — 
 His shoes are too tight at the toe, while at the heel I 
 am slip-shod. Nevertheless he is called an excellent 
 workman. — My tailor, though a very celebrated man, 
 makes me coats which slip from my shoulders ; if I 
 button them they confine my breast, though I have a 
 particular dislike to that ; but at the bottom they are 
 quite slack, though I particularly wish to have them 
 tight round my middle. Notwithstanding all this, 
 every one says how well my clothes are made, be- 
 cause they only see, while I feel. — My seamstress, 
 whatever directions I give her on the subject, has a 
 strange predilection for making the collars of my 
 shirts too high , my washerwoman starches them, and 
 all day long they fret me, and rub the skin off my 
 ears. — My hatter takes the size of my head with great 
 care, and yet he always sends me hats which are too 
 small ; I order light hats, and he sends me heavy 
 ones ; I ask to have the brims made flat, and he sends 
 them always turned up. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 533 
 
 THE PARTNERSHIP. 
 
 The marquis Delia Scalas, an Italian nobleman, 
 having invited the neighbouring gentry to a grand 
 entertainment, some of the company arrived very 
 early, to pay their respects to his excellency. Soon 
 after, the steward entering the dining-room in a great 
 hurry, told the marquis that there was a most won- 
 derful fisherman below, who had brought one of the 
 finest fish in all Italy; for which, however, he de- 
 manded a most extravagant price. " Regard not his 
 price," cried the marquis ; " pay him the money 
 directly." — « So I would, please your highness, but 
 he refuses to take any money."—" What, then, 
 would the fellow have?" — "A hundred strokes of 
 the strappado on-his bare shoulders, my lord ; he says 
 he will not bate a single blow." On this the whole 
 company ran down stairs, to see so singular a man. 
 " A fine fish!" cried the marquis: "what is your 
 demand, my friend ?" — " Not a quatrini, my lord," 
 answered the fisherman : " I will not take money. If 
 your lordship wishes to have the fish, you must order 
 me a hundred lashes of the strappado on my naked 
 back ; otherwise I shall apply elsewhere." — ■" Rather 
 than lose the fish," said the marquis, " we must e'en 
 let this fellow have his humour. — Here !" cried he, 
 to one of his grooms, " discharge this honest man's 
 demand, but don't lay on too hard ; don't hurt the 
 poor devil very much!" The fisherman then stripped, 
 and the groom prepared to execute his lordship's 
 orders. " Now, my friend," said the fisherman, 
 " keep an exact account, I beseech you ; for I don't 
 desire a single stroke more than my due." The whole 
 company were astonished at the fortitude with which 
 the man submitted to the operation, till he had re- 
 ceived the fiftieth lash ; when, addressing himself to 
 the servant— '* Hold, my friend," cried the fisher- 
 man, " I have now had my full share of the price." — 
 " Your share !" exclaimed the marquis ; " what is 
 the meaning of all this ?" — " My lord," returned the 
 fisherman, " I have a partner, to whom my honour is 
 engaged that he shall have his full half of whatever I 
 receive for the fish ; and your lordship, I dare ven- 
 ture to say, will by and by own that it would be a 
 
 thousand pities to defraud him of a single stroke."— 
 "And pray, honest friend," said the marquis, " who is 
 this partner?" — " Your porter, my lord," answered 
 the fisherman, " who keeps the outer-gate, and re- 
 fused to admit me, unless I would promise him half 
 what I should obtain for the fish." — "Ho! ho!" 
 exclaimed the marquis, laughing heartily, " by the 
 blessing of heaven, he shall have double his demand 
 in full tale !" The porter was accordingly sent for ; 
 and, being stripped to the skin, two grooms were 
 directed to lay on with all their might till he had 
 fairly received what he was so well entitled to. The 
 marquis then ordered his steward to pay the fisher- 
 man twenty sequins ; desiring him to call annually 
 for the like sum, as a recompense for the friendly 
 service he had rendered him. 
 
 REJECTED LOVE. 
 
 I prithee send me back my heart, 
 
 Since I cannot have thine ; 
 For if from yours you will not part, 
 
 Why then shouldest thou have mine ? 
 Yet, now I think on't, let it lie, 
 
 To find it were in vain, 
 For thou'st a thief in either eye 
 
 Would steal it back again. 
 Why should two hearts in one breast lie, 
 
 And yet not lodge together ? 
 O love, where is thy sympathy 
 
 If thus our breasts you sever ? 
 But love is such a mystery 
 
 I cannot find it out ; 
 For when I think I'm best resolved, 
 
 I then am most in doubt. 
 Then farewell care, and farewell woe, 
 
 I will no longer pine, 
 For I'll believe I have her heart 
 
 As much as she has mine. 
 
 hamlet's reflections on yorick's scull. 
 
 Grave-digger. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue ! 
 he poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This 
 same scull, sir, was Yorick's scull, the king's jester. 
 
 Ham. This? [Takes the scull. 
 
534 
 
 Grave-digger. E'en that. 
 
 Ham. Alas 1 poor Yoriek ! — I knew him, Horatio ; 
 a fellow of infinite jest ; of most excellent fancy :, he 
 hath borne me on his back a thousand times ; and 
 now, how abhorred in my imagination it is ! my gorge 
 rises at it. Here hung those lips, that I have kissed 
 I know not how oft. Where be your gibes nowT 
 your gambols 1 your songs I your flashes of merri- 
 ment, that were wont to set the table on a roar 1 Not 
 one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap- 
 fallen 1 Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell 
 her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she 
 must come ; make her laugh at that. 
 
 THE BREWER AND "NEGRO. 
 
 A brewer in a country town 
 
 Had got a monstrous reputation; 
 No other beer but his went down— 
 
 The hosts of the surrounding station 
 Carving his name upon their mugs, 
 
 And painting it on every shutter ; 
 
 And tho' some envious folks would utter 
 'Hints that its flavour came from drugs, 
 Others maintain'd 'twas no such matter, 
 
 But owing to his monstrous vat, 
 
 At least as corpulent as that 
 At Heidelberg— and some said fatter. 
 
 His foreman was a lusty black, 
 
 An honest fellow ; 
 But one who had an ugly knack 
 Of tasting samples as he brew'd, 
 
 Till he was stupified and mellow. 
 One day in this top-heavy mood, v 
 
 Having to cross the vat aforesaid, 
 (Just then with boiling beer supplied,) 
 
 O'ercome with giddiness and qualms, he 
 Reel'd— fell in— -and nothing more said, 
 But in his favourite liquor died, 
 
 Like Clarence in his butt of Malmsey. 
 
 In all directions round about 
 The negro absentee was sought, 
 But as no human noddle thought 
 
 That our fat Black was now Brown Stout, 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPPIER. 
 
 They settled that the negro had left 
 The place for debt, or crime, .or theft. 
 ; Meanwhile the beer was day by day 
 Prawn into casks and sent away 
 
 Until the lees flow'd thick and thicker, 
 When, lo ! outstretch'd upon the ground, 
 Once more their missing friend they found, 
 
 As they had often dene — in liquor. 
 See, cried his moralizing master, 
 
 1 always knew the fellow drank hard, 
 And prophesied some sad disaster ; 
 His fate should other tipplers strike, 
 Poor Mungo ! (here he welters, like 
 
 A toast at bottom of a tankard 
 Next morn, a publican, whose tap 
 
 Had help'd to drain the vat so dry, 
 Not having heard of the mishap, 
 
 Came to demand a fresh supply. 
 Protesting loudly that the last 
 All previous specimens surpass'd, 
 
 Possessing a much richer gusto 
 Than formerly it ever used to, 
 And begging, as a special favour, 
 Some more of the exact same flavour. 
 Zounds ! cried the brewer, that's a task 
 More difficult to grant than ask. 
 Most gladly would I give the smack 
 
 Of the last beer to the ensuing, 
 But where am I to find a Black, 
 
 And boil him down at every brewing? 
 
 CURE FOR GAMING. 
 
 Tom King meeting with a sporting gentlemen 
 under the Piazza, in Covent Garden, they retired to 
 an adjacent tavern to take a main at hazard for five 
 guineas. Tom soon lost his first stake, and with 
 much resignation eat his supper and drank his bottle. 
 His adversary, however, after supper, proposed to 
 him a second main, which Tom at first refused en- 
 gaging in, saying he had not, he believed, money 
 enough about him to answer the bet ; but this was 
 overruled by his adversary replying, his word was 
 sufficient for a hundred. — They renewed the party, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 and in a few hours Tom won two thousand four hun- 
 dred guineas. Tom's wife had sat up all night as 
 usual, after having sent every where in search of him, 
 without being able to gain any tidings ; when he re- 
 turned from his lucky vigil. Her inquiries were na- 
 turally very pressing, to knew where he had been, 
 | and what had kept hkn out so long ; to all which he 
 I made no other answer than very peremptorily saying, 
 " Bring me a bible." — ** A bible!" she re-echoed 
 with some ejaculation, " I hope you have not poisoned 
 
 yourself?" " Bring me a bible," continued Tom 
 
 — " I suppose," she resumed, " you've lost some great 
 sum — never mind, we can work for more." " Bring me 
 a bible, I say," still uttered Tom. — " Good Lord, 
 what can be the matter?" said Mrs. King. " I don't 
 believe there's such a thing in the house, without it 
 I be in the maid's room.'- Thither she went, and found 
 I part of one, without a cover ; when, having brought 
 I it to Tom, he fell upon his knees, and made a most 
 I fervent oath never to touch a die or card again ; 
 | whilst she all the time endeavoured to alleviate his 
 I grief, of which she considered this as the effusion, owing 
 to some very considerable loss. When he had finished, 
 and rose up, he flung fourteen hundred pounds in 
 bank-notes upon the table, saying, " There, my dear, 
 there's fourteen hundred pounds for you I've won to- 
 night, and I shall receive a thousand more by to- 
 morrow noon, and I'll be d — d if I ever risk a guinea 
 of it again." 
 
 A MOUTHFUL OF SENSE. 
 
 It was some years ago said in the Parliament 
 House at Edinburgh, that a gentleman (who was 
 known to have a pretty good appetite) had eaten 
 away his semes. "Pon!" replied Henry Erskine, 
 " they would not be a mouthful to him." 
 
 QUALITIES OF A GOOD AVIFE. 
 
 A good wife should be like three things, which 
 
 three things she should not be like : — First — she should 
 
 be like a snail, always keep within her own house ; but 
 
 i she should not be like a snail, to carry all she has 
 
 | upon her back. — Secondly, she should be like an echo, 
 
 I to speak when she is spoke to : but she should not be 
 
 535 
 
 like an echo, always to have the last word. — Thirdly, 
 she should be like a town-clock, always keep time 
 and regularity ; but she should not be like a town- 
 clock, to speak so loud that all the town may hear 
 her. 
 
 CLERICAL COMPLIMENT. 
 
 Dr. Balguy, a preacher of great celebrity, after 
 having preached an excellent discourse at Winchester 
 cathedral, the text of which was " All wisdom is 
 sorrow," received the following eloquent compliment 
 from Dr. Wharton, then at Winchester school : — 
 " If what you advance, dear doctor, be true, 
 That wisdom is sorrow, — how wretched are you?" 
 
 LOOSE READINGS. 
 
 A literary lady expressing to Dr. Johnson her ap- 
 probation of his Dictionary, and in particular her 
 satisfaction at his not admitting into it any improper 
 words. " No, Madam," replied he " I hope I have 
 not soiled my fingers : I find, however, that you have 
 been looking for them." 
 
 FASHIONABLE DINNER PARTY. 
 
 Thus to his mate Sir Robert spoke — 
 " The House is up ; from London smoke 
 
 All fly, the Park grows thinner ; 
 The friends, who fed us, will condemn 
 Our backward board ; we must feed them : 
 
 My dear, let's give a dinner." 
 
 " Agreed," his lady cries, " and first 
 Put down Sir George and Lady Hurst." 
 
 " Done ! now /name — the Gatties-!" 
 " My dear, they're rather stupid." — " Stuff! 
 We dine with them, and that's enough : 
 
 Besides I like their patties." 
 
 " Who next?" " Sir James and Lady Dunn." 
 
 " Oh no."—" Why not ?"— « They'll bring their son, 
 
 That regular tormentor ; 
 A couple, with one child, are sure 
 To bring three fools outside their door, 
 
 Whene'er abroad thev venture." 
 
536 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 " Who next ?"— « John Yates."—" What ! M.P. 
 
 Yates ; 
 Who o'er the bottle, stale debates 
 
 Drags forth ten times a minute 1" 
 " He's like the rest : whoever fails, 
 Out of St. Stephen's school tell tales 
 
 He'd quake to utter in it." 
 
 " Well, have him if you will.'' — " The Grants." 
 " My dear, remember, at your aunt's 
 
 I view'd them with abhorrence." 
 (i Why so?" — " Why, since they've come from Lisle, 
 (Which they call Leel) they bore our isle 
 
 With Brussels, Tours, and Florence." 
 
 Where could you meet them ?"- 
 Who next !" — " The Lanes." 
 
 At the Nore." 
 We want two 
 
 Lieutenant General Dizzy." 
 " He's deaf." " But then he'll bring Tom White. 
 " True ! ask them both : the boy's a bite ; 
 
 We'll place him next to Lizzy." 
 
 'Tis seven — the Hursts, the Dunns, Jack Yates, 
 The Grants assemble : dinner waits : 
 
 In march the Lanes, the Gattiesi 
 Objections, taunts, rebukes are fled, 
 Hate, scorn, and ridicule lie dead 
 
 As if so many Donatties. 
 
 Yates carves the turbot, Lane the lamb, 
 Sir George the fowls, Sir James the ham, 
 
 Dunn with the beef is busy, 
 His helpmate pats her darling boy, 
 And, to complete a mother's joy, 
 
 Tom White sits next to Lizzy. 
 
 All trot their hobbies round the room ; 
 They talk of routs, retrenchments, Hume, 
 
 The bard who won't lie fallow, 
 The Turks, the statue in the Park, 
 W T hich both the Grants, at once, remark 
 
 Jump'd down from Mount Cavallo. 
 
 They talk of dances, operas, dress, 
 They nod, they smile, they acquiesce j 
 
 None pout ; all seem delighted : 
 Heavens ! can this be the self-same set, 
 So courteously received, when met ; 
 
 So taunted, when invited ? 
 So have I seen, at Drury-lane, 
 A play rehearsed : the Thespian train 
 
 In arms ; the bard astounded : 
 Scenes cut ; parts shifted ; songs displaced ; 
 Jokes mangled ; characters effaced ; 
 
 " Confusion worse confounded." 
 But, on the night, with seeming hearts, 
 The warring tribe their several parts 
 
 Enact with due decorum. 
 Such is the gulf that intervenes 
 'Twixt those who get behind the scenes, 
 
 And those who sit before 'em ! 
 
 THE CAPTAIN'S WHISKERS. 
 
 By Mr. Holcroft. 
 
 A Swiss captain of grenadiers, whose company 
 had been cashiered, was determined, since Mars had 
 no more employment for him, to try if he could not 
 procure a commission in the corps of Venus ; or in 
 other words, if he could not get a wife : and as he 
 had no fortune of his own, he reasoned, and reasoned 
 very rightly, that it was quite necessary his intended 
 should have enough for them both. The Captain was 
 one of those kind of heroes, to whom the epithet of 
 hectoring blade might readily be applied. He was 
 near six feet high, and wore a long sword, and a 
 fierce cocked hat : add to which, that he was allowed 
 to have had the most martial pair of whiskers of any 
 grenadier in the company to which he belonged. To 
 curl these whiskers, to comb and twist them round 
 his fore-finger, and to admire them in the glass, 
 formed the chief occupation and delight of his life. 
 A man of these accomplishments, with the addition 
 of bronze and rodomontade, of which he had a su- 
 perfluity, stands, at all times, and in all countries, a 
 good chance with the ladies, as the experience of I 
 know not how many thousand years has confirmed. 
 
 Accordingly, after a little diligent attention, and 
 artful inquiry, a young lady was found, exactly such 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 53^ 
 
 a one as we may well suppose a person with his views 
 would be glad to find. — She was tolerably handsome ; 
 not more than three-and twenty ; with a good for- 
 tune ; and what was the best part of the story, this 
 fortune was entirely at her own disposal. 
 
 Our Captain, who thought now or never was the 
 time, having first found means to introduce himself 
 as a suitor, was incessant in his endeavours to carry 
 his cause. His tongue was eternally running in 
 praise of her super- superlative, never- to-be described 
 charms ; and in hyperbolical accounts of the flames, 
 darts, and daggers, by which his lungs, liver, and 
 midriff, were burnt up, transfixed, and gnawn away. 
 He who, in writing a song to his sweetheart, described 
 his heart to be without one drop of gravy, like an 
 over-done mutton-chop, was a fool at a simile, when 
 compared to our hero ! 
 
 One day as he was ranting, kneeling, and beseech- 
 ing his goddess to send him of an errand to pluck 
 the diamond from the nose of the great mogul, and 
 present it to her divinityship ; or suffer him to step 
 and steal the empress of China's enchanted slipper, 
 or the queen of Sheba's cockatoo ; as a small testi- 
 mony of what he would undertake to prove his love ! 
 she, after a little hesitation addressed him thus : — 
 
 " The protestations which you daily make, Captain, 
 as well as what you say at present, convince me that 
 there is nothing you would not do to oblige me : I, 
 therefore, do not find much difficulty in telling you 
 that I am willing to be yours, if you will perform one 
 thing which I shall request of you." 
 
 " Tell me, immaculate angel !" cried our son of 
 gunpowder ; " tell me what it is ! Though, before you 
 speak, be certain it is already done. Is it td find the 
 seal of Solomon? to catch the phoenix ? or draw your 
 chariot to church with unicorns ? What is the impos- 
 sible act that I will not undertake?" 
 
 " No, Captain," replied the fair one, " I shall en- 
 join nothing impossible. The thing I desire, you can 
 do with the utmost ease ; it wilL not cost you five 
 minutes trouble : and yet, were it not for your so 
 positive assurances, from what 1 have observed, I 
 should almost doubt of your compliance." 
 
 " Ah, Madam !" returned he, " wrong aot your 
 2 a3 
 
 slave thus ; deem it not possible, that he who eats 
 happiness, and drinks immortal life > from the light of 
 your eyes, can ever demur the thousandth part of a 
 semi^second to execute your omnipotent behests ! 
 Speak ! say ! what, empress of my parched entrails, 
 what must I perform ?" 
 
 " Nay, for that matter, it is a mere trifle ! — Only 
 to cut off your whiskers, Captain ; that's all." 
 
 " Madam ! [Be so kind, reader, as to imagine the 
 Captain's utter astonishment.] — "My whiskers! Cut 
 off my whiskers ' — Excuse me ! Cut off my whis- 
 kers ! — Pardon me, Madam. — Any thing else — any 
 thing that mind can or cannot imagine, or tongue 
 describe. Bid me fetch you Prester John's beard, 
 a hair at a time, and it's done. But, for my whiskers ! 
 you must grant me a salvo there !" 
 
 " And why so, good Captain ? — Surely any gentle- 
 man who had but the tithe of the passion you ex- 
 press, would not stand on such a trifle !" 
 
 " A trifle, Madam ! — My whiskers a trifle ! — No, 
 Madam, no ! — My whiskers are no trifle. Had I 
 but a single regiment of fellows whiskered like me, 
 I myself would be the Grand Turk of Constantinople. 
 — My whiskers, Madam, are the iast thing I should 
 have supposed you would have wished me to sacrifice. 
 — There is not a woman, married or single, — maid, 
 wife, or widow — that does not admire my whiskers !" 
 
 " May be so, sir ; but if you marry me, you must 
 cut them off."; 
 
 " And is there no other way ? Must I never hope 
 to be happy with you, unless T part with my whis- 
 kers ? " 
 
 " Never !" 
 
 " Why then, Madam, farewell. I would not part 
 with a single hair of my whiskers, if Catherine, 
 the czarina, empress of all the Russias, would make 
 me king of the Calrnucs ; and so, good morning to 
 you !" 
 
 Had all young ladies, in like circumstances, equal 
 penetration, they might generally rid themselves, 
 with equal ease, of the interested and unprincipled 
 coxcombs by whom they are pestered ; they all have 
 their whiskers : and seek for fortunes, to be able to 
 cultivate, not cut them off, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 538 
 
 EPILOGUE TO THE LYING VALET 
 
 That I'm a lying rogue, you all agree ; 
 
 And yet, look round the world, and you shall see 
 
 That many more, my betters, lie as fast as me. 
 
 Against this vice we all are ever railing ; 
 
 And yet, so tempting is it, so prevailing, 
 
 You'll find but few without this useful failing. 
 
 Lady or Abigail, my Lord or Will, 
 
 The lie goes round, and the ball's never still. 
 
 My lies were harmless, told to show my parts, 
 
 And not like those when tongues belie their hearts. 
 
 In all professions you will find this flaw; 
 
 And in the gravest too, in physic and in law. 
 
 The gouty sergeant cries, with formal pause, 
 
 " Your plea is good, my friend, don't starve the 
 
 cause ;" 
 But when my lord decrees for t'other side, 
 Your costs of suit convince you— that he lied. 
 A doctor comes, with formal wig and face, 
 First feels your pulse, then thinks, and knows your 
 
 case ; 
 " Your fever's slight, not dangerous, 1 assure you ; 
 Keep warm, and repetatur haustus y sir, will cure 
 
 you." 
 Around the bed next day his friends are crying ; 
 The patient dies, the doctor's paid for lying. 
 The poet, willing to secure the pit, 
 Gives out, his play has humour, taste, and wit . 
 The cause comes on, and while the judges try, 
 Each groan and cat-call gives the bard the lie. 
 Now let us ask, pray, what the ladies do ? 
 They too will fib a little, entre nous. 
 " Lord !" says the prude ("her face behind her fan) 
 How can our sex have any joy in man ? 
 As for my part, the best could ne'er deceive me ; 
 And were the race extinct, 'twould never grieve 
 
 me : 
 Thejr sight is odious, but their touch— O gad ! 
 The thought of that's enough to drive one mad. 
 Thus rails at man the sqeamish Lady Dainty, 
 Yet weds at fifty-five a rake of twenty. 
 In short, a beau's intrigues, a lover's sighs, 
 The courtier's promise, the rich widow's cries, 
 And patriot's zeal, are seldom more than lies. 
 
 Sometimes you'll see a man belie his nation, 
 Nor to his country show the least relation. 
 
 For instance, now « 
 
 A cleanly Dutchman or a Frenchman grave, 
 
 A sober German, or a Spaniard brave, 
 
 An Englishman, a coward or a slave. 
 
 Mine, though a fibbing, was an honest art ; 
 
 I serv'd my master, play'd a faithful part : 
 
 Rank me not, therefore, 'mongst the lying crew, 
 
 For, though my tongue was false, my heart was true. 
 
 1 
 
 WONDER FOR WONDER. 
 
 A few days after the blowing up of the powder- 
 mills at Hounslow, Foote was in a company where 
 the accident became the subject of discussion 
 Many extraordinary stories were related of the effects 
 produced by the explosion ; and among others, an en- 
 sign of the guards declared that as he was sitting in 
 his apartments, having his hair dressed, his seivant 
 and himself were thrown out of the dressing room into 
 the bed room, where they broke a large mirror to 
 pieces. The company smiled at the story as some- 
 what incredible; when Foote observed, " he was not 
 at all surprised at the circumstance, as he himself 
 was forced forty feet from the place where he 
 sat at breakfast, by the shock he received, and light- 
 ed in the midst of a whole assortment of china, which 
 he broke to pieces." " Aye/' exclaimed the ensign, 
 " that was more extraordinary — wonderful indeed." 
 " Not at all," replied the wit, " for on finding the 
 house shake, I became so greatly alarmed, that in 
 three strides I made into the street, and that you 
 know is full forty feet and more ; and running up ro 
 an old woman, who was passing with a basket of 
 china on her head, to inquire what was the matter, 
 such was my hurry and trepidation — yes, gentlemen, 
 such was my hurry and trepidation, that I overset 
 the woman, overset the basket, and broke all the 
 china." 
 
 the jew's expostulation. 
 
 Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, 
 In the Hi alto you. have rated me 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 539 
 
 :■' 
 
 About my monies, and my usances : 
 Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; 
 For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe : 
 You call me — misbeliever, cut-throat dog, 
 And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, 
 And all for use of that which is mine own. 
 "Well then, it now appears, you need my help : 
 Go to then ; you come to me, and you say, 
 Shi/lock, we would have monies ; You say so ; 
 You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, 
 And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur 
 Over your threshold : Monies is your suit. 
 What should T say to you ? Should I not say, 
 Hath a dog money ? is it possible, 
 A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? or 
 Shall I bend low, and, in a bondsman's key, 
 With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness, 
 Say this— 
 
 Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ; 
 You spurn' d me such a day ; another time 
 Yok calVd me — dog ; and for these courtesies 
 I'll- lend you thus much monies. 
 
 INSPIRATION OF PUNCH. 
 
 Curran attributes the first impulse of his genius to 
 the inspiration of punch. His first effort to speak in 
 public, was at a debating society ; where he failed so 
 completely, that his friend Mr. Apjohn advised him 
 not to aspire higher than a chamber counsel, as na- 
 ture never intended him for an orator. His own 
 account is thus ■. 
 
 " Apjohn dined with me that day ; and when the 
 leg of mutton, or rather the bone, was removed, we 
 offered up the libation of an additional glass of punch. 
 In the evening, we repaired to ' the Devil.' One of 
 them was upon his legs ; a highly gifted gentleman, 
 with dirty cravat, and greasy pantaloons. I found 
 this learned personage calumniating craniology, by 
 the most preposterous anachronisms ; and traducing 
 the illustrious dead. He descanted upon Demos- 
 thenes, the glory of the Roman forum ; spoke of Tully 
 as the famous contemporary and rival of Cicero : and 
 in the short space of one half hour, transported the 
 
 plains fjf Marathon three several times to the straits 
 of Thermopylae. Thinking that I had a right to know 
 something of these matters, I looked at him with sur- 
 prise ; and whether it was my classical rivalry, or, 
 the supplemental tumbler of punch, that gave my 
 face a smirk of saucy confidence, when our eyes met, 
 the erudite gentleman changed his invective against 
 antiquity, into an invective against me, and conclude 
 ed by a few words of friendly counsel to . ' Orator 
 Mum/ who, he doubted not, possessed wonderful ta- 
 lents for eloquence, although he would recommend 
 him to show it in future by some more popular method 
 than silence. T followed his advice, and I believe 
 not entirely without effect ; for, when, upon sitting 
 down, I whispered my friend, that I hoped he did not 
 think my dirty antagonist had come quite clear off. 
 " On the contrary, my dear fellow," said he, " every 
 one around me is declaring, that it is the first time 
 they ever saw him so well dressed." 
 
 ON RECEIVING A BLANK LETTER. 
 
 FROM HIM ON THE FIRST OF ATRIL. 
 
 I pardon, sir, the trick you've play'd me, 
 When an April Fool you made me ; 
 Since one day only I appear, 
 What you, alas ! do all the year. 
 I 
 
 PREACHING AND SPELLING. 
 
 Of six and thirty persons, (sectarians,) who ob- 
 tained licenses to preach, at one session of the Mid- 
 dlesex magistrates, six spelled " ministers of the 
 gospel" in six different ways, and seven signed their 
 mark thus x , (». e. their cross.) One fellow, who 
 applied for a license, being asked if he could read, 
 replied, " Mother reads, and I 'spounds and 
 'splains." 
 
 TO A GENTLEMAN WHO COMPLAINED OF HAVING 
 LOST HIS GOLD WATCH. 
 
 Fret not, my friend, or peevish say 
 Your fate is worse than common ; 
 
 For gold takes wings, and flies away, 
 And time will stay for no man. 
 
£40 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE HUMOROUS MAN. 
 
 You shall know the man of humour by the vivacity 
 of his eyes, the " morn-elastic" tread of his foot, 
 the lightness of his brow, and the dawning smile of 
 pleasantry in his countenance. He is a man who 
 cares for nothing so much as a " mirth-moving jest ;" 
 give him that, and he has " food and raiment." He 
 will not see what men have to cark and care for, be- 
 yond to-day ; he is for to-morrow's providing for 
 himself. He is for a new reading of Ben Jonson's 
 old play of " Every Man in his Humour," he would 
 have it "Every Man in Humour." He leaves money 
 and misery, to misers ; ambition and blood, to great 
 warriors and low highwaymen ; fame, to coUrt-lau- 
 reates and lord- mayors ; honours, to court-panders and 
 city knights ; the dread of death, to such as are not 
 worthy of life ; the dread of heaven, to those who 
 are not good enough even for earth ; the grave, to 
 the parish-clerk and undertakers ; tombs, to proud 
 worms ; and palaces to paupers. It is enough for 
 him if he may laugh the " hours away ;" and break 
 a jest, where tempers more humorous break a head. 
 He would not barter with you one wakeful jest for 
 a hundred sleepy sermons ; or one laugh for a thou- 
 sand sighs. If he could allow himself to sigh about 
 any thing, it would be that he had been serious when 
 he might have laughed ; if he could weep for any 
 thing, it would be for mankind, because they will 
 not laugh more and mourn less. Yet he hath tears 
 for the pitiable, the afflicted, the orphan, and the 
 unhappy ; but his tears die where they are bom, — 
 in his heart ; he makes no show of them ; like April 
 showers, they refresh where they fall, and turn to 
 smiles, as all tears will, that are not selfish. His 
 grief has a humanity in it, which is not satisfied 
 with tears only ; it teaches him 
 
 the disparity 
 
 'Tween poor and rich, weal and want, and moves 
 His heart to truth, his hands to charity. 
 
 He loves no face more than a smiling one ; a need- 
 lessly serious one serveth him for the whetting of his 
 wit, — as cold flints strike out quick sparks of fire. 
 
 His humour shows itself to all things and on all 
 
 occasions. I found hira once bowing on the stairs to 
 a poor alarmed devil of a rat, who was cringing up 
 in a corner ; he was politely offering him the retreat 
 honourable, with an " After you sir, if you would 
 honour me." I settled the point of etiquette, by 
 kicking the rat down stairs, and received a frown 
 from my humane friend, for my impatient inhumanity. 
 
 His opinions of men and things have some spice of 
 singularity in them. He conceives it to be a kind of 
 puppyism in pigs that they wear tails — He defines 
 a great coat to be " a Spencer, folio edition, with 
 tail-pieces" He calls Hercules a man-midwife, in 
 a small way of business; because he had but twelve 
 labours. He can tell you why Horace ran away from 
 the battle of Philippi : it was to prove to the "Ro- 
 mans that he was not a lame poet. He describes 
 your critics to be a species of door-porters to the 
 temple of fame ; and says it is their business to see 
 that no persons slip in with holes in their stockings, 
 or paste buckles for diamond ones ; not that they 
 always perform this duty honestly. He calls the sun 
 " the yclloiu hair'd laddie " the prince of darkness, 
 "the Black Prince " or, when he displeases his 
 sense of virtue, " Monsieur De Vil" He will ask 
 you, " What is the distinctive difference between a 
 sigh-heaver and a coal heaver V You cannot divine ; 
 he tells you, " a coal-heaver has a load at his back, 
 which he can carry ; a sigh-heaver has one at his 
 heart, winch he can not carry." 
 
 If he quotes a proverb at all, it is " with a dif- 
 ference ;" such as " Cobbler, stick to your wax" — 
 a thing more practicable than sticking to his last, as 
 the old proverb adviseth. He will say, " What is 
 bred in the bone will not come out with the skewer " 
 — which, to those Epicurean persons who have the 
 magpie propensity of prying into marrow-bones, must 
 simplify the proverb to their fatheaded comprehen- 
 sions. Some one used that very trite old proverb in 
 his hearing, of necessity having no laws : upon which, 
 wilfully misunderstanding it, he remarked, " I am 
 very sorry for it ; it is surely a pity, considering the 
 number of " the learned clerks" she might give em- 
 ploy to, if she had. Her chancellor would have 
 no sinecure of it, I trow j hearing the petitions of 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 her poor, broken-fortuned, and bankrupt subjects, 
 would take up all his terms, though every term were 
 a year, and every year a term." 
 
 He is a polite man, though a wit ; which is not 
 what wits usually are ; they would rather lose a life 
 than a joke. I have heard him express his detesta- 
 tion of those wits who sport with venomed weapons, 
 and wish them the fate of Laertes, who, in his en- 
 counter with Hamlet, got his weapon changed, and 
 was himself wounded with the poisoned foil he had 
 designed for his antagonist. I mean by saying he is 
 a polite man, that he is naturally, not artificially, 
 polite ; for the one is but a handsome, frank-looking 
 mask, under which you conceal the contempt you feel 
 for the person you seem most diligent to please ; it is 
 a gilt-edged envelope to a blank valentine ; a shell 
 without a nut ; a courtesan in a fair Quaker's chaste 
 satinity and smooth sleekness ; the arch devil in a 
 domino ; — the other is, as he describes it, taking the 
 hat and cloak of your heart off, and standing un- 
 covered and unconcealed in the presence of worth, 
 beauty, or any one amiable quality. 
 
 In short, he is a humane man ; and humanity is 
 your only true politeness. I have seen him ridicule 
 that politeness which contents itself with bowing and 
 back-bending, very humorously. In walking through 
 his garden, a tree or tall flower, touched by the 
 passing wind, bowed its head towards him; his hat 
 was off, and the bow was returned with an old-school 
 ceremoniousness and etiquette that would, perhaps, 
 have cured Lord Chesterfield, that fine polisher of 
 exteriors, of some of his hollow-nutted notions of 
 manners. In this spirit, I saw him bow very pro- 
 foundly to the giants, as he passed by St. Dunstan's 
 church. — He had asked his friend Hobbes or Dobbs 
 (I know not which) what was the hour? Before 
 Hobbes could reply, the giants had informed him. 
 '* Thank you, gentlemen," said he, bowing to them 
 with a graceful humour. 
 
 I have said he is a humane man. He once detected 
 an unintimate cat picking his cold mutton, " on a 
 day, alack the day !" for he was then too poor to 
 spare it well. Some men would have thrown a poker 
 at her ; others would have squandered away a gen- 
 
 541 
 
 tlemanly income of oaths, and then have sworn by 
 private subscription ; an absent man, had he been 
 present, would perhaps have thrown his young son 
 and heir, or his gold watch and seals, at her ; another, 
 perhaps, his wig ; — he contented himself with saying, 
 " I have two or three doubts, (which I shall put 
 fortn as much in the shape of a half-crown pamphlet 
 as possible,) as to the propriety of your conduct in 
 eating my mutton ;" and then he brushed her off 
 with his handkerchief, supped on half a French roll 
 and a gooseberry, and went happy to bed. 
 
 Some of his jokes have a practicality about them ; 
 but they neither have the quarter-staff jocoseness of 
 Robin Hood, that brake heads let them be never so 
 obtuse and profound ; nor the striking effect of that 
 flourishing sprig of the Green Isle, that knocks down 
 friend and foe with a partiality truly impartial. 
 
 He is no respecter of persons : the beggar may 
 have a joke of him, (and something better,) though 
 they do not happen to apply exactly " between the 
 hours of eleven and four." Those handmaids of Po- 
 mona, who vend their fruits about the streets, seem, 
 by their voices, to be legitimate daughters of old 
 Stentor ; more especially shall I specify those dam- 
 sels who sell walnuts. To one of these our humorist 
 once addressed himself il to the effect following :" — 
 " Pray, Mrs. Jones, will you crack me fifty walnuts 
 with the same voice you cry them with ]" 
 
 At dinner there is purposely but one glass on the 
 table ; his lady apologizes for her seeming negligence; 
 — " Time, my dear, hath no more than one glass ; 
 and yet he contrives to see all his guests under the 
 table — 'kings, lord-mayors, and pot-boys." 
 
 If he lends you a book, for the humour of the 
 thing, he will request you, as you love clean shoes on 
 a lord-mayor's day, to make no thumb-and-butter 
 references in the margin ; and will, moreover, ask 
 you whether you have studied that modern " art of 
 book-keeping ," which has superseded the " Italian 
 method" viz. of never returning the books you bor- 
 row 1 
 
 He has a very ingenious mode of putting names 
 and significations on what he calls the brain-rack, 
 and dislocating their joints into words : thus tortured 
 
542 
 
 and broke into pieces, Themistocles loses his quality, 
 but increases his quantity, and becomes the Miss 
 Tokeleys ; the Cycladts, by the same disorder, be- 
 come sick ladies; a " delectable enjoyment" is a 
 deal-legged-table pleasure ; &c. &c. pun without 
 end. These are what he denominates punlings. 
 
 For his puns, they fall as thick from him as leaves 
 from autumn-bowers. Sometime since, he talked of 
 petitioning for the office of ■pun-purveyor to his ma- 
 jesty ; but ere he had written " and your petitioner 
 shall ever" pun, it was bestowed on the yeoman of 
 the guard. He still, however, talks of opening busi- 
 ness as " pun-wright in general to his Majesty's 
 subjects," for the diffusion of that pleasant small- 
 ware of wit ; and intends to advertise '.' puns whole- 
 sale, retail, and for exportation. N.B. 1. — A liberal 
 allowance made to captains and gentlemen going to 
 the East" or West Indies. Hooks, Peakes, and Po- 
 cocks, supplied on moderate terms. Worn-out senti- 
 ments and clap-traps taken in exchange. N. B. 2. — 
 May be had in a large quantity in a great deal box, 
 price five acts of sterling comedy, per packet ; or in 
 small quantities in court-plaster-sized boxes, price 
 one melodrama and an interlude, per box — N. B. 3. 
 — The genuine aie sealed with a Munden grin ; all 
 others are counterfeits. Long live Apollo !" &c. &c. 
 
 CHEERFULNESS. 
 
 Let me play the fool : 
 With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; 
 And let my liver rather heat with wine, 
 Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
 Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 
 Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? 
 Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice 
 By being peevish ? 
 
 THE DEAD ALIVE. 
 
 An hypochondriac, after ringing the change of 
 every mad conceit that ever tormented a crazy brain, 
 would have it at last that he was dead, actually dead. 
 Dr. Stevenson having been sent for one morning in 
 great haste, by the wife of his patient, hastened to 
 his bedside, where he found him stretched out at 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 full length, his hands across his breast, his toes in 
 contact, his eyes and mouth closely shut, and his 
 looks cadaverous. 
 
 " Well, sir, how do you do, this morning V' asked 
 Dr Stevenson, in a jocular way, approaching his bed. 
 " How do I do 1" replied the hypochondriac faintly ; 
 " a pretty question to ask a dead man." " Dead !" 
 replied the doctor. " Yes, sir, dead, quite dead. I 
 died last night about twelve o'clock." 
 
 Dr. Stevenson putting his hand gently on the fore- 
 head of the hypochondriac, as if to ascertain whether 
 it was cold, and also feeling his pulse, exclaimed in 
 a doleful note, " Yes, the poor man is dead enough ; 
 'tis all over with him, and now the sooner he can be 
 buried the better." Then stepping up to his wife, 
 and whispering to her not to be frightened at the 
 measures he was about to take, he called to the ser- 
 vant ; " My boy, your poor master is dead ; and the 
 sooner he can be put in the ground the better. Bun 
 to C — m, for I know he always keeps New England 
 coffins by him ready made • and do you hear, bring 
 a coffin of the largest size, for your master makes a 
 stout corpse, and having died last night, and the 
 weather being warm, he will not keep long." 
 
 Away went the servant, and soon returned with a 
 proper coffin. The wife and family having got their 
 lesson from the doctor, gathered around him, and 
 howled not a little while they were putting the body 
 in the coffin. Presently the pall-bearers, who were 
 quickly provided and let into the secret, started with 
 the hypochondriac for the church-yard. They had 
 not gone far, before they were met by one of the 
 town's people, who, having been properly drilled by 
 Stevenson, cried out, " Ah, doctor, what poor soul 
 have you got there V 
 
 " Poor Mr. B ," sighed the doctor, " left us> 
 
 last night." 
 
 " Great pity he had not left us twenty years ago," 
 replied the other ; " he was a bad man." 
 
 Presently another of the townsmen met them with 
 the same question, " And what poor soul have you 
 got there, doctor V* 
 
 " Poor Mr. B— ^— ," answered the doctor again, 
 " is dead." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 543 
 
 " Ah ! indeed," said the other ; " and so he is gone 
 to meet his deserts at last." 
 
 " O, villain !" exclaimed the man in the coffin. 
 
 Soon after this, while the pall-bearers were resting 
 themselves near the church-yard, another stepped up 
 with the old question again, "What poor soul have 
 yovi got there, doctor V 
 
 " Poor Mr. B ," he replied, " is gone." 
 
 " Yes and to the bottomless pit," said the other ; 
 (t for if he is not gone there, I see not what use there 
 is for such a place." Here the dead man, bursting 
 offthelidof the coffin, which had been purposely 
 left loose, leaped out, exclaiming, " O, you villain ! 
 I am gone to the bottomless pit am 1 1 Well, I have 
 come back again, to pay such ungrateful rascals as 
 you are." A chase was immediately commenced, by 
 the dead man after the living, to the petrifying con- 
 sternation of many of the spectators, at sight of a 
 corpse, in all the horrors of the winding sheet, run- 
 ning through the streets. After having exercised 
 himself iuto a copious perspiration by the fantastic 
 race, the hypochondriac was brought home by Dr. 
 Stevenson, freed from all his complaints ; and by 
 strengthening food, generous wine, cheerful company, 
 and moderate exercise, was soon restored to perfect 
 health. 
 
 PROLOGUE TO BARBAROSSA. 
 
 Spoken by Garrick, in the character of a Country 
 
 Boy. 
 Measter ! measter ! 
 
 Is not my measter here among you, pray? 
 Nay speak — my measter wrote this fine new play— — 
 The actor-folks are making such a clatter ! 
 They want the pro-log — I know nought o' the mat- 
 ter : 
 
 He must be there among you — look about 
 
 A weezen pale fac'd mon — do find him out. 
 Pray, measter, come, or all will fall to sheame ; 
 Call Mister — Hold — I must not tell his neame. t 
 
 ^ La ! what a crowd is here ! what noise and pother ! 
 Fine lads' and lasses ! one o' top o'other. 
 
 [Pointing to the rows of pit and gallery. 
 
 I could for ever here with wonder gaze ; 
 1 ne'er saw a church so full, in all my days ! — 
 Your servant, sirs — What do you laugh for, eh 1 
 You donna take me sure for one o' the play 1 
 You should not flout an honest country lad — 
 You think me fool, and I think you half mad : 
 You're all as strange as I, and stranger too ; 
 And, if you laugh at me, I'll laugh at you. 
 
 [Laughing. 
 I donna like your London tricks, not I ; 
 And, since you've rais'd my blood, I'll tell you why: 
 And, if you wull, since now I am before ye, 
 For want of pro-log, I'll relate my story. 
 
 I came from country here to try my fate, 
 And get a place among the rich and great : 
 But troth I'm sick o' th' journey I ha' ta'en ; 
 I like it not — would I were whoame again ! 
 
 First, in the city I took up my station, 
 And got a place with one o' th' corporation. 
 A round big man — he eat a plaguy deal ; 
 Zooks ! he'd have beat five ploomen at a meal ! 
 But long with him I could not make abode, 
 For, could you think't ? — he eat a great sea-toad • 
 It came from Indies — 'twas as big as me ; 
 He call'd it belly-patch, and cap-a-pee : 
 La ! how I star'd ! — I thought— who knows, but I, 
 
 For want of monsters, mav be made a 
 
 pie 
 
 Rather than tarry here for bribe or gain, 
 I'll back to whoame and country fare again. 
 
 I left toad-eater ; then I serv'd a lord, 
 And there theypromis'd ! — but ne'er kept their word. 
 While 'mong the great this geaming work, the trade is, 
 They mind no more poor servants— than their ladies. 
 
 A lady next, who lik't a smart young lad, 
 Hir'd me forthwith — but, troth, I thought her mad. 
 She turn'd the world top-down, as I may say, 
 She chang'd the day to neet, the neet to day ! 
 I was so sheam'd with all her freakish ways, 
 She wore her gear so short, so low her stays- 
 Fine folks show all for nothing now-a-days J 
 
 Now I'm the poet's mon 1 find with wits 
 
 There's nothing sartain — nay, we eat by fits. 
 
544 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Our meals, indeed, are slender— what of that ? 
 There are but three on's — measter, I, and cat. 
 Did you but see us all, as I'm a sinner,. 
 You'd scarcely say which of the three is thinner. 
 
 My wages all depend on this night's piece ; 
 But should you find that all our swans are geese ! 
 'Efeck, I'll trust no more to measter's brain, 
 But pack up all and whistle whoame again. 
 
 EPILOGUE TO THE SAME. 
 
 Spoken by Mr. Woodward, in the character of a 
 fine Gentleman. 
 
 {Speaking without. 
 'Pshaw ! damn your epilogue, and hold your tongue — 
 Shall we of rank be told what's right and wrong ? 
 Had you ten epilogues, you should not speak 'em, 
 Tho' he had writ them all in linguum Grecum. 
 I'll do't, by all the gods ! (you must excuse me) 
 Tho' author, actors, audience, all abuse me ! 
 
 [To the audience. 
 Behold a gentleman ! — and that's enough ! 
 Laugh if you please — I'll take a pinch of snuff! 
 I come to tell you (let me not surprise you) 
 That I'm a wit — and worthy to advise you. 
 How could you suffer that same country booby, 
 That pro-log speaking savage, that great looby, 
 To talk his nonsense?— give me leave to say, 
 'Twas low ! damn'd low ! — but save the fellow's play : 
 Let the poor devil eat ; allow him that, 
 And give a meal to measter, mon, and cat ! 
 But why attack the fashions'? senseless rogue ! 
 We have no joys but what result from vogue : 
 The mode should all controul ! — nay, ev'ry passion, 
 Sense, appetite, and all, give way to fashion : 
 I hate as much as he a turtle-feast, 
 But 'till the present turtle-rage is ceas'd, 
 I'd ride a hundred miles to make myself a beast. 
 I have no ears ; yet op'ras I adore ! 
 Always prepar'd to die — to sleep — no more ! 
 The ladies too were carp'd at, and their dress, 
 He wants 'em all rufFd up like good queen Bess ! 
 They are, forsooth, too much expos'd and free : 
 Were more expos'd, no ill effects I see, 
 Tor more or less, 'tis all the same to me. 
 
 Poor gaming too, was mauFd among the rest, 
 That precious cordial to a high-life breast ! 
 When thoughts arise, I always game or drink, 
 
 An English gentleman should never think 
 
 The reason's plain, which ev'ry soul might hit on— 
 
 What trims a Frenchman, oversets a Briton. 
 
 In us reflection breeds a sober madness, 
 
 Which always ends in politics or sadness, 
 
 I therefore now propose, by your command, 
 
 That tragedies no more shall cloud this land ; 
 
 Send o'er your Shakspeares to the sons of Franca, 
 
 Let them grow grave— let us begin to dance ! 
 
 Banish your gloomy scenes to foreign climes, 
 
 Reserve alone, to bless these golden times, 
 
 A Farce or two — and Woodward's pantomimes. 
 
 GAREICK. 
 LOQUACITY. 
 
 Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more 
 than any man in all Venice : his reasons are as two 
 grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you shall 
 seek all day ere you find them : and when you have 
 them, they are not worth the search. 
 
 SCOTTICISMS. 
 
 Step in to the fire, (sometimes pronounced hastily, 
 step into the fire,) means, in Scotland, come or go 
 to the fire. 
 
 A Scotch woman said, ' She never minded ser- 
 mons ;' meaning she never remembered sermons. 
 
 He stays in the Lawn-market ; i. e. he lives there. 
 
 To cry upon a person, means, to call him, not to 
 drown him with tears. 
 
 To cast out with a person, means, to fall out with 
 him. 
 
 He is turned a fine boy, means he is become a fine 
 boy. 
 
 He dines at home for ordinary, read, he commonly 
 dines at home. 
 
 He has cut out his hair, for, he has cut off his hair. 
 
 / cannot go the day, for, I cannot go to-day. 
 
 To look over the window, for, look out of the 
 window. 
 
 To be at home, does not mean, in Scotland, to be 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 545 
 
 in one's own house ; but it means to be at no great 
 distance, or not out of town. — Is Mr. Bell at home ? 
 Yes, sir ! he is at home, but he is not within, or he 
 is not in. 
 
 He stuck among- the clay, instead of, in the clay. 
 
 Have you a knife upon you ? for, about you. 
 
 Mr. A. is married upon Miss B. 
 
 Make a pen to me, buy a knife to me, instead of for. 
 
 He insisted for it ; he insisted to have it. 
 
 Take tent, is the Scotch for take care. " If you 
 don't take tent," said a Scotch physician, in Jamaica, 
 to his patient, •* it will be soon all over with you." 
 The family, thinking that the doctor meant to recom- 
 mend the use of the wine called tent, despatched the 
 house-negroes in all directions to procure some of it. 
 But when the doctor next came, they found that they 
 had only mistaken one of his Caledonian phrases. 
 
 MODERN EPICURISM. 
 
 Great things are now to be achieved at table, 
 
 "With massy plate for armour, knives and forks 
 For weapons ; but what Muse since Homer's able 
 
 (His feasts are not the worst part of his works) 
 To draw up in array a single day-bill 
 
 Of modern dinners 1 where more mystery lurks 
 In soups or sauces, or a sole ragout, 
 Than witches, b — dies, or physicians brew. 
 There was a goodly " soupe a la bonne femme,'' 
 
 Though God knows whence it came from ; there 
 was too 
 A turbot for relief of those who cram, 
 
 Relieved with dindon a la Parigeux ; 
 There also was — the sinner that I am ! 
 
 How shall I get this gourmand stanza through 1 — 
 Soupe a la Beauveau, whose relief was Dory, 
 Relieved itself by pork, for greater glory. 
 But I must crowd all into one grand mess 
 
 Or mass ; for should I stretch into detail, 
 My Muse would run much more into excess, 
 
 Than when some squeamish people deem her frail. 
 But. though a " bonne vivante," I must confess 
 
 Her stomach's not her peccant part ; this tale 
 However doth require some slight refection, 
 Just to relieve her spirits from dejection. 
 
 Fowls a la Conde, slices eke of salmon, 
 
 With sauces Genevoises, and haunch of venison ; 
 
 Wines too which might again have slain young 
 Ammon — 
 A man like whom I hope we shan't see many soon ; 
 
 They also set a glazed Westphalian ham on, 
 Whereon Apicms would bestow his benison ; 
 
 And then there was Champagne with foaming whirls, 
 
 As white as Cleopatra's melted pearls. 
 
 Then there was God knows what " a l'Allemande," 
 
 " A l'Espagnole," " timballe," and " salpicon" — 
 With things I can't withstand or understand, 
 
 Though swallow'd with much zest upon the whole ; 
 And " entremets" to piddle with at hand, 
 
 Gently to lull down the subsiding soul ; 
 While great Lucullus' (Robe triumphal) muffles — 
 ( There's Fame) — young Partridge fillets, deck'd with 
 
 truffles. 
 What are the fillets on the victor's brow 
 
 To these 1 They are rags or dust. Where is the arck 
 Which nodded to the nation's spoils below 
 
 Where the triumphal chariot's haughty march? 
 Gone to where victories must like dinners go. 
 
 Further I shall not follow the research : 
 But oh ! ye modern heroes with your cartridges, 
 When will your names lend lustre even to partridges 1 
 
 Those truffles too are no bad accessaries, 
 
 Follow'd by " Petits puits d' amour" — a dish 
 
 Of which perhaps the cookery rather varies, 
 So every one may dress it to his wish, 
 
 According to the best of dictionaries, 
 
 Which encyclopedize both flesh and fish ; 
 
 But even sans " confitures," it no less true is, 
 
 There's pretcy picking in those " petits puits." 
 
 The mind is lost in mighty contemplation 
 Of intellect expended on two courses ; 
 
 And indigestion's grand multiplication 
 Requires arithmetic beyond my forces. 
 
 Who would suppose, from Adam's simple ration, 
 That cookery could have call'd forth such resources. 
 
 As form a science and a nomenclature 
 
 From out the commonest demands of nature 1 
 
546 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 The glasses jingled, and the palates tingled ; 
 
 The diners of celebrity dined well : 
 The ladies with more moderation mingled 
 
 In the feast, pecking less than I can tell ; 
 Also the younger men too ; for a springald 
 
 Can't like ripe age in gourmandise excel, 
 But think less of good eating than the whisper 
 (When seated next him) of some pretty lisper. 
 Alas ! I must leave undescribed the gibier, 
 
 The salmi, the consomme", the pur6e, 
 All which I use to make my rhymes run glibber 
 
 Than could roast beef in our rough John Bull way ; 
 I must not introduce even a spare rib here, 
 
 " Bubble and squeak" would spoil my liquid lay ; 
 But I have dined, and must forego, alas ! 
 The chaste description even of a " b£casse," 
 And fruits, and ice, and all that art refines 
 
 From nature for the service of the gout — 
 Taste or the gout, — pronounce it as inclines 
 
 Your stomach ! Ere you dine, the French will do ; 
 But after, there are sometimes certain signs 
 
 Which prove plain English truer of the two. 
 Hast ever had the gout ? I have not had it — 
 But I may have, and you too, reader, dread it. 
 The simple olives, best allies of wine, 
 
 Must I pass over in my bill of fare ? 
 I must, although a favourite " plat" of mine 
 
 In Spain, and Lucca, Athens, every where : 
 On them and bread 'twas oft my luck to dine, 
 
 1'he grass my table-cloth, in open air, 
 On Sunium or Hymettus, like Diogenes, 
 Of whom half my philosophy the progeny is. 
 Amidst this tumult of fish, flesh, and fowl, 
 
 And vegetables, all in masquerade, 
 The guests were placed according to their roll, 
 
 But various as the various meats display'd. 
 
 ABROAD AND AT HOME. 
 
 The English abroad can never get to look as if they 
 were at home. The Irish and Scotch, after being 
 some time in a place, get the air of the natives ; hut 
 an Englishman, in any foreign court, looks about him 
 as if he was going to steal a tankard. 
 
 SWIFT S OBJECTION TO MATRIMONY. 
 
 Though the dean was the best of company, and 
 one of the liveliest men in England of his age, he 
 said, (when in no ill humour,) " The best of life is 
 but just tolerable : 'tis the most we can make of it." 
 He observed that it was very apt to be a misfortune 
 to be used to the best company : and gave as a reason 
 for his not marrying, that he had always been used 
 to converse with women of the higher class, and that 
 he might as well think of marrying a princess as one 
 of them. — " A competence" said he " enables me, 
 single as I am, to keep as good company as I have 
 been used to, but with a wife of this kind and a family 
 what should I have done V 
 
 ART OF CONVERSATION. 
 
 No one will ever shine in conversation, who thinks 
 of saying fine things : to please, one must say many 
 things indifferent, and many very bad. 
 
 TO DEATH. 
 
 Oh, Death ! thou thinnest of all duns ! thou daily 
 
 Knockest at doors, at first with modest tap, 
 Like a meek tradesman when approaching palely 
 
 Some splendid debtor he would take by sap : 
 But oft denied, as patience 'gins to fail, he 
 
 Advances with exasperated rap, 
 And (if let in) insists, in terms unhandsome, 
 On ready money or " a draft on Ransom." 
 Whate'er thou takest, spare awhile poor Beauty. ! 
 
 She is so rare, and thou hast so much prey. 
 What though she now and then may slip from duty, 
 
 The more's the reason why you ought to stay. 
 Gaunt Gourmand ! with whole nations for your booty, 
 
 You should be civil in a modest way : 
 Suppress then some slight feminine diseases, 
 And take as many heroes as heaven pleases. 
 
 REMEDY FOR DULNESS. 
 
 Lord Dorset used to say cf a very goodnatured 
 dull fellow, " Tis a thousand pities that man is not 
 ill -natured ! that one might kick him out of com- 
 pany." 
 
MERCANTILE INDIGESTION, WITH THE PRESCRIP- 
 TIONS OF AN EDINBURGH PROFESSOR. 
 
 Scene — Doctor's study. Enter a douce-looking 
 Glasgow Merchant 
 
 Patient — Good morning, doctor; I'm just come in 
 to Edinburgh about some law business, and I thought 
 when I was here at ony rate I might just as weel tak 
 your advice, sir, anent my trouble. 
 
 Doctor. — And pray what may jour trouble be, my 
 good sir ? 
 
 Pa. — 'Deed, doctor, I'm no very sure; but I'm 
 thinking it's a kind of weakness that makes me dizzy 
 at times, and a kind of pinkling about my stomach — 
 just no right. 
 
 Dr. — You'r from the west country I should sup- 
 pose, sir? 
 
 Pa. — Yes, sir, from Glasgow. 
 
 Dr. — Ave. Pray, sir, are you a gourmand — a 
 glutton ? 
 
 Pa. — God forbid, sir, I'm one of the plainest men 
 living in all the west country. 
 
 Dr. — Then perhaps you're a drunkard ? 
 
 Pa. — No, doctor, thank God no one can accuse me 
 of that ; I'm of the Dissenting persuasion, doctor, and 
 an elder, so ye may suppose I'm nae drunkard. 
 
 Dr. — Aside — (I'll suppose no such thing till you 
 tell me your mode of life.) I'm so much puzzled 
 with your symptoms, sir, that I should wish to hear in 
 detail what you do eat and drink. When do you 
 breakfast, and what do you take to it ? 
 
 Pa. — I breakfast at nine o'clock. I tak a cup of 
 coffee, and one or two cups of tea ; a couple of eggs, 
 and a bit of ham or kipper'd salmon, or may be both, 
 if they're good, and two or three rolls and butter. 
 
 Dr. — Do you eat no honey, or jelly, or jam, to 
 breakfast 1 
 
 Pa. — O yes, sir, but I don't count that as any 
 thing. 
 
 Dr. — Come, this is a very moderate breakfast. 
 What kind of dinner do you make ? 
 
 Pa. — Oh, sir, I eat a very plain dinner indeed. 
 Some soup, and some fish, and a little plain roast or 
 
 THE LA.UGHIXG PHILOSOPHER. 547 
 
 boiled ; for I dinna cafe for made dishes ; I think some 
 
 way they never satisfy the appetite. 
 
 Dr. — You take a little pudding then, and after- 
 wards some cheese ? 
 
 Pa. — O yes ; though I don't care much about them. 
 
 Dr. — You take a glass of ale or porter with your 
 cheese ? 
 
 Pa. — Yes, one or the other, but seldom both. 
 
 Dr. — You west-country people generally take a 
 glass of Highland whiskey after dinner. 
 
 Pa. — Yes, we do ; it's good for digestion. 
 
 Dr. — Do you take any wine during dinner 1 
 
 Pa. — Yes,, a glass or two of sherry ; but I'm indif- 
 ferent as to wine during dinner. I drink a good deal 
 of beer. 
 
 Dr. — What quantity of port do you drink ? 
 
 Pa. — Oh, very little ; not above half a dozen glasses 
 or so. 
 
 Dr. — In the west country it is impossible, I hear, 
 to dine without punch ! 
 
 Pa. — Yes, sir, indeed 'tis punch we drink ehiefly ; 
 but for myself, unless I happen to have a friend with 
 me I never tak more than a couple of tumblers or so, 
 and that's moderate. 
 
 Dr. — Oh, exceedingly moderate indeed ! Youthen 
 after this slight repast, take some tea and bread and 
 butter? 
 
 Pa.— Yes, before I go to the counting-house to 
 read the evening letters. 
 
 Dr. — And on your return you take supper, I sup- 
 pose? 
 
 Pa. — No, sir, I canna be said to tak supper ; just 
 something before going to bed : a rizzer'd haddock, or 
 a bit of toasted cheese, or half a hundred of oysters, 
 or the like o'that ; and, maybe, two-thirds of a bottle 
 of ale ; but I tak no regular supper. 
 
 Dr. — But you take a little more punch after that. 
 
 Pa. — No, sir, punch-does not agree with me at bed 
 time. I tak a tumbler of warm whiskey toddy at 
 night ; it's lighter to sleep on. 
 
 Dr. — So it must be, no doubt. This you say, is 
 your every-day life ; but upon great occasions you 
 perhaps exceed a little ? 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 548 
 
 Pa. — No, sir, except when a friend or two dine with 
 me, or I dine out, which, as I am a sober family man, 
 does not often happen. 
 
 Dr. — Not above twice a-week ? 
 
 Pa. — No ; not oftener. 
 
 Dr. — Of course you sleep well, and have a good 
 appetite ? 
 
 Pa. — Yes, sir — thank God I have — indeed, any 
 wee harl o'health that I hae is about meal time. 
 
 Dr. — (Assuming a severe look, knitting his brows, 
 and lowering his eye-brows.) — Now, sir, you are a 
 very pretty fellow, indeed ; you come here and tell me 
 that you are a moderate man, and I might have be- 
 lieved you, did I not know the nature of the people in 
 your part of the country ; but upon examination I find 
 by your own showing, that you are a most voracious 
 glutton ; you breakfast in the morning in a style that 
 would serve a moderate man for dinner ; and from five 
 o'clock in the afternoon you undergo one almost unin- 
 terrupted loading of your stomach till you go to bed. 
 This is your moderation ! — You told me too another 
 falsehood — you said you were a sober man, yet by your 
 own showing you are a beer swiller, a dram-drinker, a 
 wine-bibber, and a guzzler of Glasgow punch ; a 
 liquor, the name of which is associated, in my mind, 
 only with the ideas of low company and beastly in- 
 toxication. You tell me you eat indigestible suppers, 
 and swill toddy to force sleep — / see that you chew to- 
 bacco. Now, sir, what human stomach can stand 
 this 1 — Go home, sir, and leave off your present course 
 of riotous living — take some dry toast and tea to your 
 bieakfast — some plain meat and soup for dinner, with- 
 out adding to it any thing to spur on your flagging ap- 
 petite ; you may take a cup of tea in the evening, but 
 never let me hear of haddocks and toasted cheese, and 
 oysters, with their accompaniments of ale and toddy 
 at night; give up chewing that vile — narcotic — 
 nauseous — abomination, and there are some hopes 
 that your stomach may recover its tone, and you be 
 in good health like your neighbours. 
 
 Pa. — I'm sure, doctor, I'm very much obliged to 
 you— (taking out a bunch of Bank-notes) — 1 shall 
 endeavour to— — 
 
 Dr. — Sir, you are not obliged to me — put up" your 
 money, sir. — Do you think I'll take a fee from you 
 for telling you what you knew as well as myself? 
 Though you're no physician, sir, you are not alto- 
 gether a fool. You have read your Bible, and must 
 know that drunkenness and gluttony are both sinful 
 and dangerous, and whatever you may think, you 
 have this day confessed to me that you are a notori- 
 ous glutton and drunkard. Go home, sir, and reform, 
 or take my word for it your life is not worth half a 
 year's purchase. 
 
 (Exit Patient, dum-founded and lookitig- blue.) 
 
 Dr. — (Solus.) Sober and temperate ! — Dr. Watt 
 tried to live in Glasgow, and make his patients live 
 moderately, and purged and bled them when they 
 were sick ; but it would not do. Let the Glasgow 
 doctors prescribe beef-steaks and rum punch, and 
 their fortune is made. 
 
 UPON A CERTAIN LOKd's GIVING SOME THOUSANDS 
 FOH A HOUSE. BY MR. GARR1CK. 
 
 So many thousands for a house 
 
 For you — of all the world — Lord Mouse ! 
 
 A little house would best accord, 
 
 With you, my very little lord ; 
 
 And then exactly match'd would be 
 
 Your house and hospitality. 
 
 ORIGIN OF BUMPER. 
 
 When the English were good Catholics, they 
 usually drank the Pope's health in a full glass after 
 dinner : au bon pere ; whence our bumper. 
 
 THE PULPIT AND THE STAGE. 
 
 One day, when Betterton called on Archbishop 
 Tillotson, at Lambeth, the prelate asked him ; " How 
 it came about, that after he had made the most mov- 
 ing discourse that he could, was touched deeply with 
 it himself, and spoke it as feelingly as he was able ; 
 yet he could never move people in the church, near 
 so much as the other did on the stage V — " That," says 
 Betterton, " I think is easy to be accounted for : it is 
 because you are only telling them a story, and I ?ux 
 showing them facts." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 549 
 
 POOR ROBIN S PROPHECY. 
 
 When girls prefer old lovers, 
 
 When merchants scoff at gain, 
 When Porson's skull discovers 
 
 What pass'd in Porson's brain : 
 When farms contain no growlers, 
 
 No pig-tail Wapping-wall, 
 Then spread your lark-nets, fowlers, 
 
 For sure the sky will fall. 
 When Boston men love banter, 
 
 When loan contractors sleep, 
 When Chancery pleadings canter, 
 
 And common-law ones creep . 
 When topers swear that claret's 
 
 The vilest drink of all ; 
 Then housemaids, quit your garrets, 
 
 For sure the sky will fall. 
 When Southey leagues with Wooller 
 
 When dandies show no shape, 
 When fiddler's heads are fuller 
 
 Than that whereon they scrape : 
 When doers turn to talkers, 
 
 And Quakers love a ball ; 
 Then hurry home, street-walkers, 
 
 For sure the sky will fall. 
 When lads from Cork or Newry 
 
 Won't broach a whisky flask, 
 When comedy at Drury 
 
 Again shall lift her mask : 
 When peerless Kitty utters 
 
 Her airs in tuneless squall, 
 Then, cats, desert your gutters, 
 , For sure the sky will fall. 
 When worth dreads no detractor, 
 
 Wit thrives at Amsterdam, 
 And manager and actor 
 
 Lie down like kid and lamb ; 
 When bard with bard embraces, 
 
 And critics cease to maul, 
 Then, travellers, mend your paces, 
 
 For sure the sky will fall. 
 
 When men who leave off business 
 
 With butter-cups to play, 
 Find in their heads no dizziness, 
 
 Nor long for " melting day ;" 
 When cits their pert Mount-pleasants 
 
 Deprive of poplars tall ; 
 Then, poachers, prowl for pheasants, 
 
 For sure the sky will fall. 
 
 A FLAT REFUSAL. 
 
 Salvini the Spaniard was an odd sort of man, sub- 
 ject to gross absences, and a very great sloven. His 
 behaviour in his last hours was as odd as any of his 
 actions in all his lifetime before could have been. 
 Just as he was departing, he cried out in a great 
 passion, " I will not die ! I will not die, that's flat." 
 
 QUESTION AND ANSWER. 
 
 "Can you, by any means, the cause divine, 
 That U and I, together ne'er can dine?" 
 " O yes, the reason all must plainly see, 
 Who know, that U can't come till after T." 
 
 ITALIAN PLAY AND BARBER SURGEON. 
 
 Spence, the friend and contemporary of Pope, in a 
 letter to his mother, from Turin, in 1739, gives the 
 following account of an Italian entertainment : 
 " Here under the porticoes of the charitable Hospi- 
 tal for such as have the Venereal Disease, will be 
 represented this evening, The Damned Sotil : with 
 proper decorations." "As this seemed to be one of the 
 greatest curiosities I could possibly meet with in my 
 travels, I immediately paid my threepence, was 
 showed in with great civility, and took my seat 
 among a number of people, who seemed to expect the 
 tragedy of the night with great seriousness. 
 
 "At length the curtain drew up, and discovered the 
 Damned Soul, all alone, with a melancholy aspect. 
 She was (for what reason I don't know) drest like a 
 fine lady, in a gown of flame-coloured, satin. She 
 held a white haudkerchief in her hand, which she 
 applied often to her eyes ; and in this attitude, with 
 a lamentable voice, began a prayer (to the holy and 
 
550 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ever blessed Trinity) to enable her to speak her part 
 well : afterwards she addressed herself to all the good 
 Christians in the room; begged them to attend 
 carefully to what she had to say, and heartily wished 
 they would be the better for it : she then gave an 
 account of her life ; and, by her own confession, ap- 
 peared to have been a very naughty woman in her 
 time. ♦ 
 
 " This was the first scene. At the second, a back 
 curtain was drawn ; and gave us a sight of our Sa- 
 viour and the blessed Virgin, amidst the clouds. 
 The poor soul addressed herself to our Saviour first, 
 who rattled her extremely, and was indeed all the 
 while very severe. All she desired was to be sent 
 to purgatory, instead of going to hell : and she at 
 last begged very hard to be sent into the fire of the 
 former, for as many years as there are drops of water 
 in the sea. As no favour was shown her on that 
 side, she turned to the Virgin and begged her to inter- 
 cede for her. The Virgin was a very decent woman, 
 and answered her gravely but steadily, ' That she 
 had enraged her son so much, that she could do 
 nothing for her :' and on this, they both went away 
 together. 
 
 "The third scene consisted of three little angels and 
 the damned soul. She had no better luck with them : 
 nor with St. John the Baptist and all the saints in 
 the fourth : so, in the fifth, she was left to two 
 devils ; seemingly .to do what they would with her. 
 One of these devils was very ill-natured and fierce to 
 her ; the other was of the droll kind, and, for a devil, 
 I can't say but what he was good-natured enough : 
 though he delighted in vexing the poor lady rather too 
 much. 
 
 " In the sixth scene, matters began to mend a little. 
 St. John the Baptist (who had been with our Saviour 
 I believe behind the scenes) told her, if she would 
 continue her entreaties, there was yet some hope for 
 her.. She on this again besought our Saviour and the 
 Virgin to have compassion on her : the Virgin was 
 melted with her tears, and desired her son to have 
 pity on her ; on which it was granted, that she should 
 go into the fire, only for sixteen or seventeen hundred 
 
 thousand years ; and she was very thankful for the 
 mildness of the sentence. 
 
 " The seventh (and last) scene was a contest be- 
 tween the two- infernal devils above-mentioned, and 
 her guardian angel. They came in again, one grin- 
 ning, and the other open-mouthed to devour her. 
 The angel told them, that they should get about their 
 business. He with some difficulty at last drove them 
 off the stage, and handed off the good lady ; in as- 
 suring her that all would be very well, alter some 
 hundreds of thousand of years, with her. 
 
 "All this while, in spite of the excellence of the 
 actors, the greatest part of the entertainment to me 
 was the countenances of the people iu, the pit and 
 boxes. When the devils were like to carry her off, 
 every body was in the utmost consternation ; and 
 when St. John spoke so obligingly to her, they were 
 ready to cry out for joy. When the Virgin appeared 
 on the stage, every body looked respectful ; and on 
 several words spoke by the actors, they pulled off 
 their . hats, and crossed themselves. What can you 
 think of a people, where their very farces are religi- 
 ous, and where they are so religiously received 1 May 
 you be the better for reading of it, as I was for see- 
 ing it ! 
 
 " There was but one thing that offended me. All 
 the actors, except the devils, were women : and the 
 person who represented the most venerable character 
 in the whole play, just after the representation, came 
 into the pit, and fell a kissing a barber of her ac- 
 quaintance, before she had changed her dress. She 
 did me the honour to speak to me too ; but I would 
 have nothing to say to her. 
 
 " My old surgeon," continues Spence, " I found to 
 be the oddest figure, and one of the oddest men, that 
 ever I met with in my life. He is a mountaineer, born 
 amidst the Alps, and as learned as the people gene- 
 rally are among wild mountains. He is a short man, 
 fat, and clumsy, with a great pair of Dutch trowsers 
 to his posteriors, and with a face, that does not at all 
 yield, for breadth or swarthiness, to the place above- 
 mentioned. His face was overrun with beard ; for he 
 said he was obliged to go to mass, and so had not 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 lime to be shaved. In his face, or his upper breech, 
 whichever you please to call it, were a pair of little 
 merry eyes, deep in his head, but yet with a droll 
 gay air in them : and the two little caves that go 
 down to them are wrinkled all the way up to his 
 forehead and his temple. Whenever he laughs, (which 
 j is very often,) all these wrinkles are in motion toge- 
 ■ ther, and make one of the most diverting sights that 
 can be imagined. When we were a little seated 
 together, aud jolted into our proper places by the 
 chaise ; ' Is it a long time, master Claude, (says I) 
 ; that you have been in this sort of business V Yes, 
 says he, I have been in it for several generations. 
 | Upon this I thought myself with the travelling Jew ; 
 and blessed heaven for bringing me acquainted with 
 a man, that I had so long wished to meet with. ' For 
 several generations, master Claude ? I don't under- 
 stand you.' Why, Sir, says he, our family have 
 [ always been barber-surgeons; from father to son, 
 without any interruption, for these twenty-eight gene- 
 I rations ; my son, who is a promising youth, and is 
 j scarce fifty yet, is the twenty-ninth. I am but seventy- 
 | five ; and I have had this plaguy gout these twelve 
 i years. Will you be so good as to let me replace my 
 foot again ; for that last jolt has quite put me out of 
 order. 'And how old was your father, master 
 Claude, when he died?' Ah, poor man, he died at 
 ' a hundred and three : but it was by a fall from his 
 ! horse, in going to visit a patient. He was hurried 
 out of the world : rest his soul ! — ' At this rate, the 
 i first surgeon in your family, mUht have been surgeon 
 
 j to Noah, and the good people in the ark.' This set 
 
 j all his wrinkles in motion. Oh no, (says he,) we are 
 j not of so great antiquity as that comes to : at least, 
 , our accounts don't reach up so far — ' Have you a 
 j history then of the twentv-seven surgeons, your pre- 
 i decessors V— Have I, says he ! yes, that I have ; and 
 I I would rather lose my legs, than lose it. But that 
 i does not go so far as I could wish t the furthest thing 
 ! back, of a remarkable thing, that I find in it, is thai 
 | the fifth surgeon of our family shaved Hannibal, the 
 ! night he lay at Lamburg, in his passage over the 
 i Alps : I wish he had cut his throat ! for he did a 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 551 
 
 deal of mischief here at Turin.—' And did he shave 
 ever a one of his elephants, master Claude '''—Not 
 that I know of, says he: but our day-book says, that 
 this same Hannibal had to do with the devil • that 
 he put life into castles ; and made the castles walk 
 over the mountains with him against the Romans : 
 ana he says, m a note on the side, that he heard after- 
 wards that these castles fought like mad things • 
 and that any one of them that had not killed his 
 hundred of Romans, was very little regarded in the 
 army. He then took out a prayer-book j and prayed 
 aloud, as he had done at every cross, or old statue, 
 we had passed by the road side.—' I don't see a Vir- 
 gin xUary ; why are you praying, master Claudp ?'— 
 1 m saying a devotion, to pray poor Hannibal's soul 
 out ot purgalory, ( says he) he was a great thief 
 and murtherer, and may very probably be there still ; 
 but he paid my ancestors well, and so I am bound 
 to pray for km. You see that house there ! it was 
 built by a Savoyard : he put his collar bone out, and 
 
 «™ lt " , Lord have merc T u P on P 0( > r Hannibal! 
 Will you have another pinch of snuff? This snuffbox 
 was given me by the marshal de Crequi— ' You 
 have travelled then ?'— Ay, sir, nobody is regarded 
 in our country, unless they have rolled over the 
 world. I nved twenty years in France and Germany ■ 
 I was barber-surgeon to the marechal, and was with 
 him when he received his death's wound.— ' And is 
 it true that the ball that kill'd him was directed To 
 the marechal de Crequi /'—No, sir, says he, that I 
 can assure you it was not ; for it was these fingers took 
 it out of his body.— Just as he said this, we came to 
 our journey's end." 
 
 A NEW WAY OF PAYING OLD DEBTS. 
 
 "Pay me my money !" Robin cry'd, 
 To Richard, whom he quickly spy'd • 
 And by the collar seiz'd the blade, ' 
 Swearing he'd be that moment paid : 
 Base Richard instant made reply, 
 (And struck poor Robin in the eye) 
 •' There's my own hand in black and white,. 
 A note of hand, and paid at sight." 
 
552 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 The character of Sir John Farstaff is made up by 
 Shakspeare wholly of incongruities : — a man at once 
 young and old, enterprising and fat, a dupe and a wit, 
 harmless and wicked, weak in principle and resolute 
 by constitution, cowardly in appearance and brave in 
 reality ; a knave without malice, a liar without de- 
 ceit ; and a knight, a gentleman, and a soldier, with- 
 out either dignity, decency, or honour : this is a cha- 
 racter, which, though it may be decompounded, 
 could not have been formed, nor the ingredients of it 
 duly mingled, upon any receipt whatever : it required 
 the hand of Shakspeare himself to give to every par- 
 ticular part a relish of the whole, and of the whole to 
 every particular part ; — alike the same incongruous, 
 identical, Falstaff, whether, to the grave chief justice, 
 he vainly talks of his youth, and offers to caper for a 
 thousand; or cries to Mrs. Doll, " I am old, lam 
 old" though she is seated on his lap, and he is court- 
 ing her for busses. 
 
 ON A CELEBRATED PHYSICIAN, WHO THOUGH NOT A 
 GOOD SHOT, WAS A GREAT SHOOTER. 
 
 Doctor — all game you either ought to shun, 
 
 Or sport no longer with th' unsteady gun : 
 
 But, like physicians of undoubted skill ; 
 
 Gladly attempt what never fails to kill ; 
 
 Not lead's uncertain drop, but physic s deadly pill. 
 
 alAJOR LONGBOW. 
 
 Major Longbow was the most poetical proser of his 
 day, a complete egotist; his subject himself; his 
 maxim, I by myself I ; and called by his friends the 
 modern Munchausen ; and has been, as he said, at 
 every battle from the taking of Seringapatam to the 
 O. P. war at Covent-garden theatre. But his maxims 
 are not to be told, let him speak for himself in the 
 following dialogue : — "How do you do, major?" "How 
 do I do ; how should T do ! eh 1 Better than any man 
 living — there's muscle, strongest man living. How do 
 I do, poh ! no man so well as I am. I am reckoned 
 the finest piece of anatomy that was ever sent upon 
 the face of the earth. Upon my life it's true ; what 
 will you lay it's a lie 1 Hit me with a sledge ham- 
 
 mer if you like, can't hurt me, there's muscle." 
 " Are you inclined to go up, major V* "Up ! What 
 in that thingumy, a balloon 1 why I can walk up 
 higher than you'll go in that thing. When I was in 
 India, I walked up an inaccessible mountain ; — 
 walked for five days running, four hours every day ; 
 took me seven days coming down ; run the whole of 
 the last day, and danced at the governor's ball at 
 night. Upon my life it's true ; what will you lay it's 
 a lie V " But now, major, you have an opportunity 
 of purchasing notoriety at prime cost." " Prime cost, 
 trouble you not to mention prime cost." "Why 1" 
 " I tell you what : a few weeks ago I bought a Til- 
 bury at prime cost. As I was driving through the 
 streets of London, a beautiful blood mare down Hay- 
 hill." " Sire Munchausen, I suppose." " Poh, don't 
 be foolish : well, sir, I was driving at the rate of nine 
 and twenty miles an hour." " Nine and twenty, 
 surely major." " D e, do you doubt me. I re- 
 peat it, nine and thirty miles an hour. Well, sir, I 
 was driving at the rate of nine and forty miles an 
 hour, my usual pace, I met an infernal coal cart, 
 seven horses in a string, all as fat as Falstaff, crash 
 goes my wheel against the coal-cart — upset me — and 
 away went poor prime cost into a million of shivers ; 
 up spins I— made three somersets in the aii — came 
 feet foremost through the bow -window of the pastry 
 cook's shop, corner of Berkley-street, flat upon my 
 feet, and said with the utmost coolness to Mrs. Gun- 
 ter, who was seated behind her ow r n counter, Madam, 
 your most obedient, how do you do 1 never saw a 
 woman more astonished — Was'nt hurt a bit ; there's 
 muscle. — Upon my life it's true ; what will you lay 
 it's a lie." 
 
 TIJE COUNTY JUSTICE. 
 
 Now justices of peace must judge all pieces 
 Of mischief of all kinds, and keep the game 
 
 And morals of the country from caprices 
 
 Of those who have not a licence for the same 
 
 And of all things, excepting tithes and leases. 
 Perhaps these are most difficult to tame 
 
 Preserving partridges and pretty wenches 
 
 Are puzzles to the most precautious benches. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 553 
 
 NEWSPAPER CN NOVATIONS. 
 
 Amongst all the improvements of the age, none 
 perhaps are more striking than those which have re- 
 cently been made, and indeed are at present making, 
 i in the language of ordinary life. Who in these days 
 ■ ever reads of boarding-schools'? — Nobody: they are 
 | transformed into academies for boys and seminaries 
 for girls ; the higher classes are "Establishments ;" 
 a coach-maker's shop is a " Repository for C'ar- 
 . riages ;" a milliner's a "Depot;" a thread-seller's 
 an " Emporium." One buys drugs at a " Medical 
 Hail,'' wines of a " Company," and shoes at a 
 " Mart" blacking is dispensed from an " Institu- 
 tion," and meat from a " Purveyor." . 
 
 Instead of reading in our newspapers, that atter a 
 ball the company did not go away till daylight, we 
 are told that " the joyous group continued tripping 
 on the light fantastic toe until Sol gave them warning 
 to depart." If one of the company happened on his 
 way to tumble into a ditch, we should be informed 
 that " his foot slipped, and he was immersed in the 
 liquid element." A good supper is described as 
 making the " tables groan with every delicacy of 
 the season." A crowd of briefless lawyers, unbe- 
 niriced clergymen, and half-pay officers, are enume- 
 rated as a " host of fashion at a watering-place, ! 
 where we are also informed that ladies, instead of 
 taking a dip before breakfast, " plunge themselves 
 fearlessly into the bosom of Neptune." 
 
 A sheep killed by lightning is a thing unheard of : 
 tire animal may be destroyed by the " electric fluid ;" 
 but, even then, we should not be told that it was 
 dead: we should be informed that " the vital spark 
 had fled for ever." If the carcass were picked up by 
 a carpenter or shoemaker, we never should hear that 
 a journeyman tradesman had found it : we should be 
 told that its remains had been discovered by an 
 " operative artisan." 
 
 All little girls, be their faces ever so plain, pitted 
 or pitiable, if they appear at a public office to com- 
 plain of robbery, or ill-treatment, are invariably 
 " intelligent and interesting ;" if they have proceeded 
 very far in crime, they are called " unfortunate fe- 
 2b 
 
 males ;" should they by any accident have a prospect 
 of becoming mothers, we are informed " that they 
 are in a way that ladies wish 1o be who love their 
 loids." Child-murder is elegantly termed " infan- 
 ticide ;" and when it is punished capitally, we hear, 
 not that the unnatural mother was hanged, but that 
 " the unfortunate culprit underwent the last sentence 
 of the law, and was launched into eternity." 
 
 No person reads in the newspapers, that a house 
 has been burnt down : he perhaps will find " that 
 the house fell a sacrifice to the flames." In an ac- 
 count of a launch we learn, not that a ship went off 
 the slip without any accident, but that " she glided 
 securely and majestically into her native element," 
 the said native element being one in which the said 
 ship never was before. 
 
 To send for a surgeon if one's leg be broken, is out 
 of the question ; a man indeed " may be despatched 
 for medical aid." There are now no public singers at 
 tavern dinners — they are " the professional gentle- 
 men ;" and actors are all " professors of the histrionic 
 art." Widows themselves are scarce : these are all 
 " interesting relicts ;" and as for nursery-maids, they 
 are now a days universally transformed into " young 
 persons who superintend the junior branches of the 
 family " 
 
 MATCH MAKING. 
 
 Lord Chesterfield being told that a certain ter- 
 magant and scold was married to a gamester; 
 replied, " that cards and brimstone made the best 
 matches." 
 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 There was formerly a club held at the King's 
 Head in Pall Mall, arrogantly called " The World." 
 Epigrams were proposed to be written on the glasses, 
 by each member after dinner ; once when Dr. Young 
 was invited thither, the doctor would have declined 
 writing, because he had no diamond : Lord Stanhope 
 lent him his, and he wrote immediately — 
 
 " Accept a miracle, instead of wit ; 
 
 See two dull lines, with Stanhope's pencil writ." 
 
554 
 
 THE POETICAL LANDLORD. 
 
 A gentleman passing through Seven Oaks, in 
 Kent, observed on a sign in the voad the following 
 lines, which on inquiry he found to be the offspring 
 of the landlord's brain : 
 
 " I John Stubbs livith here, 
 Sells good brandy, gin, and beer ; 
 I mead my borde a letel whyder, 
 To lette you ncave T sell good syder." 
 
 INS AND OUTS. 
 
 In promise rich, but poor in pay, 
 In the King's Bench a Talent lay ; 
 
 " Why, In V cried Colin Clout. 
 His visions fled — his fortunes crost, 
 Broad -bottom answer'd — "Borough lost, 
 
 " I'm in — because I'm out." 
 
 ECCENTRIC RECOMMENDATION. 
 
 Swift once gave a gentleman of very good charac- 
 ter and fortune, a letter of recommendation to Pope, 
 couched in the following terms. — " Dear Pope, 
 Though the little fellow that brings this, be a justice 
 of peace, and a member of our Irish House of Com- 
 mons, yet he may not be altogether unworthy of 
 your acquaintance." 
 
 THE VICAR AND MOSES 
 
 At the sign of the Horse, old Spintext of course, 
 
 Each night took his pipe and his pot ; 
 O'er a jorum of nappy, quite pleasant and happy, 
 
 Was placed this canonical sot. 
 The evening was dark, when in came the clerk, 
 
 With reverence due, and'submission, 
 First strok'd his cravat, then twirl'd round his hat ( . 
 
 And bowing preferr'd his petition. 
 I'm come sir, says he, to beg, look d'ye see, 
 
 Of your reverend worship and glory, 
 To inter a poor baby with as much speed as may be, 
 
 And I'll walk with my lanthorn before ye. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 The body we'll bury, but pray where's the hurry 1 
 
 Why lord, sir, the corpse it does stay. 
 You fool, hold your peace, since miracles cease, 
 
 A corpse, Moses, can't run away. 
 Then Moses he smil'd, saying, sir, a small child 
 
 Cannot long delay your intentions ; 
 Why that's true by St. Paul, a dead child that is small 
 
 Can never enlarge its dimensions. 
 Bring Moses some beer, and bring me some, d'ye hear, 
 
 I hate to be call'd from my liquor ; 
 Come Moses, the King, 'tis a scandalous thing, 
 
 Such a subject should be but a Vicar. 
 Then Moses he spoke, sir, 'tis past twelve o'clock, 
 
 Besides there's a terrible shower. 
 Why Moses, you elf, since the clock has struck twelve, 
 
 I'm sure it can never strike more* 
 Besides, my dear friend, this lesson attend. 
 
 Which to say and to swear I'll be bold, 
 That the corpse, snow or rain, can't endanger that's 
 plain, 
 
 But perhaps you or I may take cold. 
 Then Moses went on, sir, the clock has struck one, 
 
 Pray master look up at the hand, 
 Why it ne'er can strike less, 'tis a folly to press 
 
 A man for to go, that can't stand. 
 At length hat and cloak, old Orthodox took, 
 
 But first cramm'd his jaw with a quid: 
 Each tipp'd off a gill, for fear they should chill, 
 
 And then stagger'd away -side by side. 
 When come to the grave, the clerk humm'd a stave 
 
 While the surplice was wrapp'd round the priest, 
 Where so droll was the figure of Moses and Vicar, 
 
 That the parish still talk, of the jest. 
 Good people let's pray ; put the corpse t'other way 
 
 Or perchance I shall over it stumble, 
 'Tis best to take care, tho' the sages declare, 
 
 A moriuum caput can't tremble. 
 Woman that's born of man ; that's wrong, the leafs 
 
 Oh! Man that is born of a woman, [torn, 
 
 Can't continue an hour, but is cut down like a flower, 
 
 You see, Moses, death spareth no man. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 Here Moses do look, what a confounded book, 
 
 Sure the letters are turned upside down, 
 Such a scandalous piinL, sure the devil is in't, 
 
 That this fellow should print for the crown* 
 
 Prithee Moses you read, for I cannot proceed, 
 
 And bury the corpse in my stead. Amen, Amen. 
 Why Moses you're wrong, pray hold still your tongue 
 
 You've taken the tail for the head. 
 
 O where's thy sting death, put the corpse in the earth, 
 
 For believe me 'tis terrible weather. 
 So the corpse was iitferr'd without praying a word, 
 
 And away they both stagger'd together. 
 
 Singing tol de rol, &c. 
 
 LETTER rUOJI AN ACTTIESS. 
 
 My dear Sir, — I am a tragedy actress, but I really 
 in my heart love fun. There is a whimsicality in your 
 letter that pleases me, and {win or lose) please GOD 
 I will be with you' on your present proposition, viz. 
 five nights at Brighton — the last my own night-~a 
 clear half of the house — and four at Worthing — the 
 fourth my own. I will give you the whole strength 
 and force of my talent and spirit. You give me ail 
 the consequence that in these cases are given, where 
 a London constellation comes down to glitter (some- 
 times with a false glare) over those who may be less 
 fortunate but not always less worthy than themselves. 
 Miss O'Neil came to a prosperous house, and there- 
 fore all went well with her. I came in support of a 
 falling iuin ; and as I am not an Atlas, why I have 
 been obliged to be — a woman. I play Lady Mac- 
 beth on Monday — my last appearance this season ; so 
 I may now make my own arrangements. Let me know 
 when you wish nie to be with you, and I will arrange 
 accordingly. Let me know, as soon as you can, whe- 
 ther you want me by the fifteenth of July. I had 
 rather not open the theatre if you can avoid it. Let 
 j Imogene be my first character. Will there be time 
 for the manuscript play I mentioned, to be got up for 
 I my night, if I play the four nights in one week 1 I 
 j send this off immediately on the receipt of yours — 
 ! uncertain if you will get it to-night, as I have not a 
 I messenger. But I suppose these letters wiil be for- 
 2b2 
 
 555 
 
 warded to you at Graveseud. I shall feel obliged by 
 hearing from you as to the time, as I have some lite- 
 rary arrangements to make that I am pledged for the 
 finishing of in a stated Ume. 
 
 I have the honour t-o be, sir, your obedient, 
 
 DRUNKARDS. 
 
 In the cathedral of Sienna, celebrated for its floor, 
 inlaid with the History of the New Testament, is the 
 following singular epitaph, probably placed there as 
 a memento to Italian Toby Philpots. 
 
 " Wine gives life ; it was death to me ; I could not 
 behold the d awn of morning in a sober state. Even 
 my bones a re now. thirsty. Stranger ! sprinkle my 
 grave with wine ; empty the flaggons and come. 
 Farewell d ankers !" 
 
 TOM-A-BEDLAM SONG. 
 
 Trom the hag and hungry goblin 
 That into rags would rend ye, 
 
 All the spirits that stand 
 
 By the naked man, 
 In the book of moons defend ye »_ 
 That of your five sound senses 
 You never be forsaken ; 
 
 Nor travel from 
 
 Yourselves with Tom 
 Abroad to beg your bacon. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Nor never sing any food and feeding, 
 Money, drink, or clothing ; 
 
 Come dame or maid,. 
 
 Be not afraid, 
 For Tom will injure nothing. 
 Of thirty bare years have I 
 Twice twenty been enraged ; 
 
 And of forty been 
 
 Three times fifteen 
 In durance soundly caged. 
 In the lovely lofts of Bedlam, 
 In stubble soft and dainty, 
 
 Brave bracelets strong, 
 
 Sweet whips ding, dong J 
 
 And a wholesome hunger plenty. / 
 
656 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER; 
 
 With a thought I took for Maudlin, 
 And a cruise of cockle pottage, 
 And a thing thus — tall, 
 Sky bless vou all, 
 I fell into this dotage. 
 I slept not till the Conquest ; 
 Till then I never waked ; ' 
 Till the roguish boy 
 Of love where I lay, 
 Me found, and stript me naked.' 
 When short I have shorn my sow's face, 
 And swigg'd my horned barrel j 
 In an oaken inn 
 Do I pawn my skin, 
 As a suit of gilt apparel : 
 The morn's my constant mistress, 
 And the lovely owl my morrow ; 
 The flaming drake, 
 And the night-crow, make 
 Me music, to my sorrow. 
 The palsie plague these pounces, 
 When I prig your pigs or pullen; 
 Your culvers take 
 Or mateless make 
 Your chanticleer and sullen ; 
 When I want provant with Humphrey^l sup, 
 And when benighted, 
 To repose in Paul's 
 With waking souls " 
 I never am affrighted. 
 I know more than Apollo ; 
 For, oft when he lies sleeping, 
 I behold the stars 
 At mortal wars, 
 And the rounded welkin weeping ; 
 The moon embraces her shepherd, 
 And the Queen of Love her warrior 
 While the first does horn 
 The stars of the morn, ' 
 And the next the heavenly farrier. 
 With a heart of furious fancies, 
 Whereof I am commander :, 
 With a burning spear, 
 And a horse of air, 
 To the wilderness I wander • 
 
 With a knight of ghosts and shadows, 
 I summoned am to Tourney : 
 
 Ten leagues beyond 
 
 The wide world's end ; 
 Methinks it is no journey ! 
 
 NATIONAL COMPLAINTS. 
 
 The Englishmen at Paris find fault with the Wench 
 roast beef; the Frenchmen in London complain oi" the 
 British brandy. 
 
 The English who visit Paris, imagine that tl le ta- 
 vern-keepers have served in the cavalry, as the :y are 
 so expert in making a charge. 
 
 A foreigner inquiring the way to a friend's lod ging, 
 whom he said lived at Mr. Bailey's, senior, was s. hown 
 to the Old Bailey, by a Bow-street officer. Wh< ;n he 
 entered the court he imagined that it was his frk md's 
 levee. 
 
 POLITICAL LEGACIES. 
 
 When William Pitt went to the grave, 
 
 For his and our repose, 
 His mantle he to Canning gave, 
 
 His walking-stick to Rose. 
 Satiric rogue ! he knew his men ; 
 
 And thought some clumsy joke, . 
 Would Canning quite undo, and then 
 
 How much he'd want a cloak ! 
 
 PLEBEIAN HUMOUR. 
 
 When the king of France fled from Paris, a boy/ 
 wrote against the corner of the street in chalk, " On. 
 est prie d'arr£ter un gros cochon qui s'enfuit. On en; 
 sera dedommage' de ses peines par un Louis." 
 
 CHOICE COMPANY. 
 
 I'll send you my bill of fare, said Lord B. wheni 
 trying to persuade Dr. Swift to dine with him. — 
 " Send me your bill of company," was Swift's answer 
 to him. 
 
 GOLD AND GREATNESS. 
 
 Mr. Pope was with Sir Godfrey Kneller one day^ 
 when his nephew, a Guinea trader, came in. " Ne- 
 phew, (said Sir Godfrey,) you have the honour of. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 seeing the two greatest men in the world." — " I don't 
 ; know how great you may be, (said the Guinea-man,) 
 ' but I don't like your looks : I have often bought 
 
 a man much better than both of you together, all 
 j muscles and bones, for ten guineas." 
 
 TO MY BARN. 
 
 ; To thee the wandering tribes were wont to rove, 
 
 Each jovial gipsy with his merry mate, 
 I With dark futurity quite hand in glove, 
 
 Foretelling, for a penny, folks their fate. 
 ! To thee, through wind and rain, the good king 
 
 Patch,* 
 I To get a warm straw-bed, was known to trudge it, 
 Of simple knights, who never made a batch, 
 
 Nor drain'd his people's purses by a budget. 
 Where are the tribes that v worshipp'd not his name 1 
 
 King Patch, what music to. a gipsy's ear ! 
 What gipsy wishes not for half his fame, 
 
 Or reads his dying speech without a tear ! 
 Jaa thee the royal Bampfylde.t many a time, 
 
 Enjoy 'd his feast and dance, and sunk to sleep, 
 Who, like Ulysses, roam'd from clime to clime 
 
 In. search of wisdom, on the land and deep. 
 By slander, parent of the blackest lies, 
 
 The radiant form of truth was never courted, 
 That he for wisdom travell'd, she denies, 
 
 A.nd swears he only travell'd— when transported. 
 Pleas'd have I seen this celebrated king, 
 
 With brighter talents than most monarchs born ; 
 Pleas'd have I heard him Chase of Cheviot sing, 
 
 And Robin Hood, and wind his bugle horn. 
 Tax'd are the gipsies too, by foul-mouth'd slander, 
 
 With taking, but without the grace to pay, 
 Pig, fowl, duck, turkey, gosling, goose, and gander, 
 
 Their fingers fish-hooks, angling every day. 
 Say, truth, if ever once a gipsy stole 
 
 Ffom me, the bard, the value of a grig, 
 Goose, gander, gosling, turkey, duck, or fowl, 
 
 Or from the sow purloin'd her baby-pig. 
 
 * The designation of one of the gipsy sovereigns, 
 f The celebrated Bamp'ylde Moore Carew. 
 
 557 
 
 I, too, have felt the force of slander's tongue, 
 
 And scorn'd her rage, her lying prose and metre, 
 While Hawkins yields a plaudit to my song, 
 
 The snakes of envy hiss in vain at Peter. 
 Thus have I dar'd defend an injur'd race, 
 
 Call'd by a wicked world a thieving crew; 
 Here let not justice blush to show her face, 
 
 What says the proverb ?— " Give the devil his 
 due." 
 Farewell, my barn ! should men thy frame destroy, 
 
 May birds of darkness on his roof alight, 
 Owls break his slumbers with portentous cry, 
 
 And groans of gipsy-ghosts his soul affright \ 
 
 POETRY AND PAINTING. 
 
 What the monk said of Virgil's iEneid, " that it 
 would make an excellent poem if it were only put 
 into rhyme ;" is just as if a Frenchman should say 
 of a beauty, " Oh, what a fine woman that would be, 
 if she was but painted !" 
 
 THE SUICIDE. 
 
 Basta. — I'll think no more about it. I have closed 
 the accounts, and bring myself in debtor to death. 
 All that remains to be considered is, how I am to do 
 the business. I have been reading all the suicides I 
 could gather, during the last week, and I do not find 
 one exactly conformable to my ideas on the subject. 
 
 Shall I blow my brains out 1 — It is well my uncle 
 Nicholas is not present, for the old rogue used always 
 to say that I had none ; but he was ever a calumnia- 
 tor. No, I shall not blow my brains out, even suppos- 
 ing I have any. It is a dirty way : a man's collar is 
 quite disarranged, and his shirt most disagreeably 
 stained with batter and blood. Then you are quite 
 a disgusting looking devil, actually a bore to a sen- 
 sitive coroner and a sympathetic court of pie-powder. 
 Besides, after all, you are not sure. Robespierre for 
 instance, as we all know, disfigured himself awfully, 
 and yet lived long enough to gratify the kind people 
 of Paris with a guillotine exhibition, alfresco, at his 
 expense. If you miss, the cursed report of the pistol 
 calls up the household, and you are restrained by their 
 civil interference from committing the " rash act ;" 
 
558 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 and in any case, you fill the room with a filthy smoke, 
 smelling most diabolically of sulphur. There is not 
 a cook maid in my kitchen but would say, " Ay, ay, 
 poor master was wanted, sure enough — the ould 'un 
 was looking for him. When he called, he could not 
 help coming, poor gentleman 1 there was a smell of 
 brimstone, my dear, in the room, that would knock 
 down a horse." On which coachee would remark, 
 "No doubt on't, Molly ; he has gone bang four in 
 hand to where he will get enough of that 'ere com- 
 modity." It is then a ruled point that I shall not 
 blow my brains out. — Cut my throat 1 No bad no- 
 tion. Yet stop awhile. Does not the objection of 
 bedaubing myself hold here also ? O surely, and in 
 a tenfold degree ; you must, besides,- give yourself 
 the trouble of taking off your cravat ; and you may 
 miss there too. I have known people to slit the 
 wesand, and yet have the wound cobbled up by 
 some tailoring surgeon, and live, as the . newspapers 
 have it, respectable members of society. I never 
 could hit the carotid, for I do not know where it is : 
 and if I did, there would be some cit lying perdu with 
 his jest, ready to call me " Carotid artery cutting so — 
 and — so." I am, moreover of opinion that it must 
 hurt a man sadly to cut his throat. I remember once 
 upon a time how a barber cut me into the bone while 
 shaving me, and I-was so stung with the pain that I 
 got up and knocked him down. Should not I then be 
 a jackass of the first ear to hurt myself ten times 
 worse then the knight of the pole 1 Just think of a 
 jagged razor going through your windpipe ! The mere 
 thought is hideous. Razor, avaunt ! I'd not cut my 
 throat for a thousand pounds. Shall I poison myself 1 
 What ! die the death of a rat 1 Not I, I thank you. 
 That were descending in the scale of creation most 
 scandalously. Then what a pretty account of my 
 personal appearance there would be in the reports ! 
 "The body of the unfortunate gentleman was blown 
 up like a tun, and there were livid and pea-green 
 spots all over his countenance. His right eye was 
 drawn down to his mouth, and his left twisted up 
 over his eyebrow." A pretty picture in truth ! And 
 just take up a sheet medically descriptive of poisons, 
 
 with their effects, symptoms. &c. Giiping of the 
 guts, burning of the stomach, parching of the throat, 
 shivering of the sides, lolling out of the tongue, twist- 
 ing of the mouth, and ten thousand other disagreeable 
 abominations. Besides you would, during the time of 
 the operation, be wishing yourself all manner of ill 
 wishes for being so great a goose, and' praying the 
 deed undone. Believe me you would repent it sadly. 
 If you were discovered, what a tumult there would be, 
 and what a vehicle for all kind of uncleanly draughts 
 your unfortunate windpipe would be made. "[Pour 
 down a tureenful of melted butter," one fellow 
 would exclaim, — Ct pour it down without a moment's 
 delay." " If it be an alkali poison he has swallowed," 
 another would put in his word, " neutralize it with 
 an acid."— -All my life long I hated the jargon of the 
 chemists. " Give him tartarized antimony," would be 
 the cry of a third. "Nothing in the whole world is 
 so efficacious in such misfortunes," a fourth would 
 exclaim, " as the tincture of poluphloisbolo." [N. B. 
 This fellow would be a quack doctor, who had taken 
 out a patent for the tincture — a composition of brandy 
 and tobacco water.] In Japan, a gentleman when 
 he falls into disgrace av court, has the privilege of 
 taking a sword and ripping out his bowels. - What is 
 to be thought of that 1 Cato of Utica did the same. 
 
 " What Cato did and Addison approved, 
 
 Cannot be wrong 1" 
 said Eustace Budgell, and flung himself over the side 
 of a wherry into the Thames, with a couple of nine 
 pound balls in his coat pockets. It was rather a 
 queer way, after all, of imitating Cato. If I had 
 written these lines, I should have done what the old 
 Uticanian did au pied de la lettre. But, in good 
 truth, I have no such notion. Faugh ! a man to die 
 with his puddings out, like the foolish two-headed 
 giant deluded by Jack-the-giant -killer. I never ap- 
 proved of Cato's principles, having been all my life a 
 Tory, who, if I had breathed the vital air in the clays 
 of Julius Ceesar, would have voted for him through 
 thick and thin. I therefore do not find myself at all 
 bound to follow Cato's practice. As for the Japanese, 
 there is nobody in these parts of the world that I 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 know of bound to follow their example, except R. 
 Warren, of No. 30, Strand. He may embowel him- 
 self, if he likes — I shall not. Hanging is obviously 
 not even to be named. It does not accord with a 
 gentleman's ideas. I have always lived independent, 
 and have no fancy for dying dependent on any thing. 
 A man is a long time in suspense. I hate your pas 
 seul upon nothing, and never should wish to earn 
 thirteenpence halfpenny by such a plebeian occupa- 
 tion, particularly when executed upon myself. I do 
 not see, moreover, but it would be an unfair and 
 poaching kind of intrusion on the office of the king's 
 final magistrate. Sheriff Laurie — I beg his pardon — 
 Sir Peter Laurie would have cause of indignation 
 against me, if I were to cheat his new drop of its 
 legal right to turn off all pensile people, within his 
 bailiwicks of London and Middlesex. — There must 
 be a great many disagreeable sensations about being 
 hanged. I knew a man once, who had escaped the 
 gallows after having been turned off, and he told me 
 that you felt as if a lump of something edible stuck 
 in your gullet, while you were at the same time 
 knocked with a chuck down an interminable preci- 
 pice. Then you saw all kind of iashiog fires before 
 your eyes, and after you were at rest, a flaming bolt 
 appeared to enter each of the. soles of your feet, and 
 to make way up rapidly, but gradually, to your peri- 
 cranium. Who could feel pleasure in a posture of 
 this kind? Your neck -attitude, too, is mighty un- 
 seemly. Look at the picture of Lord Coleraine — 
 heretofore George Hanger — in the second page of his 
 memoirs, or of old Izaak Walton, in the present ex- 
 hibition at Somerset-House, and you will see how 
 awkward a crick-in-th'-neck-like position it is. Why 
 Wainwright thought proper to exhibit old Izaak as just 
 after being hanged, I do not know, and firmly believe 
 that he has no warrant for it in any biography of the 
 old piscator ; but look at No. 268, in the above exhibi- 
 tion, and you will see him there evidently with the 
 wry-neck twist of the gallows about him. In a word, 
 I do not choose to be. strung up. Hang puppies and 
 highwaymen with all my heart. Drown myself ! 
 The sun is shining bright on the Thames, as I see it 
 
 559 
 
 from one of my windows in the Teniae. It !ooks 
 tempting. 
 
 " Says she, my dear, the wind sets fair, 
 
 And you may have the tide." 
 
 So sung Katharine Haynes a hundred years ago — 
 but so sing not I. There are many grave objections 
 to drowning a man's self. First, you are choked 
 with water, and I never could prevail on myself to 
 swallow as much as a half pint of tjaat liquid. 
 
 " Had Neptune, when first he took charge of the sea, 
 Been as wise, or at least been as merry as we, 
 He'd have thought better on J t, and instead of his 
 
 brine, 
 Would have filled the vast ocean with generous wine." 
 
 In that case there might have been a difference in 
 my ideas ; but water — and Thames water too — the 
 thought is intolerable. If you succeed, what a neat 
 article you are when you are found. In nine days, I 
 am told, a body inevitably rises, and how does it rise? 
 A colony of prawns and shrimps have fastened them- 
 selves on you, and are making free with your person 
 in the most gourmand fashion. A crab has eaten out 
 your eyes — a cod is fattening his sounds on the drums 
 of your ears — and a turbo t has revenged himself for 
 all the liberties you have taken with his tribe, by 
 making your face as flat as his own spine. As one 
 of our pcets — I forget his name — says on a similar 
 occasion : 
 " The perch did perch betw r een his ribs ; the sole, 
 Sole reveller, feasted on his nibbled jowl : 
 The plaice was placed where'er he pleased ; the pike 
 Shouldered itself, yet lay levelled in act to strike j 
 A maiden sought his hand, but sooth to say, 
 That amorous maiden was a maiden ray." &c. 
 
 I never could agree with old Demouax in Lucian, 
 that it is merely an act of gratitude to let the fishes 
 eat yrju, ofter you have eaten so many of them. Then 
 too, there are many chances of your not succeeding. 
 There is the whole body of the Humane Society, in- 
 cluding Alexander of Russia, regularly leagued and 
 bonded to pull people out of the vasty deep nolentes 
 
560 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 volentes. How awkward you would look on awak- 
 ing, to find yourself stretched out upon a table, with 
 a fellow puffing a bellows into your very nostrils, or 
 rubbing you with a hot cloth ! As for jumping off 
 the Monument, " like Levi the jew," (Rejected Ad- 
 dresses, hem !) or any other height, that is quite out of 
 the question. I get giddy even looking out of three 
 pair of stairs window ; how odious to my nerves it 
 must be, therefore, to jump from one ! Poor Levi, I 
 understand, after he was fairly off, made a grasp 
 with his hand back again at the balustrade of the 
 Monumeut. How he must have felt during that 
 second, when perfectly conscious of the entire des- 
 peration of his case ! I shudder to think of it just 
 now, and am obliged to shut the window through 
 mere nervousness. And when you are down, what 
 a pretty looking lump of smash and abomination ! You 
 are lying on the ground like a lump of bloody mortar, 
 prepared for dashing the front of the house of some 
 Ogre-like King of Dahomey. Nor would starvation 
 at all agree with me. I fasted one day on a pound 
 of beef and a half quartern, and I could have cried 
 when evening came on. Oh, no ! whenever or how- 
 ever I die, let me go out of the world with a full 
 stomach. When a man is hungry, hideous and beg- 
 garly ideas are apt to get into his head, and he can- 
 not see his way clearly before him. A windy vapour 
 rises from the stomach, which fills the brain with 
 odious chimeras. I never could stand it. All my 
 firmly fixed resolves on death, if I were to attempt it 
 that way, would be knocked up by the smell of the 
 first cook's shop, or the distant prospect of an alder- 
 man waddling up Fleet-street. It is impossible. Well 
 then, shall I stab myself more majorum ? Die in a 
 Roman fashion, sheathing a dagger in my bosom like 
 Lucretia, or falling on my sword like Brutus. It 
 would be something pathetical and romantic. I am 
 afraid, however, that the days of pathos and romance 
 are most considerably gone by. To confess the fact 
 honestly, I do not think, I could ever muster up 
 courage to drive a long spit of cold steel into my 
 breast ; and as to falling on my sword, in the first 
 place I have not a sword to fall on, and it would be 
 
 quite absurd to buy one for such a purpose ; and in 
 the second place, if I had one, I am perfectly certain 
 that I should miss it; or make some other fatal blun- 
 der — or rather some blunder which would not be 
 fatal — if I attempted to fling myself on it. Then how 
 like an unfortunate gaby I should look ! Let me 
 cogitate for a short while. I have dismissed as un- 
 practicable, shooting, throat cutting, poisoning, un- 
 bowelling, hanging, drowning, tumbling, starving, \ 
 and stabbing. What remains 1 Softly awhile. My 
 uncle Nicholas used always to say, that many a man 
 killed himself by drinking — and my uncle Nicholas 
 was a man of observation. Perhaps that would be an 
 easy, comfortable, cosey kind of way of doing the bu- 
 siness, after all, without tumult or stuff. However, 
 I have no idea of doing it at a glass, and going be- 
 fore a coroner stretched upon a door, smelling like a 
 rum cask, and open to the opprobrious verdict of 
 " Died by excessive drinking." That is evidently 
 low. I, on the contrary, shall try if my uncle's pre- 
 diction of such suicide being slow but sure, were 
 right, and if it poisons me, let it operate on me like 
 a slow poison — 
 
 " So glides the meteor through the sky, 
 And spreads along a gilded train, 
 
 But when its short-lived beauties die, 
 Dissolves to common air again." 
 Is not that very pretty and very poetic 1 Here then, 
 Anthony, get you down to the RainboAv, and fetch 
 me a stoup of liquor, as the grave-digger in Hamlet 
 has it. I am bent on death. 
 
 " Come fill me a glass, fill it high, 
 
 A bumper, a bumper, I'll have — \ 
 He's a fool that will flinch, 
 I'll not bate him an inch, 
 
 Though I drink myself into the grave." 
 I am bent on death. Perhaps, too, I may have the \ 
 good luck to go off in a flash of flame, or be burnt to 
 death by voluntary combustion, thereby to afford a 
 subject for a new novel by a new Brockden Brown. 
 So now 
 
 " Farewell, fair world ! and light of day, farewell !" 
 for I have closed the shutters. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 561 
 
 JILL SAINTS CHURCH IN LANGHAM PLACE, 
 REGENT-STREET. 
 
 ** Whoever walks through London streets," 
 
 Said Momus to the son of Saturn, 
 " Each clay new edifices meets, 
 
 Of queer proportion, queerer pattern : 
 If thou, O cloud-compelling god, 
 
 Wilt aid me with thy special grace, 
 I, too, will wield my motley hod, 
 
 And build a church in Langham-place," 
 
 "Agreed,'' the Thunderer cries ; " go plant 
 
 Thine edifice, I care not how ill ; 
 Take notice, Earth, I hereby grant 
 
 Carte blanche of mortar, stone, and trowel. 
 Go, Hermes, Hercules, and Mars, 
 
 Fraught with these bills on Henry Hase, 
 Drop with yon jester from the stars, 
 
 And build a church in Langham-place." 
 
 Down, four in hand, to earth they go, 
 Pass by Palladio, Wren, and Inigo, 
 
 Contracting for their job, to show 
 
 How far four gods can make a guinea go. 
 
 This plan was Doric, ergo bad, 
 And that Ionic, ergo base ; 
 
 No proper model could be had, 
 
 To shape this church in Langham-place. 
 
 In deep confab they pass'd two hours ; 
 
 Alcides on his club of tough oak 
 Leant, and exclaim'd, "Martello towers 
 
 Lie scatter'd on the coast of Suffolk ■ 
 Let one of those toward London swerve, 
 
 Mars, out of war, they're out of place ; 
 What can they better do, than serve 
 
 To form a church in Langham-place 9 ." 
 
 The word was said, the deed was done, 
 
 Light Hermes toil'd in vain to stir it,* 
 When, with a kick, Alcmena's son 
 
 Soon tilted down the granite turret. 
 Like a huge hogshead up to town 
 
 The martial structure roll'd apace, 
 And, mortar-coated, settled down 
 
 Into a church in Langham-place. 
 2 b3 
 
 But, ere with belfry or with bell 
 
 They graced its top, its side with casement, 
 They found an unexploded shell 
 
 Alive and burning at its basement. 
 The channell d air now upward drew 
 
 Flame after flame, in lurid race, 
 And gave a sort of glass-house hue 
 
 To their new church in Langham-place. 
 
 " 'Twill never do," Alcides cried, 
 
 "The Atlas will indict for arson," 
 While Momus carelessly replied — 
 
 " Phoo ! never mind it — smoke the parson !* 
 Mars, at a push, had wit at will, 
 
 And said, " Your joint misgivings chase, 
 This round Martello tower shall still 
 
 Be a new church in Langham-place." 
 
 To ^Etna's red Vulcanian steeps, 
 
 Fly Mercury on feather 'd sandal, 
 And, when the giant Titan sleeps, 
 
 Snatch, god of thieves, his huge bed-candle : 
 Bear thence its tall extinguisher, 
 
 This conflagration to efface, 
 'Twill added dignity confer 
 
 On our new church in Langham-place. 
 
 The cone up-tilted, Momus bawls— 
 
 " Attention, all our loving people, 
 Here Mars's tower affords us walls, 
 
 And Titan's candlestick a steeple : 
 Our fane, thus martially endow'd, 
 
 Soon may some Boanerges grace, 
 And ' Son of Thunder,' draw the crowd 
 
 To our new church in Langham-place 1" 
 
 DINNER IN THE STEAM-BOAT. 
 
 " Come, Mrs. Suet, Mrs. Hoggins, Mrs. Sweet- 
 bread, Mrs. Cleaver ! dinner's ready ; shall I show 
 you the way down to the cabin 1 we mustn't spoil 
 good victuals though we are sure of good company 
 Lauk ! what a monstrous deal of smoke comes out of 
 the chimney. I suppose they are dressing the second 
 course ; every thing's roasted by steam, they say, — 
 how exceedingly cfever ! As to Mrs. Dip, since she's 
 
562 
 
 so high and mighty, she may find her own way down. 
 What ! she's afraid of spoiling her fine shawl, I 
 reckon, though you and I remember Mrs. Hoggins, 
 when her five-shilling Welsh-wittle was kept for Sun- 
 day's church, and good enough too, for we all know 
 what her mother was. Good Heavens ! here comes 
 Undertaker Croak, locking as down in the mouth as 
 the root of my tongue ; do let me get out of his v/ay ; 
 I wouldn't sit next to him for a rump and dozen, he 
 does tell such dismal stories that it quite gives one 
 the blue devils, He is like a nightmare, isn't he Mr. 
 Smart 1 " He may be like a mare by night," replied 
 Mr. Smart, with a smirking chuckle, " but I con- 
 sider him more like an ass by day. — He ! he ! he !" 
 Looking round for applause at this sally, he held out 
 his elbows, and taking a lady, or rather a female, 
 under each arm, he danced towards the hatchway, 
 exclaiming, e< Now I am ready trussed for table, liver 
 under one wing and gizzard under the other." " Keep 
 a civil tongue in your head, Mr. Smart ; I don't quite 
 "understand being called a liver — look at the sparks 
 coming out of the chimney, I declare I'm frightened 
 to death." " Well, then you are of course no longer 
 a liver," resumed the facetious Mr. Smart ; " so we 
 may as well apply to Mr. Croak to bury you." " O 
 Gemini ! don't talk so shocking ; I had rather never 
 die at all, than have such a fellow as that to bury 
 me." " Dickey, my dear !" cried Mrs. Cleaver to 
 her son, who was leaning over the ship's side with a 
 most woe-begone and emetical expression of coun- 
 tenance, " hadn't you better come down to dinner ? 
 There's a nice silver side of a round o' beef, and the 
 chump end of a line o' mutton, besides a rare hock of 
 bacon, which I dare say will settle your stomach." 
 " O mother," replied the young cockney, " that 'ere 
 cold beef -steak and inguns vat you put in the pocket- 
 handkerchief, vasn't good, I do believe, for all my 
 hinsides are of a work." " Tell 'em it's a holiday," 
 cried Smart. " O dear, O dear !" continued Dick, 
 whose usual brazen tone was subdued into a lacka- 
 daisical whine, " I vant to reach and I can't — vat 
 shall I do, mother?" " Stand on tiptoe, my darling," 
 replied Smart, imitating the voice of Mrs. Cleaver, 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 who began to take in high dudgeon this horse-play of 
 her neighbour, and was proceeding to manifest her 
 displeasure in no very measured terms, when she was 
 fortunately separated from her antagonist, and borne 
 down the hatchway by the dinner-desiring crowd, 
 though sundry echoes of the words " jackanapes !" 
 and '' imperent fellow?" continued audible above the 
 confused gabble of the gangway. 
 
 " Well, but Mr. Smart," cried Mrs. Suet, as soon 
 as she had satisfied the first cravings of her appetite, 
 " you promised to tell me all about the steam, and 
 explain what it is that makes them wheels go round 
 and round as fast as those of our one-horse chay, 
 when Jem Ball drives the trotting mare." [f Why, 
 ma'am, you must understand — ■ " Who called for 
 sandwiches and a tumbler of negus?" bawled the 
 steward. — " Who called for savages and a tumbling 
 negres ?•' repeated Mr. Smart. — " Yes, ma'am, you 
 saw the machinery, I believe — (capital boiled beef) 
 there's a thing goes up and a thing goes down, all 
 made of iron ; well, that's the hydrostatic principle ; 
 then you put into the boiler — (a nice leg of mutton, 
 Mrs. Sweetbread) — let me see, where was I?— In 
 the boiler, I believe. Ah ! it's an old trick of mine 
 to be getting into hot water. So, ma'am, you see 
 they turn all the smoke that comes from the fire on 
 to the wheels, and that makes them spin round, just 
 as the smoke-jack in our chimnies turns the spit ; 
 and then there's the safety-valve in case of danger, 
 which lets all the water into the fire, and so puts out 
 the steam at once. You see, ma'am, it's very simple, 
 when once you understand the trigonometry of it." 
 " O perfectly, but I never had it properly explained 
 to me before. It's vastly clever, isn't it ? How could 
 they think of it ?" " Shall I give you a little of the 
 sallad?" " La, it isn't dressed ; what a shame !" 
 
 " Not at all," cried Smart, " none of us dressed 
 for dinner, so that we can hardly expect it to be 
 dressed for us. He ! "he ! he !" f* Did you hear 
 that, Mrs. H. ?" exclaimed Mrs. Suet, turning to 
 Mrs. Hoggins, " that was a good one, warn't it? 
 Drat it, Smart, you are a droll one." 
 
 Here the company were alarmed by a terrified 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 groan from Mr. Croak, who ejaculated, " Heaven 
 have mercy upon us ! did you hear that whizzing 
 noise 1 — there it is again '. there's something wrong 
 in the boiler— if it bursts, we shall all be in heaven 
 in five minutes." " The Lord forbid !" ejaculated 
 two or three voices, while others began tc scream, 
 and were preparing to quit their places, when the 
 steward informed them it was nothing in the world 
 but the spare steam which they were letting off. 
 " Ah, so they always say," resumed Croak, with an 
 incredulous tone and woe-begone look ; " but it was 
 just the same on beard the American steam-boat that 
 I was telling you cf — fifty-two souls sitting at dinner, 
 laughing and chatting for all the world as we are 
 now, when there comes a whiz, such as we heard a 
 while ago — God help us ! there it is once more — and 
 bang ! up blew the boiler — fourteen people scalded to 
 death — large pieces of their flesh found upon the 
 banks of the river, and a little finger picked up next 
 clay in an oyster-shell, which by the ring upon it was 
 known tc be the captain's. But don't be alarmed, 
 ladies and gentlemen, I dare say we shall escape any 
 scalding, as we're all in the cabin, and so we shall 
 only go to the bottom smack ! Indeed we v.iay arrive 
 safe — they do sometimes, and I wish we may now, 
 for nobody loves a party of pleasure more than I do. 
 I hate to look upon the gloomy side of things when 
 we are all happy together, (here another groan,) and 
 I hope I haven't said any thing to lower . the spirits 
 of the company." 
 
 " There's no occasion," cried Smart, " for I saw 
 the steward putting water into every bottle of brandy." 
 The laugh excited by this bon-mot tended in some 
 degree to dissipate the alarm and gloom which the 
 boding Mr. Croak had been infusing into the party ; 
 and Smart, by way of- fortifying their courage, bade 
 them remark that the sailors were obviously under no 
 sort of apprehension. " Ay," resumed the persevering 
 Mr. Croak, " they are used to it — it is their business 
 — they are bred to sea." " But they don't want to 
 be bread to the fishes, any more than you or I," re- 
 torted Smart, chuckling at his having the best of the 
 nonsense. 
 
 563 
 
 " Well," exclaimed Mrs. Sweetbread, " I never 
 tasted such beer as this — flat as ditch-water , they 
 should have put it upon the cullender to let the water 
 run out ; and yet you have been drinking it, Smart, 
 and never said any thing about it." " Madam," rt- 
 plied the party thus addressed, laying his hand upon 
 his heart, and looking very serious, " I make it a rule 
 never to speak ill of the dead. I am eating the ham, 
 you see, and yet it would be much better if I were 
 to let it exemplify one of Shakspeare's soliloquies — 
 
 Ham-Let alone." " La ! you're such a wag," cried 
 
 Mrs. Hoggins, " there's no being up to you ; but if 
 you don't like the ham, take a slice of this edge-bone 
 — nothing's better than cold beef." " I beg your 
 pardon, Madam," replied the indefatigable joker— 
 " cold beef's better than nothing — Ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 " How do you find yourself now, my darling?" 
 said Mrs. Cleaver to her son, who had been driven 
 below by a shower, and kept his hat on because, as 
 he said, his 'air was quite vet. " Vy, mother, I 
 have been as sick as a cat, but I'm bang up now, 
 and so peckish that I feel as if I could heat any thing." 
 " Then just warm these potatoes," said Smart, hand- 
 ing him the dish, " for they are almost cold." " I'll 
 thank you not to run your rigs upon me," quoth the 
 young cockney, looking glumpish, " or I shall fetch you 
 a vipe with this here hash-stick. If one gives you a 
 hineh, you take a hell." " Never mind him, my 
 dear," cried his mother " eat. this mutton-chop, it 
 will do you good ; there's no gravy, for Mr. Smart 
 has all the sauce to himself. Haw ! haw ! haw !" — 
 " Very good !" exclaimed the latter, clapping his 
 hands, " egad ! Ma'am, you are as good a wag as 
 your own double chin." This was only ventured in 
 a low tone of voice, and as the fat dame was at that 
 moment handing the plate to her son, it was fortu- 
 nately unheard. Dick being still rather giddy, con- 
 trived to let the chop fall upon the floor, an occur- 
 rence at which Mr. Smart declared he was not in the 
 least surprised, as the young man, when first he came 
 into the cabin, looked uncommonly chop-fallen. 
 Dick, however, had presently taken a place at the 
 table, and began attacking a buttock of beef with 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 564 
 
 great vigour and vivacity, protesting he had got a 
 famous " happetite," and felt " as ungry as an ound." 
 " I never say any thing to discourage any body," 
 said Mr, Croak, " particularly young people ; it's a 
 thing I hate, but t'other day a fine lad sate down to 
 his dinner in this very packet, after being sea-sick, 
 just as you may be doing now, when it turned out he 
 had broke a blood-vessel, and in twelve hours he was 
 a corpse, and a very pretty one he made." 
 
 " I'm not going to be choused out of my dinner 
 for all that," replied the youth, munching away with 
 great industry, and at the same time calling out — 
 " Steward! take away this porter-pot, it runs." — " I 
 doubt that," cried Smart. — " I say it does," resumed 
 Dick angrily, ** the table-cloth is all of a sop." — 
 " I'll bet you half a crown it doesn't." Done ! and 
 done ! were hastily exchanged, when Mr. Smart, 
 looking round with a smirk, exclaimed — " Ladies and 
 Gentlemen, I appeal to every one of you whether the 
 pot has not been perfectly still, and nothing has been 
 running but the beer." This elicited a shout at poor 
 Dick's expense, who sullenly muttered, " I'm not 
 going to be bamboozled out of an 'alf-crown in that 
 there vay, and vat's more, I von't be made a standing 
 joke by no man." " I don't see how you can," re- 
 plied his antagonist, " so long as you are sitting." 
 — " Vy are you like a case of ketchup 1" cried Dick, 
 venturing for once to become the assailant, and im- 
 mediately replying to his own inquiry, " because 
 you are a saucebox."- — "Haw! haw!" roared his 
 mother, " bravo, Dick ! well done, Dick — there's a 
 proper rap for you, Mr. Smart." Dick now changed 
 the conversation, by observing that it would luckily be 
 " 'igh-water in the arbour when they arrived." — 
 " Then I recommend you by all means to use some 
 of it." said the pertinacious Mr. Smart, " perhaps it 
 may cure your squint." 
 
 Both mother and son rose up in wrath at this per- 
 sonality, and there would infallibly have been a hoxir- 
 rasqice (as the French say) in the hold, but that 
 there was then a tremendous concussion upon the 
 deck, occasioned by the fall of the main -boom, and 
 followed by squeaks and screams, of all calibres, from 
 
 the panic-striken company at the dinner-table. "Lord 
 have mercy upon us!" ejaculated Croak with a deep 
 groan — " it's all over with us — we are going to the 
 bottom — I like to make the best of every thing — it's 
 my way, and therefore hope that no lady or gentle- 
 man will be in the least alarmed, for I believe 
 drowning is a much less painful death than is gene- 
 rally supposed." 
 
 AFFECTED CUAVITY. 
 
 Ltell thee what, Antonio, — 
 
 I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ; — 
 
 There are a sort of men, whose visages 
 
 Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; 
 
 And do a wilful stillness entertain, 
 
 With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
 
 Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit ; 
 
 As who should say, / am Sir Oracle, 
 
 And, when I ope my lips, let no dog baYk ! 
 
 O, my Antonio, I do know of these, 
 
 That therefore only are reputed wise, 
 
 For saying nothing. 
 
 A FAIR BARGAIN. 
 
 A Norman priest, many of whose parishioners had 
 not made the most honourable exit out of this world, 
 insisted, when he was baptizing one of their children, 
 to be paid the nuptial and burial fees, as well as 
 those of baptism ; and when the parents asked the 
 reason of this extraordinary demand, he replied, " Be- 
 cause I know, as soon as he is grown up, he will 
 cheat me of my dues, by going to .Paris to be 
 hanged." 
 
 THE COLLEGIAN AND THE rORTED. 
 
 AtTrin. Coll. Cam, — which means, in proper spelling, 
 Trinity College, Cambridge, — there resided 
 
 One Harry Dashington — a youth excelling 
 In all the learning commonly provided 
 
 For those who choose that classic station 
 
 For finishing their education : — 
 
 That is — he understood computing. 
 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 56: 
 
 The odds at any race or match •, 
 Was a dead hand at pigeon-shooting ; 
 
 Could kick up rows — knock down the watch- 
 Play truant and the rake at random — 
 
 Drink — tie cravats — and drive a tandem. 
 Remonstrance, fine, and rustication, 
 So far from working reformation. 
 
 Seem'd but to make his lapses greater, 
 Till he was warn'd that next offence 
 Would have this certain consequence- 
 Expulsion from his Alma Mater. 
 One need not be a necromancer 
 
 To guess that, with so wild a wight, 
 
 The next offence occurr'd next night ; 
 
 When our Incurable came rolling 
 
 Home as the midnight chimes were tolling, 
 And rang the College bell. — No answer. — 
 Tire second peal was vain — the third 
 
 Made the street echo its alarum ; 
 When to his great delight he heard 
 The sordid Janitor, old Ben, 
 Rousing and growling in his den. 
 " Who's there 1 1 s'pose young Harum-scarum." 
 " Tis I, my worthy Ben — 'tis Harry." 
 " Ay, so I thought, and there you'll tarry. 
 'Tis past the hour — the gates are closed, 
 
 You know my orders — I shall lose 
 
 My place if I undo the door." — 
 " And I" — (young Hopeful interposed) 
 
 " Shall be expell'd if you refuse, 
 So prithee" — Ben began to snore. — ■ 
 " I'm wet," cried Harry, " to the skin, 
 
 Hip ! hallo ! Ben ! — don't be a ninny ; 
 
 Beneath the gate I've thrust a guinea, 
 So tumble out and let me in," 
 " Humph!" growl'd the greedy old curmudgeon, 
 Half overjoy'd and half in dudgeon, 
 " Now you may pass ; but make no fuss, 
 
 On tiptoe walk, and hold your prate." — 
 " Look on the stones, old Cerberus," 
 
 Cried Harry as he passed the gate, 
 " I've dropp'd a shilling — take the light, 
 You'll find it just outside— good night." 
 
 Behold the porter in his shirt, 
 
 Cursing the rain which never stopp'd. 
 
 Groping and raking in the dirt, 
 
 And all without success ; but that 
 
 Is hardly to be wonder'd at, 
 
 Because no shilling had been dropp'd; 
 
 So he gave o'er the search at last, 
 
 Regain'd the door, and found it fast ! — . 
 
 With sundry oaths and growls and groans, 
 
 He rang once — twice — and thrice ; and then, 
 Mingled with giggling heard the tones 
 
 Of Harry mimicking old Ben. — • 
 " Who's there 1 — 'Tis really a disgrace 
 
 To ring so loud — I've lock'd the gate— 
 
 I know my duty — 'Tis too late — ■ 
 You wouldn't have me lose my place." 
 
 " Psha ! Mr. Dashington : remember, 
 This is the middle of November. 
 
 I'm stripp'd ; — 'tis raining cats and dogs." 
 " Hush, hush !" quoth Hal ; " I'm fast asleep ;' 
 And then he snored as loud and deep 
 
 As a whole company of hogs. 
 " But, harkye, Ben, I'll grant admittance 
 
 At the same rate I paid myself." 
 
 " Nay, master, leave me half the pittance," 
 
 Replied the avaricious elf. 
 " No: all, or none — a full acquittance — 
 The terms, I know, are somewhat high ; 
 But you have fix'd the price, not I — 
 
 I won't take less ; — I can't afford it." 
 So finding all his haggling vain, 
 Ben with an oath and groan of pain 
 
 Drew out the guinea, and restored it." 
 
 " Surely you'll give me," growl'd the outwitted' 
 
 Porter, when again admitted, 
 
 " Something, now you've done your joking, 
 
 For all this trouble, time, and soaking." 
 
 " Oh, surely — surely," Harry said ; 
 " Since, as you urge, I broke your rest, 
 And you're half drown'd, and quite undress'd, 
 
 I'll give you — leave to go to bed." 
 
m 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 DEFINITION OF WIT. 
 
 A certain bishop said to his chaplain : " What is 
 wit?" The chaplain replied, "The rectory of A. . . . is 
 vacant, give it to me, and that will be wit." "Prove 
 it," said his lordship, " and you shall have it." "It 
 would be a good thing well applied," rejoined the 
 chaplain. The dinner daily prepared for the royal 
 chaplains at St. James's was reprieved, for a time, 
 from suspension, by an effort of wit. King Charles 
 had appointed a day for dining with his chaplains ; 
 and it was understood that this step was adopted as 
 the least unpalatable mode of putting an end to the 
 dinner. It was Dr. South's turn to say the grace : 
 and whenever the king honoured his chaplains with 
 his presence, the prescribed formula ran thus : " God 
 save the king, and bless the dinner." Our witty di- 
 vine took the liberty of transposing the words, by 
 saying, " God bless the king, and save the dinner." 
 " And it shall be saved," said the monarch. 
 
 The blaze of wit in the School for Scandal asto- 
 nishes us less when we remember that the writer had 
 it in his power to frame both the question and the 
 answer ; the reply and the rejoinder ; the time and 
 the place. He must be a poor proficient, who can- 
 not keep up the game, when both the ball, the wall, 
 and the racket, are at his sole command. 
 
 NELSON S VANITY. 
 
 Nelson, when young, was piqued at not being 
 noticed, in a certain paragraph of the newspapers, 
 which detailed an action, wherein he had assisted ; 
 " But never mind," said he, " I will one day have 
 a Gazette of my own." 
 
 PROLOGUE TO THE WINTER'S TALE, AND 
 CATHERINE AND PETRUCHIO. 
 
 To various things the stage has been compar'd, 
 
 As apt ideas strike each humorous bard : 
 
 This night, for want of better simile, 
 
 Let this our theatre a tavern be : 
 
 The poets vintners, and waiters we. 
 
 So, as the cant and custom cf the trade is, 
 
 You're welcome, gem'men, kindly welcome ladies. 
 
 To draw in customers, our bills are spread ; 
 You cannot miss the sign, 'tis Shakspeare's Head. 
 From this same head, this fountain-head divine, 
 For different palates springs a different wine ; 
 In which no tricks to strengthen or to thin 'em- 
 Neat as imported — no French brandy in 'em — 
 Hence for the choicest spirits flows Champagne, 
 Whose sparkling atoms shoot thro' every vein, 
 Then mount in magic vapours to th' enraptur'd brain 
 Hence flow for martial minds potations strong, 
 And sweet love-potions for the fair and young : 
 For you my hearts of oak, for your regale, 
 
 \To the upper gallery. 
 There's good old English stingo, mild and stale. 
 For high, luxurious souls, with luscious smack, 
 There's Sir John Falstaff in a butt of sack ; 
 And if the stronger liquors more invite ye, 
 Bardolph is gin, and Pistol aqua vita?. 
 But should you call for Falstaff, where to find him, 
 He's gone— nor left one cup of sack behind him. 
 Sunk in his elbow chair, no more he'll roam, 
 No more with merry wags to Eastcheap come ; 
 He's gone — to jest and laugh, and give us sack z 
 
 home. 
 As for the learned critics, grave and deep, 
 Who catch at words, and catching fall asleep ; 
 Who in the storms of passion, hum and haw * 
 
 For such our master will no liquor draw 
 
 So blindly thoughtful, and so darkly read, 
 They take Tom Durfey's for the Shakspeare's Head. 
 N A vintner once acquir'd both praise and gain, 
 And sold much Perry for the best Champagne. 
 Some rakes this precious stuff did so allure, 
 They drank whole nights — what's that — when win 
 
 is pure ? 
 " Come, fill a bumper, Jack."— " I will, my Lord."- 
 " Here's cream ! — damn'd fine '. — immense! — upc 
 
 my word ! 
 Sir William, what say you?" — "The best, belie\ 
 
 me." 
 " In this — eh, Jack? — the devil can't deceive me." 
 Thus the wise critic too, mistakes his wine ; 
 Cries out, with lifted hands— Tis great ! divine ! 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 557 
 
 Then jogs his neighbour, as the wonder strike him , 
 This Shakspeare! Shakspeare 1 — Oh, there's no- 
 thing like him ! 
 In this night's various and enchanted cup 
 Some little perry's mix'd, for filling up. 
 The five long acts, from which our three are taken, 
 Strett-h'd out to sixteen years,* lay by, forsaken ; 
 Lest then this precious licpaor run to waste, 
 lis now confin'd and bottled for your taste. 
 Tis my chief wish, my joy, my only plan, 
 To lose no drop of that immortal man ! 
 
 GARRICK. 
 CALAMITIES OF AUTHORSHIP. 
 
 There are three difficulties in authorship ; — to write 
 any thing worth the publishing — to find honest men 
 to "publish it — and to get sensible men to read it. 
 Literature lias now become a game ; in which the 
 booksellers are the kings ; the critics, the knaves ; 
 the public, the pack ; and the poor author, the mere 
 table, or thing played upon. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF LOVE. 
 
 O !— And I, forsooth, in love ! I, that have been 
 
 love's whip ; 
 A very beadle to a humorous sigh : 
 A critic ; nay, a night-watch constable ; 
 A domineering pedant o'er the boy. 
 Than whom no mortal so magnificent ! 
 This wimpled, wining, purblind, wayward boy ; 
 This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Don Cupid •, 
 Regent of love rhymes, lord of folded arms, 
 The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, 
 Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, 
 Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces, 
 Sole imperator and great general 
 Of trotting paritors. — O my little heart .— - 
 And I to be a corporal of his field, 
 And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop'. 
 What 1 I ! I love ! I sue 1 I seek a wife ! 
 
 * The action of the Winter's Tale, as written by Shakspeare, 
 comprehends sixteen years. 
 
 A woman, that is like a German clock, 
 Still a repairing : ever out of frame ; 
 And never going aright, being a watch, 
 But being watch'd that it may still go right 1 
 
 ASTROLOGY. 
 
 This is the excellent foppery of the world 1 that 
 when we are sick in fortune (often the surfeit of our 
 own behaviour,) we make guilty of our disasters, the 
 sun, the moon, and the stars : as if we were villains 
 by necessity ; fools by heavenly compulsion ; knaves, 
 thieves, and treachers, by spherical predominance ; 
 drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obe- 
 dience of planetary influence ; and all that we are evil 
 in, by a divine thrusting on : An admirable evasion 
 of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition to 
 the charge of a star ! My father compounded with 
 my mother under the dragon's tail ; and my nativity 
 was under iirsa major ; so that it follows, I am rough 
 and lecherous. — Tut, I should have been that I am, 
 had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled at 
 my bastardizing. 
 
 VARIOUS KINDS OF GOODNESS. 
 
 Whatever diversity of opinions may prevail respect- 
 ing goodness in general, few people disallow the 
 marks of this valuable quality, as they are found to 
 exist in particular bodies of men, or in certain indi- 
 viduals ; and, perhaps, an enumeration of these trails 
 may include every thing new that can be well said 
 on the subject. 
 
 A good king, for example, is one who has the gift 
 of pleasing both the ins and the outs ; and who, not 
 being permitted to do any thing, is able to do every 
 thing. 
 
 A good minister is one who is capable of conduct- 
 ing the affairs of a great nation, without levying any 
 taxes on the public. 
 
 A good patriot is one who possesses excellent 
 lungs, and is not afraid of availing himself of the 
 freedom of speech allowed in parliament, to abuse 
 every person, and oppose every measure, till he makes 
 the situation of an upright minister sufficiently un- 
 
568 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 comfortable to force him to a resignation ; when he 
 seizes on his place, and actually performs himself the 
 very part which he had impudently and wrongfully 
 accused his predecessor of acting. 
 
 A good magistrate is one who takes care to keep 
 the price of bread as low as possible without regard- 
 ing any advance in that of flour, for the sake of esta- 
 blishing his character among the vulgar, whom he is 
 wise enough to know are the bulk of mankind. This 
 knowledge, and these motives, lead him also to make 
 an example, once or twice in his life, of some honest 
 butcher, baker, or publican, if anysucli beings should 
 chance to reside in his district, for accidentally selling 
 short weight or measure : and he seldom or never 
 commits any one to prison ; except, to please his 
 patron, some poor fellow who has killed a hare, a 
 pheasant, or a partridge. 
 
 A good divine is one who preaches short sermons 
 remarkably loud, and who not only permits his 
 parishioners to pursue, at their pleasure, whoring, 
 drinking, feasting, gambling, and swearing, without 
 receiving the smallest intimation of the impropriety 
 of their conduct ; but who himself actually joins 
 them, on every convenient occasion, in the practice 
 -of these innocent amusements. 
 
 A good lawyer is one who knows how to brow- 
 beat timid witnesses, and to rouse the. feelings, and 
 enlarge on the vast consequence of silly jurymen, 
 (who always look wisest when they are in reality the 
 greatest fools,) so as to procure a verdict for his client, 
 though honesty and integrity are in consequence 
 doomed to starve in prison. 
 
 A good physician is one who, having no real busi- 
 ness to employ him, generously begins life with giv- 
 ing his advice to the poor gratis : at the same time 
 taking care to direct all his prescriptions to some 
 honest apothecary, who allows him thirty per cent. 
 on the price of the medicines. If this fails to procure 
 him better practice, he engages his friends to institute 
 a public dispensary, and appoint him the physician ; 
 when, to ingratiate himself with the principal sub- 
 scribers, by great apparent humanity, and of course to 
 secure their own private custom, he engages to attend 
 
 their servants gratis, till he has fully established 
 himself in snug practice ; after which, he soon leaves 
 oft all gratis prescriptions, and resigns in favour of 
 some pupil who is capable of complimenting him with 
 a few hundreds for so excellent an opportunity of 
 following his steps, and obtaining both the character 
 and emoluments of a good physician. 
 
 A good man, generally speaking, is one who now 
 and then gives his poor neighbours and dependents a 
 very small portion of what he has previously obtained 
 from their labour, for which he paid them so scantily 
 that they might well became proper objects in the 
 eve of real benevolence. A very good man usually 
 subscribes about twenty guineas a year to a dozen or 
 more different hospitals and charity-schools; to 
 which he contrives to send necessitoys relations, who » 
 might otherwise be more burdensome. With respect 
 to the general conduct in life of a good man, it is 
 only necessary that he has never been publicly known 
 to have committed any action remarkably bad. 
 
 A good man, in the commercial world, is one ivho 
 has money enough to answer all demands ; and who, 
 knowing he must pay bills when due, or be liable to 
 personal inconveniencies, and particularly to pay law- 
 yers' and bailiffs' fees, takes care to discharge in time 
 all pecuniary obligations. N. B. It is of no sort of 
 importance by what means he acquires the ability to 
 effect this solely necessary purpose ; and though he 
 be a grinder of the poor, a defrauder of the rich, a 
 base guardian of orphans, a Jew usurer, or a christian 
 miser, still he is a good man in the city, as long as 
 he can pay every one twenty shillings in the pound 
 of what they can prove to be their due. 
 
 A good citizen is one who jogs on quietly through 
 life, pays scot and lot without ever inquiring for 
 what, and never attends common halls, or ward or 
 vestry meetings, but submits quietly to have his 
 pocket picked by those who do ; always thinking that 
 the presence of one more, and him clearly of little 
 weight or consequence, whatever natural rectitude 
 be may possess, would make no material difference. 
 
 A good friend is one who procures a man some 
 comfortable post under government, to assist him in 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 569 
 
 making provision for the large family he has provided 
 him, by debauching his wife, daughter, or sister. 
 
 A good fclloiv is one who borrows money of all 
 those persons who are weak enough to trust him, 
 without ever giving himself the smallest concern 
 about repayment, which he spends freely, or gives 
 away, during the little time it lasts ; and who ruins 
 more girls, drinks move liquor, sings more songs, gives 
 more toasts, belongs to more drunken societies, and 
 sits up more nights, than any other person whatever. 
 N. B. When he happens to have in possession a good 
 deal of property of his own, he is, while it lasts, 
 usually and emphatically called, a good fellow : but 
 when his money and credit are both exhausted, so 
 that he is obliged to sing, drink and tell stories, for 
 the entertainment of those who pay his shot, he de- 
 generates into a good companion. 
 
 A good husband is one who never opposes his 
 wife's inclinations, or arraigns her conduct, however 
 «.bsurd or unreasonable. 
 
 A good wife is one who never opposes her hus- 
 band's inclinations, or arraigns his conduct, however 
 absurd or unreasonable. 
 
 There are, besides these, a variety of other good 
 folks, the characteristics of whom will readily occur 
 to most readers, though no extraordinary quantity 
 of living models have perhaps lately appeared : such 
 as good generals, good admirals, good authors, good 
 players, good critics, and a variety of others. But 
 the specimens already produced will abundantly 
 prove that the world is not so destitute of goodness 
 as some pretended moralists have dared to insinuate. 
 
 RELIGION. 
 
 Men will wrangle for religion ; write for it ; fight 
 for it ; die for it ; any thing but — live for it. 
 
 ANCESTRAL ENORMITIES. 
 
 Three thousand years, if I count right, 
 Have heard the critics Homer cite, 
 
 (His poem's good 'tis true ;) 
 But what can hide the poet's shame, — 
 No one can tell from whence he came— 
 
 The son of lord-knows-who ! 
 
 Virgil, who sang of war and farming, 
 His case is nearly as alarming, 
 
 Though Caesar spoke him well : 
 Much did the thoughtless muse mistake her, 
 Who chose the issue of a baker 
 
 Such wondrous tales to tell. 
 
 Alas ! who into hist'ry pushes 
 
 Will i;nd perpetual cause for blushes — 
 
 There's Athens — shocking place ! 
 Demosthenes declaim'd with pith, 
 But he was gotten by a smith, 
 
 To Attica's disgrace. 
 I'm really puzzled to proceed ; — 
 To write what 'tis n't fit to read 
 
 All decent pens refuse : 
 There's Socrates, so wise and pure, 
 Was born of an old accoucheur, — > 
 
 I should say accoucheuse. 
 So with the ancients let's have done, 
 Who, every man and mother's son, 
 
 Were but of yesterday ; 
 One more — that Esop — was there ever !— 
 A slave write fables ! — I shall never t— 
 
 'Tis now high time to stay ! 
 But with the moderns shall we gain 1 
 Faith that's a case that's not quite plain ; 
 
 Piron's papa sold drugs ; 
 A mere upholsterer gotMoliere, 
 And Rollin was a cutler's heir, 
 
 And What's-his -name made jugs. 
 Rousseau — (not Jacques, but Jean Baptiste) 
 Whose odes to read are quite a feast— 
 
 His ancestor made shoes : 
 And is not Jaques himself as bad, 
 Who took a watchmaker for dad, 
 
 Our patience to abuse 1 
 At home, if curious to know 
 The parent-stocks of So-and-so, 
 
 We'll find the bad turn'd worse ; 
 Milton, for all his epic fire, 
 Claims but a scriv'ner for his sire— 
 
 Attd he to write blank yerse ' 
 
570 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Some folks affirm the proof is full, 
 That Shakspeare senior dealt in wpol — 
 
 Let's hope it is the case : 
 For, though one scorns in fleece to deal, 
 Where he a butcher* all must feel 
 
 'Twould his poor son disgrace. 
 I m glad to find there is a doubt 
 From what trunk Chaucer was a sprout ; — • 
 
 A noble one some say : 
 But whispers go, that Chaucer's father 
 A vintner was — or cobbler rather — 
 
 Hence his French name — Chaucier. 
 Tn short, the man of generous mind 
 Who views the world, must loathe his kind •, 
 
 Such facts his feelings hurting ; 
 The elder Pope, whose boy wrote satires, 
 Kept a cheap warehouse, next a hatter's, 
 
 Where he sold Irish shirting \ 
 Nought then remains, but hope — which still 
 Lurks, as of old, behind each ill, 
 
 Close to the box's bottom : 
 Aud, after all, the hazard runs, 
 That, though they're all their mother's sons, 
 
 Their fathers mayn't have got 'em! 
 
 EXTRACT FROM THE WrLL OF AN EARL OF 
 
 PEMBROKE, 
 
 Imprimis. — For my soul, I confess, I have heard 
 very much of souls, but what they are, or who they 
 are, or what they are for, God knows, I know not ; they 
 tell me now of another world, where I never was, 
 nor do I know one foot of the way thither. While 
 the king stood, I was of his religion, made my son 
 wear a cassock, aud thought to make him a bishop ; 
 but then came the Scots and made me a presbyte- 
 rian ; and since Cromwell entered I have been an 
 independent. These, I believe, are the kingdom's 
 three estates, and if any of these can save a soul, I 
 may claim one ; therefore if my executors do find I 
 have a soul, I give it to him who gave it to me. 
 
 Item. — I give my body, for I cannot keep it, to be 
 
 * Some give it for the wool-merchant, others for the but- 
 cher. - 
 
 buried. Do not lay me in the church porch, for 
 was a lord, and would not be buried where Colom 
 Pride was born. 
 
 Item. — My will is, that I have no monument, f< 
 then I must have epitaphs and verses, aud all my li. 
 long I had too much of them. 
 
 Item. — I give all my deer to the Earl of Salisbury 
 who T know will preserve them, because he denie 
 the king a buck out of one of his own par! s. 
 
 Item. — I give nothing to Lord Say ; which legac; 
 I give him because I know he will bestow it on th 
 poor. 
 
 Item. — To Tom May I give 5s. I intended hi; 
 more ; but whoever has seen his History of the Pai 
 liament, thinks 5s. too much. 
 
 Item. — I give Lieutenant-Colonel Cromwell on 
 word of mine, because hitherto he never kept hi 
 own. 
 
 Item.— I give up the ghost. — Concordet cum Ori 
 ginali. 
 
 EGAN AND CURRAN. 
 
 In the election for the borough of Tallagh, Job.'. 
 Egan was an unsuccessful candidate — he, however 
 appealed from the decision, and the appeal came o 
 course before a committee of the House of Commons 
 It was in the heat of a very warm summer, Egan wa 
 struggling through the crowd, his handkerchief in on 
 hand, his wig in the other, and his whole countenance 
 raging like the dogstar, when he met Curran — " I'n 
 sorry for you, my dear fellow," said Curran. — " Sorry 
 why so, Jack — why so? — I'm perfectly at my ease. 
 — " Alas, Egan, it's but too visible to every one tha 
 you're losing tallow {Tallagh) fast." 
 
 Like to the falling of a star, 
 Or as the flights of eagles are ; 
 Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue ; 
 Or silver drops of morning dew ; 
 Or like a wind that chafes the flood ; 
 Or bubbles which on wat^s stood : 
 Even such is man, whose borrow'd light 
 Is straight call'd in, and paid to-night. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 571 
 
 The wind blows out i the bubble dies ; 
 The spring entomb 'd in autumn lies j 
 The dew dries up ; the star is shot : 
 The flight is past, and man forgot. 
 
 ON A FAT MAN. 
 
 If fat men ride, they tire the horse, 
 
 And if they walk, themselves — that's worse : 
 
 Travel at all, they are at best, 
 
 Either oppressors — or opprest. 
 
 VOYAGE TO TARTARUS. 
 
 I do remember — not a 'pothecary 
 
 But one warm evening when well fill'd with 
 drink, 
 And having found my wine too hot to carry, 
 
 I laid myself most merry in a sink ; 
 And there when Somnus plac'd his leaden- hand 
 
 Upon my eyes, and call'd Squire Morpheus in, 
 I had such dreams, so glorious and so grand, 
 
 That to conceal them were a grievous sin ; 
 And therefore, with all due and meet celerity, 
 ] dedicate them hereby to posterity. 
 
 "Whether they issued from the iron gate, 
 
 Or gate of horn, I stop not to inquire, 
 Hereafter let my commentators prate, 
 
 And full of learned notes fill quire on quire. 
 I only shall relate the naked fact, 
 
 Of which my gentle reader need not doubt, 
 Which was, that as I snor'd and lay compact, 
 
 Good drink within, and puddle ail without, 
 The muse, descending from Parnassian station, 
 Inspir'd my soul with heavenly contemplation. 
 
 [We are obliged to leave out some verses on the 
 voyage, and come to where th-ey get in sight of the 
 coast.] 
 
 The joyful sailor, from the mast-head high, 
 Shouted aloud " Hell, we're in sight of Hell !" 
 
 *' Hell," says the helmsman, turning up his eye, 
 " Cheerly, my lads, a pleasant breeze, all's well." 
 
 " Hell,"- says the captain, " keep an eye a-head, 
 
 Clew up the topsails, 'tis a steady gale, 
 Watch well your soundings — damn you, heave the 
 lead — 
 
 Jack, north north-east ; — Jem, yonder pilot hail, 
 And Jack, I say, hide the run brandy well, 
 Gaugers are devils on earth — what must they be in 
 
 Hell X* 
 [Three or four stanzas are omitted here, describing 
 the coast in the manner of the voyage to Loo Clioo.] 
 There was Azazel, drunk as any lord, 
 
 His mast-high standard flagging in his hand ; 
 Belphegor, too, like him of Perigord, 
 
 Limp'd nimbly up and down along the strand, 
 And there was Beelzebub and Lucifer, 
 
 And many other gentlemen beside, 
 For all the quality of Hell came there, 
 
 As decent people as I ever spied. 
 Room to relate their names I cannot spare, 
 Besides, I don't remember what, they were. 
 And some in flour-of-brimstone arbours sat, 
 
 And play'd angelical, as Milton says, 
 (Book second, line five hundred forty-eight,) 
 
 Infernal music to infernal lays. 
 Glad was my soul, and straight I cock'd my ear: 
 
 For fourth, fifth, octave, sixth, and either third, 
 Hoping to make it presently appear 
 
 The style of modern Hell was most absurd ; 
 And then to write a learn'd convincing letter, 
 To prove their ancient music was much better. 
 But I shall speak the truth and shame the devil, 
 
 Although from Hell I've only made a sortie — 
 For I must say their playing was not evil, 
 
 And savoured more of accent than of forte. 
 Such as of yore they play'd in ancient Greece, 
 
 When old Timotheus tickled Alexander, 
 And I was much delighted with a piece, 
 
 Droned on the bag-pipes by a Salamander. 
 Besides when asked which concord had most worth 
 The fourth or fifth 1 they all sung out the fourth ! 
 
 [The remaining stanzas contain remarks on the 
 Literature and State of the Fine Arts in Hell, Stage 
 
572 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 Criticism, and the political intrigues of the Cabinet 
 Ministers of his Infernal Majesty, at Pandemonium, 
 the caoital of the Infernal Regions.] 
 
 BULLUM VerSlCS BOATUM. 
 
 There were two farmers, farmer A, and farmer B. 
 Farmer A was seized or possessed of a bull ; farmer 
 B was seized or possessed of a ferry-boat. Now the 
 owner of the ferry-boat, having made his boat 
 fast to a post on shore, with a piece of hay twisted 
 rope fashion, or as we say, vulgo vocato, a hay-band. 
 After he had made his boat fast to a post on shore, as 
 it was very natural for a hungry man to do, he went 
 up town to dinner : farmer B's bull, as it was very 
 natural for a hungry bull to do, came down toivn to 
 look for a dinner; and the bull observing, discover- 
 ing, seeing, and spying out, some turnips in the bot- 
 tom of the ferry-boat, the bull scrambled into the 
 ferry-boat — he eat up the turnips, and, to make an 
 end of his meal, he fell at work upon the hay-band : 
 the boat being eat from its moorings, floated down 
 the river, with the bull in it: it struck against a 
 rock — beat a hole in the bottom of the boat, and 
 tossed the bull overboard : whereupon the owner of 
 the bull brought his action against the boat, for run- 
 ing away with the bull : the owner of the boat brought 
 his action against the bull, for running away with the 
 boat. And thus notice of trial was given Bullum 
 versus Boatum, Boatum versus Bullum. Now the 
 counsel for the bull began by saying, " My lord, and 
 you gentlemen of the jury, we are counsel in this 
 cause for the bull. — We are indicted for running away 
 with the boat. Now, my lord, we have heard of 
 running horses, but never of running bulls before. 
 Now, my lord, the bull could no more run away with 
 the boat, than a man in a coach may be said to run 
 away with the horses ; therefore, my lord, how can 
 we punish what is not punishable 1 how can we eat 
 what is not eatable ? or how can we drink what is 
 not drinkable 1 or, as the law says, how can we 
 think on what is not thinkable 1 Therefore, my lord, 
 as we are counsel in this cause for the bull, if the 
 jury should bring the bull in guilty, the jury would 
 be guilty of a bull." 
 
 The counsel for the boat observed, that the bull 
 should be nonsuited, because in his declaration he 
 had not specified what colour he was ; for thus wisely 
 and thus learnedly spoke the counsel. — " My lord, if 
 the bull was of no colour, he must be of some colour ; 
 and if he was not of any colour, what colour could 
 the bull be?" This motion was overruled, by ob- 
 serving the bull was a white bull, and that white 
 is no colour : besides, as was urged ? they should 
 not trouble their heads to talk of colour in the 
 law, for the law can colour any thing. This cause 
 being afterwards left to a reference, upon the award, 
 both bull and boat were acquitted, it being proved 
 that the tide of the river carried them both away ; 
 upon which an opinion was given, that as the tide 
 of the river carried both bull and boat away, both 
 bull and boat had a good action against the water- 
 bailiff. 
 
 This opinion being taken, an action was issued, and 
 upon the traverse, this point of law arose, how, where- 
 fore, and whither, why, when, and what, whatsoever, 
 whereas, and whereby, as the boat was not a compos 
 mentis evidence, how could an oath be administered? 
 That point was soon settled by boatum's attorney 
 declaring, that for his client he would swear any 
 thing. 
 
 The water-bailiff's charter was then read, taken 
 out of the original record in true law Latin, which 
 set forth in their declaration that they were carried 
 away either by the tide of flood or the tide of ebb, 
 the charter of the water-bailiff was as follows : Aquce 
 baliffi est viagistratus in choisi, sapor omnibus, fishi- 
 bus, qui habuerunt finnos, et scalos, claws, shells, et 
 talos, qui sivimmare infreshibus, vel saltibus riveris, 
 lakis, pondis, canalibus et well boats, sive oysteri, 
 prawni, whitini, shrimpi, turbutus solus. That is, 
 not turbots alone, but turbots and soles both together. 
 But now comes the nicety of the law ; the law is as 
 nice as a new-laid egg, and not to be understood by 
 addle-headed people. Bullum and Boatum men- 
 tioned both ebb and flood to avoid quibbling ; but it 
 being proved that they were carried away neither 
 by the tide of flood, nor by the tide of ebb, but ex- 
 
 
THE LAUGHiNG PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 573 
 
 actly upon the top of high water, they were non- 
 suited ; but such was the lenity of the court, upon 
 their paying all costs, they were allowed to begin 
 again, de novo. 
 
 HOTSPUR S DESCRIPTION OF A FOP. 
 
 But I remember, when the fight was done, 
 
 When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, 
 
 Breathless and faint, leaning upon mv sword, 
 
 Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd. 
 
 Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin new reap'd, 
 
 Show'd like a stubble land at harvest home ; 
 
 He was perfumed like a milliner ; 
 
 And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held 
 
 A pouncet box, which ever and anon 
 
 He gave his nose and took't away again ; 
 
 Who, therewith angry, when it next came there. 
 
 Took it in snuff: — and still he smil'd and talk'd ; 
 
 And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, - 
 
 He call'd them — untaught knaves, unmannerly, 
 
 To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse 
 
 Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 
 
 With many holiday and lady terms 
 
 He question'd me ; among the rest demanded 
 
 My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf. 
 
 I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, 
 
 To be so pester'd with a popinjay, 
 
 Out of my grief and my impatience, 
 
 Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what ; 
 
 He should, or he should not ; — for he made me mad, 
 
 To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, 
 
 And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman, 
 
 Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the 
 
 mark !) 
 And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth 
 Was parmaceti, for an inward bruise ; 
 And that it was great pity, so it was, 
 That villainous saltpetre should be digg'd 
 Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
 Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd 
 So cowardly : and, but for these vile guns, 
 He would himself have been a soldier. 
 
 MISERIES OF HUMAN LIFE. 
 
 A scolding wife, a sullen son, a bill 
 
 To pay, unpaid, protested, or discounted 
 
 At a per-centage ; a child cross, dog ill, 
 
 A favourite horse fallen lame just as he's mounted 5 
 
 A bad old woman making a worse will, 
 
 Which leaves you minus of the cash you counted 
 
 As certain ; — these are paltry things, and yet 
 
 We rarely see the man they do not fret. 
 
 QUID PRO QUO. 
 
 A sprightly lady, young and fair, 
 With arms all nude, and neck all bare, 
 
 At dinner near a Quaker sat ; 
 And feeling much disposed to joke, 
 In playful accents thus she spoke ; — 
 
 " See, friend, I toast thy broad- brimm'd hat" 
 The Quaker smil'd and said, " Thou know'st 
 I ne'er use healths, nor give a toast, 
 
 Else from thy challenge I'd not shrink ; 
 Inclin'd to please so kind a lass, 
 I cheerfully would take my glass, 
 And to thy absent 'kerchief drink." 
 
 HABIT OF ANTICIPATION. 
 
 Lord Avonmore was apt to take up a first impres- 
 sion of a cause, and it was very difficult afterwards 
 to obliterate, it. Curran was one day most seriously 
 annoyed by this habit of Lord Avonmore, and he 
 took the following whimsical method of correcting it. 
 He and Curran were to dine together at the house of 
 a mutual friend, and a large party was assembled, 
 many of whom witnessed the occurrences of the 
 morning. Curran, contrary to all his usual habits, 
 was late for dinner, and at length arrived in the most 
 admirably affected agitation. " Why, Mr. Curran, 
 you have kept us a full hour waiting dinner for you," 
 grumbled out Lord Avonmore. " Oh, my dear lord, 
 I regret it much — you must know it is not my cus- 
 tom, but — I've just been witness to a most melan- 
 choly occurrence." — " My God ! — you seem terribly 
 moved by it — take a glass of wine — what was it — 
 
574 
 
 what was it?" — " I will tell you, my lord, the mo- 
 ment I can collect myself — I had been detained at 
 court — in the court of chancery — your lordship knows 
 the chancellor sits late." — " I do — I do — but go on." 
 « — '•' Well, my lord, I was hurrying here as fast as 
 ever I could — I did not even change my dress — I 
 hope I shall be excused for coming in my boots 1" — 
 " Poh, poh — never mind your boots — the point- 
 come at once to the point of the story.'' — " Oh — I 
 will, my good lord, in a moment — I walked here — 
 I would not even wait to get the carriage ready — it 
 would have taken time, you know — now there is a 
 market exactly in the road by which I had to pass — 
 your lordship may perhaps recollect the market — do 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 you 
 
 To be sure I do — go on, Curran- 
 
 with the stor\ 
 
 -go on 
 
 ' I am very glad your lordship 
 remembers the market, for I totally forget the name 
 of it — the name — the name — " " "What the devil 
 signifies the name of it, sir 1 — it's the Castle Market." 
 *' Your lordship is perfectly right' — it is called the 
 Castle Market: — Well, I was passing through that 
 very identical Castle Market, when I observed a 
 butcher preparing to kill a calf — he had a huge knife 
 in his hand — it was as sharp as a razor — the calf was 
 standing beside him — he drew the knife to plunge it 
 into the animal — just as he was in the act of doing 
 so, a little boy about four years old — his only son — 
 the loveliest little baby I ever saw, ran -suddenly 
 across his path — and he killed 1 O ! my God, he 
 
 killed " — " The child '.—the child !— the 
 
 child!" — vociferated Lord Avonmore. — " IS'o, my 
 Lord, the calf," continued Curran, very coolly — " he 
 killed the calf — but — your lordship is i?i the habit of 
 anticipating." 
 
 FAIR PLAY 
 
 A captain who knew the world, was playing at 
 piquet with a sharper, and saw him shuffling and 
 placing the cards very adroitly. The captain imme- 
 diately did the same, but openly and very deliber- 
 ately ; which the sharper telling him of, he replied, 
 it was very true he did so, because he thought it was 
 the sharper's common mode of playing, to which he 
 
 had no objection ; but if he preferred the fair game, 
 so be it, he was agreeable to either. 
 
 GARRICK AND STERNE. 
 
 Sterne, who used his wife very ill, was one day 
 talking to Garrick in a fine sentimental manner, in 
 praise of conjugal love and fidelity. " The husband," 
 said Sterne, " who behaves unkindly to his wife, de- 
 serves to have his house burnt over his head." " If 
 you think so," said Garrick, " I hope your house is 
 insured." 
 
 THE TURKISH SULTAN. 
 
 His highness was a man of solemn port, 
 
 Shawl'd to the nose, and bearded to the eyes, 
 
 Snatch'd from a prison to preside at court, 
 His lately bowstrung brother caused his rise ; 
 
 He was as good a sovereign of the sort 
 As any mention'd in the histories 
 
 Of Cantemir, or Knolles, where few shine 
 
 Save Solyman, the glory of their line. 
 
 He went to mosque in state, and said his pravers 
 With more than " Oriental scrupulosity ; 
 
 He left to his vizier all state affairs, 
 And show'd but little royal curiosity : 
 
 I know not if he had domestic cares — 
 No process proved connubial animosity ; 
 
 Four wives and twice five hundred maids, unseen, 
 
 Were ruled as calmly as a christian queen. 
 
 If now and then there happen'd a slight slip 
 Little was heard of criminal or crime ; 
 
 The story scarcely pass'd a single lip — 
 The sack and sea had settled all in time, 
 
 From which the secret nobody could rip : 
 
 The public knew no more than does this rhyme; 
 
 No scandals made the daily press a curse — 
 
 Morals were. better, and the fish no worse. 
 
 He saw with his own eyes the moon was round, 
 Was also certain that the earth was square, 
 
 Because he had journey'd fifty miles and found 
 No sign that it was circular any where 5 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 575 
 
 His empire also was without a bound : 
 
 Tis true, a little troubled here and there, 
 By rebel pachas, and encroaching giaours, 
 But then they never came to " the Seven Towers;" 
 
 Except in shape of envoys, who were sent 
 
 To lodge there when a war broke out, according 
 
 To the true law of nations, which ne'er meant 
 Those scoundrels, who have never had a sword in 
 
 Their dirty diplomatic hands,, to vent 
 
 Their spleen in making strife, and safely wording 
 
 Their lies, yclep'd despatches, without risk or 
 
 The singeing of a single inky whisker. 
 
 He had fifty daughters and four dozen sons, 
 Of whom all such as came of age were stow'd, 
 
 The former in a palace, where like nuns 
 
 They lived till some bashaw was sent abroad, 
 
 When she, whose turn it was, wedded at once, 
 Sometimes at six years old — though this seems odd, 
 
 'Tis true ; the reason is, that the Bashaw 
 
 Must make a present to his sire in law. 
 
 His sons were kept in prison, till they grew 
 Of years to fill a bowstring or the throne, 
 
 One or the other, but which of the two 
 
 Could yet be known unto the Fates alone ; 
 
 Meantime the education they went through 
 
 Was princely, as the proofs have always shown : 
 
 So that the heir apparent still was found 
 
 No less deserving to be hang'd than crown'd. 
 
 LEGAL PEARL-DIVERS. 
 
 Every barrister can " shake his head," and too 
 often, like Sheridan's Lord Burleigh, it is the only 
 proof he vouchsafes of his wisdom. Curran used to 
 call these fellows " legal pearl-divers." — " You may 
 observe them," he would say, " their heads barely 
 under water — their eyes shut, and an index floating 
 behind them, displaying the precise degree of their 
 purity and their depth." 
 
 WINE AND WIT. 
 
 Wine is such a whetstone for wit, that if it be often 
 set thereon, it will quickly grind all the steel out, and 
 scarcely leave a back where it found aa edge. 
 
 FAMILIARITY AND RESERVE. 
 
 Curran once observing a very pompous and so- 
 lemn blockhead, who endeavoured, with a most 
 ludicrous gravity, to conceal his insignificance, he 
 suddenly stopped short — " Observe that fellow," said 
 he, " if you dined and breakfasted with him for an 
 hundred years, you could not be intimate with him. — 
 By heavens he wouldn't even be seen to smile, lest 
 the world should think he was too familiar with 
 himself." 
 
 FALSTAFF's CATECHISM. 
 
 Well, 'tis no matter : hcnour pricks me on. Yea, 
 but how if honour prick me off when I come on? 
 how then 1 Can honour set to a leg 1 No. Or an 
 arm 1 No. Or take away the grief of a wound ] 
 No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. 
 What is honour 1 A word. What is in that word 1 
 Honour. What is that honour 1 Air. A trim rec- 
 koning. — Who hath it 1 He that died o' Wednesday. 
 Doth he feel it J No. Doth he hear it 1 No. Is it 
 insensible then * Yea, to the dead. But will it not 
 live with the living 1 No. Why 1 Detraction will 
 not suffer it : — therefore I'll none of it. Honour is 
 a mere escutcheon, and so ends my catechism. 
 
 AN ODD FISH. 
 
 Egan, the Irish barrister, was once engaged in a 
 violent controversy with Mr. Grattan, in which the 
 latter designated Mr. E. a black soul writhing in 
 torments. After this dispute there was not a waiter 
 in any considerable town upon the circuit, whose 
 first question to the passenger on his entrance to the 
 hotel was not invariably — " Sir, would your honour 
 dine— -you can have any fish your honour pleases — 
 perhaps your honour would prefer an Egan.'' — ■ 
 "An Egan, friend, what's an Egan?" — "Lord, 
 sir, I thought Mr. Grattan told every one what an 
 Egan was. It is a black soul (sole) fried." 
 
 THE FAITHFUL MINIATURE. 
 
 The miniature, Phyllis, you're showing us now, 
 Proves the artist with you well acquainted; 
 
 That 'tis monstrously like you, we all must allow, y 
 When we see, as we do, that 'tis painted. 
 
576 
 
 THE LAUGHiNG PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ON THE MARRIAGE OF MISS E. 
 MR. T. WHITE. 
 
 BLACK WITH 
 
 (Written immediately after the Ceremony.) 
 Mankind may now all error shun ;— 
 
 Nay, set Dame Nature right ; 
 For I — as Lawyers oft have done, 
 Can prove that Black is White. 
 
 BAD HABITS. 
 
 Said a harsh parish overseer, rude and unfeeling, 
 To a pauper, for alms near the vestry appealing, 
 " Hence, wretch ! mend your habits, nor dare this 
 
 place haunt." 
 "Amendment (said Lazarus) both of us want 5 
 But as to my habits, your worship offending, 
 They are mere shreds and tatters, and not worth 
 
 the mending." 
 
 hamlet's instructions to the players. 
 
 Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounce it to 
 you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, 
 as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier 
 spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much 
 with your hand, thus : but use all gently : for in the 
 very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) whirlwind 
 of your passion, you must acquire and beget a tem- 
 perance, that may give it smoothness. O, it offends 
 me to the soul, to hear a robustious perriwig-pated 
 fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split 
 the ears of the groundlings ; who, for the most part, 
 are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows 
 and noise : I would have such a fellow whipped for 
 out-doing Termagant ; it out-herods Herod. Pray 
 you, avoid it. 
 
 Play. I warrant your honour. 
 
 Ham. Be not too tame neither, but let your own 
 discretion be your tutor : suit the action to the word, 
 the word to the action ; with this special observance, 
 that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature : for any 
 thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, 
 whose end, both at the first, and now, was, and is, to 
 hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature ; to show virtue 
 her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very 
 
 age and body of the time his form and pressure. 
 Now this, overdone, or come tardy off, though it make 
 the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious 
 grieve ; the censure of which one, must, in your 
 allowance, overweigh a whole theatre of others. O, 
 there be players, that I have seen play, and heard 
 others praise, and that highly, — not to speak it pro- 
 fanely, that, neither having the accent of christians, 
 nor the gait of christian, pagan, nor man, have so 
 strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of 
 nature's journeymen had made men, and not made 
 them well, they imitated humanity so abominably. 
 
 Play. I hope we have reformed that indifferently 
 with us. 
 
 Ham O, reform it altogether. And let those that 
 play your clowns, speak no more than is set down for 
 them : for there be of them, that will themselves 
 laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators 
 to laugh too ; though, in the mean time, some neces- 
 sary question of the play be then to be considered : 
 that's villainous ; and shows a most pitiful ambition 
 in the fool that uses it. 
 
 CATCHING AN ACCENT. 
 
 A gentleman visited Cheltenham, and during his 
 stay there acquired a most extraordinary habit of 
 perpetually lolling his tongue out of his mouth ! 
 " What can he mean by if?" said somebody to Cur- 
 ean. — " Mean by it," said Curran ; " why he means, 
 if he can, to catch the English accent." 
 
 WITLINGS. 
 
 As empty vessels make the loudest sound, so men 
 of bad wit are the greatest babbleis. Many by wit 
 get wealth, but none by wealth purchase wit. 
 
 charms of a duel. 
 It has a strange quick jar upon the ear, 
 
 That cocking of a pistol, when you know 
 A moment more will bring the sight to bear 
 
 Upon your person, twelve yards off, or so, 
 A gentlemanly distance, not too near, 
 
 If you have got a former friend for foe; 
 But after being fired at once or twice, 
 The ear becomes more Irish, and less nice. 
 
THE LAUGH 1Jn t 
 
 T.7E OLD WHIG POET TO HIS OLD BUFF WAISTCOAT. 
 
 By Captain Morris. 
 
 Farewell, thou poor rag of the muse ! 
 
 In the bag- of the clothesman go lie : 
 ! A sixpence thou'lt fetch from the Jews, 
 
 Which the hardhearted Christians deny. 
 Twenty years, in adversity's spite, 
 
 T bore thee most proudly along : 
 I Stood jovially huflXo the light, 
 
 And won the world's ear with my song. 
 I But, prosperity's humbled thy case : 
 
 Thy friends in full banquet I see, 
 And the door kindly shut in my face, 
 
 Tiiou'st become a fool's garment to me ;' 
 Poor rag ! thou ait welcome no more, 
 
 The days of thy service are past, 
 Thy toils and thy glories are o'er, 
 
 And thou and thy master are cast. 
 But, though thou'rt forgot and betrayed, 
 
 Twill ne'er be forgotten by me, 
 Plow my old lungs within thee have ploy'd, 
 
 And my spirits have sweli'd thee with glee. 
 Perhaps they could swell thee no more, 
 
 For Time's icy hand's on my head ; 
 My spirits are weary and sore, 
 
 And the impulse of Friendship is dead. 
 Then adieu I tho' I cannot but fret 
 
 That my constancy with thee must part, 
 For thou hast not a hole in thee yet, 
 
 Though through thee they have wounded my heart. 
 I change thee for sable more sage, 
 
 To mourn the hard lot I abide ; 
 And mark upon gratitude's page, 
 
 A blot that hath buried my pride. 
 Ah ! who would believe in these lands 
 
 From the Whigs I should suffer a wrong ? 
 Had they seen how with hearts and with hands 
 
 They followed in frenzy my song. 
 Who'd have thought, though so eager their claws, 
 
 They'd condemn me thus hardly to plead \ 
 Through my prime, I have toiled for your cause 
 
 And you've left me, when aged, in need. 
 
 G PHILOSOPHER. 577 
 
 Could ye riot midst the favours of fate, 
 Drop a mite where all own it is due I 
 Could ye not from the feast of the state 
 Throw a crumb to a servant so true '! 
 In your scramble I stirred not a jot, 
 
 Too proud for rapacity's strife ; 
 And sure that all hearts would allot 
 A scrap to the claims of my life. 
 But go, faded rag, and while gone 
 
 I'll turn thy hard fate to my ease ; 
 For the hand of kind heaven hath shown 
 
 All crosses have colours that please. 
 Thus a bliss from thy shame I receive, 
 
 Though my body's met treatment so foul, 
 I can suffer, forget, and forgive, 
 
 And get comfort, more worth for my soul. 
 And when seen on the rag-sellers rope, 
 
 They who knew thee'il say ready enough 
 " There service hangs jilted by hope, 
 This once was poor Morris's buff." 
 If they let them give virtue her name 
 
 And yield an example to teach, 
 Poor rag, thou hast served in thy shame 
 
 Better ends than thy honours could reach. 
 But, though the soul gain by the loss, 
 
 The stomach and pocket still say, 
 " Pray what shall we do in this cross V* 
 
 I answer, " Be poor and be gay." 
 Let the muse gather mirth from her wrong, 
 Smooth her wing in adversity's shower ; 
 To new ears and new hearts tune her song, 
 
 And still look for a sun-shining hour ! 
 While I, a disbanded old Whig, 
 
 Put up my discharge with a smile ; 
 Face about — prime and load — take a swig, 
 And march off — to the opposite file, 
 
 THE PALAIS DE JUSTICE. 
 
 A peasant newly arrived at Paris asked what 
 building was that, pointing to the Palais de Justice, 
 where the law courts are held. " It is a mill," said 
 an attorney, to quiz the bumpkin. " I thought as 
 much," replied the countryman, " for I see a good 
 many asses at the door with sacks." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 578 
 
 MATRIMONY. 
 
 Cries Nell to Tom, 'midst matrimonial strife, 
 " Curs'd be the hour I first became your wife." 
 " By all the powers, (said Tom) but that's too bad, 
 You've curs'd the only civil hour we've had.' r 
 
 DEAN SWIFT'S RULES FOR SERVANTS IN GENERAL. 
 
 When your master or lady calls a servant byname, 
 if that servant be not in the way, none of you are to 
 answer, for then there will be no end of your 
 drudgery : and masters themselves allow, that if a 
 servant comes when he is called, it is sufficient. 
 
 When you have done a fault, be always pert and 
 insolent, and behave yourself as if you were the in- 
 jured person ; this will immediately put your master 
 or lady off their mettle. 
 
 If yon see your master wronged by any of your 
 fellow-servants, be sure to conceal it, for fear of 
 being called a tell-tale : however, there is one ex- 
 ception in case of a favourite servant, who is justly 
 hated by the whole family ; who therefore are bound 
 in prudence to lay all the faults they can upon the 
 favourite. 
 
 The cook, tne butler, the groom, the market-man, 
 and every other servant who is concerned in the ex- 
 penses of the family, should act as if his master's 
 whole estate ought to be applied to that servant's 
 particular business. For instance, if the cook com- 
 putes his master's estate to be a thousand pounds a 
 year, he reasonably concludes, that a thousand 
 pounds a year will afford meat enough, and therefore 
 he need not be sparing ; the butler makes the same 
 judgment, so may the groom and the coachman ; and 
 thus every branch of expense will be filled to your 
 master's honour. 
 
 When you are chid before company, (which with 
 submission to our masters and ladies is an unman- 
 nerly practice) it often happens that some stranger 
 will have the good nature to drop a word in your 
 excuse ; in such a case you will have a good title to 
 justify yourself, and may rightly conclude, that 
 whenever he chides you afterwards on other occa 
 sions,he may be in the wrong ; in which opinion you 
 will be the better confirmed by stating the case to 
 your fellow-servants in your own way, who will cer- 
 
 tainly decide in your favour: therefore, as I have 
 said before, whenever you are chidden, complain as 
 if you were iajured. 
 
 It often happens, that servants sent on messages 
 are apt to stay out somewhat longer than the message 
 requires, perhaps two, four, six, or eight hours, or 
 some such trifle ; for the temptation to be sure was 
 great, and flesh and blood cannot always resist : when 
 you return, the master storms, the lady scolds ; 
 stripping, cudgelling, and turning off, is the word. 
 But here you ought to be provided with a set of ex- 
 cuses, enough to serve on all occasions ; for instance, 
 your uncle came fourscore miles to town this morning 
 on purpose to see you, and goes back by break of 
 day to-morrow : a brother-servant, that borrowed 
 money of you when he was out of place, was running 
 away to Ireland : you were taking leave of an old fel- 
 low-servant, who was shipping for Barbadoes : your 
 father sent a cow to you to sell, and you "could not 
 get a chapman till nine at night : you were taking 
 leave of a dear cousin, who is to be hanged next i 
 Saturday : you wreuched your foot against a stone, 
 and were forced to stay three hours in a shop, before 
 you could stir a step : some filth was thrown on 
 you out of a garret-window, and you were ashamed 
 to come home before you were cleaned, and the smell 
 went off: you were pressed for the sea-service, and 
 carried before a justice of peace, who kept you three 
 hours before he examined you, and you got off with 
 much a-do : a bailiff by mistake seized you for a 
 debtor, and kept you the whole evening in a spung- 
 ing-house : you were told your master had gone to a 
 tavern, and come to some mischance, and your grief 
 was so great that you inquired for his honour in an 
 hundred taverns between Pall Mall and Temple 
 Bar. 
 
 Take all tradesmen's parts against your master ; 
 and when you are sent to buy any thing, never offer 
 to cheapen it, but generously pay the full demand. 
 This is highly to your master's honour, and may be 
 some shillings in your pocket ; and you are to con- 
 sider if your master hath paid too much, he can bet- 
 ter afford the loss than a poor tradesman. 
 
 Never submit to stir a finger in any business, but 
 that for which you were particularly hired. For ex- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ample, if the groom be drunk, or absent, and the but- 
 ler be ordered to shut the stable door, the answer is 
 ready, " An please your honour, I don't understand 
 horses." If a corner of the hanging wants a single 
 nail to fasten it, and the footman be directed to 
 tack it up, he may say he doth not understand that 
 sort of work, but his honour may send for the 
 upholsterer. 
 
 Masters and ladies are usually quarrelling with 
 the servants for not shutting the doors after them : 
 for neither masters nor ladies consider, that those 
 doors must be open before they can be shut, and that 
 the labour is double to open and shut the doors ; 
 therefore the best, the shortest, and easiest way is, 
 to do neither. But if you are so often teazed to shut 
 the door, that you cannot easily forget it, then give 
 the door such a clap as you go out, as will shake the 
 whole room, and make every thing rattle in it, to put 
 your master and lady in mind that you observe their 
 directions. 
 
 If you find yourself to grow into favour with your 
 master or lady, take some opportunity, in a very mild 
 way, to give them warning ; and when they ask the 
 reason, and seem loath to part with you, answer that 
 you would rather live with them than any body else, 
 but a poor servant is not to be blamed if he strives to 
 better himself; that service is no inheritance, that 
 your work is great, and your wages very small. 
 Upon which, if your master hath any generosity, he 
 will add five or ten shillings a quarter rather than let 
 you go ; but if you are balked, and have no mind to 
 go off, get some fellow-servant to tell your master 
 that he hath prevailed upon you to stay. 
 
 Whatever good bits you can pilfer in the day, save 
 them to junket with your fellow-servants at night ; 
 and take in the butler, provided he will give you 
 drink. 
 
 Write your own name and your sweetheart's with 
 the smoke of a candle, on the roof of the kitchen, or 
 the servants'-hall, to show your learning. 
 
 If you are a young sightly fellow, whenever you 
 whisper your mistress at the table, run your nose full 
 in her cheek ; or, if your breath be good, breathe full 
 in her face : this I have known to have had very 
 good consequences in some families. 
 2 c 2 
 
 579 
 
 Never come till you have been called three or four 
 times ; for none but dogs will come at the first whis- 
 tle : and when the master calls, " Who's there 1 ." no 
 servant is bound to come ; for Who's there is no- 
 body's name. 
 
 When you have broken all your earthen drinking 
 vessels below stairs, (which is usually done in a 
 week,) the copper pot will do as well ; it can boil 
 milk, heat porridge, hold small beer, or, in case of 
 necessity, <;erve for a jorden ; therefore apply it indif- 
 ferently to all these uses ; but never wash or scour it, 
 for fear of taking off the tin. 
 
 Although you are allowed knives for the servarit's- 
 hall at meals, yet you ought to spare them, and make 
 use only of your master's. 
 
 Let it be a constant rule, that no chair, stool, or 
 table, in the servants'-hall, or the kitchen, shall have 
 above three legs, which hath been the ancient and 
 constant practice in all the families I ever knew, and 
 is said to be founded upon two reasons; first, to show 
 that servants are ever in a tottering condition ; se- 
 condly, it was thought a point of humility, that the 
 servants' chairs and tables should have at least one 
 leg fewer than those of their masters. I grant there 
 hath been an exception to this rule with regard to the 
 cook, who by old custom was allowed an easy-chair 
 to sleep in after dinner ; and yet I have seldom ssen 
 them with above three legs. Now this epidemical 
 lameness of servants' chairs is by philosophers im- 
 puted to two causes, which are observed to make the 
 greatest revolutions in states and empires ; I mean 
 love and war. A stool, a chair, or a table, is the first 
 weapon taken up in a general romping or skirmish j 
 and after a peace, the chairs, if they be not very- 
 strong, are apt to suffer in the conduct of an amour, 
 the cook being usually fat and heavy, and the butler 
 a little in drink. 
 
 I could never endure to see maid-servants so un- 
 genteel as to walk the streets with their petticoats 
 pinned up : it is a foolish excuse to allege, their 
 petticoats will be dirty, when they have so easy a re- 
 medy as to walk three or four times down a clean pair 
 of stairs after they come home. 
 
 When you stop to tattle with some crony servant 
 in the same street, leave your own street-door open. 
 
580 
 
 that you may get in without knocking when you 
 come back ; otherwise your mistress may know you 
 are gone out, and you must be chidden. 
 
 I do most earnestly exhort you all to unanimity 
 and concord ; but mistake me not ; you may quarrel 
 with each other as much as you please, only always 
 bear in mind, that you have a common enemy, which 
 is your master and lady, and you have a common 
 cause to defend. Believe an old practitioner ; who- 
 ever, out of malice to a fellow-servant, carries a tale 
 to his master, shall be ruined by a -general confede- 
 racy against him. 
 
 The'general place of rendezvous for all the ser- 
 vants, both in winter_ and summer, is the kitchen ; 
 there the grand affairs of the family ought to be con- 
 sulted ; whether they concern the stable, the dairy, 
 the pantry, the laundry, the cellar, the nursery, the 
 dining-room, or my lady's chamber ; there, as in your 
 own proper element, you can laugh, and squall, and 
 romp, in full security. 
 
 When any servant comes home drunk^and cannot 
 appear, you must all join in telling your master, that 
 he is gone to bed very sick ; upon which your lady 
 will be so good-natured as to order some comfortable 
 thing for the poor man or maid. 
 
 When your master and lady go abroad together to 
 dinner, or on a visit for the evening, you need leave 
 only one servant in the house, unless you have a 
 blackguard boy to answer at the door, and attend the 
 children, if there be any. Who is to stay at home is 
 to be determined by short and long cuts, and the 
 stayer at home may be comforted by a visit from a 
 sweetheart, without c\anger of being caught together. 
 These opportunities must never be missed, because 
 they come but sometimes ; and all is safe enough 
 while there is a servant in the house. 
 
 When your master or lady comes home, and 
 wants a servant who happens to be abroad, your an- 
 swer must be, that he had but just that minute stept 
 out, being sent for by a cousin who was dying. 
 
 If your master calls you by name, and you happen 
 to answer at the fourth call, you need not hurry 
 yourself ; and if you be chidden for staying, you may 
 lawfully say, you came no sooner because you did 
 not know what you were called for. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 When you are chidden for a fault, as you go out of 
 the room and down stairs, mutter loud enough to be 
 plainly heard ; this will make him believe you are 
 innocent. 
 
 Whoever eomes'to visit your master or lady when 
 they are abroad, never burden your memory with the 
 person's name, for indeed you have too many other 
 things to remember ; besides, it is a porter's busi- 
 ness, and your master's fault he does not keep one ; 
 and who can remember names ? and you will cer- 
 tainly mistake them, and you can neither write nor 
 read. 
 
 If it be possible, never tell a lie to your master or 
 lady, unless you have some hopes that they cannot 
 find it out in less than half an hour. W T hen a servant 
 is turned off, all his faults must be told, although 
 most of them were never known by his master or lady; 
 and all mischiefs done by others, charge to him. [In- 
 stance them.} And when they ask any of ycu, why 
 you never acquainted them before ? the answer is r 
 " Sir," or " Madam, really I was afraid it would make 
 you angry ; and beside, perhaps, you might think it 
 malice in me." Where there are little masters and 
 misses in a house, they are usually great impediments 
 to the diversions of the servants ; the only remedy is- 
 to bribe them with goody goodies, that they may- 
 not tell tales to papa and mamma. 
 
 I advise you of the servants, whose master lives in 
 the country, and who expect vales, always to stand 
 rank and file when a stranger is taking his leave, so 
 that he must of necessity pass between you, and he 
 must have more confidence, or less money than usual,. 
 if any of you let him escape ; and according as he be- 
 haves himself, remember to treat him the next time: 
 he comes. 
 
 If you are sent with ready money to buy any thing: 
 at a shop, and happen at that time to be out of" 
 pocket, sink the money, and take up the goods on; 
 your master's account. This is for the honour of your 
 master and yourself ; for he becomes a man of credit 
 at your recommendation. 
 
 When your lady sends for you up to her chamber 
 to give you any orders, be sure to stand at the door, 
 and keep it open, fiddling with the lock all the while 
 she is talking to you, and keep the button ln.your hand, 
 
,THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 for fear you should forget to shut the door, after 
 jou. 
 
 If your master or lady happen once in their lives to 
 accuse you wrongfully, you are a happy servant ; for 
 you hayfe nothing more to do, than for every fault you 
 commit while you are in their service to put them in 
 mind of that false accusation, and protest yourself 
 equally innocent in the present case. 
 
 When you have a mind to leave your master, and 
 are too bashful to break the matter for fear of offend- 
 ing him, the best way is to grow rude and saucy of a 
 sudden, and beyond your usual behaviour, till he finds 
 it necessary to turn you off ; and when you are gone, 
 to revenge yourself, give him and his lady such a 
 character to all your brother-servants who are out 
 of place, that none will venture to offer their service. 
 
 Some nice ladies who are afraid of catching cold, 
 having observed that the maids and fellows below 
 stairs often forget to shut the door after them, as they 
 come in, or go out into the back-yards, have contrived 
 that a pulley and a rope, with a large piece of lead 
 at the end, should be so fixed, as to make the door 
 shut of itself, and require a strong hand to open it, 
 which is an immense toil to servants, whose business 
 may force them to go in and out fifty times in a 
 morning : but ingenuity can do much ; for prudent 
 servants have found out an effectual remedy against 
 this insupportable grievance, by tying up the pulley 
 in such a manner, that the weight of lead shall have 
 no effect ; however, as to my own part, I would ra- 
 ther choose to keep the door always open by laying 
 a heavy stone at the bottom of it. 
 
 The servants' candlesticks are generally broken, for 
 nothing can last for ever. But you may find out 
 many expedients ; you may conveniently stick your 
 candle in a bottle, or with a lump of butter against 
 the wainscot, in a powder-horn, or in an old shoe, or 
 in a cleft-stick, or in the barrel of a pistol, or upon its 
 own grease on a table, in a coffee-cup, or a drinking - 
 glass, a- horn-can, a tea-pot, a twisted napkin, a 
 mustard-pot, an inkhorn, a marrow-bone, a piece of 
 dough, or you may cut a hole in the loaf, and stick it 
 there. 
 
 When you invite the neighbouring servants to 
 
 581 
 
 junket with you at home in an evening, teach them a 
 peculiar way of tapping or scraping at the kitchen- 
 window, which you may hear, but not your master 
 or lady, whom you must take care not to disturb or 
 frighten at such unseasonable hours. 
 
 Lay all faults upon a lap-dog, or favourite cat, a 
 monkey, a parrot, a child ; or on the servant who was 
 last turned off: by this rule you will excuse youiself, 
 do no hurt to any body else, and save your master or 
 lady from the trouble and vexation of chiding. 
 
 When you want proper instruments for any work 
 you are about, use all expedients you can invent, 
 rather than leave your work undone For instance, if 
 the poker be out of the way, or broken, stir the fire 
 with the tongs ; if the tongs be not at hand, use the 
 muzzle of the bellows, the wrong end of the fire- 
 shovel, the handle of the fire-brush, the end of a 
 mop, or your master's cane. If you want paper to 
 singe a fowl, tear the first book you see about the 
 house. Wipe your shoes, for the want of a clout, 
 with ihe bottom of a curtain, or a damask napkin. 
 Strip your livery-lace for garters. If the butler wants 
 a jorden, he may use the great silver cup. 
 
 There are several ways of putting out candles, and 
 you ought to be instructed in them all : you may run 
 the candle end against the wainscot, which puts the 
 snuff out immediately : you may lay it on the ground 
 and tread the snuff out with your foot : you may hold 
 it upsides-down, until it is choked with its own 
 grease : or cram it into the socket of the candlestick : 
 you may whirl it round in your hand till it goes out : 
 when you go to bed, after you have made water, you 
 
 may dip the candle-end into the vase; you 
 
 may spit on your finger aud thumb, and pinch the 
 snuff till it goes out. The cook may run the candle's 
 nose into the meal-tub, or the groom into a vessel of 
 oats, or a lock of hay, or a heap of litter : the house- 
 maid may put out her candle by running it against a 
 looking-glass, which nothing cleans so well as candle- 
 snuff: but the quickest and best of all methods is, to 
 blow it out with your breath, which leaves the candle 
 clear, and readier to be lighted. 
 
 There is nothing so pernicious in a family as a tell- 
 tale, against whom it must be the principal business 
 
582 
 
 THE LATJGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 of you all to unite : whatever office he serves in, take 
 all opportunities to spoil the business he is about, and 
 to cross him in every thing. For instance, if the 
 butler be a tell-tale, break his glasses whenever he 
 leaves the pantry-door open ; or lock the cat or the 
 mastiff in it, who will do as well : mislay a fork or a 
 spoon, so that he may never find it. If it be the cook, 
 whenever she turns her back, throw a lump of soot, 
 or a handful of salt, in the pot, or smoking coals into 
 the dripping-pan, or daub the roast-meat with the 
 back of the chimney, or hide the key of the jack. If 
 a footman be suspected, let the cook daub the back of 
 his new livery ; or when he is going up with a dish of 
 soup, let her follow him softly with a ladle-full, and 
 dribble it all the way up stairs to the dining-room, 
 and then let the house-maid make such a noise, that 
 her lady may hear it. The waiting-maid is very 
 likely to be guilty of this fault in hopes to ingratiate 
 herself : in this case the laundress must be sure to 
 tear her smocks in the washing, and yet wash them 
 but half; and, when she complains, tell all the house 
 that she sweats so much, and her flesh is so nasty, 
 that she fouls a smock more in one hour, than the 
 kitchen-maid doth in a week. 
 
 SIR JOHN SUCKLING'S ARMY, 
 
 Raised for the Scottish War in 1639. 
 Sir John got him an ambling nag, 
 
 To Scotland for to ride a, 
 With a hundred horse more, all his own he swore, 
 
 To guard him on every side a. 
 No errant knight ever went to fight 
 
 With half so gay a bravado, 
 Had you but seen his look, you'ld have sworn on a 
 book, 
 Hee'ld have conquered a whole armado. 
 The ladies ran all to the windows to see 
 
 So gallant and warlike a sight a, 
 And as he pass'd by, they began to cry, 
 
 Sir John, will you go fight a 1 
 But he, like a cruel knight, spurr'd on, 
 
 His heart did not relent a ; 
 Tor till he came there, he show'd no fear, 
 Till then, why shou'd he repent a ? 
 
 The king, (God bless him,) had singular hopes 
 
 Of him and all his troop a, 
 The Borderers they, as they met mm on the way, 
 
 For joy did hollow and whoop a. 
 None lik'd him so well as his own colonel, 
 
 Who took him for John de Weart a ; 
 But when there were shows of gunning and blows, 
 
 My gallant was nothing so peart a. 
 For when the Scots army came within sight, 
 
 And all men prepar'd to fight a, 
 He ran to his tent, they ask'd what he meant, 
 
 He swore he must needs go a. 
 
 The colonel sent foT him back agen, 
 
 To quarter him in the van a ; 
 But Sir John did swear, he came not there, 
 
 To be kill'd the very first man a. 
 To cure his fear, he was sent to the rere, 
 
 Some ten miles back and more a ; 
 Where he did play at tre trip for hay, 
 
 And nere saw the enemy more a. 
 But now there is peace, he's returned to increase 
 
 His money which lately he spent a ; 
 But his lost honour must still lie in the dust, 
 
 At Barwick away it went a. 
 
 IN SELBY CHURCH-YARD, YORKSHIRE. 
 
 Here lies the body of poor Frank Row, 
 Parish clerk, and grave-stone cutter j 
 
 And this is writ to let you know, 
 
 What Frank for others us'd to do, 
 Is now for Frank done by another. 
 
 VILLAGE APOTHECARY. 
 
 I do remember an apothecary, — 
 
 And hereabouts he dwells, — whom late I noted 
 
 In tatter 'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, 
 
 Culling of simples ; meagre were his looks, 
 
 Sharp misery had worn him to the bones : 
 
 And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, 
 
 An alligator stuff'd, and other skins 
 
 Of ill shap'd fishes ; and about his shelves 
 
 A beggarly account of empty boxes, 
 
 Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, 
 
 Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses, 
 
 Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 CONFESSIONS OV THE INCONVENIENCES OF BEING 
 HANGED. 
 
 O, reader ! guess at the wretch's misery who now 
 writes this, when, with tears and burning blushes, he 
 
 is obliged to confess that he has been 
 
 hanged 
 
 Methinks I hear an involuntary exclamation burst 
 from you, as your imagination presents to you fearful 
 Images of your correspondent unknown — hanged I 
 
 "Fear not. No disembodied spirit has the honour 
 of addressing you. I am flesh and blood, an unfor- 
 tunate system of bones, muscles, sinews, arteries, like 
 yourself. 
 
 Then, I presume, you mean to be pleasant. That 
 expression of yours, must be taken somehow in a 
 metaphorical sense 
 
 In the plainest sense, without trope or figure — Yes, 
 reader ! this neck of mine has felt the fatal noose,— 
 these hands have tremblingly held up the corrobora- 
 tive prayer-book, — these lips have sucked the mois- 
 ture of the last consolatory orange, — this tongue has 
 chanted the doleful cantata which no performer was 
 ever called upon to repeat, — this face has had the 
 veiling night-cap drawn over it 
 
 But for no crime of mine. — Far be it from me to 
 arraign the justice of my country, which, though 
 tardy, did at length recognise my innocence. It is 
 not for me to reflect upon judge or jury, now that 
 eleven years have elapsed since the erroneous sen- 
 tence was pronounced. Men will always be fallible, 
 and perhaps circumstances did appear at the time a 
 little strong 
 
 Suffice it to say, that after hanging four minutes, 
 (as the spectators were pleased to compute it, — a 
 man that is being strangled, I know from experience, 
 has altogether a different measure of time from his 
 friends who are breathing leisurely about him, — 1 
 suppose the minutes lengthen as time approaches 
 eternity, in the same manner as the miles get longer 
 as you travel northward — ,) after hanging four mi- 
 nutes, according to the best calculation of the by- 
 standers, a reprieve came, and I was cut down 
 
 Really I am ashamed of deforming your pages with 
 
 583 
 
 these technical phrases— if I knew how to express 
 my meaning shorter 
 
 But to proceed.— My first care after I had been 
 brought to myself by the usual methods, (those me- 
 thods that are so interesting to die operator and his 
 assistants, who are pretty numerous on such occa- 
 sions, — but which no patient was ever desirous of 
 undergoing a second time for the benefit of science,) 
 my first care was to provide myself with an enormous 
 stock or cravat to hide the place — you understand me ; 
 — my next care was to procure a residence as distant 
 as possible from that part of the country where I had 
 suffered. For that reason I chose the metropolis, as 
 the place where wounded honour (I had been told) 
 could lurk with the least danger of exciting inquiry, 
 and stigmatized innocence had the best chance of 
 hiding her disgrace in a crowd. I sought out a new 
 circle of acquaintance, and my circumstances hap- 
 pily enabling me to pursue my fancy in that respect, 
 I eudeavoured, by mingling in all the pleasures which 
 the town affords, to efface the memory of what I had 
 urdergone. 
 
 But alas ! such is the portentous and all-pervading 
 chain of connection which links together this great 
 community, my scheme of lying perdu was defeated 
 almost at the outset. A countryman of mine, whom 
 a foolish law-suit had brought to town, by chance 
 met me, and the secret was soon blazoned about. 
 
 In a short time, I found myself deserted by most 
 of those who had been my intimate friends. Not 
 that any guilt was supposed to attach to my cha- 
 racter. My officious countryman, to do him justice, 
 had been candid enough to explain my perfect in- 
 nocence. But, somehow or other, there is a want of 
 strong virtue in mankind. We have plenty of the 
 softer instincts, but the heroic character is gone. 
 How else can I account for it, that of all my nume- 
 rous acquaintance, among whom I had the honour 
 of ranking sundry persons of education, talents, and 
 worth, scarcely here and there one or two could be 
 found, who had the courage to associate with a man 
 that had been hanged. 
 
 Those few who did not desert me altogether, were 
 
5S4 THE LAUGHING 
 
 persons of strong but coarse minds ; and from the 
 absence of all delicacy in them I suffered almost as 
 much as from the superabundance of a false species 
 of it-in the others. Those who stuck by me were the 
 jokers, who thought themselves entitled, by the fidelity 
 which they had shown towards me, to use me with 
 what familiarity they pleased. Many and unfeeling 
 are the jests that I have suffered from these rude 
 (because faithful) Ac-hateses. As they past me in 
 the streets, one would nod significantly to his com- 
 panion, and say, pointing to me, Smoke his cravat ; 
 and ask me if I had got a wen, that I was so soli- 
 citous to cover rny neck. Another would inquire, 
 What news from * * * Assizes 1 (which you may guess, 
 reader, was the scene of my shame,) and whether 
 the sessions was like to prove a maiden one 1 A third 
 would offer to ensure me from drowning. A fourth 
 would teaze me with inquiries how I felt when I was 
 swinging, whether I had not something like a blue 
 flame dancing before my eyes 1 A fifth took a fancy 
 never to call me any thing but Lazarus. And an 
 eminent bookseller and publisher, — who, in his zeal 
 to present the public with new facts, had he lived in 
 those days, I am confident, would not have scrupled 
 waiting upon the person himself last mentioned, at 
 the most critical period of his existence, to solicit a 
 few facts relative to resuscitation, — had the modesty 
 to offer me sixteen guineas per sheet, if I would write, 
 in his Magazine, a physiological account of my feelings 
 upon coming to myself. 
 
 But these were evils which a moderate fortitude 
 might have enabled me to struggle with. Alas ! 
 reader, the women, — whose good graces I had al- 
 ways most assiduously cultivated, from whose softer 
 minds I had hoped a more delicate and generous 
 sympathy than I found in the men, — the women 
 began to shun me —this was the unkindest blow of 
 all. 
 
 But is it to be wondered at ? How couldst thou 
 imagine, wretchedest of beings, that that tender 
 creature Seraphina would fling her pretty arms about 
 that neck which previous circumstances had rendered 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 of the rope, the leavings of the cord 1 Or that any 
 analogy could subsist between the knot which binds 
 two lovers, and the knot which ties malefactors 1 
 
 I can forgive that pert baggage Flirtilla, who, 
 when I complimented _her one day on the execution 
 which her eyes had done, replied, " that, to be sure, 
 Mr. * * was a judge of those things." But from thy 
 more exalted mind, Gelestina, I expected a more 
 unprejudiced decision. 
 
 The person whose true name I conceal under this 
 appellation, of all the women that I was ever ac- 
 quainted with, had the most manly turn of mind, 
 which she had improved by reading and the best 
 conversation. Her understanding was not more mas- 
 culine than her manners and whole disposition were 
 delicately and tiuly feminine. She was the daughter 
 of an officer who had fallen in the service of his 
 country, leaving his widow and Celestina, an only 
 child, with a fortune sufficient to set them above 
 want, but not to enable them to live in splendour. 
 I had the mother's permission to pay my addresses 
 to the young lady, and Celestina seemed to approve 
 of my suit. 
 
 Often and often have I poured out my overcharged 
 soul in the presence of Celestina, complaining of the 
 hard and unfeeling prejudices of the world, and the 
 sweet maid has again and again declared, that no 
 irrational prejudice should hinder her from esteeming 
 every man according to his intrinsic worth. Often 
 has she repeated the consolatory assurance, that she 
 could never consider as essentially ignominious an 
 accident, which was indeed to be deprecated, but 
 which might have happened to the most innocent of 
 mankind. Then would she set forth some illustrious 
 example, which her reading easily furnished, of a 
 Phocion or a Socrates unjustly condemned ; of a 
 Raleigh or a Sir Thomas More, to whom late pos- 
 terity had done justice ; and by soothing my fancy 
 with some such agreeable parallel, she would make 
 me almost to triumph in my disgrace, and convert 
 my shame into glory. 
 
 In such entertaining and instructive conversations 
 
 infamous ] That she would put up with the refuse ] the time passed on, till I importunately urged the 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 585 
 
 j mistress of my affections to name a day for our 
 union. To this she obligingly consented, and I thought 
 myself the happiest of mankind. But how was I 
 
 ; surprised one morning at the receipt of the following 
 billet from my charmer : — 
 
 " You must not impute it to levity, or to a worse 
 failing, ingratitude, if, with anguish of heart, I feel 
 myself compelled by irresistible arguments to recall 
 a vow which I fear I made with too little considera- 
 tion. I never can be yours. The reasons of my 
 decision, which is finals are in my own breast, and 
 you must everlastingly remain a stranger to them. 
 Assure yourself that I can never cease to esteem you 
 as I ought. Celestina." 
 
 At the sight of this paper, I ran in frantic haste to 
 Cclestina's lodgings, where I learned, to my infinite 
 mortification, that the mother and daughter were set 
 off on a journey to a distant part of the country, to 
 visit a relation, and were not expected to return in 
 less than four months. 
 
 Stunned by this blow, which left me without the 
 courage to solicit an explanation by letter, even if I 
 had known where they were, (for the particular ad- 
 dress was industriously concealed from me,) I waited 
 with impatience the termination of the period, in the 
 vain hope that I might be permitted to have a chance 
 of softening the harsh decision by a personal inter- 
 view with Celestina after her return. But before 
 three months were at an end, I learned from the 
 
 newspapers, that my beloved had given her hand 
 
 to another ! 
 
 Heart-broken as I was, I was totally at a loss to 
 account for the strange step which she had taken ; 
 and it was not till some years after that I learned the 
 true reason from a female relation of hers, to whom 
 it seems Celestina had confessed in confidence, that 
 it was no demerit of mine that had caused her to 
 break off the match so abruptly, nor any preference 
 which she might feel for any other person, for she 
 preferred me (she was pleased to say) to all mankind : 
 but when she came to lay the matter closer to her 
 2c3 
 
 heart, she found that she should never be able to 
 bear the sight (I give you her very words as they 
 were detailed to me by her relation) the sight of a 
 man in a nightcap, who had appeared on a public 
 platform, it would lead to such a disagreeable asso- 
 ciation of ideas ! And to this punctilio I was sa- 
 crificed. 
 
 To pass over an infinite series of minor mortifica- 
 tions, behold me here, in the thirty-seventh year of 
 my existence, (the twelfth, reckoning from my re- 
 animation,) cut off from all respectable connections, 
 rejected by the fairer half of the community, — who 
 in my case alone seem to have laid aside the cha- 
 racteristic pity of their sex ; punished because I was 
 once punished unjustly ; suffering for no other reason 
 than because I once had the misfortune to suffer with- 
 out any cause at all. In no other country, I think, 
 but this, could a man have been subject to such a 
 life-long persecution, when once his innocence had 
 been clearly established. 
 
 Had I crawled forth a rescued victim from the rack 
 in the horrible dungeons of the Inquisition, — had I 
 heaved myself up from a half bastinado in China, or 
 been torn from the just-entering, ghastly impaling- 
 stakein Barbary, — had I dropt alive from the knout 
 in Russia, or come off with a gashed neck from the 
 half-mortal, scarce-in-time-retracted scimitar of an 
 executioneering slave in Turkey, — I might have borne 
 about the remnant of this frame (the mangled trophy 
 of reprieved innocence) with credit to myself, in any 
 of those barbarous countries. No scorn, at least, 
 would have mingled with the pity (small as it might 
 be) with which what was left of me would have been 
 surveyed. 
 
 'The singularity of my case has often led me to 
 inquire into the reasons of the general levity with 
 which the subject of hanging is treated as a topic in 
 this country. I say as a topic : for let the very per- 
 sons who speak so" lightly of the thing at a distance 
 be brought to view the real scene, — let the platform 
 be bona fide exhibited, and the trembling culprit 
 brought forth,— the case is changed : but as a topic 
 of conversation, I appeal to the vulgar jokes which 
 
586 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 pass current in every street. But why mention them, 
 when the politest authors have agreed in making use 
 of this subject as a source of the ridiculous. Swift, 
 and Pope, and Prior, are fond of recurring to it. 
 Gay has built an entire drama upon this single foun- 
 dation. The whole interest of the Beggar's Opera 
 may be said to hang upon it. To such writers as 
 Fielding and Smollet it is a perfect bonne louche. — 
 Hear the facetious Tom Brown, in his Comical View 
 of London and Westminster, describe the Order of 
 the Show at one of the Tyburn Executions in his 
 time • — " Mr. Ordinary visits his melancholy flock 
 in Newgate by eight. Doleful procession up Hol- 
 horn Hill about eleven. Men handsome and proper 
 that were never thought so before, which is some 
 comfort however. Arrive at the fatal place by twelve. 
 Burnt brandy, women, and sabbath-breaking, re- 
 pented of. Some few penitential drops fall under 
 the gallows. Sheriff's men, parson, pickpockets, cri- 
 minals, all very busy. The last concluding peremp- 
 tory psalm struck up. Show over by one." 
 
 One reason why the ludicrous never fails to intrude 
 itself into our contemplations upon this mode of death, 
 I suppose to be, the absurd posture into which a man 
 is thrown who is condemned to dance, as the vulgar 
 delight to express it, upon nothing. To see him 
 whisking and wavering in the air, 
 
 As the wind you know will wave a man ; 
 
 to behold the vacant carcass, from which the life is 
 newly dislodged, shifting between earth and heaven 
 the sport of every gust ; like a weathercock serving 
 to show from which point the wind blows ; like a 
 maukin, fit only to scare away birds ; like a nest left 
 to swing upon a bough when the bird is flown : these 
 „ are uses to which we cannot without a mixture of 
 spleen and contempt behold the human carcass re- 
 duced. We string up dogs, foxes, bats, moles, wea- 
 sels. Man surely deserves a steadier death. 
 
 Another reason why the ludicrous associates more 
 forcibly with this than any other mode of punishment, 
 I cannot help thinking to be, the senseless costume 
 with which old prescription has thought fit to clothe 
 
 the exit of malefactors in this country. Let a man 
 do what he will to abstract from his imagination all 
 idea of the whimsical, something of it will come 
 across him when he contemplates the figure of a fel- 
 low-creature in the daytime (in however distressing 
 a situation) in a nightcap. Whether it be that this 
 nocturnal addition has something discordant with 
 daylight, or that it is the dress which we are seen - 
 in at those times when we are " seen," as the angel 
 in Milton expresses it, " least wise ;" this I am afraid 
 will always be the case ; unless indeed, as in my in- 
 stance, some strong personal feeling overpower the 
 ludicrous altogether. To me, when I reflect upon the 
 train of misfortunes which have pursued me through 
 life, owing to that accursed drapery, the cap presents 
 as purely frightful an object as the sleeveless yellow 
 coat and devil-painted mitre of the San Benitos. — ■ 
 An ancestor of mine, who suffered for his loyalty in 
 the time of the civil wars, was so sensible of the 
 truth of what I am here advancing, that ou the morn- 
 ing of execution, no entreaties could prevail upon 
 him to submit to the odious dishabille, as he called 
 it, but he insisted upon wearing, and actually suf- 
 fered in, the identical flowing periwig which he is 
 painted in, in the gallery belonging to my uncle's 
 seat. 
 
 Suffer me, before I quit the subject, to say a word 
 or two respecting the minister of justice in this coun- 
 try ; in plain words I mean the hangman. It has 
 always appeared to me that, in the mode of inflicting 
 capital punishments with us, there is too much of the 
 ministry of the human hand. The guillotine, as 
 performing its functions more of itself and sparing 
 human agency, though a cruel and disgusting ex- 
 hibition, in my mind, has many ways the advantage 
 over our way. In beheading, indeed, as it was for- 
 merly practised in England, and in whipping to death, 
 as is sometimes practised now, the hand of man is 
 no doubt sufficiently busy ; but there is something 
 less repugnant in these downright blows than in the 
 officious barber-like ministrings of the other. To 
 have a fellow with his hangman's hands fumbling 
 about your collar, adjusting the thing as your valet 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 587 
 
 would regulate your cravat, valuing himself on his 
 menial dexterity 
 
 I never shall forget meeting my rascal, — I mean 
 the fellow who officiated for me, — in London last 
 winter, I think I see him now,— in a waistcoat that 
 had been mine, — smirking along as if he knew 
 me 
 
 In some parts of Germany, that fellow's office is 
 by law declared infamous, and his posterity incapable 
 of being ennobled. They have hereditary hangmen, 
 or had at least, in the same manner as they had he- 
 reditary other great officers of state ; and the hang- 
 men's families of two adjoining parishes intermarried 
 with each other, to keep the breed entire. I wish 
 something of the same kind were established in 
 England. 
 
 QUEEN B1AB. 
 
 She is the fairies' midwife ; and she comes 
 
 In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 
 
 On the fore-finger of an alderman, 
 
 Drawn with a team of little atomies 
 
 Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : 
 
 Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs ; 
 
 The x>ver, of the wings of grasshoppers ; 
 
 The traces, of the smallest spider's web ; 
 
 The collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams : 
 
 Her whip, of cricket's bone ; the lash, of film : 
 
 Her waggoner, a small gray-coated gnat, 
 
 Not half so big as a round little worm 
 
 Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid : 
 
 Her chariot is an empty hazel .nut, 
 
 Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, 
 
 Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. 
 
 And in this state she gallops night by night 
 
 Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love : 
 
 On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight : 
 
 O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees : 
 
 O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream ; 
 
 Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, 
 
 Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. 
 
 Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, 
 
 And then dreams he of smelling out a suit : 
 
 And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, 
 
 Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, 
 Then dreams he of another benefice : 
 Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, 
 And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, 
 Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, 
 Of healths five fathom deep ; and then anon 
 Drums in his ear ; at which he starts, and wakes ; 
 And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, 
 And sleeps again. This is that very Mab, 
 That plats the manes of horses in the- night ; 
 And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, 
 Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes. 
 
 EPITAPH ON A COUNTRY INN-KEEPER. 
 
 Heu ! hark ye, old friend ! what, wilt pass, then 
 without 
 
 Taking notice of honest plump Jack ? 
 You see how 'tis with me,- my light is burnt out, 
 
 And they've laid me here flat on my back. 
 That light in my nose, once so bright to behold, 
 
 That light is extinguish'd at last ; 
 And I'm now put to bed in the dark and the cold, 
 
 With wicker, and so forth, made fast. 
 But now, wilt oblige me ? then call for a quart 
 
 Of the best, from the house o'er the way ; 
 Drink a part on't thyself, on my grave pour a part, 
 
 And walk on, — Friend, I wish thee good day. 
 
 TURKISH IIARAM. 
 
 The Turks do well to shut — at least, sometimes— 
 The women up — because in sad reality, 
 
 Their chastity in these unhappy climes 
 Is not a thing of that astringent quality, 
 
 Which in the north prevents precarious crimes, 
 And makes our snow less pure than our morality ; 
 
 The sun, which yearly melts the polar ice, 
 
 Has quite the contrary effect on vice. 
 
 MARKET DAY. 
 
 A market's the circle for frolic and glee 
 Where tastes of all kinds may be suited ; 
 
 The dasher, the quiz, and the '* up-to-alP' he, . 
 Pluck "sprees" from the plants in it rooted:' 
 
5S8 
 If 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER* 
 
 would fain learn a 
 
 the joker or queer one 
 place, 
 Where they v/ould wish tor a morning to lark. 
 
 They need go no farther than just show their face, 
 In that region of mirth, a large market. 
 
 Spoken^] Do you want 'are a basket woman, your 
 honour 1 — No, no ; I declare I've been so pestered 
 by women. — Have you ! by Jasus, I did not think they 
 had such bad taste. Oh, dear oh ! — What's the mat- 
 ter my dear 1 — I've sat down upon a lump of butter. 
 Here make room for this here gentleman through 
 them 'are sacks of potatoes. Buy a leefe, buy a leefe. 
 Where are you shoving 1 I beg your pardon, sir ; 
 but you have put your wet umbrella in ray waistcoat 
 pocket. — 'Sir, I am very sorry, but it must remain 
 there for the present ; the market is so full I cannot 
 move.' — Well, I never received such lumper ence in 
 all my life. — Then I think you've given more to the 
 world than has been returned to you. Yes,ma'm, and 
 that boy has taken more than he''ll return to you. 
 Oh ! the little miscreant ; he has stolen my reticule ; 
 catch him ; there he goes ; I have it — Oh ! don't 
 open it, there's all my cards fallen out, and — Cards 
 ma'am, they appear to be cards of your uncle's. — 
 Indeed ! sir, it's nothing to you — No ma'am I see it's 
 to a flannel petticoat. Do you want any peas, sir • 
 or any gooseberry-/oo/ ? I say, Jack, twig that covey, 
 he's just put a pottle of raspberries in his pocket. — 
 Has he ; come along Bill, a good squeeze and it's 
 raspberry jam. Do you want any cowcumbers, 
 ma'am 1 — No ; don't annoy me. — Or any turnips, 
 ma'am ! — Turnips ! no, she has just had them from 
 her last place. Here's your flowers; here's your 
 beauties. Dear me, how delightful ; I declare I shall 
 come here every morning and steal some odoriferous. 
 I tell you vot my young'un if you steal any thing 
 here, it will be a hartichoke.— What do you mean you 
 dem rascal ? — Mean ! vhy I mean that I've stood 
 here twenty years, and now I'm able to sit down, and 
 do you knock me down if you can, so take that; 
 there's a rum'un — I'll indict you,— Pho ! don't talk to 
 me, because you see 
 
 This- is the place where we joke, laugh, and qui;;, 
 And so you should know e'er you lark it ; 
 
 So the next time, my covey, you here show your 
 phiz, 
 Be up to the rigs of the market. 
 
 But. those who would fain make the voyage of fun 
 
 To be found in a populous city, 
 Should just see the sports I've already begun, 
 
 And those at the end of my ditty ; 
 So to those who' view life — why a market-day nighi 
 
 Affords a prime region to lark it, 
 And many's the spree that a comical wight 
 
 May reap from the soil of a market. 
 
 Spoke?i.] What d'ye buy, what d'ye buy. Matches ! 
 buy a ha'porth of matches ; hav'nt tasted food these 
 sixteen days. Now, ma'am what will you buy ? — « 
 Why, Mr. Butcher, what may be that bosom of pork 
 a pound 1 — What ! the belly part you mean, ma'am ; 
 vy the belly — No ; I mean the stomach, the — 'Non- 
 sense ma'am, do you think me a butcher, and a mar- 
 ried man, don't know the belly from the stomach. 
 Now, sir, what are „you looking ~for 1 — Why I am 
 looking for a calf's head — I'll letch you a glass, sir. 
 I don't wish any reflections. Pray, what fish are those? 
 smelts, ma'am. — Aye, I thought they were rather 
 high. — O ma ! I am so frightened. — What at, my 
 love 1 — Why that great cod fish fixes his eyes on me 
 so. La ma ' look at those lobsters ; they have got a 
 mouth in every hand ; what a droll colour they are, 
 ma; they are all black. Yes, my dear, they are finer 
 and more uncommon than the red ones. Look at that 
 dog, he has taken that tongue out of the basket. No. 
 Yes, he has. James, why don't you run after him. 
 Yes, ma'am ; which way shall I — I say, Marrow- 
 bone, that 'ere cove has boned a mutton chop. I; sir ! 
 its a lie sir. There, you lie in the gutter. A foul 
 blow. No. There goes the dog that run away with 
 the tongue. Where 1 There. I don't see him. Pray 
 sir, have you met a dog with a tongue in his mouth 1 
 Here's a noise! A noise, to be sure! — Don't you 
 know wheie this is] . No, where] Where'?*— 
 why " 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 589 
 
 Where confusion and mobbing and chaff 
 
 Pass on as we merrily lark it ; 
 So if you e'er want a good squeezing aud laugh 
 
 Come on a full day to the market. 
 
 A MAD WEEDING. 
 
 When the priest 
 
 Should ask — if Katharine should be his wife, 
 
 Ay, by gogs-wouns, quoth he ; and swore so loud, 
 
 That, all amaz'd, the priest let fall the book : 
 
 Aud, as he stoop'd again to take it up. 
 
 The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff, 
 
 That down fell priest and book, and book and priest ; 
 
 Now take them up, quoth he, if any list. 
 
 Trd. What said the wench, when he arose again ? 
 
 Grc, Trembled and shook; for why, he stamp'd, 
 and swore, 
 As if the vicar meant to cozen him. 
 But after many ceremonies done, 
 He calls for wine : — A health, quoth he ; as if 
 He had been aboard carousing to his mates 
 After a storm : — Quaft'd off the muscadel, 
 And threw the sops all in the sexton's face ! 
 Having no other reason, — 
 But that his beard grew thin and hungerly, 
 And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking. 
 This done, he took the bride about the neck ; 
 And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack, 
 That, at the parting, all the church did echo. 
 
 DEUXKENNESS AND ITS ENJOYMENTS. 
 
 Man, being reasonable, must get drunk ; 
 
 The best of life is but intoxication : 
 Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk 
 
 The hopes of all men, and of every nation ; 
 Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk 
 
 Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion : 
 But to return, — Get very drunk; and when 
 You wake with head-ach, you shall see what then. 
 Ring for your valet— bid him quickly bring 
 
 Some hock and soda-water, then you'll know 
 A pleasure worthy Xerxes the great king ; 
 
 For not the blest sherbet, sublimed with snow 
 
 Nor the first sparkle of the uesert-spring, 
 
 Nor Burgundy in all its sunset glow, 
 After long travel, ennui, love, or slaughter, 
 Vie with that draught of hock and soda-water, 
 
 COCKNEY SPORTSMEN. 
 
 On the first of September last crossing Kennington- 
 commou I met two cockney sportsmen, dressed out in 
 proper style for the sports of the day. " Hollo !" 
 my good fellow," said I, " have the kindness to turn 
 the muzzle of your gun the other way, don't you 
 see it's on full cock 1" " Vy to be sure it should, an't 
 that 'ere the vay to carry one's gun?" " Why, no ; 
 not the way you ought to carry it. Don't you see 
 the danger of it going off"?" " No, I can't say as how 
 I do ; 1 keep it so on purpose." " The devil you do, 
 why?" " Why ? that's a good one, only look here : 
 now, don't you see if this here flint should hit that 
 there thing, it will strike fire ; and then the fire as 
 comes from this here place, goes into that there place, 
 and among this powder, and that makes the 
 gun go off." " To be sure it does." " Veil then, 
 the further off this flint is from that there iron, 
 an't there less danger of hitting it 1" " Pray, 
 sir," said the other, " might I make so bold as to ask 
 an't a jackdaw fair game V* " Umph ! not exactly, 
 unless you could contrive to make the jackdaw 
 white." " I say, Billy, that 'ere's a funny chap — 
 that's what I calls a good joke." " Vhat a jack hass 
 you must be to ax the gemmen such a question." "Vy 
 not such a jack hass as you was to shoot a jack hass 
 instead of an 'are." " Aye, but that vere all hacci- 
 dent, for you know I never could see wery veil since 
 I burned my heyes on the last first of September." 
 " Indeed ! how came that to pass V "All owing to 
 the flash going in my face. I'll tell you how it 
 vas ; you must know, sir, that on the last first of 
 September, Billy Stitch, the tailor, and I, vent out 
 that day in the morning, to have some sport ; so as 
 we were a passing by the Surry theatre, some chaps 
 says, there goes two cockneys ; so I turns round to 
 Billy, Billy, says I, I've a great mind, says I, to go 
 and lik'em, says I. So says Bill to me, says he, you 
 had better, says he, let them 'ere chaps alone, says 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 590 
 
 he, and let's go on, says he. So avay ve comes, and, 
 then they says, there goes two cockneys ; so ve left 
 'em j and vhen ve comes to the other side of the vater. 
 No, that can't be; for this is the other — that is, the 
 other side is this — and this is the other, and — No, that's 
 not it neither — let me see — umph — umph '.—that's 
 wery strange — an't it. You know ve vere on the 
 other side, that is, ve — ay, ve vere on this side then — 
 No — that is, the other side vas then on this side, and 
 ve vere on the other, and — No, that's not it yet — but 
 it don't signify. Ve vere first on the other side, and 
 vhen ve vhere on the other side, ve vere on this and 
 then ve vere on the — " '* Ha, ha, ha ! was there 
 ever any thing so puzlifying, as not to be able to find 
 out the other side from this, and this from the other." 
 " Veil sir, vhen ve got — ay, no matter ; says I to 
 Billy, says I, I'll lay you a tizzy, says I, that I hit 
 some'at before ve are long out, says I. So, says 
 Billy, says he, done, says he. So I puts my gun up 
 my shoulder, so— and shutting my left eye for fear of 
 the flash. Hold, says Billy, says he. What's the 
 matter, Billy, says 1 1 You have forgot to load her, 
 says he. And sure enough, so I had ; so I takes out 
 my powder and shot, and loads her well, biting off a 
 bit of paper you know, and ramming it tight down 
 you know to keep all safe ; so I puts up my gun 
 again, Stop, stop, says Billy, says he. What's the mat- 
 ter, says I. You have left your ramrod in your gun, says 
 he. And sure enough I had, and wery lucky it vas 
 that I stopped, for vhen I looked, there vas Benjamin 
 the Jew merchant, parched like a blackbird behind 
 the hedge ; poor Ben vas frightened out of his vits, 
 as much as I vas. So ve com'd avay up the side of 
 the river, till ve corned to a gentleman's house with 
 some trees a-growing aside it. So I sees some'at on 
 a tree, and I thinks it vere a crow ; so says I to Billy, 
 says I, dash my buttons if a crow an't fair game, so 
 here goes. Stop, says Billy, says he. Vhy, so, says 
 1 1 That's the man's poll parrot, says he. I does'nt 
 care, says I ; so just as ve vere a speaking, the ser- 
 vant girl comes to the vindow and she's dusting avay, 
 and then she comes and stands before us. Ger out 
 of the vay, says I, I shan't, says she, I'm going to 
 
 shoot, says I. I don't care if you do, says she. Vhy 
 you'll be shot, says I. No danger, says she. I'm a 
 going to shoot just vhere you are, says I. Ay, that's 
 the wery reason I'm safe, says she. Now, sir, wap'nt 
 that wery prowoking T" " Very much so indeed, said 
 I, but pray why is your dog tied up sol" seeing him 
 leading it by his pocket Handkerchief, which he had 
 tied round his neck. " Would not you find him of -| 
 great use 1" " Lord love you, sir, he's a wery good 
 dog in his own vay, if you keep him at home, but 
 he's of no use at all out. Vhenever he comes to the 
 field, he runs about, and baiks so that he frightens 
 all the birds — then he stops short just over a whole 
 flock of them, and they all fly avay before I can get 
 my gun to my eye ; oh I he's of no use at all." But 
 it were in vain to attempt a detail of all his accidents 
 and misfortunes, so I'll tell you a part of them in a 
 song. 
 
 THE FIRST OF SEPTEMBER J OR COCKNEY 
 SPORTSMEN. 
 
 On the first of September, at five in the morn, 
 The weather quite cloudy, the prospect forlorn, 
 Bill Stitch and myself rigged as gay as two larks, 
 For the sports of the field took our way on — but 
 hark? 
 Spoken.~\ Just as ve vere a passing along Black- 
 friars bridge, there vere ve assailed by a set of ragga- 
 mufrin rascals, who meant to affront us by calliug us 
 cockneys. There they go, says they, there goes two 
 rum ones. What'll they kill, says one 1 Some far- 
 mer's grunter, says another. No, that they vont, says 
 a third, for if Gaffer Gajmmon's grunter vas vithin a 
 yard of the gun, I'll bet tw'o to one he could not hit 
 it. 
 
 So the sports of the field is a cockney's delight, 
 On the first of September, all rigg'd out so tight. 
 
 Our pockets with powder and shot too were cram'd, 
 And sportsman like too, added chicken and ham, 
 Our dogs round us danc'd — aye, these were them all ; 
 Towser, Tiger, a bull dog, little Gipsey and Ball. 
 
 Spoken^] My eye, as ve vere crossing a field, vhat 
 should I see but a jackdaw sitting on the back of a cow. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 591 
 
 Dash ray buttons, says I, but that there's a good shot 
 says I, Bill ; so I claps my gun to my shoulder, and 
 shuts both my eyes, for fear of the flash blinding me. 
 Stop, stop, says he, you'll shoot the old cow, says he. 
 No, I vont, says I, for I doesn't see not neither the 
 cow, nor the jackdaw now, as my eyes are both shut ; 
 so I pulls the trigger strong to make the mark sure ; 
 but I doesn't know how it was, poor Tiger was run- 
 ning by at the moment, and I had forgotten to take 
 out my ramrod, and poor Tiger got it stuck in his 
 gizzard, and there he lay sprawling as dead as a 
 tenpenny nail. 
 So the sports of the field is a cockney's delight, 
 On the first of September, when rigg'd out so tight. 
 
 As he walked along, thinking of nothing at all, 
 Unfortunate Billy shot poor little Ball, 
 And I lam'd poor Towser, and home he did run, 
 And left only Gipsey to share in the fun. 
 Spoken.] Veil, I primes and loads again, and in a 
 hedge I hears a melodious sound, and says Billy, 
 says he, My eyes there's a blackbird, are you loaded? 
 Yes, says I. Then fire, says he. So I points my 
 gin again, and shuts both my eyes of course, and lets 
 fly. But my eye, vat a mistake I made, for instead 
 of the bird I aim'd at, -I hit poor Moses the Jew ped- 
 lar, and knock'd off his beard Moses vas in a ter- 
 rible fright, and swore as how I had kill'd him. I 
 offered Moses a tizzy for his fright, but Mo, with his 
 neck all on one side, told me as how I should make 
 it a bob. I can't, says I, Mister Moses, for I have 
 but one tester left, and that one's bad. Let me she 
 it, says Moses, ish it pad? Esh, it is very pad in- 
 deed, but I will colour him again, and you may con- 
 tinue with — 
 
 The sports of the field is a cockney's delight, 
 
 On the first of September, when rigg'd out so tight. 
 
 COFFEE DRINKERS. 
 
 For men and Christians to turn Turks, and think 
 To excuse the crime, because 'tis in their drink ! 
 Pure English apes ! ye may, for aught I know, 
 "Would it but mode---learn to eat spiders too. 
 
 Should any of your grandsires' ghosts appear 
 
 In your wax-candle circles, and but hear 
 
 The name of coffee so much call'd upon ; 
 
 Then see it drank like scalding Phlegethon ; 
 
 Would they not startle, think ye, all agreed 
 
 'Twas conjuration both in word and deed j 
 
 Or Catiline's conspirators, as they stood 
 
 Sealing their oaths in draughts of blackest blood 1 
 
 The merriest ghost of all your sires would say, 
 
 Your wine's much worse since his last yesterday. 
 
 He'd wonder how the club had given a hop 
 
 O'er tavern-bars into a farrier's shop, 
 
 Where he'd suppose, both by the smoke and stench, 
 
 Each man a horse, and each horse at his drencln 
 
 Sure you're no poets, nor their friends, for now, 
 Should Jonson's strenuous spirit, or the rare 
 Beaumont and Fletcher's in your rounds appear, 
 They would not find the air perfumed with one 
 Castalian drop, nor dew of Helicon ; 
 When they but men would speak as the gods do, 
 They drank pure nectar as the gods drink too, 
 Sublim'd with rich Canary — say shall then 
 These less than coffee's self, the coffee-men ; 
 These sons of nothing, that can hardly make 
 Their broth, for laughing how the jest does take ; 
 Yet grin, and give ye for the vine's pure blood 
 A loathsome potion, not yet understood, 
 Sirop of soot, or essence of old shoes, 
 Dasht with diurnals and the books of news." 
 
 AN AUTHOR'S EXPECTATIONS FROM CRITICS AND 
 THE PUBLIC. 
 
 The public approbation I expect, 
 
 And beg they'll take my word about the moral, ' 
 Which I with their amusement will connect, 
 
 (So children cutting teeth receive a coral) ; 
 Meantime, they'll doubtless please to recollect 
 
 My epical pretensions to the laurel : 
 For fear some prudish readers should grow skittish, 
 I've bribed my grandmother's review— the British. 
 I sent it in a letter to the editor, 
 
 Who thank'd me duly by return of post — 
 I'm for a handsome article his creditor ; 
 
 Yet if my gentle Muse he please to roast, .^ 
 
592 
 
 And break a promise after having made it her, 
 
 Denying the receipt of what it cost, 
 And smear his page with gall instead of honey, 
 All I can say is — that he had the money. 
 I think that with this holy new alliance 
 
 I may ensure the public, and defy 
 All other magazines of art or science, 
 
 Daily, or monthly, or three monthly, I 
 Have not essay'd to multiply their clients, 
 
 Because they tell me 'twere in vain to try, 
 And that the Edinburgh Review and Quarterly 
 Treat a dissenting author very martyrly. 
 
 LOSING A PLACE. 
 
 Mr. Canning and another gentleman were looking 
 at a picture of the Deluge : the ark was in the middle 
 distance ; in the foresea an elephant was seen strug- 
 ling with his fate : " I wonder," said the gentleman, 
 " that the elephant did not secure an inside place in 
 the ark;" — "He was too late," replied Canning, 
 " he was detained packing up his trunk." 
 
 THE STROLLER'S PROLOGUE. 
 
 Genteels ! of old the prologue led the way, 
 To lead, defend, and usher in the play ; 
 As saucy footmen run before the coach, 
 And thunder at the door my lord's approach ; 
 But though they speak your entertainment near, 
 Most prologues speed like other bills of fare ; 
 Seldom the languid stomach they excite, 
 And oftener cloy, than whet the appetite. 
 
 As for our play — it is not worth our cares, 
 Our prologue craves your mercy for the play'rs j 
 That is — your money ; for by heav'n I swear, 
 White gloves and house rent are excessive dear. 
 Since here are none but friends, — the truth to own ; 
 Though in a coach our company came down, 
 Yet, I most shrewdly fear they must depart 
 Ev'n in their old original a cart. 
 
 With pride inverted and fantastic pow'r, 
 We strut the fancied sovereigns of an hour. 
 While duns our emperors and heroes fear, 
 And Cleomenes starves in earnest here. 
 
 THE LAUGHINC PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 The mightiest kings and queens we keep in pay, 
 Support their pomp on eighteenpence a'day. 
 Our Cyrus has been forc'd to pawn his coat, 
 And all our Caesar's can't command a groat. 
 Our Scipios, Anthonys and Pompeys break, 
 And Cleopatra shifts but once a week. 
 
 To aggravate the case, we have not one 
 Of all the new refinements of the town 
 No moving statue, no lewd harlequins ; 
 No pasteboard play'rs, no actors in machines ; 
 No rosin to make lightning ; ('twould exhaust us 
 To buy a Devil and a Doctor Faustus :) 
 No millers, windmills, dragoons > conjurers, 
 To exercise your eyes, and spare your ears. 
 No paper seas, no thunder from the skies : 
 No witches to descend, no stage to rise; 
 Scarce one for us the actors. — We can set 
 Nothing before you but mere sense and wit ; 
 A bare downright old fashion'd English feast, 
 Such as a Briton only can digest ; 
 Such as your homely fathers used to love, 
 Who only came to hear and to improve. 
 Humbly content and pleased with what was drest 
 When Shaksoeare, Lee, and Dryden ranged the 
 feast. * 
 
 AN IRISH RUBBER AT WHIST 
 
 We're seated now, so without row 
 
 Begin and deal away ; 
 The night we'll pass with cards and glass — 
 
 Why the devil don't you play ? 
 
 And he that wouldn't stake on whist, a twenty shil- 
 ling note, 
 Don't deserve a drop of whisky to wet his ugly throat. 
 Spoken.'] I'll bet five to fifteen, roared out Mr. Pat- 
 rick Macdeviltopay to his friend Teague O'Clon- 
 cumlarry, who had just arrived with Miss Sheiah 
 O'Docherty on a visit to Miss Judy Grachoshkenny. 
 Now whist was the favourite game even with the 
 ladies. £ wonder, said an old lady, what's the 
 origin of whist. Silence — now, ma'am ; play away 
 my jewel Och 1 by the powers, that's excellent, 
 pretty well for a beginnej ; I never played with -any 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 lady I liked better. I beg pardon, is that against us 1 
 Yes, sir. There, I've taken it with my Jack. That's 
 a knavish trick of yours, Miss. You have no honour, 
 I believe, ma'am. You remember, sir, you took it. 
 Bless me ! you've a curious hand, Miss. So have all 
 our family, sir, Yes, but they were all good hands 
 at wliist. Dear me, what a number of hearts. I have 
 not had one left these ten minutes. Sorry for that, 
 Miss ; I was going to solicit. How eleganl ! 1 won- 
 der what Miss O'Regan's ear-rings are maae of — the 
 two of diamonds — No ! tfes. Why then 
 Play away my jewel, this game you know we've Avon, 
 Here bring a drop of whisky, if it's only out of fun. 
 Come deal more fast, the game that's past 
 
 Was played extremely well ; 
 Cards quick sort — that's your sport, 
 
 Pray, sir, just pull the bell. 
 The stakes are laid all right, you led the spade I 
 
 think, 
 That's mine — play on — the ten of hearts — a little 
 
 more to drink. 
 
 Spoken.] Och beautiful ! the river Liffy to a 
 drew-drop that it's ours. I don't think the cards have 
 been shuffled. I beg your pardon. I saw Miss Judy 
 looking at the tricks. Look to your own tricks. Faith, 
 Miss, I've very few, no young man less at present : 
 but if you allow me the odd trick you'll find me 
 game. Odd trick ! och ! faith what a boy was Larry 
 O'Dogherty for the odd trick. I hear he is married. 
 Yes, very happy; loves his wife with — a club, they 
 say. She's lately brought to bed. Indeed ! — pray 
 Mr. Ciancomlarry, what has she got ! Faith I was so 
 glad to get away, that I forgot to inquire whether I 
 was an uncle or an aunt. Who turned up the Queen? 
 I think it was — a trump if you please, sir. Come, 
 Miss, play. Your play first, sir, is it not 1 Oh, no, 
 Miss, you lay down, and I cover. I think I shall 
 have your heart, Miss, now — If you play into my 
 hand, you will, sir. O, damn the cards — horrid bad 
 pla'y ; — och ! shocking — I must have a new pack. A 
 new pack, sir ; not at all. But I shall, sir, because 
 it's not fair — and — Not fair ! there's ray card, sir — 
 and there's my card, sir. Oh ! pray gentlemen don't 
 
 593 
 
 fight. I shall fight. Turn him out of doors — any 
 man mean enough to cheat. — Cheat, sir ; why you 
 cheated at 
 
 Whist, the best and finest game of any in the pack. 
 But never mind— there take my hand, and bring the 
 whisky back. 
 
 NEW TITLES. 
 
 Good den, sir Richard, — God-a-mercy, fellow ; — 
 And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter : 
 For new-made honour doth forget men's names ; 
 'Tis too respective, and too sociable, 
 For your conversion. Now your traveller, — • 
 He and his tooth-pick at my worship's mess ; 
 And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd 
 Why then I suck my teeth, and catechise 
 
 My picked man of countries. My dear sir,) 
 
 (Thus, leaning on mine elbow, I begin,) 
 / shall beseech you — That is question now : 
 And then comes answer like an ABC-book : — 
 O sir, says answer, at your best command; 
 At your employment ; at your service, sir : — — 
 A r o, sir, says question, /, sweet sir, at yours : 
 And so, ere answer knows what question would 
 (Saving in dialogue of compliment, 
 And talking of the Alps, and Apennines, 
 The Pyrenean, aud the river Po,) 
 It draws toward supper in conclusion so. 
 Now this is worshipful society. 
 
 THE BLUE STOCKING. 
 
 A learned lady, famed 
 
 For every branch of every science known— 
 In every christian language ever named, 
 
 With virtues equail'd by her wit alone, 
 She made the cleverest people quite ashamed, 
 
 And even the good with inward envy groan, 
 Finding themselves so very much exceeded 
 In their own way by all the things that she did. 
 Her memory was a mine : she knew by heart 
 
 All Calderon and greater part of Lope, 
 So that if any actor miss'd his part 
 
 She could have serv'd him for the prompter's oopy ; 
 For her Feinagle's were an useless art, 
 
 And he himself obliged to shut up shop — he 
 
594 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Could never maice a memory so fine as 
 That which adorn'd the brain of Donna Inez. 
 Her favourite science was the mathematical, 
 
 Her noblest virtue was her magnanimity, 
 Her wit (she sometimes tried at Avit) was Attic all. 
 
 Her serious sayings darken'd to sublimity; 
 In short, in all things she was fairly what I call 
 
 Av.prodigy — her morning dress was dimity, 
 Her evening silk, or, in the summer, muslin, 
 And other stuffs, with which I won't stay puzzling. 
 She knew the Latin — that is, u the Lord's prayer/' 
 
 And Greek — the alphabet — I'm nearly sure ; 
 She read some French romances here and there, 
 
 Although her mode of speaking was not pure; 
 For native Spanish she had no great care, 
 
 At least her conversation was obscure ; 
 Her thoughts were theorems, her words a problem, 
 As-xf she deem'd that mystery would ennoble 'em. 
 In short, she was a walking calculation, 
 
 Miss Edgeworth's novels stepping from their covers; 
 Or Mrs. Trimmer's books on education, 
 
 Or " Ccelebs' Wife" set out in quest oflovers, 
 Morality's prim personification, 
 
 In which not Envy's self a flaw discovers, 
 To others' share let " female errors fall," 
 For she had not even one— the Worst of all. 
 
 THE ABSENT MAW. 
 
 Absence of mind may be defined to be a slowness of 
 mind in speaking or action : the absent man is one who, 
 when he is casting up accounts, and hath collected 
 the items, will ask a bystander what the amount is : 
 when he is engaged in a lawsuit, and the day of 
 triaHs come, he forgets it and goes into the country 
 he visits the theatre to see the play, and is left be- 
 hind asleep on the benches. He takes any article 
 and puts it away himself, then begins to look for it, 
 and is never able to find it. If any one tell him of 
 the death of a dear friend, and ask him to the funeral, 
 with a sorrowful countenance and tears in his eyes, 
 he exclaims, Good luck, good luck ! It is his custom, 
 when hejeceives, not when he pays, a debt, to call 
 for witnesses. In winter, he quarrels with his ser- 
 
 vant for not purchasing cucumbers: he compels his 
 children to wrestle and run till they faint with fatigue. 
 In the country, when he is dressing his dinner of 
 herbs, he throws in salt to season them till they are 
 unfit to eat. If any one inquire of him, how many 
 dead have been carried out through the sacred gate 
 to burial 1 Would to God, he replies, you and I had 
 so many ! tkeophrastus. 
 
 LOVE AND MARRIAGE. 
 
 'Tis melancholy, and a fearful sign 
 
 Of human frailty, folly, also crime, 
 That love and marriage rarely can combine, 
 
 Although they both are born in the same clime ; 
 Marriage from love, like vinegar from wine — 
 
 A sad, sour, sober beverage — by time 
 Is sharpen'd from its high celestial flavour 
 Down to a very homely household savour. 
 
 There's something of antipathy, as 'twere, 
 Between their present and their future state ; 
 
 A kind of flattery that's hardly faic 
 
 Is used until the truth arrives too late — 
 
 Yet what can people do, except despair"? 
 
 The same things change their names at such a rate j 
 
 For instance — passion in a lover's glorious, 
 
 But in a husband is pronounced uxorious. 
 
 Men grow ashamed of being so very fond ; 
 
 They sometimes also get a little tired, 
 (But that, of course, is rare,) and then despond : 
 
 The same things cannot always be admired, 
 Yet 'tis " so nominated in the bond," 
 
 That both are tied till one shall have expired. 
 Sad thought ! to lose the spouse that was adorning 
 Our days, and put one's servants into mourning. 
 
 There's doubtless something in domestic doings, 
 Which forms, in fact, true love's antithesis ; 
 
 Romances paint at full length people's wooings, 
 But only give a bust ef marriages ; 
 
 For no one cares for matrimonial cooiugs, 
 There's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss : 
 
 Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, 
 
 He would have written sonnets all his life 1 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 595 
 
 All tragedies are finish d by a death, 
 
 All comedies are ended by a marriage ; 
 The future states of both are left to faith, 
 
 For authors fear description might disparage 
 The worlds to come of both, or fall beneath, 
 
 And then both worlds would punish their mis- 
 carriage ; 
 So leaving each their priest and prayer-book ready, 
 They say no more of "Death or of the Lady. 
 The only two that in my recollection 
 
 Have sung of heaven and hell, or marriage, are 
 Dante and Milton, and of both the affection 
 
 Was hapless in their nuptials, for some bar 
 Of fault or temper ruin'd the connexion ; 
 
 (Such things, in fact, it don't ask much to mar ;) 
 But Dante's Beatrice and Milton's Eve 
 Were not drawn from their spouses, you conceive. 
 
 WITTY STORY OF AN OLD SCOTCH WOMAN. 
 
 *' Hem ! hem ! — Ye ma'an ken, that my husband 
 was the meenister o' the kirk, and a man, universally 
 respeckcd, not only by the parishioners, but by the 
 hale public at large ! — Hem ! — Well, I mind there 
 was a time, when we had ha'en a week o' vary bad 
 weather ; nasty dreepin' wat weather ; it had been 
 vary wat indeed ; and my puir dear honest man had 
 been vary badly with a sair cauld he had cought ; he 
 was vary ill indeed, puir man, and he really was vary 
 fractious, honest man, when ought ailed him ; vary 
 fractious indeed, and he gave me a great deal o' 
 trouble. Hem ! Weel, I mind, doctor Macglashan 
 happened to ca' in to see my puir dear man yae day 
 for the doctor was a guid feeling hearted honest 
 body, 'twas he ; and he used to distribute guid books 
 amang the puir fol'k i' the parish, wha cou'dna' buy 
 them. Ah ! sirs ! I -wis there war mair o' them read 
 by the rising generation that is. Weel, as I was 
 telling ye, the doctor called to see my puir man ; and 
 says he to him, that is, says doctor Macglashan to 
 my puir honest man, this has been vary wat weather, 
 very wat indeed. So says my puir dear honest man 
 to doctor Macglashan, My worthy colleague, I wish 
 thou would gie the word for me at the kirk neist Sun- 
 day forenoon. For you'll mind this, they took the 
 
 service between them, forenoon and afternoon, diet 
 by diet ; and it was my puir dear man's turn to gie 
 the word that forenoon ; and he said he wish'd he 
 would gie the word for him, for he was really vary 
 bad indeed. And he said, that is, doctor Macglashan 
 said he would. And I was vary much obliged to 
 him ; for doctor Macglashan was a vary good natured 
 body ; and I thanked the doctor, for I was vary 
 thankfu' to him. Hem ! Weel, I mind Sunday was 
 anither vary wat day ; vary wat ; a nasty, dreepin' 
 wat day indeed ; and doctor Macglashan ca'ad in 
 on my puir dear honest man on his way to the kirk, 
 and he sat him down twa minutes, for he was vary 
 wat ; and he says to him, Hem, that is, says my puir 
 dear honest man to doctor Macglashan, I wish thee 
 mayna' tak' cauld, for it's vary wat ; and he dreeped 
 the weet frae his coat tails, and he shaked it aff his 
 sleeves, and he dauded the rain frae the cocks o' his 
 hat ; for he really was extraordinary wat, puir man ; 
 vary wat indeed ; and ye'll mind there were na um- 
 berellas in thae days ; and said doctor Macglashan, 
 said he, I wish I were dry again. Hem ! now mind 
 this, for this is the great point of the story : Upon 
 which, my puir dear man says, though in troth he was 
 na much gi'en to joking, yet he cou'dna' vary weel 
 reseest the opportunity : So, hem ! — so says my puir 
 dear worthy man ; now mind ye this, for it's the 
 point o' the joke — When the doctor said- — that is, 
 doctor Macglashan said, he wished he was dry, my 
 puir dear honest body, (eh, he was a wag) said he 
 to his worthy colleague, hem ! — gang thy wa's up to 
 the pu'pit, and thou'll be dry enough there , I warrant 
 thee." 
 
 EMPTINESS OF FAME. 
 
 What is the end of fame 1 'tis but to fill 
 
 A certain portion of uncertain paper : 
 Some liken it to climbing up a hill, 
 
 Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour , 
 For this men write, speak, preach, and heroes kill, 
 
 And bards burn what they call their " midnight 
 taper," 
 To have, when ihe original is dust, 
 A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust. 
 
596 
 
 What are the hopes of man ? old Egypt's King 
 
 Cheops erected the first pyramid 
 And largest, thinking it was just the thing 
 
 To keep his memory whole, and mummy hid j 
 But somebody or other rummaging, 
 
 Burglariously broke his coffin's lid : 
 Let not a monument give you or me hopes, 
 Since not a pinch of dust remains of Cheops. 
 
 THE UNSEASONABLE MAN. 
 
 Unseasonableness is a method of accosting which 
 is troublesome to the persons accosted. The unsea- 
 sonable man is one who goes to communicate with 
 his friend when he is immersed in business : he goes 
 to revel with his mistress when she is lying ill with a 
 fever : he runs to a man who has just been cast as 
 bail for arlother, and entreats him to become his 
 surety : as soon as a cause is decided, he is on the 
 spot to give his testimony. If he is invited to a 
 wedding, he inveighs against the whole female sex : 
 he asks a man who is just returned from a long jour- 
 ney to take a walk with him. When an article is 
 sold, he brings a purchaser who would give double 
 the price. In a company he will give a detailed ac- 
 count from the very beginning of some subject which 
 they have all heard and are thoroughly acquainted 
 with : he is extremely anxious to do that for any 
 person which they are unwilling should be done, but 
 are ashamed to refuse. If he is present at the chas- 
 tisement of a lad, he relates that a boy of his when 
 so beaten went and hanged himself. If he is present 
 at an arbitration, though both parties wish an ac- 
 commodation, he sets them together by the ears : 
 and lastly, when about to dance, he seizes a partner 
 whose senses are not yet inflamed by intoxication. 
 theophbastus. 
 woman's tongue. 
 Think you, a little din can daunt mine ears 1 
 Have I not in my time heard lions roar 2 
 Have I not heard the sea, puff'd up with winds, 
 Jtage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat 1 
 Have I not heard great ordnance in the field 1 
 And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? 
 Have I not in a pitched battle heard 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang 1 
 And do you tell me of a woman's tongue ,• 
 That gives not half so great a blow to the ear, 
 As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire ? 
 
 THE NEWSPAPER GOSSIP. 
 
 This is one of those many thousands who swarm 
 in and about London in time of war, and whose 
 times and minds are divided between the affairs of 
 state, and the affairs of a kitchen ; he is anxious 
 after venison and politics; he believes every cook 
 to be a great genius, and to know how to dress a 
 turtle comprehending all the arts and sciences toge- 
 ther. He is always hunting after newspapers, to read 
 about battles, and imagines soldiers and sailors are 
 only made to be knock'd on the head, that he may 
 read an account of it in the papers ; he reads every 
 political pamphlet that is published on both sides of 
 the question, and is always on his side whom he read 
 last. And then he comes home in a good or ill tem- 
 per, and calls for his night-cap, and pipes and tobacco, 
 and sends for some neighbours to sit with him, and 
 talk politics together. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Costive 1 sit down, sit 
 down;" ay, these times are hard times; I can no 
 more relish thase times, than I can a haunch of veni- 
 sor without sweet sauce to it ; but, if you remember, 
 I told you we should have warm work of it, when 
 the cook threw down the Kian pepper. Ay, ay ; I 
 think I know a thing or two ; I think I do, that's all. 
 
 But lord what signifies what one knows, they 
 
 don't mind me 1 You know I mentioned at our club 
 the disturbances in America, and one of the company 
 took me up, and said, " What signifies America, 
 when we are all in a merry cue ?" so they all fell a 
 laughing. — Now there's commons made lords, and 
 there's lords made, the Lord knows what ; but that's -" 
 nothing to us ; they make us pay our taxes : they 
 take care of that ; ay, ay, ay, they are sure of that ; 
 pray, what have they done for these twenty years 
 last past ? — why nothing at all ; they have only 
 made a few turnpike roads, and kept the partridges 
 alive 'till September ; that's all they have done for 
 the good of their country. There were some great 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 people formerly, that loved their countiy, that did 
 every thing for the good of their country ; there were 
 your Alexander the Great loved his country, and 
 Julius Caesar lov'd. his country, and Charles of 
 Sweedland lov'd his country, and Queen Semerimiss, 
 she lov'd her country more than any of 'em ; for she 
 invented solomon gundy ; that's the best eating in 
 the whole world. Now, I'll show you my plan of 
 operations, Mr. Costive ; we'll suppose this drop of 
 punch here to be the main ocean, or the sea ; very 
 well — these pieces of cork to be our men of war ; 
 very well — now where shall I raise my fortifications 1 
 I wish I had Mr. Major Moncrieff here ; he's the 
 best in the world at raising a fortification. — Oh ! I 
 have it, we'll suppose them to be all the strong forti- 
 fied places in the whole world ; such as Fort Omoa, 
 Tilbury Fort, Birgin op zoom, and Tower Ditch, and 
 all the other fortified places all over the world. Now, 
 I'd have all our horse -cavalry wear cork waistcoats, 
 and all our foot infantry should wear air jackets. 
 Then, sir, they'd cross the sea before you could say 
 Jack Robinson ; and where do you think they should 
 land, Mr. Costive ; whisper me that ; Ha ! — What 1 
 — When ? — How \ — You don't know 1 — How should 
 you ? — Was you ever in Germany or Bohemia ? — 
 Now, I have; I understand jography ; now they 
 should land in America, under the line, close to the 
 south-pole ; there they should land eveiy mother's 
 bane of 'em ; then there's the Catabaws, and there's 
 the Catawawes ; there's the Cherokees, and there's 
 the ruffs and rees ; they are the four great nations ; 
 then I takes my Catabaws all across the continent, 
 from Jamaica to Bengal ; then they should go to the 
 Medeteranian. — 'You know where the Medeteranian 
 is? — No, you know nothing ; I'll tell you; the Me- 
 deteranian is the metropolis of Constantinople ; then 
 I'd send a fleet to blockade Paris til! the French king- 
 had given up Paul Jones ; then I'd send for Genr'll 
 Clinton and Col. Tarleton ; and — Where was I, Mr. 
 Costive? With Col. Tarleton. — Thank ye — so I 
 was ; but you are so dull, Mr. Costive, you put me 
 out. — Now, I'll explain the whole affair to you ; you 
 shan't miss a word of it • — Now, there is the king of 
 
 597 
 
 Prussia, and the empress of Russia ', the nabob of 
 Arcot, and the king of the Hottentots, are all in the 
 Protestant interest ; they make a diversion upon all 
 the cham of Tartary's back settlements ; then Sir 
 Guy Carleton comes with a circumbendibus, and re- 
 takes all the islands ; Rhode Island and all ; and 
 takes 'em here, and there, and there, and here, and 
 everywhere ; — there is the whole affair explained at 
 once to you." 
 
 PROLOGUE TO THE TRIP TO PARIS. 
 
 In former times there Uv'd one Aristotle, 
 Who, as the song says, lov'd, like me, his bottle. 
 
 To Alexander Magnus he was tutor 
 
 (An't you surpris'd to hear the learned Shuter?) 
 
 But let that rest— a new tale I'll advance, 
 
 A tale ? — no, truth ! mun— I'm just come from 
 
 France. 
 From Paris I came ; why I went there, no matter, 
 I'm glad that once more I'm on this side the water : 
 'Twas to win a large wager that hurry'd me over; 
 But I wish'd to be off when I came down to Dover. 
 To swallow sea-water the doctors will tell ye, 
 But the sight of such water at once fill'd my belly ; 
 They who choose it for physic may drink of the sea, 
 But only to think on't is physic for me. 
 
 When first I went on board, Lord ! I heard such a 
 
 racket, 
 Such babbling and squabbling, 'fore and aft', through 
 
 the packet ; 
 The passengers bawling, the sailors yo-ho-ing, 
 The ship along dashing, the winds aloft blowing ; 
 Some sick and some swearing, some singing, some 
 
 shrieking. 
 Sails hoisting, blocks rattling, the yards and booms 
 
 creaking ; 
 Stop the slup! — but the tars, never minding our 
 
 cases, 
 Took their chaws, hitch'd their trowsers, and grinn'd 
 
 in our faces, 
 We made Calais ~oon, and were soon set on shore, 
 And I trode on French ground, where I ne'er trode 
 
 before. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 The scene was quite changed, 'twas no more yo, yo-ho, 
 With damme Jack, yes, boy — or damme Tom, no ! 
 'Twas quite t'other thing, mun, 'twas all complai- 
 sance ; 
 With cringes and scrapes we were welcom'd to France; 
 Ah, Monseer Angloy — they cry'd — be on ven nu, 
 Trcs umble servant, sir, we glad to see you. 
 I ne'er met such figures before in my rambles, 
 Thev flock 'd round my carcass like flies in the sham- 
 bles : 
 To be crowded amongst them at first I was loth, 
 For fear they should seize me, and souse me for broth. 
 At last, tho' they call'd me my Lor Anglelerre, 
 (Lord, had you then seen but my strut and my stare !) 
 Wee, wee, I cry'd, wet then — and put on a sword j 
 So at once Neddy Shuter turn'd into a lord. 
 I expected at France all the world and his wife, 
 But I never was balk'd so before in my life : 
 I should see wonders there, I was told by Monseer ; 
 So I did, I saw things there were wonderful queer ; 
 Queer streets, and queer houses, with people much 
 
 queerer, 
 Each one was a talker, but no one a hearer,- 
 I soon had enough of their pallovousee , 
 
 THE SURLY GRUMBLER 
 
 Grumbling is a complaint without fit cause : the 
 grumbler is one who, if his friend send him some de- 
 licacy from a feast, says to the bearer, " Ah, you 
 envied me your black broth and your paltry wine, 
 and so I was not asked to dinner." If his mistress 
 kiss him, he says, " You do not love me in your 
 heart." He is angry at a shower, not because it 
 rains, but because it is too late for him. If he finds a 
 purse, " I never," he exclaims, " find a treasure in it." 
 When he has purchased, after" a long bargaining with 
 the seller, a slave at his proper price, " It will be very 
 wonderful," he says, " if Ihave bought any thing good 
 at such a rate." To the bearer of the good news that 
 a son is born to him, " If you added," he replies, 
 " that half my substance is gone, you would have 
 told the truth." Though he gain his cause triumph- 
 antly, he is angry with his counsel for omitting many 
 strong points in his favour. His friends contribute 
 a sum of money in loan to relieve his necessities, and 
 one of them bids him now to be of good cheer : " How 
 can I," he cries, " when I must pay back the money 
 to each of them, and besides that, owe them a debt 
 of gratitude for the obligation." 
 
 HOW TO MAKE A MAN A LUNATIC. 
 
 It has been decided that a commission of lunacy 
 
 It's a fine phrase to some folks, but nonsense to me 
 All folks are there dress'd in a toyshop like show, 
 A hodge-podging habit 'twixt fiddler and beau ; 
 
 Such hats, and such heads too, such coats and such must not be specially returned, the subject of it must 
 
 skirts— be found mad, or not mad; and in Brow?i's Abridge 
 
 They sold me some ruffles— but I found the shirts. me?it there is a case mentioned, where a man, on an 
 
 Then, as to their dinners, their soups, and their inquest of idiotcy, was returned an unthrift and not 
 
 stewrngs, 
 One ounce of meat serves for ten gallons of brewings ; 
 For a slice of roast beef hew my mind was agog ! 
 But for beef they produe'd me a fricasee'd frog : 
 Out of window I toss'd it, it wan't fit to eat, 
 Then down stairs I jump'd, and ran into the street, 
 'Twas not their palaver could make me determine 
 To stay where I found it was taste to eat vermin. 
 Frogs in France may be fine, and their Grand Mo- 
 
 narque clever ; 
 I'm for beef, and king George, and old England for 
 
 ever. ! 
 
 an idiot, and where, in consequence, no farther pro- 
 ceedings were had. But why did they not try to 
 make him a lunatic? Half the unthi-ifts in this 
 great town might readily be found so. Let us turn 
 to Harrison's Practice of the Court of Chancery, 
 and see what is necessary in order to procure a com= 
 mission of lunacy. 
 
 " The method of procuring the commission of lu- 
 nacy," says the book, " is first by two or more per- 
 sons making an affidavit, setting forth the state and 
 condition of the lunatic, with some few instances of 
 ^his declarations and actions, to show their belief of 
 
 p* 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 his being a lunatic, and incapable of governing him- 
 self or his estate." 
 
 There is a man driving about town, whom is firmly 
 believed to be " a lunatic, and incapable of governing 
 himself or his estate ;" and though he is concluded 
 to be •' a lunatic," because he is so decidedly '* in- 
 capable of governing himself and his estate ;" rather 
 than " incapable of governing himself and his estate," 
 because he is "a lunatic," yet this same affidavit 
 will require " some few instances of his declarations 
 and actions" to be specified. Another person could 
 readily be procured to join in the affidavit. The 
 Book of Practice proceeds: — 
 
 " The affidavit may be in this manner : 
 
 " E. F. of, &c, and G. H. of, &c, severally make 
 oath and say, that they, these deponents, for the space 
 of one year last past, have known and been well ac- 
 quainted, and frequently discoursed, with C. D. of, 
 &c. And these deponents further severally say, that 
 
 within the space of last past, they have / by 
 
 frequently observing the behaviour, words, and ac- 
 tions, of the said C. D., looked upon him to be a per- 
 son deprived of his reason and understanding in a 
 very great degree.''' 
 
 This may very safely be said. 
 
 " And this deponent E. F. saith, that, &c. {Set 
 forth some of the most ?iotorious acts, incoherences, 
 and irrational discourses.)" 
 
 This request can easily be complied with. 
 
 " And this deponent E. F. saith," then, " that 
 although the said C. D. is possessed of property to 
 the amount of only three hundred pounds per annum, 
 he hath for one whole, year kept, a tandem and two 
 grooms, and that his whole stud consisteth of four 
 horses ; and that he, the said C D., renteth chambers 
 in Albany Buildings, Piccadilly, in the city of West- 
 minster, in the county of Middlesex, and is in the 
 habit of faring sumptuously every day at a certain 
 tavern called Stevens's Hotel, in Bond- street, in the 
 said city of Westminster, and county of Middlesex ; 
 that when he, the said C. D., was at the University 
 of Cambridge, he used to spend all his time with the 
 drivers of the stage-coaches of that town, whom he 
 
 599 
 
 so accurately imitated in all their vulgar habits, that 
 he actually took lessons of one of them in the art of 
 squirting his spittle through his teeth, — but the teeth 
 of the said C. D. not readily accommodating them- 
 selves to the manoeuvre, he had them filed till 
 they did, — and that at last, the said C. D. so far 
 bettered the instructions of the said stage-coachmen, 
 that one of them was heard to declare, that he must 
 cut Squire D., for that he was such a blackguard ; 
 that when he, the said C. D., was at one time con- 
 fined for debt within the Rules of the King's Bench 
 Prison, he hired the most expensive lodgings he could 
 procure, and never gave such large and extravagant 
 dinner-parties as he did at those lodgings, and that 
 he did not upon that occasion think proper to put 
 down his tandem or discharge his grooms, but used 
 to drive about within the said Rules in his usual 
 equipage ; that one day, after dining sumptuously in 
 the said Rules, he, the said C. D., spent his last half- 
 guinea in the purchase of a pineapple to flavour his 
 punch with its juice ; and that he, the said C. D., 
 once said to this deponent E. F., who was remon- 
 strating with him upon his extravagance, and warning 
 him how short a time it could last, since nearly the 
 whole of his property was mortgaged or pledged as 
 security, " If I am to burn, I'll make a blaze j if 
 I am to be buried, I'll kick up a dust." 
 
 And these deponents further severally say, that 
 they believe the said C. D. is in no ways capable of 
 governing himself or his estate" 
 
 " E. F. " Sworn the day of 
 
 at the G. H. Public 
 
 Office, before 
 
 Upon an affidavit like this, is a petition for the 
 " commission in nature of a writ de lunatico inqui- 
 rendo " presented to the Lord Chancellor, who usually 
 grants it as a matter of course. 
 
 THE PIG IN A POKE ; OR, THE DOUBLE 
 METAMORPHOSIS. 
 
 A farmer's lease contain'd a flaw ; 
 To mend it, he appeal'd to law. 
 Dear bought experience told him plain, 
 That law without a fee was vain j 
 
600 THE LAUGHING 
 
 And that, to clear his counsel's tongue, he 
 Must bribe him or with meat or money. 
 
 One morn he calls his clown in chief, 
 " Here, take this pig to lawyer Brief." 
 The clown (unlike his wife, they say) 
 Could both be silent, and obey : 
 The pig secur'd within a sack, 
 At ease hung dangling from his back ; 
 Thus loaded, straight to town he went, 
 With many an awkward compliment. 
 
 A half-way house convenient stood, 
 Where host was kind, and ale was good ; 
 In steps the clown, and calls to Cecil — 
 "A quart of stout, to wet my whistle !" 
 Eas'd of his load, he takes a chair, 
 And quaffs oblivion to all care. 
 
 Three artful wags accost the clown, 
 And ask his errand up to town. 
 With potent ale his heart grows warm, 
 Which, drunk or sober, meant no harm ; 
 He tells them plainly whence he came ; 
 His master, and the lawyer's name ; 
 And, ere the circling mug was drain'd, 
 Shew'd what the prostrate sack contain 'd. 
 Whilst two the witless clown amuse, 
 With merry tales, and mournful news, 
 A third removes the sack unseen, 
 And soon sets free the guest within : 
 But, lest our clown the trick should trace, 
 A well-fed cur supplies the place. 
 
 The point clear'd up of what's to pay, 
 Our clown in peace pursu'd his way. 
 Arriv'd, he makes his awkward bow, 
 With many a Wherefore, and As how. 
 " Heaven Mess your honour many a year ! 
 Lock what a pig I've brought you here." 
 The sack untied without demur, 
 Forthwith out gently crept the cur. 
 Both stood aghast with eager eyes, 
 And both, no doubt, look'd wondrous wise. 
 The clown, who saw the lawyer foam, 
 Swore 'twas a pig when brought from home : t 
 And, wondering at the queer disaster, 
 In haste return'd to tell his master. 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Well pleas'd to see him take the bait, 
 The wags his quick return await. 
 What peals of noisy mirth prevail, 
 To hear him tell the mystic tale ! 
 The devil's in't, they all agree, 
 And seem to wonder more than he. 
 From them to Cecil he repairs, 
 To her the strange event declares : 
 Meantime the wags, to end the joke, 
 Replace the pig within its poke. 
 The rustic soon resumes his load, 
 _And whistling, plods along the road. 
 
 Th' impatient farmer "hails the clown, 
 And asks " What news from London town ? 
 The pig was lik'd ; they made you drink I"-— 
 " Nay, master ! master ! What d'ye think 1 
 The pig, (or I'm a stupid log) 
 Is chang'd into a puppy dog." — 
 " A dog!" — " Nay, since my word you doubt; 
 See here ; I'll fairly turn him out." 
 No sooner was the sack untied, 
 Than a loud grunt his word belied. 
 " Death !" cries the farmer, " tell me whence 
 Proceeds this daring insolence 1 
 Make haste, take back this pig again you 
 Presuming elf ; or, z — nds ! I'll brain you 2" 
 
 The clown, of patient soul and blood, 
 Awhile in silent wonder stood ; 
 Then briefly cried, with phiz demure — 
 " Yon lawyer is a witch, for sure ! 
 How hoarse his voice ! his face how grim ! 
 What's pig with us is dog with him : 
 Heaven shield my future days from evil ! 
 For, as I live, I've seen the devil." 
 
 THE FLATTERER. 
 
 Flattery may be considered to be a disgraceful 
 style of intercourse, but beneficial to the person using 
 it. The flatterer is one who, walking with another, 
 cries out, " Do you observe how the eyes of all men 
 are upon you 1 this is an honour which falls to the 
 lot of no man in the city except yourself. You were 
 nobly spoken of yesterday in the portico. In a com- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 601 
 
 pany of thirty men, the discourse falling upon who 
 was the best man, they all began, and ended with 
 j you." He takes off the flue from the garment of his 
 ; friend, and carefully picks from his hair any feather 
 I which may have blown into it, and says, with a 
 I smile, " Do you see 1 because I have not been with 
 j you these two days, your beard begins to get white ; 
 and yet, if any man's, your hair is remarkably black 
 I for your years." When this man speaks, he bids the 
 I rest be quiet; he praises him in his hearing; and, 
 | when he has ceased speaking, he cries out " Excel- 
 lent ; sensible !" When his patron has uttered a frigid 
 ! joke, not content with smiling, he thrusts his garment 
 into his mouth, as quite unable to restrain his laugh- 
 ter. When they walk out together, he bids the 
 passengers stop until the gentleman h?s gone by. 
 He buys apples and pears for his patron's children ; 
 and presents them in the parent's sight, kissing the 
 children, and saying, " Beautiful offspring of a 
 worthy father !" If he is with his patron when he is 
 purchasing shoes, he says, " This foot is far better 
 made than the shoe." When his patron is going to 
 visit a friend, he runs before, and says, " He is 
 coming." He then runs back, and says, " I have 
 announced you." He is the first of the guests to 
 praise the wine, and says, " How tastefully you dine \" 
 Then, taking up something from the table, he says, 
 " God ! this is excellent !" He asks his patron whe- 
 ther he is not cold "? whether he would not wish to 
 have some more clothing? and whether he shall 
 assist in covering him 1 He is fond of inclining to his 
 ear, and whispering; and while he himself is ad- 
 dressing others, fixes his eyes upon his patron. He 
 takes away the cushions from the servant in the the- 
 atre, and spreads them himself. He commends the 
 architecture of his patron's house, and the cultivation 
 of his grounds ; and says that his picture is like 
 him. 
 
 GRAMMATICAL PARODY. 
 
 The following parody, on the noted grammatical 
 line, 
 
 Bifrons, atque cttstos, bos, fur, sus atque sacerdos, 
 was by Mr. Gostling, a clergyman of Canterbury : 
 2d 
 
 Bifrons ever when he preaches ; 
 Custos of what in his reach is. 
 Bos among his neighbours' wives , 
 Fur in gathering of his tithes. 
 Sus at every parish feast ; 
 On Sunday, sacerdos, a priest. 
 
 EPILOGUE TO THE LIAR. 
 
 Between Miss Grantham and Old Wilding 
 M. Gr. Hold, sir ! 
 
 Our plot concluded, and strict justice done, 
 Let me be heard as counsel for your son. 
 Acquit I can't, I mean to mitigate ; 
 Proscribe all lying ! what would be the fate 
 Of this, and every other earthly state l 
 Consider, sir, if once you cry it down, 
 You'll shut up ev'ry coffee-house in town ; 
 The tribe of politicians will want food, 
 Ev'n now half-famish'd for the public good ; 
 AH Grub-street murderers of men and sense, 
 And every office of intelligence, 
 All would be bankrupts, the whole lying race, 
 And no Gazette to publish their disgrace. 
 
 O. Wild. Too mild a sentence ! Must the good and 
 great 
 Patriots be wrong'd, that booksellers may eat ? 
 
 M. Gr. Your patience, sir ; yet hear another word, 
 Turn to that hall where Justice wields her sword : 
 Think in what narrow limits you would draw, 
 By this proscription, all the sons of law : 
 For 'tis the fixt determin'd rule of courts, 
 (Vyner will tell you, nay, ev'n Coke's Reports) 
 All pleaders may, when difficulties rise, 
 To gain, one truth, expend a hundred lies. 
 
 O. Wild. To curb this practice, I am somewhat 
 loath ; 
 A lawyer has no credit but on oath. 
 
 M. Gr. Then to the softer sex some favour show : 
 Leave us possession of our modest No ! 
 
 O. Wild. Oh, freely, Ma'am, we'll that allowance 
 give, 
 So that two Noes be held, affirmative : 
 
602 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Provided ever that your pish and fie, 
 On all occasions, should be deem'd a lie. 
 
 M. Gi\ Hard terms ! 
 On this rejoinder then I rest my cause : 
 Should all pay homage to truth's sacred laws, 
 Let us examine what would be the case ; 
 Why, many a great man would be out of place. 
 
 O. Wild. 'Twould many a virtuous character re- 
 store. 
 
 M. Gr. But take a character from many more. 
 
 O. Wild, Strong are your reasons, yet, ere I sub- 
 mit, » 
 I mean to take the voices of the pit. 
 Is it your pleasure that we make a rule, 
 That ev'ry liar be proclaimed a fool, 
 Fit subjects for our author's ridicule ? 
 
 THE COMPLAISANT MAN. 
 
 Complaisance may be defined, an address which 
 aims at pleasing by disreputable means. The com- 
 plaisant: is one who salutes a man at a distance, calls 
 him the best of creatures, seizes both his hands with 
 expressions of admiration, and will not let him go : 
 he insists upon accompanying him a little way, teazes 
 him with inquiries of " When he shall have the 
 honour of seeing him," and at last leaves him with 
 exclamations of praise. If he is called to an arbitra- 
 tion between two parties, he is not more anxious to 
 please the person for whom he appears than his op- 
 ponent, that he may be called impartial and a 
 common friend. He tells foreigners that their pro- 
 nunciation is superior to that of the natives. When 
 invited to dinner, he entreats the host to call in his 
 children, and when they come, he observes, that one 
 fig is not more like another than they to their father : 
 he takes and kisses them, and makes them sit by 
 him: with some of them he cracks childish jokes, 
 and others he dandles to sleep on his knee, at the 
 same time feeling the greatest discomfort and incon- 
 venience. He is shaved with the greatest nicety, 
 and whitens his teeth with dentifrice : he changes 
 his garments before they have the least soil, and al- 
 ways smells of perfumes. On the forum you always 
 
 see him among the men of most note and substance, 
 and at the theatre he is always close to the people of 
 rank and fashion. He buys nothing for himself, but 
 purchases little presents for his friends abroad, which 
 he takes care to make known through all the city. 
 He keeps monkeys, doves, vases, and every sort of 
 knick-knack and curiosity, for the amusement of his . 
 friends : he fits up in his mansion a little wrestling- 
 room and a tennis-court • he goes-about to the philo- 
 sophers, the sophists, the teachers of fencing and 
 dancing, and offers them the use of his rooms for the 
 exercise of their respective arts ; and takes care him- 
 self to be present at their exhibitions, to give some 
 spectator the opportunity of saying to another, — 
 " That is the gentleman to whom this place belongs." 
 
 THEOPHEASTUS. 
 PROLOGUE UPON PROLOGUES TO THE DEUCE IS IN HIM. 
 
 And, egad, it will do for any other play as well as 
 this. BAYES, 
 
 An old trite proverb let me quote 
 
 As is your- cloth, so cut your coat. 
 To suit our author, and his farce, 
 Short let me be, for wit is scarce ; 
 Nor would I show it, had I any ; 
 The reasons why are strong and many. 
 Should I have wit, the piece have none, 
 A flash in pan with empty gun, 
 The piece is sure to be undone. 
 A tavern with a gaudy sign, 
 Whose bush is better than the wine, 
 May cheat you once — Will that device, 
 Neat as imported, cheat you twice ? 
 
 'Tis wrong to raise your expectations ; 
 Poets, be dull in dedications S 
 
 Dulness in these to wit prefer 
 
 But there, indeed, you seldom err. 
 
 In prologues, prefaces, be flat ! 
 
 A silver button spoils jour hat. 
 
 A thread-bare coat might jokes escape, 
 
 Did not the blockheads lace the cape. 
 
 A case in point to this before ye j 
 
 Allow me, pray, to tell a story. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 To tarn the penny once a wit 
 Upon a curious fancy hit . 
 I Hung out a board, on which he boasted;, 
 I Dinner for three-pence, boil'd and roasted ! 
 j The hungry read, and in they trip, 
 
 j With eager eye, aud smacking lip 
 
 j " Here ! bring this boil'd and roasted, pray — " 
 
 Enter potatoes, dress'd each way. 
 
 All star'd and rose, the house forsook, 
 
 And damn'd the dinner — kick'd the cook. 
 
 My landlord found, poor Patrick Kelly ! 
 
 There was no joking with the belly. 
 
 These facts laid down, then thus I reason, 
 
 Wit in a prologue's out of season. 
 
 Yet still you wags for jokes sit watching, 
 
 Like Cock-lane folks for Fanny's scratching. 
 
 And here my simile's so fit, 
 
 For prologues are but ghosts of wit ; 
 
 Which mean to show their art and skill, 
 
 And scratch you to their author's will. 
 
 In short, for reasons great and small, 
 
 'Tis better to have none at all. 
 
 Prologues and ghosts ! — a paltry trade — 
 
 So let 'em both at once be laid ! 
 
 Say but the word— give your commands, 
 
 We'll tie our prologue-monger's hands : 
 
 Confine these culprits ! [holding up his hands."] 
 bind 'em tight : 
 
 Nor girls can scratch, nor fools can write. 
 
 GARRICK. 
 GOODY GRIM verSUS LAPSTONE. 
 
 This trial happened in a certain town, which, for 
 reasons, shall be nameless, aud is as follows : — Goody 
 Grim inhabited an alms-house, No. 2. Will Lap- 
 stone, a superannuated cobbler, inhabited No. 3, and a 
 certain Jew pedlar, who happened to pass through the 
 town where those alms-houses were situated, could 
 only think of No. 1. Goody Grim was in the act of 
 killing one of her own proper pigs, but the ammai 
 disliking the ceremony, burst from her hold, and ran 
 through the semicircular legs of the aforesaid Jew, 
 knocked him in the mud, ran back to Will Lapstone's, 
 the cobbler, upset a quart bottle full of gin, belonging 
 2d2 
 
 603 
 
 to the said Lapstone, and took refuge in the cobbler's 
 state bed. 
 
 The parties being of course in the most opulent 
 circumstances, consulted counsel learned in the law. 
 The result was, that. Goody Grim was determined to 
 bring an action against Lapstone, for the loss of her 
 pig with a curly tail; and Lapstone to bring an action 
 against Goody Grim, for the loss of a quart bottle 
 full of Hollands gin ; and Mordecai to bring an 
 action against them both, for the loss of a tee- totum, 
 that fell out of his pocket in the rencontre. They all 
 delivered their briefs to counsel, before it was con- 
 sidered, they were all parties, and no witness. But 
 Goody Grim, like a wise old lady as she was, now 
 changed her battery ; and was determined to bring 
 an action against Lapstone, and bind over Mordecai 
 as an evidence. 
 
 The indictment set forth, that he, Lapstone, not 
 having the fear of the assizes before his eyes, but 
 being moved by pig, and instigated by pruinsence, 
 did, on the first day of April, a day sacred in the 
 annals of the law, steal, pocket, hide, and crib divers 
 that is to say, five hundred hogs, sows, boars, pigs 
 and porkers, with curly tails, and did secret the said 
 five hundred hogs, sows, boars, pigs, and porkers, 
 with curly tails, in said Lapstone's bed, against the 
 peace of our Lord the king, his crown and dignity, 
 
 Mordecai was examined by counsellor Puzzle. 
 
 " Well, sir ; What are you 1" 
 
 " I sells old clo's, and sealing wax, and puckles." 
 
 " I did not ask you what you sold ; I ask you 
 what you are V 
 
 " I am apout five and forty." 
 
 " I did not ask your age ; I ask you what you are 1" 
 
 " I am a Jew.'" 
 
 " Why could'nt you tell me that at first 2 Well then, 
 if you are a Jew, tell me what you know of this 
 affair." 
 
 " As I vas a valking along." 
 
 " Man — I did'nt want to know where you were 
 walking." 
 
 " Vel as I vas a valking along." 
 
604 
 
 THE -LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 " So, you will walk along in spite of all that can 
 be said." 
 
 " Pless ma heart, you frighten me out of my vits — 
 as I vas valking along I seed de unclean animal 
 coming towards me — and so says I — Oh ! Father 
 Abraham, says I." 
 
 " Father Abraham is no evidence." 
 
 " You must let me tell my story my own vay, or 
 I can not tell it all. As I vas valking along, I seed" 
 de unclean animal coming towards me. Oh, father 
 Abraham, said I, here comes de unclean animal 
 towards me, and he runn'd between my leg, and 
 upshet me in de mut." 
 
 " Now, do you mean to say, upon your oath, that 
 little animal had the power to upset you in the 
 mud." 
 
 " I vill take my oath, dat he upshet me in te 
 mut." 
 
 " And pray, sir, on what side did you fall." 
 
 " On te mutty side." 
 
 " I mean, on which of your own sides did you 
 fall V 
 
 " I fell on my left side." 
 
 " Now, on your oath, was it your left side?' 
 
 " I vill take my oath it vas my left side." 
 
 " And pray, what did you do when you fell down V 
 
 " T got up again as fast as I could." 
 
 " Perhaps you can tell me whether the pig had a 
 curly tail'!" 
 
 " I vill take ma oath his tail was so curly as my 
 peerd." 
 
 " Aud pray, where was you going when this hap- 
 pened 1" 
 
 " I vas going to the sign of de cock and pottle." 
 
 " Now, on your oath, what had a cock to do with 
 a bottle V 
 
 11 1 don't know ; only it vas the sign of de house. 
 And all more vat I know vas, dat I lose an ivory tee- 
 totum out of ma pocket." 
 
 " Oh, you lost a tee-totum, did you 1 I thought 
 we should bring you to something at last. My lord, I 
 beg leave to take an exception to this man's evidence ! 
 he does not come into court with clean hands." 
 
 " How te devil should I, when I have been polish- 
 ing ma goods all te morning." 
 
 "Now, my lord, your lordship is aware that tee- 
 totum is derived from the Latin terms of te and tutum, 
 which means, " keep yourself safe." And this man, 
 ijut for my sagacity, observation, and so forth, would 
 have kept himself safe; but now he has, as the-! 
 learned lord Verulum expresses it, * let the cat out 
 of the bag." * 
 
 " I vill take ma oath I had no cat in my bag." 
 
 " My lord, by his own confession, he was about to 
 vend a tee-totum. Now, my lord, and gentlemen of 
 the jury, it is my duty to point out to you, that a 
 tee-totum is an unlawful machine, made of ivory, 
 with letters printed upon it, for the purpose of gam- 
 bling. Now, your lordship knows the act, commonly 
 known by the name of little-go act; expressly forbids 
 all games of chance whatever. Whether put, whist, 
 marbles, swabs, tee-totum, chuckfarthing, dumps, or 
 what not. And, therefore, I do contend, that the 
 man's evidence is contra bonos mores, and he is con- 
 sequently non compos testimonce^ 
 
 Counsellor Botheiem then rose up, " My lord, and 
 gentlemen of the jury, my learned friend Puzzle has, 
 in a most facetious manner, endeavoured to cast a 
 slur on the highly honourable evidence of the Jew 
 merchant. And I do contend, that he who buys and 
 sells is bona fide inducted into -all the mysteries of 
 merchandise ; ergo, he who merchandises, is, to all 
 intents and purposes, a merchant. My learned friend, 
 in the twistings and turnings of his argument in 
 handling the tee-totum, can onlv be called obiter dic- 
 tum ;■ — he is playing, my lord, a losing game. Gen- 
 tlemen, he has told you the origin, use, and abuse of 
 the tee-totum ; but, gentlemen, he has forgot to tell 
 you what that great luminary of the law, the late 
 learned Coke, has said on the subject, in a case ex- 
 actly similar to this, in the 234th folio volume of the 
 abridgement of the statutes, page 1349, where he 
 thus lays down the law, in the case of Hazard versus 
 Blacklegs, — " Gamblendum consistet , enactum gam- 
 blendi sed non evendum macheni ■placendi'* My 
 lord, I beg leave to say, that if I prove my client was 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 605 
 
 in the act of vending, and not playing with the said 
 instrument, the tee-totum, I humbly presume, that 
 all my learned friend has said will come to the 
 I ground." 
 
 '• Certainly, brother Botherem, there's no doubt 
 the learned sergeant is incorrect ! the law does not 
 put a man extra legium, for merely spinning a tee- 
 ■ totum." 
 
 " My lord, one of the witnesses has owned that 
 the pig" had a curly tail. Now, my lord, I presume, 
 if I prove the pig had a straight tail, I consider the 
 objection must be fatal." 
 
 " Certainly. Order the pig into court." 
 
 Here the pig was produced ; and, upon examination, 
 it was found to have a straight tail, which finished the 
 trial. The learned judge, in summing up the evi- 
 dence, addressed the jury, — " Gentlemen of the jury, 
 it is wholly unnecessary to recapitulate the evidence ; 
 for the removal of this objection removes all ground 
 of action. And notwithstanding the ancient statute 
 which says, Serium pigum et boreum pigum, et vendi 
 curium tailum, there is an irrefragable proof, by 
 ocular demonstration, that Goody Grim's grunter had 
 a straight tail, and therefore the prisoner must be 
 acquitted. And really, gentlemen, if the time of the 
 court is to be taken up with these frivolous actions, 
 the designs of justice will be entirely frustrated ; and 
 the attorney who recommends this action should be 
 punished, not in the ordinary way, but with the ut- 
 most rigour and severity of the law." 
 
 This affair is throwninto Chancery, and it is ex- 
 pected it will be settled about the end of the year 
 1954, 
 
 PROLOGUE TO THE SCHOOL TOR RAKES. 
 
 Spoken by Mr. King. 
 
 The scribbling gentry, ever frank and free, 
 To SAveep the stage with prologues fix on me. 
 A female representative I come, 
 And with a prologue, which I call a broom, 
 To sweep the critic cobwebs from the room. 
 Critics, like spiders, into corners creep, 
 And at new plays their bloody revels keep : 
 
 With some small venom close in ambush lie, 
 Ready to seize the poor dramatic fly : 
 The weak and heedless soon become their piey, 
 But the strong blue-bottle will force its way, 
 Clean well its wings, and hum another day. 
 Unknown to Nature's laws, we've here one evil ; 
 For flies, turn'd spiders, play the very devil ! 
 Fearing some danger, I will lay before ye 
 A short, true, recent, tragic-comic- story. 
 As late I saunter'd in the Park for air, 
 As free from thought as any coxcomb there, 
 Two sparks came up ; one whisper'd in my ear, 
 He was a critic ; then ask'd me with a sneer — 
 Thus standing, staring — with a swaggering swing, 
 " You've writ a farce V — ". Yes, sir, a foolish thing." 
 " Damn'd foolish— You'd better mind your atting, 
 
 King, 
 'Tis ten to one — I speak it for your sake, 
 That this same farce will prove— your Wit's last 
 
 Stake." 
 " I scribble for amusement, boast no pow'rs." 
 " Bight, for your own amusement — not for ours." 
 Thus he went on ; and with his pleasant talking, 
 I lost the appetite I got with walking, 
 He laugh'd — I bow'd — but, ere T could retreat, 
 His lisping friend did thus the dose repeat : 
 " Pray, sir, — this School for Bakes— the woman's 
 
 pl ay • 
 
 When do you give it us V'— Cr Next Saturday ; 
 I hope you'll both be kind to her, at least." 
 " A scribbling woman is a dreadful beast ! 
 Then they're so ugly, all these female wits— 
 I'll damn her play — to throw her into fits. 
 Had I my will, those slattern sluttish dames-- 
 They all should see the bottom of the Thames." 
 If you are here, good sirs, to breed a riot, 
 
 [Looking about the house 
 Don't show your spite ; for if you are not quiet, 
 'Tis ten to one — I speak it for your sake, 
 This School for B,akes will prove your Wit's last 
 
 Stake. 
 As you [To the pit] save me from their tyrannic will, 
 You will not let them use a woman ill. 
 
606 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Protect her and her brat — The truly brave 
 Women and children will for ever save. 
 
 THE GULL S HORNBOOK. 
 
 Those readers who wish to be considered well- 
 dressed gentlemen, and attract notice by well-blacked 
 boots and clanking spurs, will read the following 
 with interest. 
 
 " As for thy stockings and shoes; so wear them, 
 -that all men may point at thee, and make thee famous 
 by that glorious name of malecontent. Or, if thy 
 quicksilver can run so far on thy errand as to fetch 
 thee boots out of St. Martin's, let it be thy prudence 
 to have the tops of them wide as the mouth of a 
 wallet, and those with fringed boot-hose over them 
 to hang down to thy ancles. Doves are accounted 
 innocent and loving creatures, — thou in observing 
 this fashion, shalt seem to be a rough-footed dove, 
 and be held as innocent. Besides the straddling, 
 which of necessity so much leather between thy legs 
 must put thee- into, will be thought not to grow from 
 thy disease, but from that gentlemanlike habit." 
 
 Those gentlemen who " sport" fine bushy heads 
 of hair, should particularly attend to the following 
 directions. 
 
 " To maintain therefore tnat sconce of thine 
 strongly guarded, and in good reparation, never suffer 
 comb to fasten his teeth there: let thy hair grow 
 thick and bushy, like a forest, or some wilderness ; 
 lest those six-footed creatures that breed in it, and 
 are tenahts to that crown-land of thine, be hunted 
 to death by every base barbarous barber; and so 
 that delicate and tickling pleasure of scratching be 
 utterly taken from thee. 
 
 ."Long hair is the only net that women spread 
 abroad to entrap men in: and why should not men 
 be as far above women in that commodity, as they 
 go beyond men in others 1 The merry Greeks were 
 called Kaprixo/J-ocavres (long-haired.) Lose not thou, 
 being an honest Trojan, that honour ; sitbence it 
 will more fairly become thee. Grass is the hair of 
 the earth, which so long as it is suffered to grow, it 
 
 becomes the wearer, and carries a most pleasing 
 colour ; but when the sun-burnt clown makes his 
 mows at it, and, like a barber, shaves it off to the 
 stumps, then it withers and is good for nothing but 
 to be truped up and thrown among jades. How ugly 
 is a bald pate ! it looks like a face wanting a nose, 
 or like ground eaten bare with the arrows of archers : 
 whereas a head all hid in hair gives even to a most 
 wicked face a sweet proportion, and looks like a mea- 
 dow newly married to the spring. 
 
 " It is certain that when none but the golden 
 age went current upon the earth, it was higher 
 treason to clip hair than to clip money ; the comb 
 and scissars were condemned to the currying of hack- 
 neys : he was disfranchised for ever, that did put on 
 a barber's apron. Man, woman, and child, wore 
 their hair longer than a law-suit : every head, when 
 it stood bare or uncovered,' looked like a butter-box's 
 noul, having his thrum'd cap on. It was free for all 
 nations to have shaggy pates, as it is now only for 
 the Irishman. But since this polling, and shaving 
 world crept up, locks were lockt up, and hair fell to 
 decay. Revive thou therefore the old buried fashion ; 
 and in scorn of periwigs and sheep-shearing, keep 
 thou that quilted head-piece on continually. Long 
 hair will make thee look dreadfully to thine enemies, 
 and manly to thy friends ; it is, in peace, an orna- 
 ment ; in war, a strong helmet ; it blunts the edge 
 of a sword, and deads the leaden thump of a bullet \ 
 in winter, it is a warm nightcap ; in summer, a cool - 
 ing fan of feathers." 
 
 PROLOGUE TO B0TST TON. 
 
 Fashion in ev'ry thing bears sovereign sway, 
 And words and periwigs have both their day ; 
 Each have their purlieus too, are modish each, 
 In stated districts, wigs as well as speech. 
 The Tyburn scratch, thick club, and Temple tie. 
 The parson's feather-top, frizz'd broad and high ! 
 The coachman's cauliflow'r, built tiers on tiers ! 
 Differ not more from bags and brigadiers, 
 Than great St. George's or St. James's styles 
 From the broad dialect of broad St. Giles. 
 
 i 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 | What is Bon Ton ?"— " Oh ! damme '" cries a buck, 
 
 Half drunk — " Ask me, my dear, and you're in luck : 
 
 I Bon Ton's to swear, break windows, beat the 
 
 watch, 
 j Pick up a wench, drink health, and roar a catch. 
 I Keep it up ! keep it up ! damme, take your swing ! 
 j Bon Ton is life, my boy ; Bon Ton's the thing /" 
 ! " Ah ! I loves life, and all the joys it yields," 
 I Says Madam Fussock, warm from Spitalfields. 
 
 " Bon Ton's the space 'twixt Saturday and Monday, 
 
 And riding in a one-horse chaise o' Sunday ! 
 
 'Tis drinking tea, on summer afternoons, 
 
 At Bagnigge- Wells, with china and gilt spoons ! 
 
 'Tis laying by our stuffs, red cloaks, and pattens, 
 
 To dance cowtilions all in silks and satins !" 
 
 " Vulgar !" — cries Miss — " Observe, in higher life, 
 
 The feather'd spinster, and thrice- feather' d wife: 
 
 The club's Bon Ton. Bon Ton's a constant trade 
 
 Of rout, festi?w, ball, and masquerade ! 
 
 'Tis plays and puppet-shows — tis something new ; 
 
 'Tis losing thousands every night at loo. 
 
 Nature it thwarts, and contradicts all reason ; 
 
 'Tis stiff" French stays, and fruit — when out of season ! 
 
 A rose, when half-a-guinea is the price ; 
 
 A set of bays, scarce bigger than 'six mice . 
 
 To visit friends you never wish to see ; 
 
 Marriage 'twixt those who never can agree ; 
 
 Old dowagers, dress'd, painted, patch'd, and curl'd — 
 
 This is Bon Ton, and this we call the world .'" 
 
 " True," says my lord, " and thou my only son, 
 
 Whate'er your faults, ne'er sin against Bon Ton ! 
 
 Who toils for learning at a public school, 
 
 And digs for Greek and Latin, is a fool. 
 
 French, French, my boy's the thing ! jasez ! prate, 
 chatter ! 
 
 Trim be the mode, whipt-syllabub the matter ! 
 
 Walk like a Frenchman ; for, on English pegs, 
 
 Moves native awkwardness with two left legs. 
 
 Of courtly friendship form a treacherous league, 
 
 Seduce men's daughters, with their wives intrigue ; 
 
 In sightly semicircles round your nails, 
 
 Keep your teeth clean — and grin, if small-talk fails : 
 
 But never laugh, whatever jest prevails : 
 
 607 
 
 Nothing but nonsense e'er gave laughter birth, 
 That vulgar way the vulgar show their mirth. 
 Laughter's a rude convulsion, sense that justles, 
 Disturbs the cockles, and distorts the muscles. 
 Hearts maybe black, but all should wear clean faces; 
 The graces, boy! The graces, graces, graces !" 
 Such is Bon Ton ! and walk this city through, 
 In building, scribbling, fighting, and virtu, 
 And various other shapes, 'twill rise to view. 
 To-night our Bayes, with bold, but careless tints, 
 Hits off a sketch or two like Daily's prints. 
 Should connoisseurs allow his rough draughts strike 
 
 'em, 
 'Twill be Bon Ton to see them, and to like 'em. 
 
 COLMAN. 
 ECONOMY AND EXTRAVAGANCE. 
 
 An epicure, on entering the Bedford coffee-house, 
 inquired, "What have you got for dinner, John 1" 
 " Any thing you please, sir." " Oh ! but what ve- 
 getables V The waiter named the usual legumes in 
 season ; when the gentleman, after having ordered 
 two mutton chops, said, "John! have yoli any cu- 
 cumbers ]" " No, sir, there are not any, I believe, 
 yet produced, 'tis so very early in the season ; but, if 
 you please, T will step into the market, and inquire 
 the price, if any." The waiter returned. " Why, 
 sir, there a few, but they are very dear ; they are a 
 guinea a piece." " A guinea a piece ! are they small 
 or large ?" " Why, sir, they are rather small." " Then ' 
 buy two." Just so it is with us all, saving at one 
 end, and running out at the other. 
 
 APOLOGY FOR NAKEDNESS. 
 
 Unless that Freezeland cur, cold winter, offer to bite 
 thee, walk a while up and down thy chamber, either 
 in thy thin shirt only, or else (which, at a bare word, 
 is both more decent ,and more delectable) strip thy- 
 self stark naked. Are we not born so? And shall a 
 foolish custom make us to break the laws of our cre- 
 ation 1 Our first parents, so long as they went naked, 
 were suffered to dwell in Paradise ; but after they 
 got coats to their backs, they were turned out of 
 doors. Put on, therefore, either no apparel at all, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 608 
 
 or put it on carelessly : for look how much more de- 
 licate liberty is than bondage ; so much is the loose- 
 ness of wearing of our attire above the imprisonment 
 of being neatly and tailor-like drest up in it. To be 
 ready in our clothes is to be ready for nothing else : 
 a man looks as if he . be hung in chains, or like a 
 scarecrow. And as those excellent birds, whom Pliny 
 could never have the wit to catch in all his springes, 
 commonly called woodcocks, whereof there is great 
 store in England, having all their feathers pluckt 
 from their backs, and being turned out as naked as 
 Plato's cock was before all Diogenes' scholars, or 
 as the cuckoo in Christmas, are more fit to come to 
 any knight's board, and are indeed more serviceable, 
 than when they are lapt in their warm liveries ; even 
 so stands the case with man. Truth, because the 
 bald-pate her father, Time, has no hair to ccver his 
 head, goes, when she goes best, stark naked ; but 
 Falsehood has ever a cloak for the rain. You see 
 likewise that the lion, being the king of beasts ; the 
 horse, being the lustiest creature ; the unicorn, whose 
 horn is worth half a city ; all these go with no more 
 clothes on their backs than what nature hath be- 
 stowed upon them : but your baboons and your 
 jackanapes, being the scum and rascality of all the 
 hedge-creepers, they go in jerkins and mandilions. 
 Marry how 1 They are put into their rags only in 
 mockery. 
 
 Good clothes are the embroidered trappings of 
 pride, and good cheer the very eryngo-root of glut- 
 tony ; so that fine backs and fat bellies are coach- 
 horses to two of the seven deadly sins, in the boots 
 of which coach Lechery and Sloth sit like the wait- 
 ing maid. In a most desperate state therefore do 
 tailors and cooks stand, by means of their offices ; 
 for both those trades are apple-squires to that couple 
 of sins. The one invents more fantastic fashions, 
 than Prance hath worn since her first stone was laid ; 
 the other more lickerish Epicurean dishes, than were 
 ever served up to Gallonius's table. Did man, think 
 you, come wrangling into the world about no better 
 matters, than all his lifetime to make privy searches 
 _ in Birchin-lane for whalebone doublets, or for pies 
 
 of nightingales' tongues in Heliogabalus' kitchen f 
 No, no; the first suit of apparel, that ever mortal 
 man put on, came neither from the mercer's shop, 
 nor the merchant's warehouse : Adam's bill would 
 have been taken then, sooner than a knight's bond 
 now j yet was he great in nobody's books for satin 
 and velvets. The silkworms had something else to 
 do in those days, than to set up looms and be free of A 
 the weavers : his breeches were not so much worth 
 as K. Stephen's, that cost but a poor noble ; for 
 Adam's holyday hose and doublet were of no better 
 stuff than plain fig-leaves, and Eve's best gown of 
 the same piece 5 there went but a pair of shears be- 
 tween them* An antiquary in this town has yet 
 some of the powder of those leaves dried to show. 
 Tailors then were none of the twelve companies : 
 their hall, that now is larger than some dorpes among 
 the Netherlands, was then no bigger than a Dutch 
 butcher's shop : they durst not strike down their 
 customers with large bills : Adam cared not an apple- 
 paring for all their lousy hems. There was then 
 neither the Spanish slop, nor the skipper's galligaskin, i 
 the Switzer's blistered codpiece, nor the Danish sleeve 
 sagging down like a Welch wallet, the Italian's close 
 strosser, nor the Prench standing collar : your treble- 
 quadruple daedalian ruffs, nor your stifihecked ra- 
 batos, that have more arches for pride to row under, 
 than can stand under five London bridges, durst not 
 then set themselves out in print ; for the patent for 
 starch could by no means be signed. Fashion then 1 
 was counted a disease, and horses died of it : but 
 now, thanks to folly, it is held the only rare physic ; l 
 and the purest golden asses live upon it." 
 
 ADVENTURES OF A LOUSE. 
 
 " I was hatched in the head of a boy about eight j 
 years old, who was placed under the care of a parish 
 nurse, and educated at the charity-school. In this 
 place, as in a populous city, I soon obtained a settle- 
 ment ; and, as our state of adolescence is short, had 
 in a few months a numerous family. This, indeed, 
 was the happiest period of my life ; I suffered little 
 apprehension from the comb or the razor, and fore- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 1 saw no misfortune, except that our country should be 
 overstocked, and we should be compelled to wander, 
 
 | like the barbarians of the North, in search of another. 
 But it happened t'hat the lord of our soil, in an evil 
 hour, went with some of his companions to Highgate. 
 Just at the top of the hill was a stage and a mounte- 
 bank, where several feats of wit and humour were 
 performed by a gentleman with a gridiron upon his 
 back, who assisted the doctor in his vocation. We 
 were presently in the midst of the crowd, and soon 
 after upon the stage; which the boy was persuaded 
 to ascend, that, by a sudden stroke of conjuration, a 
 great quantity of gold might be conveyed under his 
 hat. Under his hat, however, the dextrous, but mis- 
 chievous operator, having imperceptibly conveyed a 
 rotten egg, clapped his hand smartly upon it, and 
 showed the aurum potabile running down on each 
 side, to the unspeakable delight of the beholders, but 
 to the great disappointment of the boy, and the total 
 ruin of our community. 
 
 " It is impossible to describe the confusion and 
 distress which this accident instantly produced among 
 us ; we were at once buried in a quag, intolerably 
 noisome, and insuperably viscid : those who had been 
 overturned in its passage, found it impossible to re- 
 cover their situation ; and the few who, happening to 
 lie near the borders of the suffusion, had with the ut- 
 most efforts of their strength crawled to those parts 
 which it had not reached, laboured in vain to free 
 themselves from shackles which every moment be- 
 came more strong as the substance which formed 
 them grew more hard, and threatened in a short time 
 totally to deprive them of all power of motion. I was 
 myself among this number, and cannot even now re- 
 collect my situation without shuddering at my dan- 
 ger. In the mean time the candidate for enchanted 
 gold, who in the search of pleasure had found only 
 dirt and hunger, weariness and disappointment, re- 
 flecting that his stolen holyday was at an end, returned 
 forlorn and disconsolate to his nurse. The nose of 
 this good woman was soon offended by an unsavoury 
 smell, and it was not long before she discovered 
 whence it proceeded. A few questions, and a good 
 
 609 
 
 thump on the back, brought the whole secret to light ; 
 and the delinquent, that he might be at once purified 
 and punished, was carried to the next pump, where 
 his head was held under the spout till he had re- 
 ceived the discipline of a pickpocket. He was indeed 
 very near being drowned ; but his sufferings were 
 nothing in comparison of ours. We were overwhelm- 
 ed with a second inundation ; the cataracts, which 
 burst upon us with a noise tenfold more dreadful than 
 thunder, swept us by hundreds before them, and the 
 few that remained would not have had strength to 
 keep their hold against the impetuosity of the torrent, 
 if it had continued a few minutes louger. I was still 
 among those that escaped ; and after we had a little 
 recovered from our fright, we found that, if we had 
 lost our friends, we were released from the viscous 
 durance which our own strength could never have 
 broken. We were also delivered from the dread of 
 an emigration and a famine ; and taking comfort in 
 these reflections, we were enabled to reconcile our- 
 selves without murmuring, to the fate of those who 
 had perished. 
 
 "But the series of misfortunes which I have been 
 doomed to suffer, without respite, was now begun. 
 The next day was Holy Thursday ; and the stupen- 
 dous being, who, without labour, carried the ruins of 
 our state in procession to the bounds of his parish, 
 thought fit to break his wand into a cudgel as soon as 
 he came home. This he was impatient to use ; and 
 in an engagement with an adversary, who had armed 
 himself with the like weapon, he received a stroke 
 upon his head, by which my favourite wife and three 
 children, the whole remains of my family, were 
 crushed to atoms in a moment. I was myself so near 
 as to be thrown down by the concussion of the blow ; 
 and the boy immediately scratching his head to alle- 
 viate the smart, was within a hair of destroying me 
 with his nail. 
 
 " I was so terrified at this accident, that I crept 
 down to the nape of his neck, where I continued all 
 the rest of the day ; and at night when he retired to 
 eat his crust of bread in the chimney-corner, I con- 
 cluded that I should at least be safe till the morning, 
 
610 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 and therefore began my repast, which the dangers and 
 misfortunes of the day had prevented. Whether 
 having long fasted, my bite was more keen than 
 "usual, or whether I had made my attack in a more 
 sensible part, I cannot tell, but the bey suddenly 
 thrust up his fingers with so much speed and dex- 
 terity, that he laid hold of me, and aimed with all 
 his force to throw me into the fire : in this savage at- 
 tempt he would certainly have succeeded, if I had 
 not stuck between his finger and his nail, and fell 
 short upon some linen that was hanging to dry. 
 
 " The woman, who took in washing, was employed 
 by a laundress of some, distinction ; and it happened 
 that I had fallen on the shift-sleeve of a celebrated 
 toast, who frequently made her appearance at court. 
 I concealed myself with great caution in the plaits, 
 and the next night had the honour to accompany her 
 into the drawing-room, where she was surrounded by 
 rival beauties, from whom she attracted every eye, 
 and stood with the utmost composure of mind and 
 countenance in the centre of admiration and desire. 
 In this situation I became impatient of confinement, 
 and, after several efforts> made my way out by her 
 tucker, hoping to have passed on under her handker- 
 chief to her head : but in this hope I was disappoint- 
 ed, for handkerchief she had none. I was not, how- 
 ever, willing to go back ; and as my station was the 
 principal object of the whole circle, I was soon dis- 
 covered by those who atccd near. They gazed at me 
 with eager attention, and sometimes turned towards 
 each other with very intelligent looks ; but of this the 
 lady took no notice, as it was the common effect of 
 that profusion of beauty which she had been used to 
 pour upon every eye : the emotion, however, at length 
 increased till she observed it, and glancing her eye 
 downward with a secret exultation, she discovered 
 the cause. Pride instantly covered. those cheeks with 
 blushes which modesty had forsaken ■ and as 1 was 
 now become sensible of my danger, I was hasting to 
 retreat. At this instant a young nobleman, who per- 
 ceived that the lady was become sensible, of her dis- 
 grace, and who, perhaps, thought that it might be 
 deemed an indecorum to approach the place where I 
 
 stood with his hand in a public assembly, stooped 
 down, and holding up his hat to his face, directed so 
 violent a blast towards me from his mouth, that I 
 vanished before it like an atom in a whirlwind, and 
 the next moment found myself in the toupee of a bat- 
 tered beau, whose attention was engrossed by the 
 widow of a rich citizen, with whose plum he hoped 
 to pay his debts and procure a new mistress. 
 
 " In this place the liair was so thin, that it scarce 
 afforded me shelter ; except a single row of curls on 
 each side, where the powder and grease were insuper- 
 able obstacles to my progress : here, however, I con- 
 tinued near a week, but it was in every respect a 
 dreadful situation. I lived in perpetual solitude and 
 danger, secluded from my species, and exposed to the 
 cursed claws of the valet, who persecuted me every 
 morning and every night. In the morning, it was with 
 the utmost difficulty that I escaped from being knead- 
 ed up in a lump of pomatum, or squeezed to death 
 between the burning forceps of a crisping-iron ; and 
 at night, after I had with the utmost vigilance and 
 dexterity evaded the comb, I was still liable to be 
 thrust through the body with a pin. 
 
 " I frequently meditated my escape, and formed 
 many projects to effect it, which I afterwards aban- 
 doned either as dangerous or impracticable. I ob- 
 served that the valet had a much better head of hair 
 than his master, and that he sometimes wore the same 
 bag ; into the bag, therefore, one evening, I de- 
 scended with great circumspection, and was removed 
 with it ; nor was it long before my utmost expecta- 
 tions were answered, for the valet tied on my dormi- 
 tory to his own hair the very next morning, and I 
 gained a new settlement. 
 
 " But the bag was not the only part of the master'3 
 dress which was occasionally appropriated by the 
 servant ; who being soon after my exploit detected in 
 wearing a lace frock before it had been left off, was 
 turned away at a minute's warning, and, despairing 
 to obtain a character, returned to the occupation in 
 which he had been bred, and became journeyman to 
 a barber in the city ; who, upon seeing a specimen of 
 his skill to dress hair a-la-mode de la cour, was wi: 1 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ing to receive him without a scrupulous examination 
 of his morals. 
 
 " This change in the situation of my patron was of 
 
 ' great advantage to me ; for I began to have more 
 company and less disturbance. But among other 
 persons whom he attended every morning to shave, 
 was an elderly gentleman of great repute for natural 
 knowledge ; a fellow of many foreign societies, and a 
 profound adept in experimental philosophy. This 
 gentleman having conceived a design to repeat 
 Leuenhoeek's experiments upon the increase of our 
 species, inquired of the proprietor of my dwelling if 
 he could help him to a subject. The man was at first 
 startled at the question ; but it was no sooner compre- 
 hended, than he pulled out an ivory comb, and pro- 
 duced myself and two associates, one of whom died 
 soon after of the hurt he received. 
 
 " The sage received us with thanks, and very care- 
 fully conveyed us into his stocking, where, though it 
 was not a situation perfectly agreeable to our nature, 
 
 we produced a numerous progeny. Here, however, I 
 
 suffered new calamity, and was exposed to new dan- 
 
 ger. The philosopher, whom a sedentary and recluse 
 
 life had rendered extremely susceptible of cold, would 
 
 often sic with his shins so near the fire, that we were 
 
 almost scorched to death before we could get round 
 
 to the calf for shelter. He was also subject to fre- 
 quent abstractions of mind ; and at these times many 
 
 of us have been miserably destroyed by his broth or 
 
 his tea ; which he would hold so much on one side, 
 
 that it would run over the vessel, and overflow us 
 
 with a scalding deluge from his knee to his ancle : 
 
 nor was this all ; for when he felt the smart, he would 
 
 rub the part with his hand, without reflecting upon 
 
 his nursery, till he had crushed great part of those 
 
 that had escaped. Still, however, it was my fortune 
 
 to survive for new adventures. 
 
 "The philosopher, among other visitants whose 
 
 curiosity he was pleased to gratify, was sometimes 
 
 favoured with the company of ladies ; for the enter- 
 tainment of a lady it was my misfortune to be one 
 
 morning taken from my family when I least suspected 
 
 611 
 
 After I had contributed to their astonishment and di- 
 version near an hour, I was left with the. utmost in- 
 humanity and ingratitude to perish of hunger, im- 
 mured between the two pieces of isinglass, through 
 which I had been exhibited. In this condition I re- 
 mained three days and three nights ; and should cer- 
 tainly have perished in the fourth, if a boy about seveu 
 years old, who was carelessly left alone in the room, 
 had not poked his finger through the hole in which I 
 was confined, and once more set me at liberty. I was, 
 however, extremely weak ; and the window being 
 open, I was blown into the street, and fell on the un- 
 covered periwig of a doctor of physic, who had just 
 alighted to visit a patient. This was the first time I 
 had ever entered a periwig ; a situation which I 
 scarce less deprecated than the microscope • I found 
 it a desolate wilderness, without inhabitants and with- 
 out bounds. I continued to traverse it with incredi- 
 ble labour ; but I knew not in what direction, and de- 
 spaired of being ever restored either to food or rest. 
 My spirits were at length exhausted, my gripe re- 
 laxed, and I fell, almost in a state of insensibility, 
 from the verge of the labyrinth in which I had been 
 bewildered, into the head of a patient in the hospital ; 
 over whom, after my falL I could just perceive the 
 doctor leaning to look at his tongue. 
 
 " By the w r armth and nourishment which this place 
 afforded me, I soon revived. I rejoiced at my de- 
 liverance, and thought I had nothing to fear but the 
 death of the patient in whose head I had taken 
 shelter. 
 
 " I was, however, soon convinced of my mistake ; 
 for, among other patients in the same ward, was a 
 child about six years old, who having been put in for 
 a rupture, had fallen into the jaundice. For this dis- 
 ease the nurse, in the absence of the physician, pre- 
 scribed a certain number of my species to be adminis- 
 tered alive in a spoonful of milk. A collection was 
 immediately made, and I was numbered among the" 
 unhappy victims which ignorance and inhumanity had 
 thus devoted to destruction ; I was immerged in the 
 potion, and saw myself approach the horrid jaws that 
 
 it, and secured in the apparatu of a solar microscope. \ I expected would the next moment close over me. 
 
612 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 My fate, however, was otherwise determined, for the 
 child, in a fit of frowardness and anger, dashed the 
 spoon out of the hand of the nurse; and after incredi- 
 ble fatigue I recovered the station to which I had 
 descended from the doctor's wig. 
 
 " I was once more congratulating myself on an es- 
 cape almost miraculous, when I was alarmed by the 
 appearance of a barber, with all the dreadful appa- 
 ratus of his trade. I soon found that the person whose 
 head I had chosen for an asylum was become deliri- 
 ous, and that the hair was by the physician's order to 
 be removed for a blister. 
 
 " Here my courage totally failed, and all my hopes 
 forsook me. It happened, however, that though I 
 was entangled in the suds, yet I was deposited un- 
 hurt upon the operator's shaving cloth ; from whence 
 as he was shaving you this night, I gained your 
 shoulder, and have this moment crawled out from the 
 plaits of your stock, which you have just taken off 
 and laid upon this table. Whether this event be for 
 tunate or unfortunate, time only can discover : but I 
 still hope to find some dwelling where no comb shall 
 ever enter, and no nails shall ever scratch ; which 
 neither pincers nor razor shall approach ; where I 
 shall pass the remainder of my life in perfect security 
 and repose, amidst the smiles of society, and the pro- 
 fusion of plenty." 
 
 PROLOGUE TO THE RIVALS. 
 
 Enter Serjeant at Law, and Attorney following, 
 and giving a Paper. 
 
 Serj. What's here — a vile cramp hand ! I cannot 
 see 
 Without my spectacles. Att. He means his fee. 
 Nay, Mr. Serjeant, good sir, try again. [Gives money. 
 Serj. The scrawl improves, [more'] O come, 'tis 
 pretty plain. 
 Hey ! how's this 1 — Dibble ! — sure it cannot be ! 
 A poet's brief ! a poet and a fee ! 
 
 Att. Yea, sir ! — tho' you, without reward, I know, 
 Would gladly plead the muses cause Serj, So- 
 so ! 
 
 Att. And if the fee offends, your wrath should 
 fall 
 On me. Serj. Dear Dibble, no offence at all. 
 
 Att. Some sons of Phoebus in the courts we 
 meet, 
 
 Serj. And fifty sons of Phoebus in the Fleet ! 
 
 Att. Nor pleads he worse, who with a decent sprig 
 Of bays — adorns his legal waste of wig. 
 
 Serj. Full-bottom'd heroes, thus, on signs, unfurl 
 A leaf of laurel— in a grove of curl ! 
 Y et tell your client, that, in adverse days, 
 This wig is warmer than a bush of bays. 
 
 Att. Do you then, sir, my client's place supply, 
 
 Profuse of robes, and prodigal of tie 
 
 Do you, -with all those blushing pow'rs of face, 
 
 And wonted bashful hesitating grace, 
 
 Rise in the court, and flourish on the case. [ExiU 
 
 Serj. For practice then suppose— this brief will 
 
 show it 
 
 Me, Serjeant Woodward- counsel for the poet. 
 Us'd to the ground— I know 'tis hard to deal 
 With this dread Court, from whence there's no ap- 
 peal; 
 No tricking here, to blunt the edge of law, 
 Or, damn'd in equity, escape by flaw : 
 But judgment giv'n— your sentence must remain j 
 No writ of error lies — to Drury-lane .' 
 
 Yet when so kind you seem, 'tis past dispute 
 We gain some favour, if not costs of suit. 
 No spleen is here ! I see no hoarded fury ; 
 I think I never fae'd a milder jury ! 
 Sad else our plight !- where frowns are transporta- 
 tion, 
 A hiss the gallows — and a groan damnation! 
 But such the public candour, without fear 
 My client waves all right of challenge here. 
 No newsman from our session is dismiss'd, 
 Nor wit nor critic we scratch off the list ; 
 His faults can never hurt another's ease, 
 His crime at worst— a bad attempt to please * 
 Thus, all respecting, he appeals to all, 
 And by their general voice will stand or fall. 
 
 SHERIDAX 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 613 
 
 LONDON NEWSPAPEBS. 
 
 You all must agree, that the world's epitome, 
 
 May be found in the London newspapers ; 
 From parts far and wide, we have news in a tide, 
 
 Of ev'ry grand fete and odd capers. 
 In the coffee-room met, what a grave looking set, 
 
 With spectacles plac'd on their noses ; 
 Politicians, a score, o'er the pages now pore, 
 
 And devour the strange news it discloses. 
 
 Auctioneering — volunteering, 
 
 Revolution — execution, 
 
 Hanging — dying — weddings trying, 
 
 Price of gold, bought and sold, 
 And in business who wins and who loses. 
 
 [Spoken.] " Waiter, bring an evening paper." 
 " Not come in yet, sir." " Indeed ! it's very late." 
 " Yes, sir ; all owing to the debate last night. The 
 Day didn't come in till almost night ; and don't ex- 
 pect the Evening Star till morning. Here comes the 
 man with the Globe on his back, and the World in 
 his pocket." ''Waiter! what's this 1" "The Sun, 
 sir." " Why, it's wet." " Yes, sir." " Oh, yes ; 
 I remember we had a wet sun all last year, we don't 
 want another. Waiter ! bring me a candle." 
 " What for V' "To see the sun with." " Why can't 
 you see the sun without a candle 1 — in our country 
 they can." " Pray, sir, have you done with that there 
 paper V " No, sir ; but you may have this here 
 paper." " Waiter ! bring me the Statesman." It's 
 on the other side, sir." " Then bring me the Post or 
 Cotirier." " They are both on the same side, sir." 
 " Will you tell that gentleman who is spelling the 
 advertisements, that he cannot oblige the company 
 more, than by setting the British Press at liberty ?" 
 " Will you give your Press for a Post, sir V " No, 
 sir ; but I'll give up my Statesman for an Inde- 
 pendent Whig." ."'I beg pardon, sir; but I have 
 just given the wig to that gentleman with the bald 
 head." " Waiter !" « Sir." " Why, the file of the 
 Englishman is imperfect." " Yes, sir ; we have 
 lately sent a great many into France." " Oh, that 
 accounts for it." " This Statesman is abominably 
 dirty and worn, — briDg me another.". "We hav'nt 
 
 got another, sir." " Send and buy one, — there's 
 plenty of Statesmen to be bought." &c. 
 
 Keep it up, that's the way, all agog every day, 
 
 To know who wins and who loses. 
 In country, like town, from the peer to the clown 
 
 In Europe the great affairs are trying ; 
 Politicians, you know, may be had at the plough, 
 
 What the news is they are all inquiring. 
 Hear the horn's twanging sound to the village resound; 
 
 All are anxious, the news come so late in : 
 Where a party is seen every night at the inn, 
 
 And for news most impatiently waiting. 
 
 Advertising — things surprising, 
 
 Siege of battle — show of cattle, 
 
 Fighting cocks — price of stocks, 
 
 And in business who wins and who loses. 
 
 [Spoken^] " Waiter, ask that gentleman to read 
 pro bono." " You'll excuse me, sir ; but we don't 
 take that in." " Landlord, will you have the good- 
 ness to read that paper out ?" " I beg your pardon, 
 but I can't read very well at first sight, on account of 
 the stops." " Ax Mr. Bo.vall, the undertaker, if he'll 
 read." " No sir : I begs leave to object to that, — he 
 always begins with the deaths, and that is something 
 so professional. — Perhaps Mr. Parchment, the solici- 
 tor, will, or show cause why he refuses." " Why, sir, 
 I have no objections ; and a;; I hate every thing pro- 
 fessional, I'll try if I can amuse you. What's this 1 
 Oh, Watkins versus Wilkins. This was an action 
 for the recovery of £2. 14*. 9^." " Now didn't I 
 tell you he would begin with something professional. 
 We don't want law, — do we, doctor 1" " No, sir ; I 
 think the most amusing part of the paper is the acci- 
 dents. Let me see. — On Thursday last, as a poor 
 labouring man was at work on the top of a ladder in 
 Spring Gardens, he was, by a sudden gust of wind, 
 blown as far as Charing Cross ; — he fell at the door 
 of Bish's kicky lottery office, where tickets and shares 
 are selling." — " Pooh, pooh, it's only a lottery puff. 
 I hate all puffs ; — don't you, Mr. Pastry-cook V " No, 
 sir ; I don't dislike any body's puffs. Live and let 
 live — that's my motto." " Well, sir, as you have put 
 down the papers, I'll try if I can't amuse you." 
 
614 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 " Beware of puffs." "Oh, you have no need to tell 
 me that, sir ; for I think I smell a puff, the moment I 
 take a paper in my hand. No, no, I'm not to be 
 had. No, no, I think I know a little too much for 
 that. Let me see. — Oh ! St. Helena ! Ay, now here 
 is something good ; this can't be a puff — St. Helena. 
 An officer who has just arrived from this island re- 
 ports the following curious circumstance : That the 
 ci-devant emperor declares it is his fixed determination, 
 in opposition to the advice of his faithful followers, to 
 use no other than Turner's blacking, to be had No. — 
 &c. 
 So keep it up every day, all agog, that's the way, 
 To know who wins and who loses. 
 Then they differ in the name, none alike, all the same, 
 
 Morning Chronicle, and Day Advertiser, 
 British Press, Morning Post, Herald, Times, what a 
 host, 
 We read every day and grow wiser, 
 The Examiner, Whig, all alive to the .gig, 
 
 While each one his favourite chooses, 
 Globe; Star, and Sun, too keep up the fun, 
 And tell all the world what the news is. 
 Examination — Botheration, 
 Consultation — Publication, 
 Abdication — Botheration, 
 City feasts —Wild beasts. 
 And in business who wins and who loses. 
 {Horn.) Gazette Extraordinary." (Horn.) Second 
 edition. Let me see, here must be something good — 
 We stop the press to announce, that if intelligence of 
 any important victory should reach us in the course of 
 the afternoon, we shall publish it in the third edition. 
 (Horn.) Third edition of the Gazette Extraordinary. 
 Ay, ay, now for it — let's see — here it is. — We stop 
 the press — I beg you wont press on one so much, sir. 
 We stop the press to announce, that nothing new has 
 arrived since our last. — Great intelligence indeed — 
 certainly very pleasant. (Imitates a drunken man) 
 " Waiter ! waiter — where the devil are you all — 
 I want to have a peep at the papers — how d'ye do 1 — ■ 
 how d'ye do?— ^No offence I hope ;* if I intrude, 
 say so — (attempts to light his pipe at the candle, ,) — 
 
 Never intrudes not no nowhere — what do you laugh 
 at . — (Laughs.) — How dare you laugh at me !— 
 What a fool a man is to laugh, when he don't know 
 what may happen to him the next minute. — Well, 
 good night — goodnight — wish you all a sound sleep — 
 I'll go to bed — I'll go to bed. — If any body has any 
 objection — I hope he'll say so. — Don't mean to offend 
 not no gentleman. — Where's the papers ? — Hollo I I 
 want the newspapers— (takes up a puper) — Now I'll 
 go — I see the door very well. — Gentlemen, don't 
 think I'm drunk — No, I'm not drunk. — I can walk- 
 very well, — and Ica« hic-up — very well. — Well, I'm 
 not drunk, I'm not drunk. — I see the door, — that's it, 
 there it is. — Betty chambermaid, — get me a candle. — 
 I'm going* to bed. — Betty ! — girl ! — that's the oddest 
 wench ; — she goes forty times a day up stairs, and 
 never comes down again. — Good night, — good night," 
 &c. &c. " I say, sir, do you ever read the papers 
 cross-ways V " Always, sir, from one end of the line 
 to the other." — "I don't mean that." "What do 
 you mean V " I mean from one side of the paper to 
 the other." — "No, sir! I always read from top to 
 bottom." " Pooh, pooh, nonsense ; I mean cross 
 readings." — " You'll make me very cross if you go on 
 so." " Only allow me, sir, you shall hear. Last 
 night, a young gentleman made his first appearance 
 in the arduous character of Hamlet — and performed 
 it with great ease in less than fifteen minutes. Lost 
 a lady's lap dog ; answers to the name of Pompey — 
 if he will return to his disconsolate parents, he will 
 be kindly received. A beautiful spotted cow is now 
 exhibiting at Exeter — for the benefit of herself and her 
 six motherless children. An overdrove ox ran down 
 Fleet-street, and entered the dwelling house of — Mr. 
 Baily's glass manufactory, where he did considerable 
 damage ; due notice will be giv?n of his second ap- 
 pearance. Wauts a place as a groom, a young man 
 of respectability, who can give an unexceptionable 
 character; letters post paid, will find him — double 
 ironed in Newgate, for horse-stealing. Last week the 
 cat of Lady Dimbledon produced at a birth — nine 
 regiments of soldiers ready for embarkation. An ill- 
 looking fellow was lately taken into custody, and car- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 615 
 
 ried to Bow-street, on suspicion of several robberies 
 lately committed.— On searching his pockets, they 
 were found to contain — six-chaldrons of coals, two 
 waggons, and five fine horses. Lost, a lady's reticule, 
 its contents were — a chest of mahogany drawers, and 
 a gridiron. Married at Leeds, Josiah Jones, Esq. 
 to Miss Isabella Jenkins of that place — he seem'd 
 fully resigned to his fate. — The minister pronounced 
 the awful sentence of the law on the unhappy wretch ; 
 he was a good-looking young man, about five and 
 twenty years of age, and in all other respects, be- 
 haved himself with becoming propriety. 
 
 Thus keep it up, that's the way, all agog every day 
 
 To know who wins, and who loses. 
 
 THE PRESENT AGE. 
 
 No more, my friends, of vain applause, 
 
 Or compliniental rhymes ; 
 Come, Muse ! let's call another cause, 
 
 And sing about the times. 
 For, of all ages ever known, 
 
 The present is the oddest ; 
 For ministers are honest grown, 
 
 And all the women modest. 
 JNTo courtiers now are fond of fees, 
 - Or bishops of their dues ; 
 Few people at the court one sees, 
 
 At church, what crowded pews! 
 No ministers their friends deceive, 
 
 With promises of favour ; 
 And, what they make them, once believe, 
 . They faithfully endeavour. 
 Our nobles, — heaven defend us all ! 
 
 I'll nothing say about 'em ; 
 For they are great, and I'm but small, 
 
 So, Muse, jog on without 'em. 
 Our merchants, what a virtuous race, 
 
 Despising earthly treasures, 
 Fond of true honour's glorious chase, 
 
 And quite averse to pleasures. 
 - > What tradesman now forsakes his shop, 
 
 For politics or news ? 
 Or from the court accepts a sop, 
 
 Through interested views. 
 
 No soaking sot his spouse neglects, 
 
 For mugs of mantling nappy : 
 Nor madly squanders his effects, 
 
 To make himself quite happy. 
 No bajiker, slave to Mammon's will, 
 
 Now seeks the venal tribe, 
 With high-raised hopes, applies the till 
 
 To frail elector's bribe. 
 Or, if there are, — no men are found, 
 
 Long held the people's friend, 
 Who, mark'd for doctrines pure and sound, 
 
 Such measures to defend. 
 See spies, informers, jugglers, liars, 
 
 Despised and out of fashion, 
 And statesmen, now grown self-deniers, 
 
 Fly all unlawful passion. 
 Happy the nation thus endow 'd, 
 
 So void of wants and crimes ; 
 All zealous for the public good : 
 
 Oh ! these are glorious times \ 
 " Your character," with wondrous stare, 
 
 Says Tom, " is mighty high, sir; 
 But pray forgive me, if I swear 
 
 I think 'tis all a lie, sir." — 
 " Ha ! think you so, my honest clown? 
 
 Then take another sight on't ! 
 Just turn the picture upside down, 
 
 I fear you'll see the right on't." 
 
 shakspeare's commentators imitated. 
 
 " Stilton Cheese." — So, some of the old copies ; yei 
 the 4to, 1600, reads " Tilten." But I confess the 
 word Tilton gives me no idea. I find Stilton to be' 
 a village in Huntingdonshire, famous for its cheese — 
 a fact which clearly evinces the propriety of the 
 reading in the old copy, and justifies my emendation. 
 
 Theobald. 
 Here we have a very critical note ! the word Til- 
 ton can give Mr. Theobald no idea. And it is true, 
 words cannot give a man what nature has denied him. 
 But, though our critic maybe ignorant of it, it is well 
 I known that, in the days of chivalry, Tilting was a 
 
616 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 very common amusement in this country ; and I find 
 that, during the performance of these martial exer- 
 cises, the spectators were frequently entertained with 
 a sort of cheese, which, from the occasion on which 
 it was made, was called Tilting, and by corruption 
 Tilton cheese. Mr. Theobald's emendation, therefore, 
 as needless and truly absurd, ought by all means to 
 be rejected. Warburton. 
 
 The emendation, in my opinion, is not more absurd 
 than the remark which the learned annotatcr has 
 made upon it. There is, indeed, a stupid error in 
 «ome of the old copies. But discordant opinions are 
 not always nugatory, and by much agitation the truth 
 is^ elicited. I think Mr. Theobald's alteration right. . 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 Stilton is a village in Huntingdonshire, on the 
 great North road. Tilton, though not so well known, 
 is a village in Leicestershire. In an old collection of 
 songs, black letter, no date, we read " Tilton s 
 homely fare," which all critics will allow can only 
 mean cheese. In an old MS. of which I remember 
 neither the date nor the title, Tilton is said to abound 
 in rich pasturage ; both which circumstances make it 
 highly probable, that our author wrote, not as Mr. 
 Theobald supposes, Stilton, but Tilton; though I 
 confess the passage is not without difficulty. Steevens. 
 
 THE FIRE-IRONS. 
 
 Mr. Chose was gravely reading the original Hasen 
 Slawkenbe-rgius at one side of the fire, and Mrs. 
 Chose sat darning old worsted stockings at the other. 
 By some untoward accident, the fire-irons were all on 
 Mrs. Chose's side. "My dear," said Mr. Chose, 
 " how miserable it makes me to gaze on any thing 
 that looks ununiform : be kind enough, my dear, to 
 let me have the poker on my side."— Mrs. Chose, who 
 was busy taking a long stitch at the time, replied, 
 " I'll give it you presently, my love." " Nay, prithee 
 put me out of pain at once ; 'tis absolutely quite dis- 
 tressing to my eye — the fire-place looks like ( a pig 
 with one ear." — " One fiddlestick ! How can you be 
 so excessive whimsical 1" — " How do you mean 
 whimsical V* — " Lord, man ! don't be so plaguy 
 fidgetty !"— «<No, madam, I am no such thing!" 
 
 — " Pray, sir, don't put yourself in such a 
 fluster." — " I tell you I am not in a fluster." — " I 
 say, sir, you are. Tor shame ! How can you throw 
 yourself in such a passion V — " I in a passion ? — 
 " Yes, sir, you are." — " 'Tis false !" — " Tis true !" 
 " Madam, 'tis no such thing." — " S'death, do you 
 
 think I'll submit to such provoking language 1" 
 
 "You shall submit." — ''I shan't."-— " I'll make 
 you." — "You can't." — "By heavens, madam!" — 
 " By heavens, sir !" — " Hold your tongue, Airs. 
 Chose." — " I won't, Mr. Chose." — The more he 
 ranted, the more she raved ; till at last, tiying to 
 outdo each other in provocation, the contention ran 
 so high, that Mr. Chose declared he would not live 
 with Mrs. Chose an hour longer ; and Mrs. Chose 
 declared she would not sleep another night beneath 
 the same roof. 
 
 "Madam," said the husband, " 'tis time that we 
 should part." " With all my heart," said the wife. 
 "Agreed!" said he. "Agreed!" echo'd she. A 
 lawyer was absolutely sent for, to draw up the arti- 
 cles of separation ; but being a " mirabile dictu !" a 
 peace-loving, strife-quelling sort of man, he begged 
 to hear the particulars that led them to come to such 
 a harsh conclusion. He was ordered to proceed to 
 business, but obstinately persevered in his refusal. 
 Addressing himself to trie husband, he said, " Are 
 you both fully agreed upon a separation V " Yes, 
 yes !" exclaimed both parties. 
 
 " Well, sir, what are your reasons for so doing V 
 " Sir, I can't inform you/' — " Madarn, will you be 
 so kind as to acquaint me 1" — " Indeed, sir, I can- 
 not." — " If that is the case," said the peace-loving 
 lawyer, " I venture to pronounce your quarrel has 
 originated in something so frivolous, thatycu are both 
 ashamed to own it." He urged the point so closely, 
 that he at length extorted the truth ; nor did he de- 
 sist from his friendly interference, until he had the 
 satisfaction to reestablish the most perfect harmony. 
 Warned by his friendly admonitions, this wedded 
 couple grew more circumspect in their words, less 
 aggravating in their manners, and, in short, quite left 
 off wrangling, and lived happy. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 617 
 
 CHARACTERS OF JUDGE BEST AND MR. SCARLETT, 
 AS BARRISTERS. 
 
 Mr. Sergeant Best, is, as the old woman would say, 
 as sharp as a needle. His eye is peculiarly briiliant, 
 and he presses his lips together, and shakes his 
 head, with an air of determination, which makes his 
 audience think he is sure of his verdict. 
 
 This gentleman must not be confounded with Mr. 
 Best the barrister, who is generally called Second 
 Best, but who as a lawyer, in the opinion of some, 
 ought rather to be designated First Best. There are 
 jokes like this in every profession ; and it is only for 
 the sake of the pun, that Mr. Scarlett is called the 
 deepest red man at the bar. 
 
 ON THE CUSTOM OF HISSING AT THE THEATRES, WITH 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF A CLUB OF DAMNED AUTHORS, 
 BY ONE OF ITS MEMBERS. 
 
 I am one of those persons whom the world has 
 thought proper to designate by the title of Damned 
 Authors. In that memorable season of dramatic 
 failures, 1806-7, in which no fewer, I think, than 
 two tragedies, four comedies, one opera, and three 
 farces, suffered at Drury-lane theatre, I was found 
 guilty of constructing an afterpiece, and was damned. 
 Against the decision of the public in such instances 
 there can be no appeal. The clerk of Chatham might 
 as well have protested against the decision of Cade 
 and his followers, who were then the public. Like 
 him I was condemned, because I could write. Not 
 but it did appear to some of us, that the measures of 
 the popular tribunal at that period savoured a little 
 of harshness and of the summum jus. The public 
 mouth was early in the season fleshed upon the Vin- 
 dictive Man, and some pieces of that nature, and it 
 retained through the remainder of it a relish of 
 blood. As Dr. Johnson would have said, sir, there 
 was a habit of sibilation in the house. 
 
 Still less am I disposed to inquire into the reason 
 of the comparative lenity, on the other hand, with 
 which some pieces were treated, which, to indifferent 
 judges, seemed at least as much deserving of con- 
 demnation as some of those which met with it. I 
 
 am willing to put a favourable construction upon the 
 votes that were given against us ; I believe that there 
 was no bribery or designed partiality iu the case ; — 
 only " our nonsense did not happen to suit their 
 nonsense ;" that was all. But against the manner 
 in which the public on these occasions think fit to 
 deliver their disapprobation, I must and ever will 
 protest. Sir, imagine but you have been pre- 
 sent at the damning of a piece those who never 
 
 had that felicity, I beg them to imagine— a vast 
 theatre, like that which Drury-lane was, before it 
 was a heap of dust and ashes — a theatre like that, 
 filled with all sorts of disgusting sounds, — shrieks, 
 groans, hisses, but chiefly the last, like the noise of 
 many waters, or that which Don Quixote heard from 
 the fulling-mills, or that wilder combination of de- 
 vilish sounds which St. Anthony listened to in the 
 wilderness. 
 
 I never shall forget the sounds on my night ; I 
 never before that time fully felt the reception which 
 the Author of All 111 in the Paradise Lost meets with 
 from the critics in the pit, at the final close of his 
 tragedy upon the human race — though that, alas I 
 met with too much success — 
 
 « from innumerable tongues, 
 
 A dismal universal hiss, the sound 
 
 Of public scorn. — Dreadful was the d 
 
 Of hissing through the hall, thick swarming now 
 
 With complicated monsters, head and tail, 
 
 Scorpion and asp, and Amphisbcena dire, 
 
 Cerastes horn'd, Hydrus, and Elops drear, 
 
 And Dipsas. 
 
 For hall substitute theatre, and you have the very 
 image of what takes place at what is called the dam- 
 nation of a piece, — and properly so called ; for here 
 you see its origin plainly, whence the custom was 
 derived, and what the first piece was that so suffered. 
 After this none can doubt the propriety of the ap- 
 pellation. 
 
 Indeed, I have often wondeied that some modest 
 critic has not proposed, that there should be a wooden 
 machine to that effect erected in some convenient 
 part of the proscenium, which an unsuccessful au- 
 
618 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 thor should be required to mount, and stand his hour, 
 exposed to the apples and oranges of the pit ; — this 
 amende honorable would well suit with the mean- 
 ness of some authors, who in their prologues fairly 
 prostrate their sculls to the audience, and seem to 
 invite a pelting. Or why should'they not have their 
 pens publicly broke over their heads, as the swords 
 of recreant knights in old times were, and an oath 
 administered to them that they should never write 
 again. 
 
 -The provocations to which a dramatic genius is 
 exposed from the public are so much the more vexa- 
 tious, as they are removed from any possibility of re- 
 taliation, the hope of which sweetens most other 
 
 injuries : — for the public never writes itself. Not 
 
 but something very like it took place at the time of 
 the O.-P. differences. The placards which were 
 nightly exhibited, were, properly speaking, the com- 
 position of the public. — The public wrote them, the 
 public applauded them, and precious morceaux of 
 wit and eloquence they were ; except some few % of 
 a better quality, wkich it is weii known were fur- 
 nished by professed, dramatic writers. After this 
 specimen of what the public can do for itself, it should 
 be a little slow in condemning what others do for it. 
 As the degrees of malignancy vary in people accord- 
 ing as they have more or less of the Old Serpent (the 
 father of hisses) in their composition, I have some- 
 times amused myself with analyzing this many-headed 
 hydra, which calls itself the public, into the compo- 
 nent parts of which it is " complicated, head and 
 tail," and seeing how many varieties of the snake 
 kind it can afford. 
 
 First, there is the Common English Snake. — This 
 is that part of the auditory who are always the majo- 
 rity at damnations, but who, having no critical venom 
 in themselves to sting them on, stay till they hear 
 others hiss, and then join in for company. 
 
 The Blind Worm is a species very nearly allied to 
 the foregoing. Some naturalists have doubted whe- 
 ther they are not the same. 
 
 The Rattle Snake. — These are your obstreporous 
 talking critics, — the impertinent guides of the pit, — 
 
 who will not give a plain man leave to enjoy aa 
 evening's entertainment, but with their frothy jargon, 
 and incessant finding of faults, either drown his plea- 
 sure quite, or force him in his own defence to join in 
 their clamorous censure. The hiss always originates 
 with these. When this creature springs his rattle, 
 you would think, from the noise it makes, there was 
 something in it ; but you have only to examine the 
 instrument from which the noise proceeds, and you 
 will find it typical cf a critic's tongue, — a shallow 
 membrane, empty, voluble, and seated in the most 
 contemptible part of the creature's body. 
 
 The Whip Snake. — This is he that lashes the poor 
 author the next day in the newspapers. 
 
 The Deaf Adder, or Surda Echidna of Linnaeus. 
 — Under this head may be classed ali that portion of 
 the spectators (for audience they properly are not) 
 who not finding the first act of a, piece answer to their 
 preconceived notions of what a first act should be, 
 like Obstinate, in John Bunyan, positively thrust 
 their fingers in their ears, that they may not hear a 
 word of what is coming, though perhaps the very 
 next act may be composed in a style as different as 
 possible, and be written quite to their own tastes. 
 These adders refuse to hear the voice of the charmer, 
 because the tuning of his instrument gave them 
 offence. 
 
 I should weary my reader and myself too, if I 
 were to go through all the classes of the serpent 
 kind. Two qualities are common to them all. They 
 are creatuies of remarkably cold digestions, and 
 chiefly haunt pits and low giounds. 
 
 I proceed with more pleasure to give an account 
 of a club to which I have the honour to belong. 
 There are fourteen of us, who are all authors that 
 have been once in our lives what is called damned. 
 We meet on the anniversaries of our respective nights, 
 and make ourselves merry at the expense of the pub- 
 lic. The chief tenets which distinguish our society, 
 and which every man among us is bound to hold for 
 gospel, are, 
 
 That the public, or mob, in all ages, have been 
 a set of blind, deaf, obstinate, senseless, illiterate 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 619 
 
 ■avages. That no man of genius in his senses would 
 be ambitious of pleasing such a capricious, ungrate- 
 ful rabble. That the only legitimate end of writing 
 for them is to pick their pockets, and, that failing, 
 we are at full liberty to vilify and abuse them as 
 much as ever we think, fit. 
 
 That authors, by their affected pretences to humi- 
 lity, which they made use of as a cloak to insinuate 
 their writings into the callous senses of the multitude, 
 obtuse to every thing but the grossest flattery, have 
 by degrees made that great beast their master j as we 
 may a°ct submission to children till we are obliged to 
 practise it in earnest. That authors are and ought to 
 be considered the masters and preceptors of the pub- 
 lic, and not vice versa. That it was so in the days 
 of Orpheus, Linus, and Musaeus, and would be so 
 again, if it were not that writers prove traitors to 
 themselves. That in particular, in the days of the 
 first of those three great authors just mentioned, 
 audiences appear to have been perfect models of what 
 audiences should be ; for though along with the trees 
 and the rocks and the wild creatures, which he drew 
 after him to listen to his strains, some serpents doubt- 
 less came to hear his music, it does not appear that 
 any one among them ever lifted up a dissentient voice. 
 They knew what was due to authors in those days. 
 Now every stock and stone turns into a serpent, and 
 has a voice. 
 
 That the terms " Courteous Reader" and " Can- 
 did Auditors," as having given rise to a false notion 
 in those to whom they were applied, as if they con- 
 ferred upon them some right, which they cannot have, 
 of exercising their judgments, ought to be utterly 
 banished and exploded, 
 
 These are our distinguishing tenets. To keep up 
 the memory of the. cause in which we suffered, as 
 the ancients sacrificed a goat, a supposed unhealthy 
 auimal, to iEseulapius, on our feast-nights we cut 
 up a goose, an animal typical of the popular voice, 
 to the deities of Candour and Patient Hearing. A 
 zealous member of the society once proposed that we 
 should revive the obsolete luxury of viper-broth ; 
 but the stomachs of some of the company rising at 
 
 the proposition, we lost the benefit of that highly sa- 
 lutary and antidotal dish. The privilege of admis- 
 sion to our club is strictly limited to such as have 
 been fairly damned. A piece that has met with ever 
 so little applause, that has but languished its night or 
 two, and then gone out, will never entitle its author 
 to a seat among us. An exception to our usual rea- 
 diness in conferring this privilege is, in the case of a 
 writer, who, having been once condemned, writes 
 again, and becomes candidate for a second martyr- 
 dom. Simple damnation we hold to be a. merit, but 
 to be twice damned we adjudge infamous. Such a 
 one we utterly reject, and black ball without a 
 hearing : 
 
 The common damn'd shun his society. 
 Hoping that this publication of our regulations 
 may be a means of inviting some more members into 
 our society, I conclude this history. 
 
 SEiUEL-DAMNATUS. 
 PREMATURE FRUIT. 
 
 An author had just seen one of his pieces damned 
 at the theatre, when he had somewhat recovered from 
 the mortification of this fall, he went to visit the 
 actress who had played the principal part ; he told 
 her, in the hope that she would say something to 
 console him, that the public was not always just ; 
 that, besides, his friends were wrong for having 
 pressed him so much to write, and that the fruit was 
 not yet ripe. — " Oh, ripe or not," replied the actress, 
 '.' it has, however, fallen." 
 
 SPANISH PRIDE. 
 
 A Spanish ambassador was one day vaunting to 
 Henry IV. of Trance, the power of his master. The 
 king, in order to take down the Spaniard's vanity, 
 observed to him, with a lively air of raillery, that if 
 he were to take it into his head to get on hoiseback, 
 he could go and breakfast at Milan, hear mass at 
 Rome, and dine at Naples. " Sire," replied the 
 ambassador, " if your majesty travels so fast, you 
 might also go and hear vespers at Sicily on the same 
 day." 
 
620 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE TYBURN TRAGEDY. 
 On the Murder of John Hays, by his wife Catherine, 
 in 1726, for which she was burnt alive at Tyburn, 
 May 9, in the same year. 
 
 In Tyburn-road, a man there liv'd 
 
 A just and honest life, 
 And there he might have lived still 
 
 If so had pleas'd his wife. 
 But she, to vicious ways inclin'd, 
 
 A life most wicked led, 
 With tailors and with tinkers too 
 
 She oft defil'd his bed. 
 Full twice a day to church he went, 
 
 And so devout would be, 
 Sure never was a saint on earth, 
 
 If that no saint was he ! 
 This vex'd his wife unto the heart, 
 
 She was of wrath sa full, 
 That, finding no hole in his coat, 
 
 She pick'd one in his skull. 
 But then her heart began to relent, 
 
 And griev'd she was so sore, 
 That quarter to him for to give, 
 
 She cut him into four. 
 All in the dark and dead of night, 
 
 These quarters she convey'd, 
 And in a ditch at Marybone, 
 His marrow-bones she laid. 
 His head at Westminster she threw, 
 
 All in the Thames so wide ; 
 Says she, my dear, the wind sets fair, 
 
 And you may have the tide. 
 But heav'n, whose power no limit knows 
 
 On earth, or on the main, 
 Soon caus'd this head for to be thrown 
 
 Upon the land again. 
 This head being found, the justices 
 
 Their heads together laid ; 
 And all agreed there must have been 
 Some body to this head. 
 
 But, since no body could be found, 
 
 High mounted on a shelf, 
 They e'en set up this head to be 
 
 A witness for itself. 
 Next, that it no self-murder was, 
 
 The case itself explains, 
 For no man could cut off his head, 
 
 And throw it in the Thames. 
 Ere many days had gone and past, 
 
 The deed at length was known, 
 And Cath'rine she confess'd, at last, 
 
 The fact to be her own. 
 God prosper long our noble king, 
 
 Our lives and safeties all, 
 And grant that we may take advice 
 
 By Catherine Hays's fall. 
 
 ON BURIAL SOCIETIES. 
 
 I was once amused with having the following no- 
 tice thrust into my hand by a man who gives out bills 
 at the corner of Fleet-market. Whether he saw any 
 prognostics about me, that made him judge such 
 notice seasonable, I cannot say ; I might perhaps 
 carry in a countenance (naturally not very florid) 
 traces of a fever which had not long left me. Those 
 fellows have a good instinctive way of guessing at 
 the sort of people that are likeliest to pay attention 
 to their papers. 
 
 " BURIAL SOCIETY. 
 
 " A favourable opportunity now offers to any per- 
 son, of either sex, who would wish to be buried in a 
 genteel manner, by paying one shilling entrance, 
 and two pence per week for the benefit of the stock. 
 Members to be free in six months. The money to 
 be paid at Mr. Middleton's, at the sign of the First 
 and the Last, Stonecutter's-street, Fleet-market. The 
 deceased to be furnished as follows : a strong elm 
 coffin, covered with superfine black, and finished 
 with two rows, all round, close drove, best black 
 japanned nails, and adorned with ornamental drops, 
 a handsome plate of inscription, angel above, and 
 flower beneath, and four pair of handsome handles, 
 with wrought gripes ; the coffin to be well pitched, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 621 
 
 lined, and ruffled with fine crape ; a handsome crape 
 shroud, cap, and pillow. For use, a handsome velvet 
 pall, three gentlemen's cloaks, three crape hatbands, 
 three hoods and scarfs, and six pair of gloves ; two 
 porters equipped to attend the funeral, a man to at- 
 tend the same with band and gloves ; also the burial 
 fees paid, if not exceeding one guinea." 
 
 " Man," says Sir Thomas Browne, " is a noble 
 animal, splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave." 
 Whoever drew up this little advertisement, certainly 
 understood this appetite in the species, and has made 
 abundant provision for it. It really almost induces 
 a t&dium vitce upon one to read it. Methinks I could 
 be willing to die, in death to be so attended. The 
 two rows all round close-drove best black japanned 
 nails, how feelingly do they invite and almost 
 irresistibly persuade us to come and be fastened down. 
 What aching head can resist the temptation to repose, 
 which the crape shroud, the cap, and the pillow, 
 present 1 what sting is there in death, which the 
 handles with wrought gripes are not calculated to 
 pluck away 1 what victory in the grave, which the 
 drops and the velvet pall do not render at least 
 extremely disputable 1 but above all, the pretty em- 
 blematic plate with angel above and flower beneath, 
 takes me mightily. 
 
 The notice goes on to inform us, that though the 
 society has been established but a very few years, 
 upwards of eleven hundred persons have put down 
 their names. It is really an affecting consideration 
 to think of so many poor people, of the industrious 
 and hard-working class (for none but such would be 
 possessed of such a generous forethought) clubbing 
 their twopences to save the reproach of a parish- 
 funeral. Many a poor fellow, I dare swear, has that 
 angel and flower kept from the Angel and Punch- 
 boivl, while, to provide himself a bier, he has cur- 
 tailed himself of beer. Many a savoury morsel has 
 the living body been deprived of, that the lifeless one 
 might be served up in a richer state to the worms. 
 And sure, if the body could understand the actions 
 of the soul, and entertained generous notions of 
 things, it would thank its provident partner, that she 
 
 had been more solicitous to defend it from dishonours 
 at its dissolution, than careful to pamper it with good 
 things in the time of its union. If Caesar were 
 chiefly anxious at his death how he might die most 
 decently, every Burial Society may be considered as a 
 club of Ccesars. 
 
 Nothing tends to keep up in the imaginations of 
 the poorer sort of people a generous horror of the 
 workhouse more than the manner in which pauper 
 funerals are conducted in this metropolis. The coifin 
 nothing but a few naked planks, coarsely put together, 
 — the want of a pall (that decent and well-imagined 
 veil, which, hiding the coffin that hides the body, 
 keeps that which would shock us at two removes 
 from us), the coloured coats of the men that are 
 hired, at cheap rates, to carry the body, — altogether, 
 give the notion of the deceased having been some 
 person of an ill-life and conversation, some one who 
 may not claim the entire rites of burial, — one by 
 whom some parts of the sacred ceremony would be 
 desecrated if they should be bestowed upon him. I 
 meet these meagre processions sometimes in the street. 
 They are sure to make me out of humour and melan- 
 choly all the day after. They have a harsh and 
 ominous aspect. 
 
 If there is any thing in the prospectus issued from 
 Mr. Middleton's, Stonecutter's-street, which pleases 
 me less than the rest, it is to find, that the six pair 
 of gloves are to be returned, that they are only lent, 
 as the bill expresses it, for use, on the occasion. The 
 hoods, scarfs, and hatbands, may properly enough be 
 given up after the solemnity ; the cloaks no gentle- 
 man would think of keeping ; but a pair of gloves, 
 once fitted on, ought not in courtesy to be re- 
 demanded. The wearer should certainly have the 
 fee-simple of them. The cost would be but trifling, 
 and they would be a proper memorial of the day. 
 This part of the proposals wants reconsidering. It is 
 not conceived in the same liberal way of thinking as 
 the rest. I am also a little doubtful whether the limit, 
 within which the burial-fee is made payable, should 
 not be extended to thirty shillings. 
 
 Some provision too ought to be made in favour of 
 
622 
 
 those well-intentioned persons and well-wishers to 
 the fund, who having all along paid their subscrip- 
 tions regularly, are so unfortunate as to die before 
 the six months, which would entitle them to their 
 freedom, are quite completed. One can hardly 
 imagine a more distressing case than that of a poor 
 fellow lingering on in a consumption till the period of 
 his freedom is almost in sight, and then finding him- 
 self going with a velocity which makes it doubtful 
 whether he shall be entitled to his funeral honours : 
 his quota to which he nevertheless squeezes out, to 
 the diminution of the comforts which sickness de- 
 mands. I think, in such cases, some of the contri- 
 bution-money ought to revert. With some such mo- 
 difications, which might easily be introduced, I see 
 nothing in these proposals of Mr. Middleton which is 
 not strictly fair and genteel ; and heartily recommend 
 them to all persons of moderate incomes, in either 
 sex, who are willing that this perishable part of 
 them should quit the scene of its mortal activities 
 with as handsome circumstances as possible. 
 
 Before I quit the subject, I must guard my readers 
 against a scandal which they may be apt to take at 
 the place whence these proposals purport to be issued. 
 From the sign of the First and the Last, they may 
 conclude that Mr. Middletcn is some publican, who, 
 in assembling a club of this description at his house, 
 may have a sinister end of his own, altogether foreign 
 to the solemn purpose for which the club is pretended 
 to be instituted. I must set them right by informing 
 them, that the issuer of these proposals is no publican, 
 though he hangs out a sign, but an honest super- 
 intendant of funerals, who, by the device of a cradle 
 and coffin, connecting both ends of human existence 
 together, has most ingeniously contrived to insinuate, 
 that the framers of these first and last receptacles of 
 mankind divide this our life betwixt them, and that 
 all that passes from the midwife to the undertaker 
 •may, in strict propriety, go for nothing : an awful 
 ,ajld instructive lesson to human vanity. 
 
 ACCOMMODATING DEAFNESS. 
 
 Mr. Garrow in examining a witness who happened 
 to be deaf, and whose deafness it was Mr, G.'s 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 part to make appear pretended, said to him in a 
 low tone,— ** So, you have the misfortune to be 
 deaf, sir i" l( Yes, sir." '* You have great difficulty 
 in hearing 1" " Yes, sir, very." " And it was not 
 till I raised my voice thus {lowering it still more) 
 that you could hear what I said, at all"?" " No, sir." 
 
 THE DEJET7NE. A PINDARIC ODE. 
 
 And was the sorrow so profound, 
 So deep the anguish of despair 
 Which seized Eliza's bosom fair, 
 
 That like a sudden frost it bound 
 
 Her utterance, and forbade to flow 
 
 The murmuring eloquence of woe ? 
 And for a breakfast 1 — No ! I must not think 
 
 A breakfast o'er that heart could so prevail, 
 Nor, that the lost delight to eat and drink 
 
 Could with such pangs that spirit pure assail ; 
 Though tranced fancy show'd the bliss debarr'd her, 
 In visonary feast displaying all my larder. 
 
 Yet well I know — for I beheld, 
 
 (Though grief, my stomach's pride defeating, 
 Forbade me then to think of eating) — 
 
 I know — for I, with sorrow quell'd, 
 
 Sat gazing sad, for many an hour, . 
 
 The breakfast I might not devour ;— 
 I know, how touch'd with hopes unknown before, 
 
 His cold heart kindling high with amorous wishes, 
 That larder sent forth all his bosom'd store, 
 
 His out-spread pride, and pomp of glorious dishes. 
 Still, still I see it ; nothing else I can see, 
 While that unparallel'd brea'kfast floats before my 
 fancy. 
 
 I see him — yes, I recognise him ; 
 High 'mid the scene, in kingly state, 
 Towering from gigantic plate, 
 
 Mouth-watering fancy longing eyes him, 
 
 Kingly, yet rob'd but in his own 
 
 Dark richness of deep-glowing brown, 
 The great sirloin of beef . — august he stands, 
 
 In his pure native splendour full array'd, 
 No knife hath touch'd him ; never mortal hands 
 
 Have dar'd his majesty of form invade. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 623 
 
 For thee he lives : His death-pang itwill sweeten, 
 First for thee to be carv'd — first by thee to be eaten 
 And there are sausages ! there are the eggs ! 
 And there the chickens with close-fitted legs ! 
 And there is a bottle of brandy ! 
 And there is some of the best sugar- candy, 
 Which is better than sugar for coffee ! 
 There are slices from good ham cut off ! he 
 Who cut them was but an indifferent carver ; 
 He wanted the delicate hand of a barber. 
 And there is a dish 
 Butter'd over ! and fish, 
 Trout and char 
 Sleeping are 
 That smooth ice-like surface under : 
 
 Safe they sleep from wind and weather, 
 Into pieces chopp'd asunder, 
 
 To be closer pack'd together ! 
 There a pie made of teal ! one of widgeons ! 
 And there's one of veal mix'd with pigeons ! 
 There is one full of partridges 
 
 There's an excellent cold leg of mutton 
 In apples and quinces that tart rich is ! 
 
 Those ducks were but yesterday put on 
 The spit : what a savour breathes from them, though 
 cold 1 
 The fire that produc'd it in ashes is sleeping, 
 Yet the savour survives : It will never grow old, 
 Till the ducks their own selves are the worse for 
 long keeping. 
 That pot's currant jelly ! and that 
 
 Is raspberry jam ! and that honey ! 
 And that box you see there, so round and so flat, 
 
 Is one that I got. for love ; not for money, 
 From the captain of a West India ship, 
 Who brings me back something - from every trip. 
 You'll find it pack'd as full of sweet- 
 Meats as an egg is full of meat ; 
 An excellent treat ! — 
 There's a cake ! 'tis frosted over 
 With snows of sugar, bright and fair ! 
 There's a black one ! yet doth that blackness cover 
 Things within, as xich as rare. . 
 
 Plums are in it, many a one, 
 
 That the schoolboy's darling are ; 
 Peel of lemon ! cinnamon ! 
 Oh ! a thousand things unknown, 
 Mingling flavours, each outdone 
 By the other, yet so run 
 Each into each, they seem but one ! 
 They the schoolboy's love would share, 
 But that they so blended are. 
 Cake so dark ! thou'rt dear to me ; 
 Thou a bridal cake might'st be • 
 Happy bride, to feast on thee ! 
 Yea, happy feasted bride 1 — But happier he, 
 
 Far happier wight than any feast can make, 
 Tho' all these dainty dishes there should be, 
 
 And daintier thou than all, delicious cake !— ■ 
 Far happier he, whose fond endeavours 
 
 To win Eliza's love success shall crown : 
 When postboys bear the bride's gay favours, 
 Fast thundering 
 Thro' the wondering 
 
 Crowds that come out from all corners of the 
 town ; 
 The ribands their capp'd heads adorning, 
 Ribands far brighter than the morning 
 E'er from her wardrobe brought, to deck 
 The head, and dangle down the neck 
 Of Phcebus, that celestial charioteer ! 
 When thro' the spring-tide of the year, 
 He with his radiant throng 
 Urges his steeds along, 
 Till in the western wave they steep their prone 
 career. 
 
 But whither has my muse been carried 1 
 Sweet maid ! I did suppose thee married, 
 And was beginning thy epithalamium : 
 Who to thy rivals ! in ode thus shame I 'em 
 Let Gretna Green look dull, 
 For bride so beautiful 
 Ne'er whirl'd to her along the great North road, 
 Hadst thou a ward of chancery been, 
 And thou hadst gone off to Gretna Green, 
 That court had ail gone mad, I ween, 
 
624 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 The chancellor and the masters all ; 
 
 And round about their own court hall 
 The tresses of their powder'd wigs had strow'd. 
 But what is this, that foaming white, 
 In the clear tumbler mantles bright, 
 And overflows? — I know it well ; 
 Thy vats its fountains were, James Pell ! 
 And what this flood of deeper brown, 
 Which a white foam does also crown/ 
 Less white than snow, more white than mortar 1 
 Oh, my soul ! can this be porter ? 
 See ! see beef-steaks, and see a goose, 
 Steaming hot, and bath'd in juice ! 
 There a roast pig uprises sudden ! 
 And that's a vision of a pudding ! 
 Mighty breakfast, what dishes thine are ! 
 Almost might'st thou seem ^a dinner, 
 But that 1 see the chocolate there, 
 And the thick-dropping cream, and the sugar fair; 
 And, in oilier richness than tongue can utter, 
 
 Plates of crumpet, and plates of muffin, 
 
 And the hottest of rolls, with grease enough in ; 
 
 Excellent all ! and glorious stuffing ! 
 And that eternal pair, dry toast, and bread and 
 
 butter. 
 Oh ! strange are the sights that are swimming before 
 
 me ! — 
 Won't that fierce boiling water flow o'er me ? 
 In its glittering urn how it raves, 
 Beating its prison with struggling waves ! 
 I scarcely can think that cold will benumb it e'er; 
 Two hundred and twelve of Fahrenheit's thermo- 
 meter. 
 In madness it dances and sings, 
 And bubbling and tossing it flings 
 A cloud from its bosom : that cloud on the air 
 Now mounting aloft, and now wandering afar, 
 Floats delighted ; and see ! it dissolves. 
 Thus often my love-fever'd spirit evolves 
 A fair vapoury vision— the vision of song ! 
 It mounts in its beauty, it saileth along 
 Thro' the regions of ether, and lovely it seems 
 To the uplifted eye, as a pageant of dreams. 
 
 The eye fondly pursues it, rejoic'd, yet perplex'd 
 To make out where the devil 'twill be driving to next. 
 
 Where ? Ah, nowhere ! — 'tis melted away ! 
 For grief, like an atmosphere, everywhere spreading 
 
 Around me and over me, rests evermore ; 
 And in that dull atmosphere suddenly fading, 
 
 The fair vision of song gives its wanderings o'er. 
 
 THE FRENCHMAN IN LONDON. 
 
 " Helas mon Dieu," cried Monsieur de Tourville ; 
 "vat grande palais you call dat fine place .' is dat de 
 Palais Royal vere your king reside ?" " What, that 
 place down there, the Palais Royal! Lord love your 
 stupid head, that's the Fleet prison." " Stop, sair, if 
 you please — I write down in my leetle book vat you 
 call — umph 1 (writes) dat is de Palais Royal — lord 
 Lovet's stupid head, and de fleet is in prison. Sair, 
 vat you call dat grande maison do stand dere — vat 
 great prince as live dere?" " What that fine building 
 down by the water." — " That place down, oi/i,sair." 
 "That's one of the honours of Great Britain. That's 
 what's call'd Greenwich Hospital ; — that's where all 
 our brave British tars, who have worn out their youth 
 and their strength, or may-be lost a limb or two in 
 their country's service, have a comfortable retreat for 
 life. You can't boast of such a place, Monsieur." — 
 " Stay, sair, till I shall write — (writes) — De large 
 green — vat you call — um — umph — as de British tars 
 have lose dere limb make von grande retreat. Pray, 
 sair, vat you call de house dere, down in dat place 
 dere vid de" — " What, down there !■ — a fine place 
 
 that Blue Coat School, instituted by , feeds and 
 
 clothes a hundred and seventy fine fat chubby boys — 
 bless 'em, fine looking boys, — saves me a muffin every 
 morning at breakfast, just to look at their jolly faces, 
 dear little scoundrels, — oh ! they are a set of fine lit- 
 tle rogues." 
 
 "Umph! de blue school do keep von hundred 
 and seventy leetle scoundrels, all leetle great rogues. 
 Vat yon call dat great black, smoky, dirty-looking 
 house ; dat is vat you call your bastile, yijur prison ; 
 for de great man i" 
 
 " Umph ! that black smoky house— -Eh ! why, it is 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 not exactly a prison, though a great many great men 
 reside there. That — umph ! — that is the palace of St. 
 James's, where our beloved monarch holds his court." 
 
 " Muu Dieu ! dat de grand Palais Royal ! sacre 
 Dieu ! Stop, sair ; I vill take down vat you have 
 say. — St. James live in de black ugly maison of de 
 monarque, vid von hundred and seventy leetle rogue, 
 all fine scoundrels, vich he feed vid a muffin,— dey 
 make de grande retreat and lose dere limb — in de 
 green vat — you call — honeur to Great Britain — lord 
 Lovet stupid head — put de fleet in prison — Ah I dat 
 is good — dat vill do, sair." 
 
 11 Well, sir, have you made your proper remarks 
 on our wonderful town - ?" — Sair, I'ave very much 
 vonder at your gay metropolis.'" 
 
 COGENT REASON. 
 
 Some comedians had long promised a new piece, 
 in which virtue was personified. A lady of quality 
 who was impatient to see it, asked one of the actors 
 why it was not represented. " We cannot represent 
 it for a fortnight, because the young lady who was 
 to play Virtue, has just been brought to bed." 
 
 MARRIAGE PORTION. 
 
 A woman of Athens, once asked a Lacedemonian 
 wife", by way of satire, what portion she had given to 
 her husband. " My chastity," was her noble reply. 
 
 CONVIVIAL WILL. 
 
 Will of Samuel Purlewent, late of Lincoln's Inn, in 
 the countv of Middlesex, Esq. deceased, proved 
 Nov. 19, 1792- 
 
 " It is my express will aud desire that I may be 
 buried at Western, in the county of Somer et, if I die 
 there, if not, to be carried down there, (but not in a 
 hearse,) nor will I have any parade or coach to attend 
 upon me, but let me be carried in any vehicle with 
 all the expedition possible, to Bath, so as the same 
 does not exceed the sum of 25/. and when I arrive 
 there, I direct six poor people of Western do support 
 my corpse to the grave, and that six poor women and 
 six poor men of Western do attend me to the grave, 
 and that I mavbe buried at twelve at noon, and each of 
 2 E 
 
 625 
 
 them to have half-a-guinea ; and I hereby order and 
 direct, that a good boiled ham, a dozen fowls, a sir- 
 loin of beef, with plumb-puddings, may be provided at 
 the Crown, in Western, for the said eighteen poor 
 people, besides the clerk and sexton. And I allow five 
 guineas for the same ; and I request and -hope thev 
 will be as merry and cheerful as possible, for I con- 
 ceive it a mere farce to put on the grimace of weep- 
 ing, crying, and snivelling, and the like, which can 
 answer no good end, either to the living or dead, and 
 
 which I reprobate in the highest terms. Codicil : 
 
 I desire that after I am buried, there be a cold col- 
 lation provided at the public-house, a sirloin of beef, 
 potatoes, and a fillet of veal, with plenty of good ale, 
 where I hope they will refresh themselves with de- 
 cency and propriety. ]No friends, or relatives what- 
 ever to attend my funeral." 
 
 AWKWARD QUESTION. 
 
 A French general, who was at once jealous and 
 parasitical, said to the duke d'Enghien, who had just 
 gained the celebrated battle of Rocroi, in 1643. 
 "What will the envious new say of your glory V " I 
 know ?iot," replied the prince ; I should wish to 
 ask you the question." 
 
 THE STROLLING MANAGER. 
 
 Behold me now at the summit of my ambition, 
 " the high top-gallant of my joy," as Romeo says. 
 No longer a chieftain of a wandering tribe, but a 
 monarch of a legitimate throne, and entitled to call 
 even the great potentates of Covent-garden and 
 Drury-lane cousins. You no doubt think my happi- 
 ness complete. Alas, sirs 1 I was one of the most 
 uncomfortable dogs living. No one knows, who has, 
 not tried, the miseries of a manager ; but above all, 
 of a country manager. — No one can conceive the con- 
 tentions and quarrels within doors the oppressions 
 and vexations from without. I was pestered with the 
 bloods and loungers of a country town, who infested 
 my green-room, and played the mischief among my 
 actresses. But there was no shaking them off". It 
 would have been ruin to affront them ; for though 
 troublesome friends, they would have been dangerous 
 
626 
 
 enemies. Then there were the village critics and 
 village amateurs, who were continually tormenting 
 me with advice, and getting into a passion if I would 
 not take it ; especially the village doctor and the 
 village attorney, who had both been to London occa- 
 sionally, and knew what acting should be. 
 
 I had also to manage as arrant a crew of scrape- 
 graces as ever were collected together within the 
 walls of a theatre. I had been obliged to combine 
 my original troop with some of the former troop of 
 the theatre who were favourites of the public. Here 
 was a mixture that produced perpetual ferment. 
 They were all the time either fighting or frolicking 
 with each other, ana 1 I scarcely know which mood 
 was least troublesome. If they quarrelled, every 
 thing went wroug ; and if they were friends, they 
 were continually playing off some prank upon each 
 other or upon me; for I had unhappily acquired 
 among them the character of an easy, good-natured 
 fellow — the worst character that a manager can 
 possess. 
 
 Their waggery at times drove me almost crazy ; 
 for there is nothing; so vexatious as the hackneyed 
 tricks and hoaxes and pleasantries of a veteran band 
 of theatrical vagabonds. I relished them well enough 
 it is true, while I was merely one of the company, 
 but as manager I found them detestable. They were 
 incessantly bringing some disgrace upon, the theatre 
 by their tavern frolics, and their pranks about the 
 country town. All my lectures about the import- 
 ance of keeping up the dignity of the profession and 
 the respectability of the company were in vain. The 
 villains could not sympathize with the delicate feel- 
 ings of a man in station. They even trifled with the 
 seriousness of stage business. T have had the whole 
 piece interrupted, and a crowded audience of at least 
 twenty-five pounds, kept waiting, because the actors 
 had hid away the breeches of Rosalind ; and have 
 known Hamlet to stalk solemnly on to deliver his 
 soliloquy, with a dishclout pinned to his skirts. Such 
 are the baleful consequences of a manager's getting 
 a character for good nature. 
 
 I was intolerably annoyed, too, by the great actors 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 who came down starring, as it is called, from London. 
 Of all baneful influences, keep me from that of a Lon- 
 don star. A first-rate actress, going the rounds of the 
 country theatres, is as bad as a blazing comet whisk- 
 ing about the heavens, and shaking fire and plagues 
 and discords from its tail. 
 
 The moment one of these " heavenly bodies" ap- 
 peared in my horizon, I was sure to be in hot water — 
 My theatre was overrun by provincial dandies, cop- 
 perwashed counterfeits of Bond-street loungers, who 
 are always proud to be in the train of an actress from 
 town, and anxious to be thought on exceeding good 
 terms with her. It was really a relief to me when 
 some random young nobleman would come in pursuit 
 of the bait, and awe all this small fry at a distance. 
 I have alw ays felt myself more at ease with a noble- 
 man, than with the dandy of a country town. 
 
 And then the injuries I suffered in my personal 
 dignity and my managerial authority, from the visits 
 of these great London actors ! Sblood, sir, I was no 
 longer master of myself on my throne. I was hec- 
 tored and lectured in my own green-room, and made 
 an absoluted nincompoop on my own stage. There 
 is no tyrant so absolute and capricious as a London 
 star at a country theatre. I dreaded the sight of all 
 of them, and yet if I did not engage them, I was sure 
 of having the public clamorous against me. They 
 drew full houses, and appeared to be making my 
 fortune ; but they swallowed up all the profits by 
 their insatiable demands. They were absolute tape- 
 worms to my little theatre ; the more it took in the 
 poorer it grew. They were sure to leave me with an 
 exhausted public, empty benches, and a score or two 
 of affronts to settle among the town's folk, in conse- 
 quence of misunderstandings about the taking of 
 places. 
 
 But the worst thing I had to undergo in my mana- 
 gerial career was patronage. Oh, sir ! of all things 
 deliver me from the patronage of the great people of 
 a country town. It was my ruin. You must know 
 that this town though small, was filled with feuds, 
 and parties, and great folks ; being a busy little 
 trading and manufacturing town. The mischief was 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 that their greatness was of a kind not to be settled by 
 reference to the court calendar, or college of heraldry ; 
 it was therefore the most quarrelsome kind of great- 
 ness in existence. You smile, sir, but let me tell you 
 there are no feuds more furious than the frontier feuds 
 which take place in these " debatable lands" of gen- 
 tility. The most violent dispute that I ever knew in 
 high life was one which occurred at a country town, 
 on a question of precedence between the ladies of a 
 manufacturer of pins and a manufacturer of needles. 
 
 At the town where I was situated there were per- 
 petual altercations of the kind. The head manufac- 
 turer's lady, for instance, was at daggers-drawings 
 with the head shopkeeper's, and both were too rich 
 and had loo many friends to be treated lightly. The 
 doctor's and lawyer's ladies held their heads still 
 higher : but they in their turn were kept in check by 
 the wife of a country banker, who kept her own car- 
 riage ; while a masculine widow of cracked character 
 and second-hand fashion, who lived in a large house, 
 and claimed to be in some way related to nobility, 
 looked down upon them all. To be sure her manners 
 were not over elegant, nor her fortune over large ; 
 but then, sir, her blood — oh, her blood carried it all 
 hollow ; there was no withstanding a woman with 
 .such blood in her veins. 
 
 After all, her claims to high connexion were ques- 
 tioned, and she had frequent battles for precedence 
 at balls and assemblies with some of the sturdy dames 
 of the neighbourhood, who stood upon their wealth 
 and their virtue ; but then she had two dashing 
 daughters, who dressed as fine as dragoons, had as 
 high blood as their mother, and seconded her in every 
 thing : so they carried their point with high heads, 
 aud every body hated, abused, and stood in awe of 
 the Fantadlins. 
 
 Such was the state of the fashionable world in this 
 self-important little town. Unluckily, I was not as 
 well acquainted with its politics as I should have 
 been. I had found myself a stranger and in great 
 perplexities during my first season ; I determined, 
 therefore, to put myself under the patronage of some 
 powerful name, and thus to take the field with the 
 
 2e2 
 
 627 
 
 prejudices of the public in my favour. I cast round 
 my thoughts for the purpose, and in an evil hour they 
 fell upon Mrs. Fantadlin. No one seemed to me to 
 have a more absolute sway in the world of fashion. 
 I had always noticed that her party slammed the box 
 door the loudest at the theatre ; that her daughter* 
 entered like a tempest with a flutter of red shawls and 
 feathers ; had most beaux attending on them ; talked 
 and laughed during the performance, and used quiz- 
 zing glasses incessantly. The first evening of my 
 theatre's reopening, therefore, was announced in 
 staring capitals on the play bills, as under the pa- 
 tronage of " the Honourable Mrs. Fantadlin." 
 
 Sir, the whole community flew to arms ! Presume 
 to patronize the theatre ! insufferable! and then for 
 me to dare to term her " The Honourable!" What 
 claim has she. to the title, forsooth 1 The fashionable 
 world had long groaned under the tyranny of the 
 Fantadlins, and were glad to make a common cause 
 against this new instance of assumption. All minor 
 feuds were forgotten. The doctor's lady and the 
 lawyer's lady met together, and the manufacturer's 
 lady and the shopkeeper's lady kissed each other ; 
 and all, headed by the banker's lady, voted the thea- 
 tre a bore, and determined to encourage nothing but 
 the Indian Jugglers and Mr. Walker's Eidouranion. 
 
 Such was the rock on which I split. I never got 
 over the patronage of the Fantadlin family. My 
 house was deserted ; my actors grew discontented 
 because they were ill paid ; my doer became a ham- 
 mering place for every bailiff in the county; and 
 my wife became more and more shrewish and tor- 
 menting the more I wanted comfort. 
 
 I tried for a time the usual consolation of a ha- 
 rassed and henpecked man : I took to the bottle, and 
 tried to tipple away my cares, but in vain. I don't 
 mean to decry the bottle ; it is no doubt an excellent 
 remedy in many cases, but it did not answer in mine. 
 It cracked my voice, coppered my nose, but neither 
 improved my wife nor my affairs. My establishment 
 became a scene of confusion and peculation. I was 
 considered a ruined man, and of course fair game for 
 every one to pluck at, as every one plunders a sink. 
 
628 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 ing ship- Day after day some of the troop deserted, 
 and like deserting soldiers carried off their arms and 
 accoutrements with them. In this manner my ward- 
 robe took legs and walked away, my finery strolled 
 all over the country, my swords and daggers glittered 
 in every barn, until, at last, my tailor made " one 
 fell swoop," and carried off three dress coats, half-a- 
 dozen doublets, and nineteen pair of flesh-coloured 
 pantaloons. This was the " be all and the end all" 
 of my fortune. I no longer hesitated what to do. 
 Egad, thought I, since stealing is the order of the 
 day, I'll steal too ; so I secretly gathered together 
 the jewels of my wardrobe, packed up a hero's dress 
 in a handkerchief, slung it on the end of a tragedy 
 sword, and quietly stole off at dead of night, " the 
 bell then beating one," leaving my queen and king- 
 dom to the mercy of my rebellious subjects, and my 
 merciless foes the bumbailiffs. 
 
 Such, was the " end of all my greatness." 
 
 THE LOVESICK LADY AND' HER ABIGAIL. 
 
 From an unfinished Drama. 
 
 Euphemia. Oh, 'tis aweary night ! alas, will sleep 
 Ne'er darken my poor day-lights ! I have watched 
 The stars all rise and disappear again ; 
 Capricorn, Orion, Venus, and the Bear : 
 I saw them each and all. And they are gone, 
 Yet not a wink for me. The blessed moon 
 Has journeyed through the sky : I saw her rise 
 Above the distant hills, and gloriously 
 Decline beneath the waters. My poor head achs 
 Beyond endurance. I'll call on Beatrice, 
 And bid her bring me the all-potent draught 
 Left by Fernando the apothecary, 
 At his last visit. Beatrice ! she sleeps 
 As sound as a top. What, oh, Beatrice ! 
 Thou art indeed the laziest waiting maid 
 That ever cursed a princess. Beatrice ! 
 
 Beatrice. Coming, your highness, give me time to 
 throw 
 My night-gown o'er my shoulders, and to put 
 My flannel dicky on ; 'tis mighty cold 
 At these hours of the morning. 
 
 Euphem. Beatrice ! 
 
 Beat. I'm groping for my slippers ; would you have 
 me 
 Walk baiefoot o'er the floors T Lord, I should catch 
 My death of Cold. 
 
 Euphem. And must thy mistress, then, I say, must 
 she 
 Endure the tortures of the damned, whilst thou 
 Art groping for thy slippers 1 selfish wretch ! 
 Learn, thou shalt come stark-naked at my bidding, 
 Or else pack up thy duds and hop the twig. 
 
 Beat. Oh, my lady, forgive me that I was so slow 
 In yielding due obedience. Pray, believe me, 
 It ne'er shall happen again. Oh, it would break 
 My very heart to leave so beautiful 
 And kind a mistress. Oh, forgive me ! (weeps.) 
 
 Euphem. Well, well ; I fear I was too hasty : - 
 But want of sleep, and the fever of my blood, 
 Have soured my natural temper. Bring me the phial 
 Of physic left by that skilful leech Fernando, 
 With Laudanum on the label. It stands 
 Upon the dressing-table, close by the rouge 
 And the Olympian dew. No words. Evaporate. 
 
 Beat. I fly ! [Exit. 
 
 Euphem. (sola.) Alas, Don Carlos, mine own 
 Dear wedded husband ! wedded ! yes ; wedded 
 In th' eye of heaven, though not in that of man, 
 Which sees the forms of things, but least knows 
 That which is in the heart. Oh, can it be, 
 That some dull words, muttered by a parson 
 In a long drawling tone, can make a wife, 
 And not the 
 
 Enter Beatrice. 
 
 Beat. Laudanum on the label ; right: 
 Here, my lady, is the physic you require. 
 
 Euphem. Then pour me out one hundred drops, 
 and fifty, 
 With water in the glass, that I may quaff 
 Oblivion to my misery. 
 Beat. 'Tis done. 
 
 Euphem. (drinks.) My head turns round ; it mounts 
 into my brain. 
 
THE LAUGHIN 
 
 I feel as if in paradise '. iny senses mock me : 
 Methinks I rest within thine arms, Don Carlos ; 
 Can it be real 1 pray, repeat that kiss ! 
 1 am thine own Euphemia. This is bliss 
 Too great for utterance. Oh, ye gods 
 Of Hellespont and Greece ! Alas, I faint. 
 
 [Faints. 
 
 LOSING A WIFE 
 
 A young widower had the following inscription 
 placed on the tombstone of his wife. Its piety is in- 
 disputable, but it is rather an equivocal expression 
 of conjugal affection. 
 
 Here lies 
 
 Who died 
 
 aged — years. 
 The Lord gave, 
 and the Lord hath taken away. 
 Blessed ee the name of the Lord ! 
 
 .metamorphosis of age. 
 An elderly lady went to pay a visit to an old friend 
 of the other sex, who was on the point of death. The 
 daughter of the gentleman refused to allow her to 
 enter his chamber, observing to her that her father 
 no longer saw women. " Ah. madam, remarked 
 the lady, at my age there is no longer any sex" 
 
 THE COMMISSARY EMBARRASSED. 
 
 A duchess was accused of witchcraft. A commis- 
 sary was appointed to examine her. The frightful 
 ugliness of the magistrate and his assumed gravity, 
 might have alarmed any one else than the lady in 
 question. However she quietlv suffered him to fulfil 
 his commission. She acknowledged that she had a 
 great desire to converse with the devil, and that she 
 had even seen his infernal majesty. " How is he 
 formed V asked the commissary. " In good faith, 
 sir, if you wish me to describe him to the very nature, 
 I must tell you that he resembles you as completely 
 as two drops of water." Then addressing the clerk, 
 she added, " Write down my answer." The com- 
 missary, who saw that this proceeding would cause 
 a laugh at his expense, thought it prudent to suppress 
 the proces terbal. 
 
 G PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 629 
 
 CHARACTER OF AN UNDERTAKER. 
 
 He is the master of the ceremonies at burials and 
 mourning assemblies, grand marshal at funeral pro- 
 cessions, the only true yeoman of the bodv, over 
 which he exercises a dictatorial authority from the 
 moment that the breath has taken leave to that of 
 its final commitment to the earth. His ministry begins 
 where the physician's, the lawyer's, and the divine's, 
 end. Or it' some part of the functions of the latter 
 run parallel With his, it is only in online ad spiri- 
 tualia. His temporalities remain unquestioned. He 
 is arbitrator of all questions of honour which con- 
 cern the defunct ; and upon slight inspection will 
 pronounce how long he may remain in this upper 
 world with credit to himself, and when it will be 
 prudent for his reputation that he should retire. His 
 determination in these points is peremptory and with- 
 out appeal. Yet with a modesty peculiar to his pro- 
 fession, he meddles not out of his own sphere. With 
 the good or bad actions of the deceased in his life- 
 time he has nothing to do. He leaves the friends of 
 the dead man to form their own conjectures as to the 
 place to which the departed spirit is gone. His care 
 is only about the exuvia?. He concerns not himself 
 even about the body, as it is a structure of parts 
 internal, and a wonderful microcosm. He leaves 
 such curious speculations to the anatomy professor. 
 Or, if any thing, he is averse to such wanton in- 
 quiries, as delighting rather that the parts which lie has 
 care of should be returned to their kindred dust in 
 as handsome and unmutilated a condition as possible ; 
 that the grave should have its full and unimpaired 
 tribute, — a complete and just carcass. Nor is he 
 only careful to provide for the body's eutireness, but 
 for its accommodation and ornament. He orders the 
 fashion of its clothes, and designs the symmetry of 
 its dwelling. Its vanity has an innocent survival in 
 him. He is bed-maker to, the dead. The pillows 
 which he lays never rumple. The day of inter- 
 ment is the theatre in which he displays the myste- 
 ries of his art. It is hard to describe what he is, or 
 rather, to tell what be is not, on that day : for, being 
 neither kinsman, servant, nor friend, he is all in turns ; 
 
630 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 a transcendent, running through all those relations. 
 His office is to supply the place of self-agency in the 
 family, who are presumed incapable of it through 
 grief. He is eyes, and ears, and hands, to the whole 
 household. A draught of wine cannot go round to 
 the mourners, but he must minister it. A chair may 
 hardly be restored to its place by a less solemn hand 
 than his. He takes upon himself all functions, and 
 is a sort of ephemeral major-domo ! He distributes 
 his attentions among the company assembled accord- 
 ing to the degree of affliction, which he calculates 
 from the degree of kin to the deceased ; and marshals 
 them accordingly in the procession. He himself is 
 of a sad and tristful countenance ; yet such as (if 
 well examined) is not without some show of patieuce 
 and resignation at bottom : prefiguring, as it were, 
 to the friends of the deceased what their grief shall 
 be when the hand of Time shall have softened and 
 taken down the bitterness of their first anguish j so 
 handsomely can he fore-shape and anticipate the 
 work of time. Lastly, with his wand, as with another 
 divining rod, he calculates the depth of earth at 
 which the bones of the dead man may rest, which 
 he ordinarily contrives may be at such a distance 
 from the surface of this earth, as may frustrate the 
 profane attempts of such as would violate his repose, 
 yet sufficiently on this side the centre to give his 
 friends hopes of an easy and practicable resurrection. 
 And here we leave him, casting in dust to dust, which 
 is the last friendly office that he undertakes to do. 
 
 INTERPRETATION. 
 
 An individual of the court of Louis XIII., was 
 playing at piquet in an open gallery. Having noticed 
 by his return cards that he had unwisely discarded, he 
 exclaimed, " / am a real Goussat." (This was the 
 »ame of a president who did not enjoy the reputation 
 of being one of the most enlightened men of his age.) 
 It happened, by chance, that the president was 
 standing behind the player^ who had not perceived 
 him ; and greatly offended upon the occasion, he said 
 to the former, " You are a fool." " You are per- 
 fectly right," rejoined the other, " thafwas what J 
 ■meant to say," 
 
 THE MAIDEN S BLOOD V GARUND.'OH THE 
 HIGH-STREET TRAGEDY. 
 
 Tune — " There were three pilgrims. 
 A mournful ditty I will tell, 
 Ye knew poor Sarah Holly well 
 Who at the Golden Leg did dwell. . 
 Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho. 
 She was in love, as some do say, 
 Her sweetheart made her go astray, 
 And at the last did her betray. 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 The babe within her wonb did cry ; 
 Unto her sweetheart she did hie, 
 And tears like rain fell from her eye. 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 But oh ! the wretch's heart was hard, 
 He to her cries gave no regard, 
 " Is this," says she, " my love's reward V 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 " Oh ! woe is me ! I am betray'd, 
 Oh had I liv'd a spotless maid, 
 I ne'er with sobs and sighs had said 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 " But now I'm press'd with grief and woe, 
 And quiet ne'er again can know, 
 God grant my soul to heaven may go. 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 ,f For I my wretched days must end, 
 Yet e'en for thee my prayers I'll send, 
 I die to all the world a friend." 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 Then to her friends she bid " adieu !" 
 And gave to each some token true, 
 With — '•* Think on me when this you view.' 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 Unto the ostler at the Bear, 
 She gave a ringlet of her hair, 
 And said — " Farewell, my dearest dear." 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 O then to madam Luff she said, 
 " To-morrow morn come to my bed, 
 And there you'll find rne quite stone-dead." 
 
 Heigh-ho, <xc. 
 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 631 
 
 Too true she spoke, it did appear ; 
 
 Next morn they eall'd, she could not hear : 
 
 Her throat was cut from ear to ear. 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 No spark of life was in her shown, 
 No breath they saw, nor heard a groan; 
 Her precious soul was from her flown. 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 She was not as I once have seen 
 Her trip in Martin-Gardens green, 
 With apron starch'd and ruffles clean. 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 With bonnet trimm'd, and flounc'd, and all 
 Which they a dulcimer do call, 
 And stockings white as snows that fall. 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 But dull was that black laughing eye, 
 And pale those lips of cherry-dye, 
 And set those teeth of ivoiy. 
 Heigh-ho, £cc- 
 Those limbs which well the dance have led, 
 When Simmons " Butter'd pease" hath play'd, 
 Were bloody, lifeless, cold, and dead. 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 The crowner and the jury came 
 To give their verdict on the same ; 
 They doom'd her harmless corpse to shame. 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 At midnight, so the law doth say, 
 They did her mangled limbs convey 
 And bury in the king's highway. 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 No priest in white did there attend, 
 His kind assistance for to lend, 
 Her soul to paradise to send. 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 No shroud her ghastly face did hide, 
 No winding sheet was round her ty'd ; 
 Like dogs, she to her grave was hied. 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 And then, your pity let it move, 
 Oh pity her who died for love ! 
 A stake they through her body drove* 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 
 It would have melted stones to see 
 Such savageness and cruelty 
 Us'd to a maid of twenty-three. 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 Ye maidens an example take, 
 For Sarah Holly's wretched sake, 
 O never Virtue's ways forsake. 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 Ye maidens all of Oxford town, 
 O never yield your chaste renown 
 To velvet cap or tufted gown. 
 
 Heigh-ho, &c. 
 And when that they do love pretend, 
 No ear unto their fables lend, 
 But think on Sally's dismal end. 
 
 Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, &c. 
 
 ARGUMENTUM AD HOMINEM. 
 
 A magistrate, who, either from natural timidity 
 or a defective memory, had never been able to pro« 
 nounce a discourse without frequent pauses, one day 
 interrupted an advocate who was pleading before 
 him. The counsellor was piqued, and sarcastically 
 exclaimed, " You interrupt me, my lord, although 
 you well know the trouble there is in speaking pub- 
 licly." 
 
 BEATITUDE APPLIED. 
 
 Frederick the Great having embellished a Lutheran 
 church with a new facade, the priests who performed 
 service in it represented to the king, that their flocks 
 could not see clearly enough to read their canticles. 
 But as the building was too far advanced to provide 
 a remedy for the defect, his majesty recalled to their 
 memory these words of the gospel, " Blessed are 
 those who believe and see not." 
 
 VENETIANS AT VERSAILLES. 
 
 The republic of Genoa, having dared to defy Louip 
 XIV., was obliged to send into France, in order to 
 make their 'excuses, the doge, accompanied by four 
 senators, a thing without precedent. Versai!les, # in all 
 its splendour, was shown to the doge, who was asked 
 what had the most struck him in this enchanted spot, 
 " To see myself there," was the brief rejoinder. 
 
632 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 A PAINTER'S ABSTRACTION. 
 
 Sir James Thornhill painted the inside of the 
 cupola of St. Paul's. After having finished one of the 
 compartments, he began to step back gradually on the 
 scaffold, whereon he was working, to see how it would 
 look at a distance. He receded so far, still keeping 
 his eye steadfastly fixed on the painting, that he had 
 got almost to the very edge of the scaffolding without 
 perceiving it ; had he continued to retreat, one half 
 minute more would have completed his destruction — 
 for he must have fallen to the pavement underneath'. 
 One of his assistants, who saw the danger of the 
 great artist, instantly sprung forward ; and having a 
 paint-brush in his hand, dipped it in a pot of black 
 paint which stood at hand, and daubing the painting in 
 an instant, -spoiled it entirely. Sir James Thornhill, 
 in a transport of rage, ran forward to save the re- 
 mainder of his painting ; he was in a great passion 
 at the poor fellow, and was going to knock him down. 
 *•' Hold, sir," cried, he, " look round, see the danger 
 you were in ; you were at the extreme edge of the 
 scaffolding ; had I called to you, you Avould certainly 
 have looked round, and the very look of your danger 
 would have made you fall indeed." — So that theie was 
 no other method to save the artist, but by destroying 
 his painting. 
 
 TIME AT ROYAL DISCRETION. 
 
 The great, have always been flattered, but never 
 was adulation carried further than on the part of a 
 lady of honour to queen Anne. The queen having 
 asked her what the time was, " Whatever time it may 
 please your majesty," was the reply. 
 
 HIMSELF A HOST. 
 
 An English bishop was making a tour to visit his 
 diocese. The weather being extremely sultry, my 
 lord descended from his carriage to enjoy the cool 
 air in a wood by the side of the road. A curate, 
 sorrily mounted, passed by him ; the bishop 
 asked him where he was going. "To Farnham," 
 answered the poor curate. "In that case, sir," re- 
 plied the other in a tone as if he would be conde- 
 scending, "I beg you to call at the first inn, and order 
 
 a good dinner to be provided for me." " Will your 
 grace dine alone V said the curate, who probably 
 expected an invitation. " Certainly, sir." Thepoor 
 curate was a man of wit and fond of a joke : he felt 
 his delicacy wounded by the nature of the commis- 
 sion with which he was intrusted, and to revenge 
 himself, he desired the innkeeper to prepare a dinner 
 of three courses, and an elegant desert for twelve dis-f 
 tmguished members of the clergy, with the bishop at , 
 their head. 
 
 The prelate on his arrival was not a little astonish- | 
 ed by so many preparations ; but what was his sur- ! 
 prise when he saw the bill of fare that had been or- i 
 dered. lie rang the bell and .ordered up the host, 
 whom he addressed in a great rage. " How in the 
 name of heaven could you suppose that one person I 
 can have need of such an abundance of provisions ?" i 
 " My lord, your messenger announced twelve persons 
 to me at the least : the bishop of G — ." — "That is ! 
 myself."—" The dean of Salisbury."—" I am the | 
 dean."— "The prebendary of Winchester."—" I am l 
 
 he also." — " The vicar of ." — " It is I." — " The 
 
 head of the college of- ." — " Still that is myself." 
 
 " The — " — " Stop, stop. / know all the rest of the, 
 guests. You may go." 
 
 ODE ON THE BREAKING OF A CHINA QUART MUG I 
 BELONGING TO THE BUTTERY OF LINCOLN COL- 1 
 LEGE. 
 
 Whene'er the cruel hand of death 
 
 Untimely stops a favourite's breath, 
 
 Muses in plaintive numbers tell 
 
 How loved he lived — how mourned he fell. 
 
 Catullus wailed a sparrow's fate, 
 
 And Gray immortalized a cat — 
 
 Thrice tuneful bards ! could I but chime so clever. 
 
 My Quart, my honest quart, should live for ever. 
 
 How weak alas is mortal power 
 
 To avert the death-devoted hour ! 
 
 Nor shape nor airy beauty save 
 
 From the sure conquest of the grave. 
 
 In vain the butler's choicest care — 
 
 The master's wish — the bursar's prayer— 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 633 
 
 ' When life is lengthen'd to its utmost span, 
 China itself must fall as well as man. 
 
 j Can E forget how oft my quart 
 
 ' Hath sooth 'd my cares and warm'd my heart 1 
 
 j When barley lent its balmy aid, 
 
 i And all its liquid charms display'd ! 
 
 ! When orange and the nut-brown toast 
 
 I Swam mantling round the spicy coast! 
 
 The pleasing gulf I view'd with sparkling eyes, 
 
 Nor envied Jove his nectar of the skies. 
 ! The sideboard on that doleful day, 
 | When you in glittering ruins lay. 
 
 Mourned at the loss — in gurgling tone 
 
 Decanters poured the melting moan .' 
 
 A dimness hung on every glass ! 
 
 Joe wondered what the matter was — ■ 
 
 Corks self-contracted freed the frantic beer 
 
 And sympathizing tankards dropt a tear ! 
 
 Where are the flowery wreaths that bound 
 
 In rosy rings thy chaplets round ; 
 
 The azure stars whose glittering rays 
 
 Promised a. happier length of days 1 
 
 The trees that on thy border grew, 
 
 And blossomed with eternal blue 1 
 
 Trees, stars, and dragons, spread the well-waxed floor ! 
 
 And all thy brittle beauties are no more. 
 
 Hadst thou been framed of coarser earth, 
 
 Had Nottingham but given thee birth, 
 
 Or had thy variegated side 
 
 Of Stafford's sable hue been dyed, 
 
 The stately fabric had been sound, 
 
 Through tables tumbled on the ground I 
 
 The finest mould the soonest must decay -, 
 
 Hear this, ye fair, for. you yourselves are clay 1 
 
 GLOVES AND SPECTACLES. 
 
 Before a tribunal in France, a dyer was requested 
 to hold up his hand, in order to take an oath, the 
 usual mode in that country. The hand was quite 
 black, and the judge said to him, " Take off your 
 glove." " And you, sir," replied the dyer, " be good 
 enough to put on your spectacles." 
 
 2 e3 
 
 LETTER OF ALLITERATION. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Perceiving your desire to know how I past my time 
 in Pembrokeshire, I here present you with an account 
 of my proceedings in a progress 1 lately made to a 
 gentleman's house purely to procure apian of it. 
 
 I proceeded in a party of pleasure with Mr. Pratt 
 of Pickton Castle, Mr. Powell of Penally, and Mr. 
 Pugh of Purley, to go and dine with Mr. Pritchard 
 of Postmain ; which was readily agreed to, and soon 
 put in /practice. However, I thought it a /;roper pre- 
 caution to post away a person privately to Mr. Prit- 
 chard's, that he might provide for us; and v/e pro- 
 ceeded after him. The town where Mr. Prit chard 
 lives is a poor, pitiful, paltry place, though his house 
 is in the prettiest part of it, and is a prince's palace 
 to the rest. His parlour is of a lofty pitch, and full 
 of pictures of the prime pencils ; he has a pompous 
 portico, or pavilion, prettily paved, leading to the 
 parterre ; from hence you have a prodigious prospect, 
 particularly pointing towards Percilly Hill, where he 
 propagates a parcel of Portuguese and Polish poultry. 
 The name of his house is Prawsenden, which puzzled 
 me most'plaguily to pronounce properly. He re- 
 ceived us very politely, and presented us with a plen- 
 tiful dinner. At the upper end of the table was a 
 pike, with fried perch and plaice ; at the lower end 
 pickled pork, pease, and parsnips ; in the middle a 
 pigeon-pie, with puff-paste ; on the one side a pota- 
 to-pudding ; and on the other side pigs' pettitoes. 
 The second course was a dish of pheasants, with 
 poults and plover, and a plate of preserved pine and 
 pippins ; another with pickled pod pepper ; another 
 with prawns ; another with pargamon for a provoca- 
 tive ; with a pyramid of pears, peaches, plums, /pip- 
 pins, philbeards, and pistachios. After dinner there 
 was a profusion of port and punch, which proved too 
 powerful for poor Mr. Peter the parson of the parish, 
 for it /deased his palate, and he poured it down by 
 pints, which made him prate in a pedantic prag- 
 matical manner. This displeased Mr. Price the 
 parliament-man, a profound politician ; but he 
 peisis.tedj and made it a prolix preamb'e, which 
 
634 
 
 THE LAUGHfNG PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 proved his principles prejudiced and partial against 
 the present people in power. Mr. Price, who is a 
 potent party-man, called him a popish parson, and 
 said he prayed privately in his heart for the Pre- 
 tender ; and that he was a presumptuous priest, for 
 preaching such stuff publicly. The parson puft his 
 pipe passively for some time, because Mr. Price was 
 his patron ; but at length, losing all patience, he 
 j?luckt off Mr. Price's periwig, and was preparing to 
 push it with the point of thepoker into the fire ; upon 
 which Mr. Price, perceiving- a pewter piss-pot in the 
 passage, presented the parson with the contents in his 
 phiz, and gave him a pat on the pate., the percussion, 
 of which prostrated him plump on the pavement and 
 raised a protuberance on his pericranium. This put 
 a period to our proceedings, and patched up a peace ; 
 for the parson was in a piteous plight, and had pru- 
 dence enough to be prevailed upon to cry, "Peccavi /" 
 with a " Parce, precor .'" and in a plaintive posture 
 to petition for pardon. Mr. Price, who was proud of 
 his /performance, pulled him out of the puddle, and 
 protested he was sorry for what had passed in his 
 passion, which was partly owing to the provocation 
 given him from some of his preposterous propositions, 
 Tvhich he prayed him never to presume to advance 
 again in his presence. Mr. Pugh, who practises 
 physic, prescribed phlebotomy and a poultice to the 
 parson, but he preferred wetted brown paper to any 
 plaster, and then placed himself in a proper position, 
 that the power of the fire might penetrate his poste- 
 riors, and dry his purple plush breeches. This pother 
 was succeeded by politics, as Mr. Pulteney, the pa- 
 triot's patent for the peerage, the kings of Poland, 
 Prussia, Prague, and the Palatine, pandours and 
 partisans, Portsmouth parades, and the presumption 
 of the privateers who pick up prizes almost in our 
 very ports, and places and pensions, pains and /penal- 
 ties. Next came on plays and poetry, the picture of 
 Mr. Pope perched on a prostitute ; and the price of 
 the pit, pantomimes, prudes, and the pox, and the 
 primate of Ireland, and printers, and preferments, 
 pickpockets and pointers ; and the pranks of that prig 
 the poet-laureate's progeny, though his papa is the 
 jperfect pattern of paternal piety. To be brief, I pro- 
 
 phesy you think I am prolix. We parted at last, 
 but had great difficulty in procuring a passage 
 from Mr. Pritehard, for he had placed a padlock 
 on the stable- door on purpose to prevent us, and 
 pretended his servant was gone out with the key ; 
 but, finding us peremptory, the key was produced, 
 and we permitted to go. We pricked our palfreys a 
 good pace, although it was as dark as pitch, which 
 put me in pain, because I was purblind, lest we should 
 ride plump against the posts which are prefixed to 
 keep horse passengers from going the path that is 
 pitched with pebbles. 
 
 Mr. Price, who was our pilot, had a very provi- 
 dential escape, for his pad fell a prancing, and would 
 not pass one step farther ; which provoked him much, 
 for he piques himself on his horsemanship. I 
 proposed to him to dismount, which he did ; and, 
 peeping and peering about, found he was on the point 
 of a perpendicular precipice, from which he might 
 probably have fallen, had not his horse plunged in 
 that particular manner. This put us all into a palpi- 
 tation, and v/e plodded on the rest of the progression, 
 plan piano, as the Italians say, or pazz a pazz, as 
 the French phrase has it. I shall postpone several 
 other particulars, till I have the pleasure of passing a 
 day with you at Putney, which shall be as soon as 
 possible. I am, sir, your most humble servant, 
 
 Plito Piper. 
 To Mr. Peter Pettiward, at Putney, 
 (Penny-post paid.) 
 
 GOUXV HANDS. 
 
 An individual, whose hands were quite disfigured 
 with the gout, was one day playing with another and 
 gained 1000 crowns from him. "I could console 
 myself," said the loser in a great rage, " if my money 
 had not been picked up by the ugliest hand I ever 
 saw." " That is false," said the winner, " I know 
 one in the company still more ugly." " Egad," re- 
 plied the former, " I will bet thirty pistoles that you 
 are wrong." The other, after having accepted the 
 wager, took off the glove which covered his left hand, 
 and his adversary was obliged to confess that he had 
 lost. 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 PKEADAMITES. 
 
 Shortly after the publication of the book entitled 
 j The Preadamites, by Isaac de la Peyre, of Bordeaux, 
 I father Adam, a Jesuit; preached a sermon at Paris, 
 I in which he compared the Parisians to the Jews who 
 I had crucified our Saviour ; the queen was compared 
 j to the Virgin, and cardinal Mazarine to St John the 
 
 Evangelist. 
 
 The queen spoke of this discourse to the prince of 
 ! Gueinere, and asked him what he thought of it. 
 | " Madam, I am a Preadamite," replied the prince to 
 
 her majesty, " and I do not think father Adam the 
 ! first of men." 
 
 UPSTARTS. 
 
 An officer, the son of a courier, thinking that he 
 was not known, passed himself off for a man of qua- 
 lity. Some one, with the design of taking down his 
 ridiculous pride, said to him : " I have heard your 
 father spoken of : he was a man of letters, whose 
 progress was always rapid." A wit likewise hu- 
 morously satirized the conceited son of an inn-keeper, 
 by observing to him, "That his father was a very 
 obliging man, that he always gave people an hospi- 
 table reception, and that his house was open to every 
 body." 
 
 SINGULAR MISTAKE. 
 
 A courtier was playing at piquet, and was greatly 
 annoyed by a short-sighted man with a long nose. 
 To get rid of it he took his pocket-handkerchief and 
 ■wiped his troublesome neighbour's nose. "Ah, sir," 
 said he immediately, " I really beg your pardon, I 
 took it for my own." 
 
 CAPTAIN GODOLPHIN. 
 
 Captain Godolphin was a very odd and stingy man, 
 
 Who skipper was, as I'm assured, of a schooner- 
 rigg'd West Indiaman ; 
 
 The wind was fair, he went on board, and when he 
 saii'd from Dover, 
 
 Says he, " This trip is but a joke, for now I'm half 
 seas over !" 
 
 The captain's wife, she saii'd with him, this circum- 
 stance I heard of her, 
 
 Her brimstone breath, 'twas almost death to come 
 within a yard of her ; 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 635 
 
 With fiery nose, as red as rose, to tell no lies I'll 
 
 stoop, 
 She looked just like an admiral with a lantern at his 
 
 poop. 
 Her spirits sunk from eating junk, and as she. was an 
 
 epicure, 
 She swore a dish of dolphin fish would of her make 
 
 a happy cure. 
 The captain's line, so strong and fine, had hooked a 
 
 fish one day, 
 When his anxious wife Godolphin cried, and the 
 
 dolphin swam away. 
 The wind was foul, the weather hot, between the 
 
 tropics long she stewed, 
 The latitude was 5 or 6, 'bout 50 was the longitude, 
 When Jack the cook once spoilt the sauce, she 
 
 thought it mighty odd, 
 But her husband bawl'd on deck, why, here's the 
 
 Saucy Jack,* by G — . 
 The captain sought his'charming wife, and whispered 
 
 to her private ear, 
 " My love, this night we'll have to fight a thumping- 
 Yankee privateer." 
 On this he took a glass of rum, by which he showed 
 
 his sense ; 
 Resolved that he would make at least a spirited de- 
 fence. 
 The captain of the Saucy Jack, he was a dark and 
 
 dingy man ; 
 Says he, " My ship must take, this trip, this schooner- 
 
 rigg'd West Indiaman. 
 Each at his gun, we'll show them fvn, the decks are 
 
 all in order : 
 But mind that every lodger here, must likewise be a 
 
 boarder.'' 
 No, never was there warmer work, h % least I rather 
 
 think not, 
 With cannon, cutlass, grappling iron blunderbuss, 
 
 and stink-pot. 
 The Yankee captain, boarding her cried, either 
 
 strike or drown ; 
 Godolphin answered, " then I stiike 7 and quickly 
 
 knocked him down. 
 
 * A celebrated American privateer. 
 
636 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 PARSON HYBERDINE S SERMON PREACHED BY HIM 
 BEFORE AND AT THE COMMAND OF A GANG OF 
 THIEVES, AFTER THEY HAD ROBBED HIM. 
 
 From the original MS. in the Cottonian Library . 
 I greatly marvel that any man presume to dispraise 
 thievery, and to think the doers thereof to be worthy 
 of death, considering it is a thing that cometh near 
 unto virtue, being used by many in all countries, and 
 Commended and allowed of by God himself ; the 
 which thing beeauseT cannot compendiously show 
 unto you at so short a warning, and in so sharp wea- 
 ther, I shall desire you, gentle audience of thieves, to 
 take in good part those things that at this time come 
 into my mind, not misdoubting, but that you, of your 
 good knowledge, are able to add much more unto it 
 than this which I shall now utter unto you. 
 
 First, Fortitude and stoutness of courage, and also 
 boldness of mind, is commended of some men to be a 
 virtue ; which being granted, who is it then will not 
 judge thieves to be virtuous 1 for they be of all men 
 most stout and hardy, and most without fear. For 
 thievery is a thing most usual amongst all men ; for 
 not only you be here present, but many others in 
 divers places, both men, women and children, rich 
 and poor, are daily of this faculty, as the hangman at 
 Tyburn can testify, and that it is allowed of by God 
 himself, as it is evident in many stories in scripture, 
 for if you look into the whole course of the Bible, you 
 shall find that thieves have been beloved of God ; for 
 Jacob when he came out of Mesopotamia did steal 
 his uncle Laban's kids, the same Jacob also stole his 
 brother Esau's blessing. And yet God said, " / have 
 chosen Jacob and refused Esau J" The children of 
 Israel, when they came out of Egypt, did steal the 
 Egyptians' jewels of silver, and jewels of gold, as God 
 commanded them so to do. David, in the days of 
 Abiathar the high-priest, came into the temple, and 
 stole the hallowed bread , and yet God said, "David 
 is a man after mine own heart." Christ himself 
 when he was here on earth, did take an ass and a 
 colt that was none of his own, and you know that 
 God said of him, V This is my beloved, in tvhnm 1 
 delight" Thus you may see that God delighteth in 
 thieves. But most of all I marvel that men can des- 
 
 pise you thieves, whereas in all points almost you be 
 like unto Christ himself ; for Christ had no dwelling- 
 place, no more have you ; Christ went from town to 
 town, and so do you ; Christ was hated of all men, 
 saving of his friends, and so are you ; Christ was laid 
 wait upon in many places, and so are you ; Christ 
 at length was caught, and so will you be ; he was 
 brought before the judges, and so shall you be ; he 
 was accused, and so shall you be ; he was hanged, 
 and so shall you be ; he went down into hell, and so 
 shall you do, marry ! In this one thing you differ from 
 him; for he rose again, and went into heaven, and 
 so shall you never do, without God's great mercy. 
 
 This ended his sermon. They gave him his money 
 again that they took from him, and two shillings to 
 drink, for his discourse. 
 
 PATERNAL SOLICITUDE. 
 
 A young man, to whom Corneille was to give his 
 daughter in marriage, being unable, from the state of 
 his affairs, to carry the match into effect, came one 
 morning to her father's house to inform him of it. 
 He penetrated as far as the poet's study, for the pur- 
 pose of explaining fully the motives of his conduct. 
 " Well, sir," replied Corneille, " could you not have 
 communicated all this to my wife without interrupt- 
 ing me 1 Ascend into her chamber, for I understand 
 nothing about such affairs." 
 
 VINDICATION OF INNOCENCE. 
 
 A young marquis in indifferent circumstances, 
 married a very rich old countess of whose wealth he 
 got entire possession, and he therefore did not hesi- 
 tate to laugh at her expense among his friends. She 
 too late discovered her fault ; but she was less morti- 
 fied by the contempt of her husband, than tormented 
 by the fear that he might wish to get rid of her ; and 
 finding herself ill one day, she exclaimed that she 
 was poisoned. "Poisoned!" said the marquis, in 
 the presence of several individuals, " how can that 
 possibly be 1 Whom do you accuse of the crime V' 
 " You," replied the old woman. " Gentlemen," said 
 the marquis, " it is perfectly false. You are quite 
 welcome to open her at once, and you will then dis- 
 cover the calumny." 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 THE PHYSICIAN PAR EXCELLENCE. I 
 
 637 
 
 A physician boasted of the eminence of his pro- 
 fession, and spoke loudly against the injustice of 
 the world, which was so satirical against it ; "but 
 thank God," said he, " I have escaped, for no one 
 ever complained of me." " That is more than you can 
 tell, doctor," said a lady present, " unless you 
 know the subjects of conversation in the next world." 
 
 THE RETORT UNCOURTEOUS. 
 
 A lady, well known in the vicinity of the Place 
 Vendome, at Paris, always accosts a stranger, with 
 ** I think I have seen you some where," which often 
 leads to a clue for her finding out the history of the 
 party. One evening she played ofF the same game on 
 a gentleman, who replied, " Most likely, madam, for 
 I sometimes go there." 
 
 SAINT AND NO SAINT. 
 
 During a certain period of the French revolution, 
 the word Saint and the particle de were abolished, 
 which was ridiculed in a vaudeville, 
 
 On danse a. Ouen, on danse a Nis, 
 On danse a. Cloud pres Paris. 
 
 One day a person was walking in the streets, and not 
 ye!: being familiar with the new changes, he asked 
 a man he met which was the way to the street of 
 Saint Eustache. — " Know, aristocrat, there are no 
 saints now," was the surly reply, aud the party went 
 on his way. The next he met was a very decently 
 dressed old woman, and being resolved to conform him- 
 self to the new regime, he asked her to tell him which 
 was the street of Eustache. " Eustache, indeed, sans 
 culotte ' know, St. Eustache was a saint before thou 
 wert born, and will be one after thou art dead." 
 
 AN AGITATOR. 
 
 M. Ivlonchenut, an old man of eighty, afflicted with 
 the palsy, was arrested during the reign of terror, 
 under suspicion of being an agitator. Being asked 
 what he had to say to the accusation, " Alas, gentle- 
 men, it is very true, I am agitated enough, God 
 knows, for I have not been able to keep a limb still 
 for these fifteen years. 
 
 BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 
 
 During the revolution, a young man was travel- 
 ling in the diligence to Lyons with " a brother and 
 a friend," when they had got about half way the 
 latter's purse became empty ; " Brother," said he 
 to the young man, " pay for me, and I will return it 
 to you at Lyons." " I cannot." — " Why, are we not 
 brothers'?" " Oh certainly, but our purses are not 
 sistcis." 
 
 DESPOTIC GOVERNMENT. 
 
 When the inhabitants of Louisiana want fruit they 
 cut down the tree to come at it. " This," says Mon- 
 tesquieu, " is the image of a despotic government." 
 
 PERFECT RESEMBLANCE. 
 
 Two brothers, of the same name, who lodged to-\ 
 gether, bore a striking resemblance to each other 
 A man desired to speak to oue of them. " Which do 
 you wish to see ?" said the porter." " He who is a 
 counsellor." " They are both counsellors." " He 
 who is married." " They are both married" " He 
 who squints a little." " They both squint." " He 
 who has a pretty wife." " They have each a pretty 
 wife." " Hang it then, it is the one who is a cuckold." 
 " T faith, sir, I believe they arc both cuckolds* 
 " Zounds," said the man, " they are indeed brothers 
 who are destined to resemble each other in every 
 thing." 
 
 DUMB ELOQUENCE. 
 
 In order to take revenge on a lady who was a 
 dreadful chatterer, yet at the same time a woman of 
 sense, her friends one day introduced to her a man 
 whom they represented as be.'ng very learned. She 
 received him 'with much distinction; but eager to 
 excite his admiration of her powers, she commenced 
 her usual strain of loquacity, and addressed to him a 
 hundred questions, without perceiving- that he never 
 replied. When the visit was ended, " Are you sa- 
 tisfied," said they, " with your new guesi ?" "How 
 charming he is /" she rejoined : " how replete with 
 talent ! h At this exclamation, they all burst out into 
 laughter 3 for the man of talent was dumb. 
 
638 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 THE TWO MIRAREAUC. 
 
 The two Mirabeaus were frequently mistaken for 
 one another ; the elder, the count, was the celebrated 
 orator, courageous in speech, but a very coward in 
 action ; the viscount was brave, but a drunkard. 
 Being wounded in a duel, the count went to pay him 
 a visit. <c Well, brother," said the viscount, " this 
 is really kind and generous in you to visit me now, 
 for you will never give me an opportunity of visiting 
 you on a similar occasion." 
 
 The count one day reproached his brother with his 
 habits of intoxication. " Why, brother," replied the 
 viscount, " why do you envy me this vice, being the 
 only one you have left me 1 and as I abandon all 
 the rest of the catalogue to you, pray let me enjoy 
 this solitary one in peace." 
 
 THE CONFESSION. 
 
 A lady at confession, amongst other heinous crimes, 
 accused herself of using rouge. " What is the 
 use of it 1" asked the confessor. " I do it to make 
 myself handsomer." — **■ And does it produce that 
 effect 1" "At least I think so, father." — The confessor 
 on this took his penitent out of the confessional, and 
 having looked at her attentively in the light, said, 
 " Well' madam you may use rouge, for you are ugly 
 enough even with it." 
 
 A BALL CONVERSATION. 
 
 During the French revolution, parties danced as 
 gaily as ever ; the following is a ball conversation, 
 which took place in the month of Frimaire, year 7. 
 Well, the Ottoman Porte has declared war against us ! 
 Oh yes, there is no doubt of it, (En avant deux) It 
 is an enemy the mere — (chassez) and the Russian 
 fleet they say has passed the Dardanelles, (en 
 avant quatre) yet the papers say that the emperor 
 sincerely desires peace. — Yes, but count Metternich 
 wishes for war, (balancez) so we have also a new 
 coalition against us. England, Portugal, Naples, 
 Turkey, the Emperor, Russia, perhaps the empire 
 of Prussia, (Faites face et chassez tous les huit) 
 — well we have bayonettes, (la poussette) besides 
 it is not so far from Dover to Calais, (traversez) — 
 
 Do you belong to the conscription 1— Yes, and I too : 
 (pirouettez) what makes me uneasy is to know what 
 will become of our partners when we are gone : (La 
 chaine des dames) — what will be left to amuse them 
 (La queue die chat.) It was thus that days of terror 
 were preceded by evenings of amusement and 
 pleasure. 
 
 THE TITLE OF ESQUIRE. 
 
 A German nobleman asked the late lord Barring- 
 ton what was the English title of esquire. " I cannot 
 well define it, because in Germany you have nothing 
 correspondent to it ; but it is considerably higher than 
 a German baron, and something lower than a Ger- 
 man prince. 
 
 WITCHCRAFT. 
 
 " There goes a loose jade, if ever there- was one," 
 said an old woman to a girl, whose reputation was 
 not above suspicion. The girl heard her, and called 
 her an old witch. " You see she admits I was right," 
 returned the old woman. 
 
 COMFORT IN SICKNESS. 
 
 Boileau, the poet, sent his servant to his friend 
 Bois Robert, who was ill of the gout, to know how 
 he was, and was told he was much worse. " He 
 swears roundly then," said Boileau. " Yes, sir, 
 alas ! the poor gentleman has only that consolation 
 left." 
 
 SEVERE RETORT. 
 
 M. Danez,envoy of France to the council of Trent, 
 made a powerful speech against the court of Rome, 
 and for the reformation of the church. As soon as 
 he had finished, an Italian prelate said, with con- 
 tempt, " Gallus cantat." M. Danez instantly re- 
 piled, " Utinam ad galli cantum Petrus resipisceret" 
 
 AUGUSTUS. 
 
 Some ambassadors of Tarragona informed Augustus 
 that a palm-tree had sprung up on the altar which 
 they had erected in honour of him. It is a proof \ 
 replied the prince, of your assiduity in performing 
 sacrifices there ! 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 639 
 
 VENDIELE JUSTICE. 
 
 An attorney, who had just purchased the charge of 
 seneschal fcr his son, advised him always to work 
 usefully, and to make those who had need of his ser- 
 I vices contribute liberally. " What, father," cried 
 the astonished son, " would you wish me to sell jus- 
 tice !" " Doubtless," replied the father, " a thing so 
 rare ought not to be given gratis." 
 
 WANT OF PENETRATION. 
 
 A good-natured husband said to his wife, " I be- 
 lieve there is only one in all the city who is not a 
 cuckold." " Who is that, pray !" inquired the wife. 
 " Why," replied the husband, " you are very well 
 i acquainted with him." "It is in vain for me to 
 search for him, for I do not know him," was her re- 
 joinder. 
 
 NAMESAKES. 
 
 The head of John the Baptist, which is at Amiens, 
 was shown to the Abbe" de Marolles. In kissing it 
 he exclaimed, "God be praised! this is the fifth or 
 sixth that I have had the honour of kissing." 
 
 INTUITIVE AFFECTION. 
 
 " There are three things," said a wit, " which I 
 have always loved without ever understanding thern, 
 painting, music, and woman." 
 
 SUPERFLUOUS ATTAINMENTS. 
 
 An individual was speaking to a person of distin- 
 guished ability of a man whom he wished to intro- 
 duce to the latter, and to set off his qualifications, 
 observed that the party knew Montaigne by heart. 
 The other contented himself by replying, " 1 have the 
 book." 
 
 MUTUAL GOOD WISHES, 
 
 A priest remarking, near an army, a troop of vo- 
 lunteers who were going in search of booty, accosted 
 their chief in these words, " God give you peace !" 
 But the commander, who was not very well pleased 
 with the wish, immediately retorted, " God take 
 away purgatory from you," 
 
 LEX TALIONIS. 
 
 A bishop travelling in his coach, met a capuchin 
 who was riding on horseback. He asked the monk, 
 with a sarcastic smile, " How long has St. Francis 
 been in the habit of travelling on horseback !" " Since 
 St. Peter has been accustomed to ride in a coach," 
 was the reply. 
 
 DISCRIMINATION IN PLEASURE, 
 
 A lady who was constrained by her husband to 
 remain a long time with him in the country, was eaten 
 up by ennui. Those who were about her remarking it, 
 observed to her, " Good God, madam, you are dying 
 for want of amusement. There are dogs and fine 
 forests here ; will you not hunt!" — " No," said she, 
 "■ I do not like hunting." " Would you not wish to 
 have some work!" — "I don't like work." "Will you 
 indulge in a promenade, or amuse yourself by some 
 game of chance !" — " No, I am not fond of either the 
 one or the other." "You must have a taste of some 
 kind. Perhaps a penchant for some favourite estranges 
 you from amusements !" — " What would you 'have 
 me say! I am not fond of innocent pleasures." 
 
 CONVENIENT ABSENCE. 
 
 An individual often visited a landscape painter, 
 who had a very beautiful wife, but he always met 
 with the husband. " Zounds," said he, one day to 
 him, " for a painter of landscapes, you are very sel- 
 dom in the country." 
 
 GROUNDS OF RECOGNITION. 
 
 A man went to a restaurateur's (or chop-house) in 
 France to dine. He perceived another man in the 
 room and hurried away to tell the master. *< If you 
 do not, sir, order that man, who is dining alone at the 
 table in the corner, out of your house, a respectable 
 individual will not be able to sit down in it." — 
 "How is that, sir?" — " Because that is the executioner 
 
 of R ." The host, after some hesitation, at length 
 
 went and spoke to the stranger, who calmly answer- 
 ed him : " By whom have I been recognised !" — 
 " By that gentleman," said the landlord, pointing out 
 the former. " Indeed, he ought to know me, for it is 
 not two years since I whipped and branded him." 
 
640 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 CLERICAL LINGUIST 
 
 A cure" of a large city in France was obliged, upon 
 a certain festival day, to reply to a Latin discourse, 
 but as he did not understand that language, he ma- 
 naged to get out of the scrape by observing, " The 
 apostles, sir, spoke many languages ; you have just 
 addressed me in Latin, and I am going to answer 
 you in French." 
 
 THE INVISIBLE HAIR. 
 
 A monk was showing the relics of his convent before 
 a numerous assembly ; the most rare, in his opinion, 
 was a hair of the Holy Virgin, which he appeared to 
 show to the people present, opening his hands as if 
 he were drawing it through them. A peasant ap- 
 proached with great curiosity, and exclaimed, " but, 
 reverend father, I see nothing." "Egad, I believeit," 
 replied the monk, " for I have shown the hair for 
 twenty years, and have not yet beheld it myself." 
 
 PEREMPTORY CONCLUSION. 
 
 An advocate, whose pleading appeared too diffuse 
 for the cause he was defending, had received an 
 order from the first president to abridge it; but the 
 former, without omitting a word of his intended ad- 
 dress, replied, in a firm tone, that all he uttered was 
 essential. The president, hoping at length to make 
 him silent, said to him, "The court orders you to 
 conclude." " Well," replied the advocate," " then 
 I conclude that the court shall hear me." 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF LOQUACITY. 
 
 A very pretty woman, who was tediously loqua- 
 cious, complained one day to Madame de Sevigne, 
 that she was sadly tormented by her lovers. " Oh, 
 madam," said Madame de Sevigne' to her, with a 
 smile, " it is very easy to get rid of them, you have 
 only to speak." 
 
 " SPRETJE INJURIA FORMS." 
 
 It was mentioned one day to the duke de Roque- 
 lance, two ladies of the court had quarrelled, and 
 loaded each other with abuse. " Have they called 
 each other ugly ?" said the duke. " j\ t o, sir." "Very 
 good ! then j will undertake to reconcile them," 
 
 ARDUOUS BAPTISM. 
 
 An infant was brought for baptism into a country 
 church. The clergyman, who had just been drinking 
 with his friends a more than usual quantum of the 
 genial juice, could not find the place of the baptism 
 in his ritual, and exclaimed, as he was turning over 
 the leaves of the book, " How difficult this child is to 
 baptize !" 
 
 woman's love. 
 Alas ! the love of women ! it is known 
 
 To be a lovely and a fearful thing ; 
 For all of theirs upon that die is thrown, 
 
 And if 'lis lost, life hath no more to bring 
 To them but mockeries of the past alone, 
 
 And their revenge is as the tiger's spring, 
 Deadly, and quick, and crushing ; yet as real 
 Torture is theirs, what they inflict they feel. 
 
 Thy are right ; for man, to man so oft unjust, 
 Is always so to women ; one sole bond 
 
 Awaits them, treachery is all their trust ; 
 
 Taught to conceal, their bursting hearts despond 
 
 Over their idol, till some wealthier lust 
 
 Buys them in marriage — and what rests beyond ! 
 
 A thankless husband, next a faithless lover, 
 
 Then dressing, 
 
 praying, and all's over. 
 
 Some take a lover, some take drams or prayers, 
 Some mind their household, others dissipation 
 
 Some run away, and but exchange their cares, 
 Losing the advantage of a virtuous station ; 
 
 Few changes e'er can better their affairs, 
 Theirs being an unnatural situation, 
 
 From the dull palace to the dirty hovel : 
 
 Some play the devil, and then write a novel. 
 
 NUMBER SEVEN 
 
 Dean Swift, in his Tale of a Tub, falls in love with 
 this number. " It were much to be wished, (says 
 he,) and I do hereby humbly propose for an experi- 
 ment, that every prince in Christendom will take 7 
 of the deepest scholars in his dominions, and shut 
 them up close for 7 years, in 7 chambers, with a 
 command to write 7 ample commentaries on this 
 comprehensive discourse. This number 7 is com- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 641 
 
 posed of the first two perfect numbers, equal and 
 unequal, 3 and 4 ; for the number 2, consisting of 
 repeated unity, which is no number, is not perfect : 
 it comprehends the primary numerical triangle or 
 trine, and square or quartile, conjunction, considered 
 by ths favourers of planetary influence as of the 
 most benign aspect. In six days creation was com- 
 pleted, and the 7th was consecrated to rest. On the 
 7th day of the 7th month, a holy observance was 
 ordained to the children of Israel, who feasted 7 days, 
 and remained 7 days in tents ; the 7th year was 
 directed to be a sabbath of rest for all things ; and 
 at the end of 7 times 7 years commenced the grand 
 jubilee. Every 7th year the land lay fallow ; every 
 7th year there was a general release from all debts, 
 and all bondmen were set free. From this law may 
 have originated the custom of our binding young 
 men to 7 years' apprenticeship, and punishing in- 
 corrigible offenders by transportation for 7, twice 7, 
 and three times 7, years. Every 7 years the law 
 was to be read to the people, Jacob served 7 years 
 for the possession of Rachael ; and also other 7. 
 INoah had 7 days' warning of the flood, and was com- 
 manded to take the fowls of the air in by 7, and the 
 clean beasts by 7. The ark touched ground on the 
 7th month; and in 7 days the dove was sent out, 
 and again in 7 days after. The 7 years of plenty, 
 and 7 years of famine, were foretold in Pharaoh's 
 dream by the 7 fat and 7 lean beasts, and the 7 full 
 and the 7 blasted ears of corn. Nebuchadnezzar 
 was 7 years a beast ; and the fiery furnace was 7 
 times hotter to receive Shadrach, &c. A man de- 
 filed was, by the Mosaic law, unclean 7 days ; the 
 young of both animals was to remain with the dam 
 7 days, and at the end of the 7th was to be taken 
 away. By the old law, man was commanded to 
 forgive his offending brother 7 times ; but the meek- 
 ness of the revealed law extended his humility to 70 
 times 7 : if Cain shall be avenged 7 times, truly 
 Lamcch 70 times 7. In the destruction of Jericho, 
 7 priests bare 7 trumpets 7 days ; on the 7th they 
 surrounded the walls 7 times ; after the 7th, the walls 
 fell. Balaam prepared 7 rams for a sacrifice ; and 
 
 7 of Saul's sons were hanged to stay a famine. La« 
 ban pursued Jacob 7 days' journey. Job's friends 
 sat 7 days and 7 nights, and offered 7 bullocks and 
 7 rams as an atonement for their wickedness. In 
 the 7th year of his reign, King Ahasuerus feasted 7 
 days, and on the 7th deputed his 7 chamberlains to 
 find a queen, who was allowed 7 maidens to attvnd 
 her. Miriam was cleansed of her leprosy by being 
 shut up 7 days. Solomon was 7 years in building 
 the temple, at the dedication of which he feasted 7 
 days ; in the temple were 7 lamps ; 7 days were ap- 
 pointed for an atonement upon the altar, and the 
 priest's son was ordained to wear his father's gar- 
 ments 7 days. The children of Israel eat unleavened 
 bread 7 days. Abraham gave 7 ewe-lambs to Abi- 
 meleeh, as a memorial for a well. Joseph mourned 
 7 days for Jacob. Naaman was cleansed of his 
 leprosy by bathing 7 times in Jordan. The Rabbins 
 say that God employed the power of this number to 
 perfect the greatness of Samuel, his name answering 
 the value of the letters in the Hebrew word, which 
 signifies 7 : whence Hannah his mother, in her 
 thanksgiving, says the barren hath brought forth 7. 
 In scripture are enumerated 7 resurrections : the 
 widow's son, by Elias; the Shunamite's son, by 
 Elisha ; the soldier who touched the bones of the 
 prophet ■ the daughter of the ruler of the synagogue j 
 the widow's son of Nain ; Lazarus ; and our Lord. 
 The Apostles chose 7 deacons. Enoch, who was 
 translated, was the 7th from Adam ; and Jesus 
 Christ was the ?7th in a direct line. Our Lord 
 spoke 7 times on the cross, on which he was 7 hours; 
 he appeared 7 times ; and after 7 times 7 days sent 
 the Holy Ghost. In the Lord's Prayer are 7 peti- 
 tions, contained in 7 times 7 words, omitting those 
 of mere grammatical connection : within this number 
 are concealed all the mysteries of apocalypse re- 
 vealed to the 7 churches of Asia. There appeared 
 7 golden candlesticks and 7 stars in the hand of him 
 that was in the midst ; 7 lambs before the 7 spirits 
 of God ; the book with 7 seals ; the lamb with 7 
 horns and 7 eyes ; 7 angels with 7 trumpets ; 7 
 kings; 7 thunders; 7,000 men slain. The dragoa 
 
642 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 with 7 heads and 7 crowns ; and the beast with 7 
 heads ; 7 angels bearing 7 plagues, and 7 vials of 
 wrath. The vision of Daniel was of 70 weeks ; and 
 the elders of Israel were 70. There are also 7 hea- 
 vens, 7 planets, (query ?) 7 stars, 7 wise men, 7 
 champions of Christendom, 7 notes in music, 7 pri- 
 mary colours, 7 deadly sins, and 7 sacraments in 
 the catholic church. The 7th son was considered 
 as endowed with preeminent wisdom ; and the 7th 
 son of a 7th son, is still thought to possess the 
 power of healing diseases spontaneously. Perfection 
 is likened to gold 7 times purified in the fire ; and 
 we yet say you frightened me out of my 7 senses. 
 The opposite sides of the dice make 7, whence the 
 players at hazard make 7 the main. Hippocrates 
 says, that the septenary number, by its occult virtues, 
 tends to the accomplishment of all things, to be the 
 dispenser of life, and fountain of all its changes : 
 and, like Shakspeare, he divides the life of man into 
 7 ages; foT as the moon changes her phases every 
 7 days, this number influences all sublunary beings. 
 The teeth spring out on the 7th month, and are shed 
 and renewed in the 7th year, when infancy is changed 
 into childhood ; at twice 7 years puberty begins ; at 
 three times 7 the faculties are developed, and man- 
 hood commences, and we are become legally com- 
 petent to all civil acts ; at four times seven man is 
 in full possession of his strength ; at five times 7 he 
 is fit for the business of the world ; at six times 7 he 
 becomes grave and wise, or never • at 7 times 7 he 
 is in his apogee, and from that time decays ; at eight 
 times 7 he is in his first climacteric ; at nine times 
 7, or 63, he is in his last or grand climacteric, or 
 year of danger ; and ten times 7, or three score years 
 »nd ten, has, by the royal prophet, been pronounced 
 the natural period of human life. 
 
 RUBRO, OR THE DRUNKEN CAPTAIN 
 
 As the Caroline frigate was just setting sail,' 
 Before a fine breeze, from the port of Kinsale, 
 As bold as a beggar, as drunk as a lord, 
 Old Rubro, the captain,. came stagg'ring on board, 
 Derry down, down, hey derry, &c. 
 
 He raged like a bear, fore and aft, through the ship, 
 Till over the cable his hap was to trip, 
 And his ballast being much over-light for his sail, 
 Right over the boiv in the ocean he fell, 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 Now Rubro had got, as you may well suppose, 
 By drinking of brandy a very fine nose — 
 A nose such as rarely is seen between eyes, 
 A nose that resembled a trumpet in size. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 This nose being red, it so shone in the dark, 
 That it quickly attracted the eyes of a shark ; 
 And the shark, being pretty well up to his trade, 
 To make sure of the nose, he bit off the whole head. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 Just then father Neptune emerged from the sea, 
 And, eyeing the body, thus gravely said he : 
 " Ah, Rubro ! you've met with the punishment due, 
 For you drank all the grog and gave none to the crew." 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 " May your fate be a warning to low and to high, 
 Ne'er to guzzle too much when a neighbour is dry ! 
 May it teach them how leaky is life's fickle bark, 
 How slippery the decks, and that Death is a shark." 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 CODE FOR THE BETTER REGULATION OF DUELS. 
 
 As the fashion for duelling increases, we see beau- 
 tiful duelling pistols ticketed up in the pawnbrokers' 
 windows, and there is a work published in Ireland, 
 called " General Instructions for all Seconds in 
 Duels, by a late Captain in the Army." Baron 
 Homp — h who was extremely foud of duelling, (hav- 
 ing a superabundance of honour to satisfy,) delibe- 
 rately stripped himself to the skin, lest the wadding 
 should enter, and, putting on his spectacles, generally 
 brought his man down. By. practising at an egg, 
 or snuffing out a candle at twelve paces, or any of 
 these more ingenious methods of repairing honour by 
 the certainty of making a gash in your adversary's 
 body, you may trace up all the probable and possible 
 causes how soon a person of honour may be affronted., 
 
so as to get his name up; for it appears that there 
 is some eclat to be obtaiued in it in this age. 
 
 There has been a benevolent practice, occasionally 
 . resorted to by considerate and confederated seconds, 
 of substituting cork-bullets, exactly painted like lead, 
 instead of the more deadly metal. Again, the friendly 
 interference of a pair of Bow-street officers, in the 
 exact nick of time, has warded off, most probably, a 
 pair of odious bullets. The parties become cool, the 
 seconds interfere, and the magistrates hand the wel- 
 come bond to the furious combatants to keep the 
 peace. If neither cork-bullets nor paper-pellets can 
 be obtained, nor the presence of peace officers, then 
 an apology may come hobbling up to close the scene, 
 which, by a masterly casuistry in the wording, leaves 
 the original honour of both parties in statu quo. It 
 would be unfair to deprive officers of the army, who 
 must, it appears, wash out affronts given them in 
 their adversary's blood, of so great a luxury : still 
 we might venture to propose, that the chancellor of 
 the exchequer, for the time being, should be em- 
 powered to expressly permit, nay, to encourage, 
 meetings at Chalk Farm, by allowing duellists to 
 fight, upon a stamped certificate being duly had and 
 obtained, with a stamp of 500/. affixed thereupon, or 
 the small sum of 250/. for any printed apology, being 
 first duly stamped and registered as aforesaid. Then, 
 if the parties dared, after this proclamation, to 
 smuggle a duel, not having paid the fees, to be 
 deemed guilty of murder, and hung upon the top of 
 Primrose Hill, for the-benefit of the rooks and crows. 
 
 Doctors and attornies, the former being privileged 
 to kill, and the latter to take away, may, as they too 
 are innovating upon the field of honour, be put upon 
 a par with the military. In fact, getting their money 
 *o much -easier, they perhaps ought to pay more to 
 the state. Should the clergy ever dare to fight the 
 flesh in this manner, which to their honour is rarely 
 the case, then their tenths should be commuted into 
 twentieths, and they compelled to read the funeral 
 service over each departed duellist, and the offices 
 for those sick who have been winged; express forms 
 for which should be composed by the ecclesiastical | 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 643 
 
 court. All tradesmen and mechanics should be al- 
 
 lowed to fight secundum artem, or professionally, on 
 paying their fees, which may be regulated by the 
 lord mayor and corporation of the city of London, 
 in cooperation with the chancellor ; for a merchant, 
 so much ; a banker, a bookseller, a baker, in due 
 proportions : with authors it is difficult to determine 
 how to act ; for though their battles (and the fra- 
 ternity are for ever fighting, like scorpions and spi- 
 ders) are full of gall, being generally waged in liquid 
 ink, yet having, of late, measured the field of honour, 
 in ambition of their betters, or the Desosuvres — the 
 nothing-to-do gentlemen, what measure of money to 
 prescribe for an author's license is rather difficult. 
 Their poverty and their pride are well known : still 
 the gareteer, who wages perpetual war in pamphlets 
 and periodicals, should be allowed full credentials, 
 if the money is even advanced by the literary fund. 
 The law of honour is above all other laws, else why 
 do barristers not only have verbal battles, but pistol 
 rencontres ; and even our senators, the makers of 
 laws, become the breakers of laws in this respect. 
 
 A prudential avoiding a causeless quarrel, is called 
 cowardice ; and to take an affront, baseness and 
 meanness of spirit : to refuse fighting, and putting 
 life on the chance of a bullet, a practice forbid by 
 the law of God and all good governments, is still 
 called cowardice ; and a man is bound to die duelling, 
 or live and be laughed at. This trumping up of 
 imaginary things, called bravery and gallantly, 
 naming them virtue and honour, is beyond what we 
 know of the jocose, seeing that such inconsistences, 
 and such absurdities as the following reasoning, are 
 made to go down with mankind ; for example, A. is 
 found in bed with B.'s wife ; B. is the person injured, 
 and therefore offended, and coming into the cham- 
 ber with his pistol or sword in hand, A. loudly ex- 
 claims, " Why, sir, you wont murder me, will you? 
 As you are a man of honour, let me rise, and meet 
 you." B. therefore, being put in mind that he is a 
 man of honour, starts back, and must act an honour- 
 able par* j so "he lets A. get up, put on his clothes, 
 take his sword or pistols j then they fight, and B. ia 
 
644 
 
 killed for his honour ; whereas, had the laws of God, 
 of nature, and of reason, taken place, the adulterer 
 and adulteress should have been taken prisoners, and 
 carried before the judge, and should have been im- 
 mediately sentenced, he to the block, and she to the 
 stake ; and the innocent-abused husband had no 
 reason to have run any risk of his life for being cor- 
 nuted. Defoe, who writes thus, goes on to say, that 
 the aggrieved person, to be put on a par, might say, 
 in order to render such reasoning on the law of 
 honour consistent, " No, sir ! say I, let me lay with 
 your wife too, and then, if you desire it, I will fight 
 you ; then I am upon even terms with you." 
 
 LIGHT PUN. 
 
 Two gentlemen passing by some new houses, one 
 of them observed that there were too few windows ; 
 but that circumstance, as it saved in part the tax, 
 would be good for the liver. " True," says the other, 
 " but d d bad for the lights." 
 
 THE GA31E OF LIFE. 
 
 Sterne says, the enjoyment of life is a tranquil ac- 
 quiescence under an agreeable delusion, whence it 
 has been said to be a jest, iut it is not so. He fur- 
 ther says, that every animal in the creation as it 
 grows older grows graver, except an old woman, and 
 she grows frisky. — It has been somewhere observed, 
 that when an old man has one foot in the grave, an 
 old woman has a foot in the stars. Life has been 
 compared to the running of tea, though the first and 
 last decoction be equally weak, the one gives the 
 flavour of the herb, the other but its fceces. Lord 
 Chesterfield says, a man has but a bad bargain of 
 it at the best ; and the most natural conclusion is 
 that it is the shadow of a shade. — To conclude : a 
 man must laugk before he dies, or he must go out of 
 the world without laughing ! .' ! 
 
 TO BEAUTY 
 
 Beauty, thou pretty pouting roguish jade, 
 With neck of snow, and cheeks of rosy red, 
 And teeth of iv'ry, smooth and neat, 
 And flowing locks, as black as jet j 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Lips of the reddest cherry's hue, 
 And laughing eyes of sparkling blue ; 
 The trimmest leg that e'er was seen, 
 The lightest foot that trips the green ; 
 Two fair white globes heave on thy breast, 
 And " Oh, come clasp me !" cries the waist. 
 Beauty, thy form, from toe to top, 
 Would tempt St. Peter's heir, the Pope. 
 
 Beauty, thou art a baited hook, 
 And man the tenant of the brook, 
 Who, wanting caution, swallows all he meets, 
 Till oft both bait and barbed hook he eats. 
 Thou art a leg of sheep, both fair and fat, 
 Placed in the view of man, a hungry glutton ; 
 Thou art the very thing he would be at — 
 How his mouth waters to enjoy the mutton ! 
 Thou art a magnet, man is steel, 
 Go where thou wilt, that follows at thy heel > 
 Aye, should'st thou lead the way to Nick, 
 Close and more close to thee he'll stick. 
 Beauty, to me what art thou not 1 
 My balm of life, my light of day — 
 Come, dearest maid ! then, to my cot, 
 And chase the fiend, Disease, away. 
 
 TARIS IS THE ONLY TLACE. 
 
 Where shall we go to enjoy ourselves this summer, 
 dear 1 
 Shall we simplify it, and sentimental be 
 Among the lakes and mountains m Cumberland or 
 Westmoreland 1 
 Or shall we Byronize it upon the se-a ? 
 To Brighton and to Hastings the citizens are hurrying, 
 To Margate and to llamsgate the 'prentices all 
 speed ; 
 Cheltenham and Leamington, folks insides out are 
 worrying, 
 While Bath is full of tabbies, and is very dull in- 
 deed. 
 Spoken.'] " Lady Bab, I've uncommon good idea." 
 "What is it 1" " To spend the summer months at 
 Birmingham." " What do you think of Harrow- 
 gate V " O, shocking! Last season I was almost 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 64; 
 
 elbowed out of the room by sir Jeremy Treacle and 
 his fat wife." " Cheltenham V " Worse ; its al- 
 ways full, and nobody there." " Brighton V . " Oh, 
 horrid ! I decidedly object to Brighton ; you might 
 almost as well be at Bagnigge-wells on a Sunday." 
 "Aye, I recollect when Iwas a young man, Brighton 
 used to be about seventy miles from town ; but now, 
 what with the plaguy short cuts and modern improve- 
 ments, it is not above fifty-four." " Well, then, sup- 
 pose we all go to Paris V " Pray, sir Larry, can you 
 tell me how far it is from the coast to the capital V 
 " No, upon my conscience, that I cannot ; you might 
 as well ask me how far it is from the capital to the 
 coast." " 0! you creature, you know you can, you 
 have been there, you know." •* Yes, madam, that 
 was before the revolution, and I am told that things 
 are plaguily altered since." " But you can't speak 
 the language." " O, leave me alone for that. I 
 have two bows to my string : I'll try them with 
 Irish." "You had better try them with Spanish ; 
 that all ranks comprehend." " Well, then, Paris be 
 it." 
 
 Ya hip ! for France, there, for Paris is the only place 
 For fashion, bagatelle, esprit, for elegance and grace. 
 
 Where shall we go to enjoy ourselves this summer, 
 love 1 
 The mayor and court of aldermen will tour it at 
 Broadstairs ; 
 Hornsey or Richmond we're surely now a cut above, 
 And Putney's grown so vulgar, that 'tis only fit 
 for bears. 
 We must go on the salt sea, and mingle with the 
 Parlez voos, 
 And get the Parish polish and the true French cut; 
 Now do, my dear sir Jeremy, consent, you surely 
 can't refuse, . 
 For who can think of Margate, why 'twould make 
 one quite a butt. 
 
 Spoken.] " Margate, indeed : I wonder you have 
 | not more regard for one's quality, than mixing and 
 1 associating with the Sparrowgrasses and such low 
 | people." " Why, my lady, you used to be very fond 
 I of Margate." " Yes, sir Jeremy, that was before 
 
 you was made a knight of." " Good morning, lady 
 Shortdip." " I take this here wisit ivery kind of you, 
 wery kind indeed ; and how is sir Christopher, now 
 he is one of us nobility 1" " He's very well, thankee, 
 but he don't go out to-day ; this is melting day, and 
 the knight's up to his elbows in tallow." " Indeed, 
 then all the lights he makes now will be night lights, 
 I suppose." " What do you think of Margate, lady 
 Shortdip 1" " Now, what's the use of teazing about 
 our family affairs." " Why, I was going to Hastings, 
 but I understand your friend, Mrs. Maggotts, the 
 cheesemonger, is there." " My friend ! she's no 
 friend of mine ; we do condescend to sarve them with 
 grocery, but we don't wisit, I can assure you. No, 
 we don't wisit, nor ever mean to wisit. No ! no ! 
 her husband's a rank demagog ; and now I am a man 
 of title, of course I am an aristogog." "The duchess, 
 of Trumps is at the Isle of White." " Indeed; then 
 she is the only one of us that is there, for we are gone 
 to Paris." " What's the use of going to Paris, spend- 
 ing a mint of money 1 besides, we don't xmderstand 
 their lingo." " But we can have Dick home from 
 school to interpret for us." " Aye, but what's to be 
 seen there, but what we can see in London, eh V* 
 " Why, there's the king and mounseer, and the 
 duchess of Angoulemme, and the goblins and guillo- 
 tine, and grapes for a penny a pound, and Cham- 
 pagne instead of small beer." " Indeed, is there, by- 
 jingo? why then, 
 
 Ya hip ! for France, there, for Paris is the only place 
 For fashion, bagatelle, esprit, for elegance and grace." 
 Where shall we go to, this summer, Mr. Bunhill, 
 
 dear 1 
 For I am sick and tired quite of stewing in the 
 
 shop ; 
 We'll go up to Highgate, wife, and ramble through 
 
 the tunnel, dear, 
 And get some tea at Hampstead, or at Mother Red 
 
 Cap's stop. 
 Highgate — not a bit of it — No, that I do purt'est, my 
 
 love, 
 There's nothing in one's own country that's worthy 
 
 being seen ; 
 
646 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Why shouldn't we in foreign parts cur heads hold 
 with the best, my love 1 
 So let us go to Paris, for there Mrs. Muggs has 
 been. 
 
 Spoken.'] " I wish you'd mind your business, and 
 go on shelling the peas, we have no time for plea- 
 sure." £c Wemight go out some times, I think, as 
 well as one's betters." " Go on shelling the peas, I 
 tell you, and let your betters alone." '' O, what you 
 throw that in my dish, do you ; but you want me to 
 be as vulgar as Mrs. Grits, that low-life woman, that 
 keeps the chandler's shop, next door." " Them ta- 
 toes, ma'am, are a penny a pound, if you don't like 
 'em, leave 'em ; nice French beans, ma'am ; talking 
 of French beans, ma'am, are you going to France?" 
 " Mind the shop, I tell you, and perhaps at the end 
 of the season, we may have a sail up the river to 
 Gravesend." " I think I see myself sailing to Graves- 
 end, when every body's going to Paris." "Mind the 
 shop, I say." " Very well, them peas are eighteen- 
 pence a peck, ma am." " You might get there for a 
 little more, and as you are yearning a good liveli- 
 hood — no salary to-day, ma'am — and as we are get- 
 ting up in the world — fine season for mushrooms, 
 ma'am — but you have no pluck — try those kidneys, 
 ma'am — or you'd get knighted like your friend, sir 
 Jeremy Treacle, and make a lady on me." " That's 
 no such easy matter, I can tell you." " How do you 
 do, Mrs. Batten, pray are you going to France V 
 " No, I am going to Paris !" "Aye s I thought you'd 
 go. I should forget all my English in a week." 
 " Should you, I am sure that's a veiy desirable ob- 
 ject. Here, Bill, go and book two places, your 
 mother says she shall forget her English." 
 
 Ya hip ! for France, there, for Paris is the only place 
 For fashion, bagatelle, esprit, elegance and grace. 
 
 ORTHODOX DIVINITY. 
 
 Parker, bishop of Oxford, being asked by an ac- 
 quaintance what was the best body of divinity, an- 
 swered, " That which can help a man to keep a coach 
 and six horses." 
 
 DULL READING. 
 
 St. Jerome says, that there is no book so dull, but 
 it meets a suitabie dull reader. " Nul/us est wipe- 
 ritus scriptor, qui lectorem non inveniat.'" 
 
 THE ONLY TRUTH. 
 
 A buffoon once boasted that in all his life he never 
 spoke truth. " Except," replied another, " at this 
 present mome?it." 
 
 NECESSITY. 
 
 A dull barrister once obtained the nickname of 
 Necessity— 7 because Necessity has no law. 
 
 . THE LAST JOURNEY. 
 
 A wag once observed that the easiest way must be 
 that to the next world — as people always set off on 
 their journey with their eyes shut. 
 
 f* LUMPS AND BUMPS." 
 
 Lavater dar'nt not show his face, 
 
 Gall and Spurtzheim have made such a head, 
 physiognomy mourns her sad case, 
 
 Her former renown has quite fled ; 
 Craniology's now all the go, 
 
 No need of daylight for remark, 
 Any man you may thoroughly know 
 
 (If you but feel his head) in the dark. 
 Lavater declared that he could 
 
 Tell a man if he got but a stare, 
 Craniology is not so rude, 
 
 But can judge what you are to a hair ! 
 For nature she gave each man's scull, 
 
 When she made us, such rare clever thumps, 
 You cau tell if we're witty or dull, 
 
 Good or bad, by cur lumps and our bumps. 
 So if but a rape of the lock, 
 
 For Spurtzheim's sake you have a hand in, 
 Of each Cranioiogical block, 
 
 You'll the key gain of right understanding 
 Then keep but the organs in play, 
 
 And balance the one 'gainst the other, 
 You'll find out as clear as the day, 
 
 Their characters, void of all bother. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 647 
 
 The doctor and soldier alike, 
 
 Destructiveness' organ have, will, 
 That this proper is, all men must strike, 
 
 The business of both is to kill ; 
 In this science, good friends, an adept, 
 
 To hit on the right head ne'er miss'd, 
 If you only take care, to except, 
 
 Bumps got by the stick or the fist. 
 
 LECTURES ON CRANIOLOGY. 
 
 Gentlemen, you see before,you de renowned Baron 
 Von Donderdronk, Von Hoaxburg, Von Puzzledorf, 
 Von Chouseiem, D. D.— A. B. C. D. and fiddle de 
 dee. Gentlemen, it vas I who fairst discovered de 
 lumps and bumpishness of de caput humanum, 
 which, like de uman mind, had been so long hid, 
 like de dimond in de mine,- under wigs, whiskers, 
 chimney-pot hats, and coal-scuttle bonnets. Gentle- 
 men, de bald head is de true index curtorious of de 
 uman mind. When de barber shaves a man's head, 
 I exclaim, what a fine open countenance — when you 
 meet your friend in de street, you take off your hat, 
 dat is all right, and you look in his face and say, 
 how do you do, that is all wrong; you should turn 
 back to back, and pate to pate, and rub your hand 
 over his poll and say, I am glad too see you are pretty 
 well, tankee. If you pass your hand over de back of 
 de skull, you shall find if de male come from the east 
 or de west of Temple-bar. If you pass your hand 
 over de left cavity of de skull, and he -came from de 
 west, you shall find de organ of nothing toduishness, 
 and gad about ereism ; and if you rub on de left side, 
 and he come from de east, you shall find de organ of 
 mind your shop peveism" 
 
 HEADS FOR. A QUARTO; OR THE PAINS OF 
 PLEASURING. 
 
 When a man roves he must make up his mind 
 To bad and good luck, and mishaps of all kind ; . 
 To many odd rubs, as he on shall advance, 
 In his journey from England to travel through .France. 
 
 First from Dover, sailing over, 
 
 Squalling, bawling, sick — sick — 
 Landing from packet, amidst noise and racket, 
 
 Fleaing 'em, feeing 'em, trick, xrick j 
 
 Landing at Calais, face rather pale is, 
 
 Officers, coffee, sirs — passport ; 
 Searching for smuggery — wine in the snuggery, 
 
 Lots of humbuggery, glass, port. 
 Somewhat reviving — thanks to French living, 
 
 Lots of blunt giving — poor John Bull ; 
 Hey for the diligence — seek for intelligence, 
 Humbling, tumble in, sad gull — 
 Rattling — tattling; 
 Eating — treating, 
 Cheating — beating, 
 Mummery — flummery, 
 When a man roves, he must make up his mind 
 To bad and good luck, and mishaps of all kind. 
 
 Good luck and mishaps of all kind. 
 Flapping of sails — breezes and gales, 
 
 Fright'ing 'em, lighting 'em, blow, blow — 
 Qualms and fears — darlings and dears, 
 
 Holding 'em, scolding 'era, oh ! oh ! 
 Reaching all o'er — getting on shore, 
 
 Hugging 'em — lugging 'em — o la ! 
 Bowing Monsieurs — fright disappears, 
 
 Huffing 'em — bluffing 'em — sa, sa ! 
 Lots of ragoos, fricassees, stews, 
 
 Eau de vie — who but we, strut, strut. 
 Fam'd diligence — rumble through France, 
 
 Smacking whip — cracking whip — cut, cut : 
 Abbeville — quite genteel, 
 Reach Montieuil— in the cool, 
 Paris see — gay and free, 
 Killewax — guests in packs, 
 Opera: — have a stare, 
 Thuilleries — statues, trees, 
 Boulevards — leave our cards, 
 Money spend — there's an end. 
 When a man roves, he must make up his mind 
 To bad and good luck, and mishaps of all kind ; 
 
 Good luck and mishaps of all kind. 
 
 LITERARY ARTILLERY. 
 
 Upon the publication of Bolingbroke's Deistical 
 Works by Mallet, Dr. Johnson observed, " That 
 Bolingbroke had charged a canuon against heaven 
 with all the artillery of hell, and Mallet had set a 
 match to it." 
 
648 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 TRAVELLING ANO PAINTING. 
 
 A connoisseur was one day criticising painters, -who 
 in historical pieces always draw the same sort of 
 sky. " They should travel," said he, " and they 
 would see a different sort of sky in every country, in 
 England, France, Italy, &c." " True " said a gen- 
 tleman who sat by, " I have travelled, and the 
 greatest variety of skies I have observed is in Poland, 
 for there is Sobie.?% ; Sarbruns/^/, JablanowiX-?/, Po- 
 inaAoxvsky, Borewla^y, and many more skies." 
 
 FLATTERY 
 
 A lady of high ton complimented Frederick the 
 Great so extravagantly, that he was rather distressed 
 at it, saying, " That he was covered with glory, 
 was the paragon of Europe, and in short the greatest 
 monarch and man on earth." " Madam," replied 
 the king, " you are as handsome as an angel, witty, 
 elegant, and agreeable, in short, } T ou possess all the 
 amiable qualities ; but yon paint.'" 
 
 RICHARDSON, AUTHOR OF CLARISSA. 
 
 A pert young lady having determined to put 
 Richardson out of countenance, who was as remark- 
 able for his modesty, on his coming into a nume- 
 rous company, " Lord ! sir," says she, " you cer- 
 tainly have a wonderful talent at description ; but, 
 I fear, sir, you must have much frequented brothels, to 
 be able to describe them so well." " I fear, madam," 
 replied Richardson, " you have been often there, 
 since you know they are so well described.' 
 
 PICTURE OF A SARD. 
 
 Hard the poet's hapless lot, 
 Who no loaf or cheese has got! 
 In apartment next the sky, 
 Or (if you please) in garret high, 
 Up a ladder you must crawl, 
 With careful step, or else you fall 
 From Parnassus to the ground, 
 Laugh'd at by the Muses round. 
 
 Reams of paper mark his trade : 
 Here and there a Letter laid ; 
 On some his naming Seal is prest, 
 A Lion Rampant for his crest ; 
 
 • '-_ With open jaws enough to fright-^- 
 True emblem of his appetite. 
 A fable on a Horse-shoe here, 
 A riddle on a Saddle there ; 
 With essays in the praise of ale, 
 And grand descriptions cf the Whale ! 
 A poem on the town of lying : 
 In short, the very walls all sing. 
 Lost in amaze, beheld him sit, 
 The very quintessence of wit ; 
 With nose and chin begrim'd with snuff, 
 And sable coat with single cuff; 
 His fustian breeches daub'd with dirt, 
 And body destitute of shirt. 
 His single eye with phrenzv rolls, 
 And brings ideas down by shoals. 
 Ye rhymers, then, your verse retard, 
 And view the picture of a Bard. 
 
 DF.LICIITS OF A'PA'CKKT. 
 
 Who's for Calais 1 the packets are waiting, 
 
 Come, take your places, or you'll be too late : 
 Sail with the Sybil, we've just got our freight in, 
 
 The wind and the tide for no one will wait. 
 i( De Louis in von tree hour carry you over," 
 
 " Scud Mounseer the steam, sir, will take you 
 along : 
 The Swallow's a packet that's well known at Dover," 
 " Sail with king George, sir, cannot be wrong." 
 Spoken] " Now, sir, if you mean to go, you must 
 come." "La, captain, how I have run, I am quite 
 out of breath. They told me you was gone ; I had no 
 time to eat my lunch, and hardly time to pay for it." 
 " Never mind your lunch, sir, it will be all the same 
 in an hour's time." " Why, captain, there's no 
 fear, is there V " Ves, ma'am, plenty of fear, but 
 no danger." " Dear me. how shall I get on board V 
 " This way, ma'am, step on this plank." " That, 
 bless me, its no broader than a two-penny ribbon, I 
 am as giddy as a goose, and I shouldn't like a duck.' J 
 " That lady's afraid of a pitch in." " Goose, duck, ! 
 and pidgeon, what a horrid pun ! that fellow de- 
 serves to be sent to the Poultry compter for it." " I 
 want to ask you a question, captain, pray how's the 
 
 ^ ii„ ■■■m 
 
 ■ '■ . . ■• ■■■ 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 •wind V " Pretty well, thankee, how are you?" ** O 
 
 dear, how nice we are going along ; I do like it so ; 
 
 I an't sick a bit : what a way we are from Dover al- 
 ready. There, I do think I see the spires of Calais." 
 I '"'Where — where?" " Where, why at Calais, to be 
 
 sure." " Well, sir, you have no occasion to be so 
 
 sharp, I don't suppose you saw them at Deal." 
 ! ** Talking of deal, who's for a rubber 1" " I doesn't 
 
 allow of no cards on board my vessel." " Well, 
 ! Twizzle, how do you like it"?" " O, I like it wery 
 ; much, it is like sailing to Twickenham on a Sunday, 
 
 only it is a little broadcrcr, and a little more saltercr." 
 | " I should like to have a song ; what do you think of 
 
 the storm?" " O, don't mention it." " Pa, sing 
 
 that song you sung when we went to Chelsea in the 
 i funny." " That funny was a wherry, my dear." " O, 
 ! was it, why then it was wery funny" for 
 
 649 
 
 Who's for Calais ? the packets are waiting, 
 Come, take your places, or you'll be too late : 
 
 Sail with the Sybil, we've just got our freight in, 
 The wind and the tide for no one will wait. 
 
 Yeo, yeo, my hearties, now then we're going, 
 
 England's" white cliffs we are leaving behind ; 
 Yeo, yeo, my hearties, it stiffly is blowing, 
 
 Well, we the quicker shall sail, never mind. 
 Hough storms are coming on, we must be ready, 
 
 Keep a good look out ahead there, yeo, yeo ; 
 All hands a-hoy, clear the decks, hold her steady, 
 
 Gentlemen passengers scud down below. 
 
 (Spoken.) — "Oh! oh! I never was so ill in my 
 life, O, O." " Sarve you right, you would come a 
 pleasuring, now you've got your belly full of it." "I 
 wish I had'nt come, I'm so giddy, the next time I go 
 to Fiance, I'll go the whole way by land." " I say, 
 look at Twizzle, he said he should enjoy it, see what 
 a pickle he*s in." " I say, Twizzle, how do you find 
 yourself? you seem very poorly." " O, O, O." 
 (imitation of sickness) " Ah ! Pips, how do, Pips ? 
 you seem to be hard at it there, I am going down, 
 can I hrhig up any thing for you 1" " Who's for a 
 fat mutton-chop ?" " I was as well as ever I was in 
 my life, 'till that fellow mentioned the mutton-chop." 
 2 p 
 
 " Well, never mind, keep a good heart." "Keep 
 
 a man need have a stomach of iron, to keep any 
 thing, I think." " O dear, Molly, Molly, where's 
 my servant? I'm dying." " So am I, ma'am, and 
 can't^ come." " How dare you be ill when I want 
 you ?" " Captain, Captain, bring me the brandy bot- 
 tle, I am going to go." "Pray, Captain, was any 
 person ever lost here?" "No, sir, several's been 
 drowned, but we always found them again." « Sir, 
 the next time you're taken so, I'd thank you to turn* 
 your head, you've quite spoilt my wife's pelisse, sir." 
 "If people's taken suddenly ill, people can't help 
 other people's pelisses, sir." " Captain, could I lay 
 down a bit ?" « Yes, sir, there's a bed below, there's 
 only three in it." " Captain, my hat's overboard." 
 "Never mind your hat, sir." " I should'nt, but my 
 wig is in it." " There's a whale." " A whale ! 
 where, where ? I'd give a hundred guineas to see a 
 whale ; never saw a whale in all my life." " No, 
 sir, it's only a mispronounciation, sir, that's all ; it's 
 my wife' 
 that's 
 Yeo, yeo, my hearties, now then we're going, 
 
 England's white cliffs we are leaving behind ; 
 Yeo, yeo, my hearties., it stiffly is blowing, 
 
 Well, we the quicker shall sail, never mind. 
 All stand aside, there, the tempest is clearing, 
 
 Slacken your foresail, for landing prepare ; 
 Where is my quadrant ? we Calais are nearing, 
 
 The harbour's in sight, and the wind it blows fair, 
 Soon o'er a bowl we'll forget every danger past, 
 
 A true Dover lad values storms not a pin ; 
 Our cargo is safe, we've our port safely reach 'd at 
 last, 
 
 The tide flag is flying, and we can go in. 
 
 (Spoken.) — "Tell me, Captain, can't you make 
 the pier of Calais?" "Yes, and I can run foul of 
 the bar, too." " No, I bar that," says Twizzle. 
 " Where's the breakers ?" " There, ahead." 
 " What's he say ? break my head." " What's that 
 the bar ? dear me, I always thought it was a large 
 pole of iron." " And I always thought it was like 
 Temple Bar !" " Captain, how are we to go ashore, 
 
 life's wail, what she wears over her vig, 
 all." u O, is it." Then 
 
650 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 in a boat V " No, as well as we can, ma'am ; there, 
 these two stout Frenchmen will carry you on' their 
 shoulders." " Particularly horrid, I declare I am so 
 giddy, I don't know whether I am on my head or my 
 heels." ** O, you're right side uppermost now, 
 ma'am, depend upon it." " O, O, I'm black and 
 blue already, these fellows are pinching and pulling 
 me about so." "I say, Twizzie, do you twig that 
 lady's legs on the two fellows' backs, carrying her 
 through the water '!" " Legs ! mill-posts, jo\x mean." 
 " Why, yes, asyGu say, she don't stand upon trifles." 
 For 
 All stand aside, there, we Calais are nearing, 
 
 The harbour's in sight, and the wind it blows fair; 
 Where is my glass 1 the tempest is clearing, 
 
 Slacken your sails, and for landing prepare. 
 
 ELOQUENCE OF A TOWN RAKE 
 
 " Keep it up. huzza ! keep it up ! I loves fun, for 
 I made a fool of my father last April day. I will tell 
 you what makes me laugh so, we were keeping it up 
 faith, so about four o'clock this morning I went down 
 into the kitchen, and there was Will, the waiter, fast 
 asleep by the kitchen fire ; the dog cannot keep it up 
 as we do : so what did I do, but I goes softly, and 
 takes the tongs, and I takes a great red-hot coal out 
 of the fire, as big as my head, and I plumpt it upon 
 the fellow's foot, because I loves fun ; so it has lamed 
 the fellow and that makes me laugh so. You talk 
 of your saying good things-, I said one of the best 
 things last week that ever any man said in all the 
 world. It was what you call your rappartees, your 
 bobmats ; I'll tell you what it was. You must know, 
 I was in high spirits faith, so I stole a dog from a blind 
 man, for I do love fun : so then the blind man cried for 
 his dog, and that made me laugh ; so says I to the 
 blind man, Hip master, do you want your dog ? Yes, 
 sir, says he. Now only mind what I said to the blind 
 man ; says I, do you want your dog 1 Yes, sir, says 
 he : Then says I to the blind man, says I, go look for 
 him. Keep it up ! keep it up ! That's the worst of it, 
 I always turn sick when I think of a parson ; I always 
 do ; and my brother he's a parson too, and he hates to 
 hear any body swear ; so I always swear when I am 
 
 along with him, to roast him. I went to dine with 
 him one day last week, and there was my sisters, and 
 two or three more of what you call your modest wo- 
 men ; but I sent 'em all from the table, before the din- 
 ner was half over, for I loves fun, and so there was no- 
 body but my brother and me, and I began to swear ; I 
 never swore so well in all my life ; I swore all my new 
 oaths; it would have done you good to have heard me 
 swear ; so then my brother looked frighted, and that 
 was fun. At last, he laid down his knife and fork, 
 and, lifting up his hands and his eyes, he calls out, 
 Oh Tempom I oh Mores ! ' Oh ho, brother says I, 
 what, you think to frighten me, by calling all your 
 family about you ; but I don't mind you nor your family 
 neither. Only bring Tempora and Mores here, that's 
 all; I'll box them for five pounds; here, — where's 
 Tempora and Mores 1 where are they 1 Keep it up ! 
 Keep it up !" 
 
 A DAY AT MEtTRICE's. 
 
 Let each spend his days as he pleases, 
 In praying, in working, or play j 
 
 Let me spend my days at Meurice's 
 For that is the true time o' day. 
 
 There you may be alone, or with many, 
 May chop it with French or with English, 
 
 May lay out your franc or your guinea, 
 And manners most funny distinguish,. 
 
 Spoken^] Damme, I might as well be at home, nu 
 attention ; I'll pull the bell down : I can get no- - 
 thing. Here waiter, send up your master, and 
 I'll blow him up. There take your bell rope, 
 (throwing it at him, which he has broken.) " What 
 will you take, sir 1" " Take, sir, any thing and 
 every thing." " Waiter, you've brought me both 
 papers alike, here's two Times." " Two Times, 
 that's very bad English, sir, you should have 
 said twice." " Press for Herald." " Press, Times, 
 Post; and Courier ; how pleasant ! one' might al- 
 most fancy one's self at the Hummums." " Waiter, 
 bring me Planta's Guide to Paris." " It's in hand, 
 sir. Colonel Calcutta, the rich East India nabob, 
 has it." " Colonel Calcutta, which is he ?" " That's 
 him, sir, with two servants behind him, one putting 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 in a lump of sugar, and the other stirring ii." "Don't 
 care, have as much right to be served as any body 
 else, I've no notion. I pay my money ; been to see 
 all the sights, the Boulevards, the Thuilleries, the 
 Theatres, the Palais Royal, the Goblins of Tapestry : 
 done it all in a day. A pretty good day's work, I 
 must own, but they tell me, Sir Christopher Short- 
 dip, you went to see the Exhibition of Statues, with a 
 catalogue of paintings." " Why, yes, I made rather 
 a bit of a mistake, had both catalogues in one pocket, 
 and when I wanted to look at No. 10, the Gladia- 
 tor, I told her it was Susannah at the Bath." "Well, 
 whac do you think of the statues ?" " Why they are 
 very hue, but they'd be all the better for a little wash- 
 ing." " Yes, and none the worse for a little cloth- 
 iug." " Here, waiter, bring my breakfast, tea, hot 
 rolls, muffins, beaf-steaks, aud a bottle of Cham- 
 pagne." "Champagne! why, my dear fellow, no 
 one d.inks Champagne for breakfast." " Don't care, 
 only come for a week, been up four nights, shall 
 never go to bed again. Waiter, damme, bring me 
 the Champagne.*'' 
 
 Long life to John Bull at Meurice's, 
 May he never feel sorrow or pain ; 
 
 When he comes there to quaff the pure breezes, 
 And stroll on the banks of the Seine. 
 
 At Meurice's the grand table d'hdte, sure, 
 Must suit every taste, beau or belle : 
 
 There are dainties to tickle each throat, sure, 
 French, English, Italian as well. 
 
 There the ladies, with sweet prittle prattle, 
 Roabt beef and plum pudding commend, 
 
 And among all the guests the sole battle 
 Is, who most shall England defend. 
 
 Spoken.'] " Nothing is French here, sir, excepting 
 the pay — catch the idea." " This is the place, sir ; 
 why it cost me two guineas in London to get what I 
 call properly drunk, I can do it here, sir, for a quarter 
 the money, and do it handsomely too." " Why, yes, 
 half a guinea, sir, would find a Frenchman in wine 
 for a month." " Frenchmen, nasty beasts, I hate e'm, 
 they never get drunk." " Aye, this is what I call a 
 high classical dinner j plenty of legs of mutton and 
 2f2 
 
 651 
 
 rounds of beef : nothing French in it ; they dress you 
 an egg five hundred different ways, and make a dozen 
 dishes out of a shilling's worth of spinage." "Mr. 
 Whipstitch, what shall I help you to 1" "A rem- 
 naut of goose, sir, if you please." " Mr. Welt, what 
 are you for - ?" "Soles and eels, sir." " W r aiter, 
 bread." " Yes, sare." " Salt." " Yes, sare." " Why 
 you are not a Frenchman, waiter." " Yes, sare." 
 " Hold your tongue, and let me speak to him, Gar- 
 song parte pour inong inaree." " Beg your pardon, 
 madam, I not Englishman, therefore 1 cannot under- 
 stand your French." " There's a rap on the knuckles 
 for you, sarve you right, you will be showing off when 
 there's no occasion." 
 
 Long life to John Ball at Meurice's, 
 
 -May he never feel sorrow or pain, 
 When he comes there to quaff the pure breezes, 
 
 And stroll on the banks of the Seine. 
 Meurice's the palace of pleasures, 
 
 Where frolic is always alive — 
 And luxury pcuis forth her treasures, 
 
 The dullest of souls to revive ; 
 Bon mots, merry games, music, drinking, 
 
 New faces — and still something strange ; 
 And whenever your spirits are sinking, 
 
 You to fifty theatres can range. 
 Spoken.'] " Well, Mr. Dowgate, what did you do 
 with yourself last night V " O, why, I went to the 
 Theatre Frunsays, I think they call it, to see a tra- 
 gedy—a parcel of nonsense — there's nobody killed— 
 never made me cry — to be sure I don't understand 
 the language, that may make some difference." "Pray, 
 Sir Henry, was you at the grand opera last night 1 ." 
 " Yes, I went to see the Daniades." " La, sir, 
 what's that?" "Why, mem, one gentleman's fifty 
 sons marries another gentleman's fifty daughters." 
 " I went to the Port St. Martin, the original ware- 
 house for Maids and Magpies." " I went to see the 
 Dog of Montargis, all natural, a real dog. Will you 
 say as much for your Maid and Magpie 1" "I 
 visited the Coffee des Mitte Colonnes. What did 
 you do with yourself?" "Why, I went where you 
 did."** Where I did, where was that V " Why where 
 
652 
 
 you said." "Where I said. Why where was 
 that V «* Why at the Coffee Mill of the Colonies." 
 " Pray, Mrs. Maggots, was you at the play last night?" 
 "No, ma'am, I was, at Lady Sugarloaf's last night, it 
 was her night." " Her night, what do you mean V 
 "Why, every Monday night she gives what the 
 French call a sore eye" " Indeed, why then I 
 would recommend her to rub it with what the Eng- 
 lish call rose water, every Tuesday morning." 
 
 Long life to John Bull at Meurice's 
 May he never feel sorrow or pain, 
 
 When he comes there to quaff the pure breezes, 
 And stroll on the banks of the Seine. 
 
 ODD FELLOWS CLUB. 
 
 By a Member. 
 
 There are a set of Odd Fellows of us, in number 
 seven. We meet nightly in a very odd house, in an 
 odd part of the town. Our faces, dress, conversation, 
 and liquor, are all what the world would call odd. 
 Our president, who reigns and has reigned these three 
 weeks and odd, is himself one of the greatest oddities 
 in nature. : he neither looks, nor speaks, nor thinks, 
 nor dresses, like any creature existing ; and I- may, 
 in the language of that great odd poet, Mr. Theobald, 
 say — 
 
 " Nought but himself can be his parallel." 
 
 Ben Grubstreet, next tc* him, is the oddest fellow 
 in our society, and always, in the absence of the 
 president, is nem. con. preferred to the chair. The 
 rest of our company are an odd poet, a chymist, a 
 painter, a musician, a mathematician, and a politi- 
 cian. We have of late come to a resolution to en- 
 large our company, and one extraordinary promising 
 strange fellow has made application for admittance. 
 Now, as by his admission our number would be even, 
 and that we would preserve ourselves as we have 
 been these fifteen years and odd, it is the will of the 
 president that I signify to you, as secretary of the 
 company, that you shall have a right to claim the 
 ninth seat, he having observed you to have a very 
 odd turn ; and Ben Grubstreet, who meets yo\r fre- 
 quently at the coffee-house, declares in your fayour, 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 that you have the oddest phiz, and dress, and dis- 
 course, that ever he saw or heard. That you may 
 not be surprised into our company, I give you a 
 transcript of the rules of our club, very short, and in 
 number five ; by which you may be determined how " 
 to act. 
 
 Rules and Articles to be observed by the Club of 
 Odd Fellows. 
 
 I. Each person who shall claim a seat in, this club> 
 shall by face, speech, and action, demonstrate some 
 oddity. 
 
 II. This club shall always meet at five in winter, and 
 seven in summer, and shall sit three hours and odd. 
 
 The money they spend not to be limited any other 
 way than by this certain regulation, that the shil- 
 lings and pence must be odd. 
 
 III. Every member is obliged, on the penalty of 7c?. 
 to say at least three odd things every night. 
 
 IV. If gaming should be proposed, which ought not 
 to be done, play at even and odd. 
 
 V. On a scrutiny in the election of a member, the 
 candidates being equal in all other points, he 
 whose christian and surname shall have each an 
 odd letter, shall be elected. 
 
 These are our fundamental rules : we have several 
 others. tom -out-of-the-way. 
 
 BALLOON SONG. 
 
 As baljoons are the subject of every debate, 
 From beggars in tatters, to steerers of state ; 
 This theme I'll pursue, and jog merrily on j 
 Air balloons are the subject I choose for my song. 
 
 Derry down, down, down, derry down. 
 
 The Statesman's balloon is the seat of the brain, 
 His valves are his pockets — his ballast's his gain ; 
 At' his wonderful courage plebeians all stare, 
 While he boldly puffs out his inflammable air. 
 
 The Cit's apparatus for filling balloons, 
 
 Are provisions and drink, glasses, knives, forks, and 
 
 spoons ; \ 
 
 Good wine is his gas — which he cheerfully swills, 
 And his lusty balloon with rich turtle he fills. ! 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 653 
 
 The Parson's balloon — c is the pulpit,' you'll say ; 
 JVo ! no ! my good friends — have patience, I pray ! 
 "lis true that the clergy love preaching — by fits ; 
 But the Parson's balloon is the same as the Cit's. 
 In Lunardi, our hero, the ladies delight - } 
 On him they make stanzas, of him dream all night : 
 And with him each fair one would fly to the moon, 
 While with pleasure to all he displays bis balloon. 
 My aerial theme I'll now bring to an end, 
 And conclude, as begun, to ballooners a friend ; 
 May the gas which each chooses be finely instill'd, 
 And our favourite balloons be effectually fill'd. 
 
 LECTURE ON ENGLAND, BY A FRENCHMAN. 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen, 
 In de discourse which I give to you on de top of 
 England, I propose to myself two things — first, I 
 shall make you to know de pronunciation most per- 
 fect of de English language ; and next I show to you 
 de custom and manners — by dis I murder two birds 
 with one stone — one petit pierre. I am not liar nor 
 quack, to pretend talk about what he not understand, 
 dat vat I tell to you, in my grand ouvrage, is from de 
 demonstration ocular, dat is to say, it is all my eye. 
 I call myself Monsieur Charles" Guillaume Denise 
 de Chariatanville, member of all de academie of 
 Europe civilized, dat is to say, of de Paris, dat which 
 I go to tell you of de manner, de fine art, de polite, 
 de society, de literature, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. 
 I not only learned after I have live a long time in de 
 country, dat is to say, for seven weeks as prisoner of 
 war, in de prison of Port see moid, but I read it every 
 day in de journal, Anglice, de paper — it is true I 
 never was in de capital, but I reside at Portseemouth, 
 vich is all de same. I shall begin vid de ladies of 
 England, dey drink very much gin — and make them- 
 selves drunk every day. I look from my little prison 
 window and see de ladies of Portseemouth roll about 
 de street — derefore it is true ven I say de ladies 
 of England drink wery mosk gin, and make herself 
 drunk every day. Everybody in England are boxers, 
 de lady box wid de lady, the gentlemen box wid the 
 gentleman, and sometime de gentleman and lady box 
 
 one wid the other. If you look in deir dictionary 
 you will find B-o-x, box, to fight wid de fist, every 
 thing in England is decide by the fist. You read in 
 the papier, dat de duchess of B. and lady C. were in 
 one grand box last night at de opera-— to accuse de 
 prisoner, de witness box — to find him guilty, de jury 
 box. And dere is one grand day in the year ven dey 
 all go box one wid de other. De postman, de baker, 
 de dustman, de butcher, all fight together, and dis is 
 called grand Christmas-boxing. De English are very 
 much people for trade, dey permit him to sell his 
 wife, dey have considerable trade in wifes. In Smiss- 
 jield, dey have de cattle-market, and as de vomen 
 are de troublesome cattle, de husband put a halter 
 round her neck, and lead her to Smissjield, and sell 
 her; 'tis the same in de every rank of life, for you 
 shall read in the journal dat de great lord he lead the 
 great lady to de altar, which mean he put de altar 
 round her neck, and take her to Smissjield, and sell 
 her. For de fine art de English are nobody, it is im- 
 possible, dere is de grand reason ; dey eat so much 
 beef and pudding, and drink and sleep so very much, 
 dey have no room in de body for de getiius ; and it is 
 de rule on de first of September, to shoot de par- 
 tridge, and on de first of November to shoot himself. 
 De English nation are barbare. Prance is divided 
 from de England by one sea. Every nation civilized 
 come to France for de music, de dancing, de statu- 
 ary, de painting, de poetry : all the Europe come to 
 the grand nation for de every ting. For de literature 
 de English are nothing ; for de painting dey copy the 
 tableau of Lebrun. For de statuary dey copy de sta- 
 tue superb of de garden of the Tuilleries — dey have 
 their Paradise Lost translated from de Henriade of 
 de immortal Voltaire, by one Jacky Milton, dey 
 have de Hamlet of Ducis, wid Macbesh and Othello, 
 translated by one Billy Shakspeare. He was a cler- 
 gyman or bishop, I believe, de divine of de politics. 
 I shall not say much — dere is two parties in Eng- 
 land, one is called tory, and de other de perruque. 
 Ladies and Messieurs, I have exposed to you my 
 grand talent, and for de money I despise it, and if 
 you attend my lectures, I shall teach you how to 
 
654 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 pronounce de language English, and de knowledge of 
 de Fngiish character. I shall make you to know as 
 much in seven day, as I myself know in seven week, 
 while I reside in my prison at Portseemouth, 
 
 THE PAINTER'S SECRET. 
 
 A gentleman who sat to Hayman for his portrait, 
 desired that it might be kept a secret. Notwithstand- 
 ing this injunction, the artist showed it to some of 
 his friends, who not being able to discover any like- 
 ness, Hayman observed, that the gentleman wished it 
 to be kept a secret. 
 
 DO AS OTHER FOLKS DO. 
 
 Come, since 'tis the fashion to Paris to dash on, 
 
 And see the grande nation, and talk of virtu ; 
 Let's hasten to Dover, to Calais sail over, 
 
 And visit the Louvre, as other folks do. 
 We all see that London, is looking quite undone, 
 
 Not e'en Joey Munden its fun can renew ; 
 Let's hasten to Paris, and each swear all there is, 
 
 That rare is, and fair is, as other folks do. 
 We've got charming weather, let's all go together, 
 
 For birds of a feather, they still flock, you know : 
 We'll stroll" through the Tuilleries, see all their 
 fooleries, 
 
 Sport our John -Bull eries, as other folks do- 
 We can at Meurice's, for ten five-franc pieces, 
 
 Procure us each places, from Calais to go ; 
 The dilly won't sjjake us, and two days will take us 
 
 To Paris, and make us, as other folks do. 
 Pshaw, let the folks cavil, to Versailles we'll travel, 
 
 Its wonders unravel, then visit St. Cloud ; 
 The fam'd Palais Royal, the Luxembourg loyal, 
 
 We'll Paris enjoy, all, as other folks do. 
 "Rare work for the sockets, let's start off like rockets, 
 
 With cash in both pockets, and purchase French 
 gout, 
 All obstacles breaking, of old tabby's making, 
 
 French leave will be taking, as other folks do. 
 
 FORTY SHILLING VOTERS. 
 
 " Mr. Curran, in exposing the venality of the Irish 
 parliament, oace burst forth into the following sarcas- 
 
 tic apostrophe : " What, Mr. Speaker,' said he, "must 
 be the alarm and consternation of the whole country, 
 when they saw these hordes of custom-house Tartars 
 traversing every district, devouring like locusts the 
 provisions, and overwhelming the franchises of the 
 people 1 These fiscal comedians travelled in carts 
 and waggons from town to town, county to county, 
 and election to election, to fill this house, not with -j 
 the representatives of the people, but of the great 
 Cham who commands them. Methinks I see a whole 
 caravan of those strolling constituents, trundling in 
 their vehicles towards a country town, where some 
 gaping simpleton in wonderment at their appearance, 
 asks the driver of the first vehicle : " Where, my good 
 fellow, are you going with those ragamuffins 1 I sup- 
 pose they are convicts on their way to the kid-ship for 
 transportation to Botany Bay." " Oh ! no," answers 
 the driver, " they are only a few cartloads of the 
 raw materials for manufacturing members of par- 
 liament, on their way to the next election." * 
 
 ON A RAKE, WHO HAD SPENT ALL HIS FORTUNE. 
 
 My head and my purse had a quarrel of late, 
 And referr'd it to me to decide the debate ; 
 Not small was the difference, and it seems this was it, 
 If my purse had most money, or my head had most wit. 
 By jingo, I answer'd, here's the dev'l of a rout, 
 What ! dispute who has most, when your stocks are 
 
 both out I 
 When thou of thy brains art wholly bereft, 
 And thou hast not got a poor harry-groat left ; 
 'Tis a riddle to tell you whose case is the worst, 
 But surely the head had the vacuum first. 
 
 THE WONDER. 
 
 My heart still hov'ring round about you, 
 I thought I could not live without you ; 
 Now we've liv'd three months asunder, 
 How I liv'd with you is the wonder. 
 
 A COMMON CASE. 
 
 My lord and his lady scold, wrangle, and fight , 
 Yet are both of one mind, and are both in the right. 
 She calls him a fool — He knows he's not wise ; 
 He calls her a whore — and she can't sav he lies 
 
BENEFIT OF CORRECTION. 
 
 A certain bishop declared one day, that the punish- 
 ment used in schools did not make boys a whit bet- 
 ter, or more tractable : it was insisted that whipping 
 was of the utmost service, for every one must allow it 
 made a boy smart. 
 
 THE BEST STOCK. 
 
 Money, they say, is evil's root, 
 But we most justly doubt it : 
 
 Can we expect good thriving fruit, 
 From any stock without it ! 
 
 ct:re FOR HYPOCHONDRIACS. 
 
 Meditating the other evening, at that still and de- 
 lightful hour, when it is just too dark to read but too 
 light to have candles, I got into one of my usual re- 
 veries, and fancied that I was a kind of mental doctor, 
 who from being overwhelmed with practice had stolen 
 an hour's slumber after dinner. In the midst of my 
 enjoyment, I thought that a footman came abruptly 
 in to call me to his master, who had been in a dismal 
 wav, he told me, ever since the preceding morning, 
 refusing every kind of solace, and giving symptoms 
 of what was apprehended to be insanity. I asked 
 the footman what he had seen of the disorder • and, 
 while I was getting reaa"y to go, he gave me the fol- 
 lowing relation : '* Sir," said he, " I have always 
 thought that mv master was not quite right ; but for 
 these two days he has been worse than ever. Such 
 snapping, and snarling, and kicking this thing and 
 kicking t' other, for all the world as if he had been 
 bit ! This morning, I only went to give him his 
 shoes, which never can be polished enough to suit 
 him, and he kicked his slippers oft' in my face, and 
 asked me whether I meant to ruin him in blacking ? 
 At dinner yesterday he said that the sweet wine was 
 vinegar ; broke one of the tumblers and kicked the 
 dog under the table for it ; swore that my mistress 
 meant to provoke him because she helped him to all 
 the nicest bits at table ; and smacked my young lady's 
 cheek for going out of the room, which he said was 
 fiying in his face. Afterwards he grew a little quiet, 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 but nobody dared to come near 
 way, or to make the least noise 
 
 655 
 
 him, or to look that 
 he was so touchy. 
 In the evening we had company, and then, Lord ! 
 Sir, to see how pleasant he was, so smiling and good- 
 natured to every one that came ! Think's I to myself, 
 who would take you to be such a devil ! But I'm 
 told its always the way with these mad people, sir ; 
 and Mr. Mitchell, my lord's chaplain, next door, who 
 is a great scholar, says, that you might walk with one 
 of 'em all over London, before you found him cut, 
 they're so sly and mysterious. When the ladies and 
 gentlemen were gone he fell into his old way again, 
 not so savage as before, but glumpy and impatient. 
 All this morning you would have thought there 
 was a corpse lying in the house, every body looked 
 so dismal and" weut about like a ghost. But 
 just now he has been getting worse than ever, 
 and Mrs. Kitty the housemaid says he was heard 
 talking of disinwriting — disinheri — what is it 1 You 
 know what I mean, sir ; — hindering my young mas- 
 ter, the counsellor, from coming to the fortune, and 
 all for not having done something in the law, which 
 they tell me he can't be expected to do as yet, being 
 on'y forty years old. So my mistress, being frightened 
 more at this than all the rest, thinks he must be mad 
 outright, and has sent me to your honour, to see if 
 any thing can be done." — I was glad to learn from 
 honest John's relation that the fit had not lasted 
 more than two days, since I should not have so much 
 difficulty in tracing it up to its cause, as would have 
 been the case with longer duration. I proceeded as 
 fast as possible to the house ; and on seeing his new 
 visitor, the patient did not favour him with the ac- 
 customed smiles ; he was aware that I understood 
 his malady ; and guessing my object, seemed to re- 
 sign himself to the scrutiny with a kind of patient 
 impatience. After feeling his pulse, examining what 
 muscles had been most affected in his face, and sa- 
 tisfying myself from those about him how he had 
 passed the last forty hours,, I was pretty well enabled 
 to follow back the" disorder through its various ex- 
 citements. I traced it speedily from his present fit 
 of disinheriting to a wig-box belonging to his son, 
 
656 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 •which happened to have fallen in his way ; from the 
 wig-box to a snuff-box which he had let fall after 
 dinner ; from the snuff-box to an uneasy dozing in 
 his chair ; from the dozing in his chair to an enormous 
 meal during which he had abused all that he swal- 
 lowed ; from the enormous meal to a speech made by 
 his wife, who had kindly begged him not to venture 
 so much upon a dish that had disagreed with him ; 
 from the speech of his wife to the face of a servant 
 who stood near, and who appeared to him to be 
 laughing in his sleeve ; from the servant, after a 
 number of petty turns and stumbling blocks too 
 numerous for detail, to the well-blacked shoes ; from 
 the well-blacked shoes, to a hasty mouthful of hot 
 tea ; from the hasty mouthful of hot tea to getting 
 up late ; from getting up late, which it seems he did 
 half from sleepiness and half from being ashamed to 
 show his face, to restlessness and peevishness all 
 night ; from restlessness and peevishness all night to 
 a hearty supper, which he abused as usual ; from the 
 hearty supper to another entreaty on the part of his 
 wife : — here I lost scent for a time, for as the foot- 
 man had said, he had been uncommonly pleasant 
 during the stay of his company ; but I found the link 
 again in the gentleness of his daughter, who had left 
 the room, as the footman related ; — from the gentle- 
 ness of his daughter, who I found was very like her 
 mother, I went on with my tracing to the good things 
 to which his wife had helped him at dinner ; from 
 the good things to which his wife helped him at din- 
 ner to a glass which he broke in the middle pf it ; 
 from the broken glass to an agitation of nerves, 
 arising from a refusal which he had just given an old 
 friend who wanted to borrow a little money of him ; 
 from the refusal given his old friend to the tears and 
 patience of his family all the morning ; from the tears 
 and patience of his family to a long lecture which he 
 had been giving them on their want of real attach- 
 ment to him ; from the long lecture he had been 
 giving them to another sulky and peevish breakfast ; 
 from the sulky and peevish breakfast to a private mys- 
 terious lecture given to his wife before he came down 
 stairs ; and> at last, from the private lecture, I came 
 
 to the grand secret of all, — to the fountain of this 
 Nile of tears, — to the immediate cause of all the 
 taunts, trials, and miseries which a whole family 
 had been suffering for two long days, and which 
 nobody but myself dared to mention to the unhappy 
 being. — It was a Pin ! — Our hero had taken up the 
 comb to his head, when a pin which had unluckily 
 found its way between the teeth and hung at a 
 right angle from it by the head, gave him a light 
 scratch on the pericranium. "Zounds!" exclaimed 
 the g-entleman, turning red. " Bless us !" ejaculated 
 the lady, turning pale ; — and then the said lecture 
 ensued, which put an end to two whole days of gOod- 
 humour on his part and an equal holiday oi comfort 
 on that of his household. 
 
 I asked whether my patient had any turn for hu- 
 mour, and understanding that if any thing could get 
 him out of his fits, it was a droll story, a repartee, 
 a stroke of wit, or any other pleasant surprise, I went 
 down to his sitting-room with great gravity, holding in 
 my hand a little packet of many papers curiously wrap- 
 ped over one another and containing, in the nucleus 
 or innermost shell, the cause of irritation. At sight 
 of me, he uttered a half-smcthered exclamation of 
 impatience, and casting down his eyes and turning 
 aside a little in his chair, began a kind of restless 
 duet between his right leg and his watch-chain. I did 
 not ask him how he felt or whether he was better, 
 well knowing that such questions in such disorders 
 were something worse than of no use, but striking 
 at once into conversation, I remarked how easy the 
 cure of a malady became when once its origin was 
 ascertained 
 
 " Ah," said he, " I put no faith in medicine." 
 
 " And myself little or none," returned I, " par- 
 ticularly in diseases of the mind ; but there is one 
 thing in which I put a great deal of faith, — and that 
 is good sense." 
 
 He left off his duet, and looked up in my face with 
 less sulkiness of manner, as if he was eager to take 
 to himself a compliment so new to his conscience. 
 
 " I do not mean," he rejoined, " to show any dis- 
 respect to your profession, Doctor ; but you must 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 allow me to say that you are a rare personage for a 
 physician, mental or bodily." 
 
 " Not so rare," replied I, " as you may imagine. 
 There are many of us, of both classes, who are not 
 slow to acknowledge the smallness and uncertainty 
 of our scientific knowledge. The abuses of physic 
 are as much owing to ignorant people who will not 
 be well, as to ignorant doctors who cannot make 
 them so." 
 
 " People who will not be well," cried he, begin- 
 ning to smile : "they must be fools indeed. For 
 my part I certainly do think highly of good sense, 
 though I confess I don't care a pin for medicine." 
 
 " Have a care, my good friend," said I, with in- 
 creasing gravity, " how you speak disrespectfully of 
 pins." He started, but I affected to take no notice 
 of his surprise, and went on : — " These little instru- 
 ments, formed and perfected by a greater number of 
 hands than would take to write five epic poems, have 
 acted an important part on the theatre of the world, 
 — for not to mention the infinite service they render 
 to our modern fair ones in fixing their shapes and 
 giving them beauties not to be found in nature herself, 
 let it be recollected, that with a pin a Roman Em- 
 peror once passed away his leisure hours and diverted 
 his death- dealing qualities from men to flies ; let it 
 be recollected, that with a pin the wife of Antony 
 thought herself amply revenged on the fatal eloquence 
 of Cicero, whose tongue she pierced with an hundred 
 wounds j and let it never be forgotten, that in the 
 abbey of Westminster, the repository of England's 
 poets and philosophers, a lady who owed her death 
 to the prick of a pin, owes to it also her immor- 
 tality." 
 
 " Ridiculous enough," cried he, containing him- 
 self no longer : — " You see, Doctor, what a fuss these 
 women make about their pins, and I do not wonder 
 you are struck with the foily of the poor things !" 
 
 " Nay," said I, still keeping my countenance, 
 " you forgot the Roman emperor I mentioned. "What 
 will you say, if I show you an instance of sheer 
 misery produced among one's fellow-creatures in 
 familiar life by means of a pin, and this too from its- 
 
 2f3 
 
 65? 
 
 influence upon a thinking and well-informed man* 
 who in all things else is as sober as you or 1 1" 
 
 " Why," returned he, " I do not know what you 
 mean by keeping that grave face of yours, but how 
 such a man could be thinking and well informed, 
 unless he is a genius run mad, I cannot imagine. 
 But you are joking, I see, and I like a man of your 
 vein prodigiously. Yes, yes, Doctor, you and I must 
 be friends j I see that." 
 
 " You do me honour," said I, with an inclination 
 of the head ; — " the unfortunate gentleman, of whom 
 I am speaking, has invited my friendship, but I hardly 
 know what to say to it." 
 
 " Why, if the man is mad," rejoined my patient, 
 " it is rather an awkward business. But perhaps 
 you may do something for the poor fellow." 
 
 " Your feelings delight me," said I, " and I am 
 sure they will not be less well inclined when you hear 
 the whole of my new friend's case." — So saying, I 
 told him how I had been called in by the gentleman's 
 family, and, in fact, commenced his own story in a 
 way which, if it had not been himse If 'that was hear- 
 ing it, might have been discovered in an instant. It 
 was curious however to hear how he reproached the 
 hero for giving such way to his disorder, and above 
 all, how he pitied those about him, who had to bear 
 so many ill-humours, — not forgetting to laugh in the 
 midst of his comments, and to wonder what ridiculous 
 nonsense could have given rise to such a fit. Seeing 
 him in so fair a way to receive my physic, I then drew 
 out my pocket-book, and from the notes T had made, 
 proceeded to read over to him the list of his own, 
 vagaries, commencing regularly with the Wig-box as 
 aforesaid. At first, he started somewhat violently j 
 but in a moment looked down with great seriousness, 
 and made every now and then signs of amazement : 
 when I came to the mouthful of hot tea, he could 
 scarcely refrain from laughing ; but I observed, that 
 the treatment of his daughter touched him, and at 
 the passage about refusing his friend a little assist- 
 ance, he shifted uneasily in his chair : — at last, on 
 arriving at the words that ushered in the climax of 
 the account, I stopped very quietly, and unwrapped, 
 
653 
 
 one by one, the several papers in my hand, laid it on 
 the table by his side, uttering, as it came in contact 
 with his eye, those melancholy monosyllables — " It 
 "was — a Pin !" 
 
 For a few momenfs there was a dead silence ; till 
 my patient looking up, and having, as I saw, no 
 traces of his disorder remaining, exclaimed, " My 
 dear Doctor, what must you think of me 1 What 
 can I think of myself 1 For it would be worse than 
 affectation in me not to know who is the hero of your 
 story, and worse than stupidity not to make proper 
 account of it. — Nay, nay," continued he, seeing me 
 about to interrupt him, " you shall not soothe down 
 the self-contempt, which at this moment I feel and 
 ought to feel : you have probed me deeply, I confess, 
 but you have done your duty, and by the blessing of 
 restored reason, I will do mine." So saying, nothing 
 could hinder him from instantly sending his servant 
 to fetch his wife and daughter — " Or stop," he cried : 
 *' I should go to them myself," and after begging 
 the servant's pardon for ringing him up to no purpose, 
 to the great and most respectful admiration of poor 
 John, he requested me to accompany him to the room 
 in which they were sitting. It is needless to recount 
 all the particulars of the meeting, and indeed I should 
 blush to relate the very handsome terms in which he 
 was pleased to introduce me to the ladies as the 
 restorer of their peace and of his senses. The wife 
 looked her thanks delightedly, but had too delicate 
 an affection for her husband to add to his humiliation 
 by fine speeches ; but the daughter, who was in the 
 main a very lively girl, and had the loveliest oval face 
 and long black eyes I ever beheld, seemed as if she 
 would fairly have kissed me, and could by no means 
 suffer the servant to hand me any refreshment : — 
 she would do it all herself ; — so that what with my 
 new friend's delight at feeling comfort again, the si- 
 lent gratitude of his lady, and the lively cordiality 
 of my little Hebe, all humiliations and troubles 
 were quickly forgotten, and we made as pleasant a 
 party at dinner, (for they made me stay dinner,) as 
 was to be found in the whole compass of the me- 
 tropolis. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 CUREAN AND THE MINT. 
 
 When the new Mint was erected on Tower Hill, at 
 -an enormous expense, the high price of the precious 
 metals and the existing prospects of the country, 
 rendered the office of the moneyers for a considerable 
 time perfectly sinecure. No gold or silver was brought 
 to the coining press ; miffing was confined to the 
 pugilists and corn-grinders, and paper usurped the 
 post of cash. At this period the honourable Mr. 
 Wellesley Pole was appointed, master of the mint. 
 Upon these circumstances, Mr. Curran observed, — ■ 
 " I am glad to find an Irishman for once at the head 
 of a money-making department ; it may afford aa 
 additional scene for the Beggar's Opera. For Mai 
 o'the mint, we shall have Pat o'the mint ; and as 
 the new establishment is likely to coin nothing but 
 rags, there can be no want of bullion during the 
 reign of beggary." 
 
 During the riots in Dublin, a poor fellow was tried 
 for treason, by conspiring to kill the king ; the coun- 
 sel against him repeated the law, that the king never 
 dies, on which Teague roared out, " Ubo, Boo, my 
 lord, how can I be guilty 1 Don't you hear what a 
 story that tief of the world makes, for how can I kill 
 a man that never dies'?" 
 
 Love is an idle, lazy paip, 
 
 Yet troublesome, anrf tiresome too ; 
 It springs from a lethargic brain, 
 
 The effect of — nothing else to do. 
 
 Dido by it was not annoy 'd, 
 
 Whilst she was building of her town 
 Her busy thoughts were all employ'd, 
 
 How to secure and guard her own. 
 
 But, soon as e'er her work was done, 
 And laziness crept into fashion, 
 
 She, slighting credit and renown, 
 Submitted to the yawning passion* 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 659 
 
 ON A DEFORMED PEER. 
 
 Made up of impregnated powder and clay, 
 
 And push'd, as haste made him, half form'd, into 
 
 day; 
 Nature's journeyman sure, when he made him, was 
 
 drunk, 
 The head is so poorly dove-taiVd to the trunk ; 
 Or indeed, being perch'd so awry on the shoulder, 
 It looks like a new one, cemented with solder. 
 
 ON tUCAN. 
 
 Maro and you experienc'd difF'rent fate, 
 He gain'd Augustus" love ; you Nero's hate ; 
 But 'twas an act more great and high, to move 
 A prince's envy, than a prince's love. 
 
 THE KILLING LADY. 
 
 Mopsa, whipping her scarf on, sails away to the 
 
 park, 
 And cries, for a Venus I'll pass in the dark. 
 "With her hoop spreading wide, and her soft-soothing 
 
 tail, 
 She knows her coarse features may sometimes prevail. 
 Well, the baggage plays arch, thus to wound in the 
 
 night, 
 Since her face would strike dead, if reveal'd in the 
 
 light. 
 
 PUNCH'S SECRET. 
 
 An itinerant manager, with his company of wooden 
 comedir.ns, large as life, on his arrival sent forth his^i'c- 
 kle-herring with fife and drum, to announce his perform- 
 ance : the quality of the place,including the squire, the 
 attorney,the apothecary ,the exciseman,and the church- 
 warden of the village, with their ladies, attended the 
 performance. The Roscius of the drama, Mr. Punch, 
 excited the warmest admiration of the audience, he 
 was all eloquence, wit, and pleasantry, and so fasci- 
 nated the lady of the squire and chief magistrate in 
 particular, that on her return home, she talked and 
 dreamed of nothing but Mr. Punch, and at last made 
 a positive demand of her husband that he should pur- 
 chase Mr. Punch from the manager, as an ornament 
 to her cabinet. In vain did her worshipful spouse 
 
 remonstrate and inveigh against the folly of such a 
 whim, in vain did he warn her of what the neighbours 
 would say ; he talked to no purpose, Punch she must 
 have, she could not live without him. " The grey 
 mare was the better horse :" — the magistrate was 
 obliged to comply, and the very next day concluded 
 an expensive treaty with the manager for the purchase 
 of his chief actor. But when Punch was transferred to 
 my lady's chamber, all his faculties failed him, all 
 his vivacity vanished : he could neither talk, joke, 
 laugh, nor amuse, as he was wont. The lady tried 
 to rouse his spirits, she raised one hand, but it 
 fell lifeless by his side ; she tried the other, with the 
 same effect ; she chucked him under the chin, but 
 his jaw fell again on his breast : and, in short, the 
 lively, facetious, and diverting Mr. Punch became 
 dull and dumb. The secret was, that Mr. Punch was 
 not in his proper place, or under the same manage- 
 ment which procured her liking : and quite disap- 
 pointed, she requested the squire to return him to 
 his former quarters with a handsome present to the 
 manager, who soon restored Mr. Punch to all hia 
 former celebrity, and he became as great a favourite 
 with the town as ever. 
 
 THE MATRIMONIAL LADDER. 
 
 Admiration. 
 While graceful Chloe leads the gay quadrille, 
 What new sensations Strephon's bosom fill ! 
 An introduction gain'd, the youth advances, 
 And hopes she's disengaged the two next dances. 
 
 Flirtation. 
 The suit obtain'd, they tread the mazy round ; 
 At length fatigued, a seat's convenient found ; 
 Strephon assiduous plies the glittering fan, _ 
 And proves himself a very nice young man. 
 
 Approbatio7i. 
 With favouring smile the fair one hears his prattle, 
 Sips lemon-ade, and vows he's quite a rattle : 
 Then, as new raptures rise in every glance, 
 Exclaims, " I think we'd better join the dance.* 9 
 
660 THE LAUGHING 
 
 Declaration. 
 Next morn he calls, (the custom's very old,) 
 To hope the lady has not taken cold. 
 Thinks she looks charmingly in deshabille, 
 And tells what pangs his stricken bosom fill. 
 
 Hesitation. 
 While secret joy her soft confusion veils, 
 Miss gently checks her swain's romantic tales : 
 ** She's sure mamma will think these raptures wild — 
 She knows not how to act — she's quite a child ?" 
 
 Agitation. 
 With sighs and vows persists the wounded swain, 
 Begs she'll recall those words, and think again ; 
 Fearful of frowns, or veto from mamma, 
 The softening nymph refers him to papa. 
 
 Acceptation. 
 Joy on his lips, and rapture on his tongue, 
 On neat red tape his various parchments strung, 
 See Strephon bear the mystic circle high, 
 Which bids hope's tide flow strong, his terrors fly 
 
 Solemnization. 
 At church arriv'd on some unlucky day, 
 Poor Chloe falters out the word obey ,• 
 Thus of love's ladder gain'd the topmost place, 
 Her downward course the sorrowing muse must trace. 
 
 Possession. 
 Her honey-moon and raptures fled together, 
 Behold a rural walk in dirty weather ; 
 The stile is slippery, but in vain the dame 
 Sues for that aid which once unask'd for came. 
 
 Rumination. 
 An evening t£te-a-t£te you next shall see ) 
 No friendly chat succeeds departed tea ; 
 Blue burns the candle, and the nymph looks blue, 
 And rumination serves them but to rue. 
 
 Alteration. 
 No more a social walk the morn employs, 
 A greasy novel constitutes her joys ; 
 While he, poor soul, condemn'd alone to saunter, 
 Dines with some friend, and empties his decanter. 
 
 PHILOSOPHER 
 
 Irritation. 
 Return'd at eve, unnumber'd queries wait him, 
 And she who lov'd so late, appears to hate him : 
 From trifles light as air the quarrel swells, 
 The husband bullies, and the wife rebels. 
 
 Disputation. 
 Fierce and more fierce the wordy contest g'fows : 
 Taunts, gibes, and sneers, and every thing but blows j 
 Each to a separate couch in rage retires, 
 Whence sleep is banished by vexatious fires. 
 
 Desperation. 
 Breakfast renews the quarrels of my fable, 
 She spoils the tea, and he upsets the table : 
 All patience lost, no power can peace impart; 
 In oue thing only they agree — to part. 
 
 Detestation. 
 Loud she proclaims the thousands that she brought 
 
 him ; 
 He cool retorts, " 'twas only those that caught him :" 
 The world shall know your conduct, brute," she 
 cries ; 
 " Sooner the better, sweet," the youth replies. 
 
 Separation. 
 Equipp'd for parting see these quondam turtles, 
 Dead are love's roses, wither'd all his myrtles ; 
 Such are the ups and downs of love's short story, 
 " For better or for worse," — 'tis death or glory. 
 
 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 Malherbe dined one day with the bishop of Rouen 
 who was a dull preacher ; — dinner was scarce over 
 before the pcet fell asleep, but was awaked by the 
 prelate, and asked to go with him to church where he 
 was to preach ; he begged to he excused, saying, \ 
 " He could sleep very well where he was." 
 
 UNEXPECTED REF-ROOF. 
 
 An eminent surgeon being suddenly called to visit a 
 person in St. James's-square, when he arrived there, 
 he found that his carriage could not be driven up to the 
 house, in consequence of a heap of stones lying in 
 the way j irritated at this circumstance, he leaned 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 out of the window, and with a volley of oaths asked 
 an Irish labourer who stood near, why those stones 
 were not removed 1 " Where can I move 'em to?" 
 " Move them any where — move them to h — ." " I 
 think," rejoined Paddy '.' they'd be more out of your 
 honour's way if I mov'd 'em to heaven." 
 
 a tailor's reasons. 
 An Irishman went to an English tailor, and asked 
 how much cloth was necessary for a suit of clothes. 
 He replied twelve yards. Astonished at the quantity, 
 he went to another, who said seve?i would be quite 
 sufficient. His rage was now kindled against the 
 first tailor, to whom he said " How did you dare, 
 sir, ask twelve yards of broad cloth, to make me 
 what your neighbour says he can do for seven V 
 " Lord, sir," replied the man, " my neighbour can 
 easily do it, he has but three children to clothe, and 
 I have six." 
 
 WRITTEN ON A PANE OF GLASS IN A COUNTRY INN, 
 SHORTLY AFTER THE PASSING OF THE WINDOW 
 TAX. 
 
 God gave us light, and said that it was good, 
 Pitt made us pay for it, d n his blood. 
 
 AN IRISH KICK. 
 
 An Irishman, while passing through a street, was 
 insulted by two boys who looked out of a first floor 
 window, and cried, " There goes Paddy, who makes 
 so many bulls." The Irishman hearing them, looked 
 up, sayiug, " You rascals, I know you well enough, 
 aud if I had you here, I'd kick you down stairs." 
 
 WARM COMPLIMENT. 
 
 Lord Sandwich, after his first day's review at Ports- 
 mouth, asked a divine, who stood near him, if such 
 a profusion of fire and smoke did not put him in mind 
 of hell. " Yes, my Lord," replied the divine, " es- 
 peciallv as I observed your lordship to be in the midst 
 of it." 
 
 THE EASTER WEEK. 
 
 Now at last the Easter week is arrived, and the 
 poor have for once in the year the best of it — setting 
 all things, but their own sovereign will, at a wise defi- 
 
 661 
 
 ance. The journeyman who works on Easter Mon- 
 day, even though lie were a tailor, should lose his 
 caste, and be sent to the Coventry of mechanics — 
 wherever that may be. In fact, it cannot happen. 
 On Easter Monday ranks change places — Jobson is 
 as good as sir John — the " rude mechanical" is 
 " monarch of all he surveys" from the summit of 
 Greenwich-hill — and when lie thinks fit to say, " It is 
 our royal pleasure to be drunk !" — who shall dispute 
 the proposition 1 Not I, for one. When our English 
 mechanics accuse their betters of oppressing them, 
 the said betters should reverse the old appeal, and 
 refer from Philip sober to Philip drunk; and then 
 nothing more could be said. But now, they have no 
 betters, even in their own notion of the matter. And 
 in the name of all that is transitory, envy them not 
 their brief supremacy ! It will be over before the end 
 of the week, and they will be as eager to return to 
 their labour as they now are to escape from it: for 
 the only thing that an Englishman, whether high or 
 low, cannot endure patiently for a week together, is, 
 unmingled amusement. At this time, however, he 
 is determined to try. Accordingly, on Easter Mon- 
 day all the narrow lanes and blind alleys of our 
 metropolis pour forth their dingy denizens into the 
 suburban fields and villages, in search of the said 
 amusement — which is plentifully provided for them 
 by another class, even less enviable than the one on 
 whose patronage they depend :— for of all callings 
 the most melancholy is that of purveyor of pleasure to 
 the poor. During the Monday our determined 
 holiday-maker, as in duty bound, contrives, by the 
 aid of a little or not a little artificial stimulus, to be 
 happy in a tolerably exemplary manner. On the 
 Tuesday, he fancies himself happy to-day, because he 
 felt himself so yesterday. On the Wednesday he 
 cannot tell what has come to him — but every ten 
 minutes he wishes himself at home — where he never 
 goes but to sleep. On Thursday he finds out the 
 secret that he is heartily sick of doing nothing, but is 
 ashamed to confess it : and then what is the use of 
 going to work before his money is spent 1 On Friday 
 he swears that he is a fool for throwing awav the 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 greater part of his quarter's savings without hay- 
 ing any thing to show for it — and gets gloriously 
 drunk with the rest, to prove his words : passing the 
 pleasantest night of all the week in a watch-house. 
 And on Saturday, after thanking "his worship" for 
 his good advice, of which he does not remember a 
 word, he comes to the wise determination that, after 
 all, there is nothing like working all day long in 
 silence, and at night spending his earnings and his 
 breath in beer and politics ! — So much for the Easter 
 week of a London holiday-maker. 
 
 But there is a sport belonging to Easter Monday, 
 which is not confined to the lower classes, and which 
 fun forbid that I should pass over silently.— If the 
 reader has not, during his boyhood, performed the 
 exploit of riding to the turn-out of the stag on Epping 
 Forest , — following the hounds all day long, — at 
 a respectful distance ; — returning home in the even- 
 ing with the loss of nothing but his hat, his hunting 
 whip, and his horse — not to mention a portion of his 
 nether person ; — and finishing the day by joining the 
 Lady Mayoress's ball at the Mansion-house ;— -if the 
 reader has not done all this when a boy, I will not 
 tantalize him by expatiating on the superiority of those 
 who have. And if he has done it, T need not tell him 
 that he has no cause to envy his friend who escaped 
 with a flesh-wound from the fight of Waterloo — for 
 theie is not a pin to choose between them 1 
 EPITAPHS. 
 
 ON THOMAS KEMP, 
 
 Hanged for Sheep-stealing. 
 Here lies the body of Thomas Kemp, 
 Who liv'd by wool, but died by hemp ; 
 There's nothing would suffice this glutton, 
 But, with the fleece, to steal the mutton ; 
 Had he but work'd, and liv'd uprighter, 
 He'd ne'er been hung for a sheep-biter. 
 
 ON THOMAS FLETCHER. 
 
 (Cathedral Church-yard, Winchester.) 
 Here rests in peace a Hampshire grenadier, 
 "Who killed hiaaself by drinking poor small beer j 
 
 Soldiers be warn'd, by his untimely fall. 
 
 And when you're hot, drink strong, or none at all. 
 
 ON DANIEL SAUL, 
 
 (St. Ditnslan's, Step?iey.) 
 Here lies the body of Daniel Saul, 
 Spitalfields' weaver — and that's all ! 
 
 IRISH EVIDENCE. 
 
 During a trial at the Carlow Assizes, on an indict- 
 ment for stealing thirty pounds of tobacco, the fol- 
 lowing confessions were extracted from an accomplice 
 in the robbery, who was admitted king's evidence. 
 
 Q. How many robberies have you been at alto-* 
 gether 1 A. Together, (laughing.) Why sure I 
 could not be at more than one at a time. 
 
 You certainly have knocked me down by that 
 answer, (loud laughi?ig i?i court.) Q. Come, now, 
 tell us how many you have been at. A. I never put 
 them down, for I never thought it would come to my 
 turn to give an account of them. 
 
 Q. By virtue of your oath, sir, will you swear that 
 you have not-been at fifteen 1 A. I would not, (wit- 
 ness laughing.) 
 
 Q. Would you swear that you have not been at 
 twenty 1 A. I would not, (still laughing.) 
 
 Q. Do you recollect robbing the widow Bryne, in 
 the county of Wicklow'! A. The widow Bryne, who 
 is she 1 Maybe it is Big Nell you mean ? Oh ! I only 
 took a trifle of whisky from her, that's all. 
 
 Q. Was it day or night ? A. (Laughing.) Why it 
 was night to be sure. 
 
 Q. Did you not rob the poor woman of every ar- 
 ticle in the house ; even her bed-clothes, and the 
 clothes off her back] A. I took clothes, but they 
 were not on her back. 
 
 Q. Do you recollect stealing two flitches of bacon 
 from Doran, the Wexford carman? A. Eaith I do, 
 and a pig's head besides ! (loud laughing in court.) 
 
 Q. Do you recollect robbing John Keogh, in the 
 
 county of Wicklow, and taking every article in his 
 
 house 1 A. You're wrong there ; I did not take every 
 
 thing ; I only took his money and a few other things j 
 
 1 (witness and the auditory laughing imwoderateljfi) 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 663 
 
 Why you're a mighty good humoured fellow ! — 
 There is not a better humoured felloe in the country, 
 there rnav be honester. 
 
 MODERX TRAVELLERS. 
 
 When a man crosses the water to Calais, and 
 comes home by Dieppe, he of course immediately 
 publishes a moderately sized octavo, and it is a great 
 comfort to him that the name must inevitably be, 
 either " A Tour in France,'' or " An Excursion 
 through Xormandy and Picardy," with the date of 
 the year annexed to distinguish it from a hundred 
 other works of the same nature. Xo wonder that 
 travelling is so fashionable when it is so easy to get 
 the expenses paid by west-end booksellers. The 
 process is most simple. A description of Dover begins 
 the bcok, then follow sea- sickness and custom-house 
 delays, a French post-boy aud a table-d'hdte, a 
 Roman Catholic procession with a dozen pages on 
 superstition ; and a conversation with an old soldier 
 about Bonaparte, with a dozen pages on politics. 
 The work is complete, aud the traveller prints and 
 sells information, which be would consider too trifling 
 and too generally known to dispense gratuitously in 
 company. So it is with more extended tours : Swit- 
 zerland and Italy are inexhaustible subjects ; and 
 though half the world has seen them, and half the 
 other half has described them, succeeding travellers 
 continue to publish theii note-books andjournals, and, 
 if they did not luckily coutradict each other, would 
 leave those who follow them nothing to learn. Going 
 abroad is indeed now so common and so vulgar that 
 Jt is almost more genteel to stay at home ; and a 
 person who has travelled the rive hundred miles out 
 of England, which constitute capability for the Tra- 
 vellers' Club, is much less of a curiosity than one 
 who has travelled the same distance in it. The cata- 
 racts of the Xile are better known than the falls of 
 the Clyde ; those rave about St. Peter's who never 
 saw St. Paul's ; and like the Scotchman who hurried 
 home from Italy to see a magnificent view on his own 
 estate, of which he had first received intelligence from 
 a foreigner — so Englishmen will be put to the blysh 
 at Versailles and St. Denis by puzzling questions 
 
 about Windsor and Westminster abbey. A book in 
 praise of our own country is perhaps the only sort of 
 book that would not pay the expeuses of publication ; 
 it would have the dulness of a sonnet to one's wife, 
 and the insipidity of English wines ; it would be as 
 little purchased as British lace, and as little renamed 
 as an appeal in behalf of British manufacturers. Not 
 till war again closes the Continent, and tourists and 
 travellers are thrown out of foreign employ, will they 
 condescend to visit or to describe our own lovely 
 scenery. Then Devonshire and Derbyshire, Wales and 
 i Westmoreland, must perforce excite ecstasies and em- 
 ploy pens ; then exaggeration will succeed indifference, 
 lYIont Blanc bow to Ben Nevis, and 3Iilan cathedral 
 shrink before York minster. Rather than not add 
 his mite to the mountain of books that is overwhelm- 
 ing our land, a predestined author would accomplish 
 his fate by publishing " First Impressions on Box- 
 hill," or " Reminiscences of Clapham -common." 
 
 THE TOPER. 
 
 Be merry, my boys, and pass briskly the glass ; 
 
 Gay mirth and good humour attend ; 
 Let the first be a toast to some favourite lass, 
 
 Then each take a glass to his friend. 
 I care not a halfpenny how the world goes, 
 
 Who's in or who's out of his place ; 
 Give me but " a pretty girl under the rose," 
 
 And I'll laueh at each fool in disgrace. 
 For life is itself but a phantom at best, 
 
 A dream that soon passes away : 
 Our wit and our wisdom are merely a jest j 
 
 Our bodies mere compounds of clay. 
 That death is a dream, too, your grey-beards 
 maintain, 
 
 When clay must return to a clod ; 
 Then drop in my grave none but tears of Cham- 
 pagne, 
 
 And the vine shall rise out of the sod. 
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S AGE. 
 
 A company happening to have a dispute concern- 
 ing the age of the present lord Chesterfield, an Irish 
 gentleman observed he must be older than they sup- 
 
664 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHEK. 
 
 posed, — for, added he, '•' His lordship must have been 
 upwards of one and twenty when he signed the bond 
 which was forged by Dr. Dodd." All present assented 
 
 to the remark. 
 
 PRECAUTION. 
 
 A London newspaper once informed its readers, 
 that, " an additional number of sentinels are to be 
 placed in Hyde-park, to prevent the robberies which 
 happened last winter." 
 
 ON HUMOUH. 
 
 Humour, in its sense of something ludicrous, is 
 supposed to be a word to which there is nothing cor- 
 respondent in any other language. In the significa- 
 tion, however, which has unquestionably led to this 
 meaning, the English language is by no means pecu- 
 liar ; for the Italian umore, and the French humeur, 
 equally with humour, denote a certain natural dispo- 
 sition or temper of mind by which individual character 
 is marked. When such a temper or disposition dis- 
 plays itself in a manner which excites ludicrous 
 emotions, the representation constitutes an humorous 
 delineation, according to what I suppose the most 
 appropriate use of the term. Dr. Johnson, however, 
 I must observe, gives no limitation of it to the ridicu- 
 lous iu character, but makes it, iu its comic sense, 
 synonymous to " grotesque imagery, jocularity, and 
 merriment." But that this is too lax an interpreta- 
 tion, is, I think, evident ; since were humour iden- 
 tified with these words, there would be nothing 
 national or peculiar in its meaning, but it might be 
 rendered by equivalent terms in almost every language. 
 A man may be very jocular, and excite, merriment, 
 by grimaces and distortions, by mimicking bodily 
 defects or oddities of speech and gesture ; but if this 
 be humour, it is at least of a very trivial kind. True 
 humour on the other hand, consists in strokes by 
 which the ridiculous in manners and character is dis- 
 played, and it is a refined and delicate address to the 
 perception of the ludicrous, exciting the smile of the 
 mind, rather than the grin of the countenance. Thus, 
 when the Archbishop of Granada, after having urged 
 Gil -Bias to give him immediate warning should any 
 
 of his pulpit compositions indicate a decay of facul- 
 ties, preaches a sermon " qui sentoit l'apoplexie ;" 
 and his monitor, with the utmost caution hinting the 
 falling off, is immediately dismissed as* one utterly 
 destitute of critical taste — though no reader laughs, 
 all who possess discernment are much amused with 
 the pleasantry of this trait of character. All good 
 comedy consists almost entirely of this . kind of hu^ 
 mour ; for comic incidents are a much inferior species 
 of the ludicrous, except as they are contrived to bring 
 out the other. Humour may be either broad cr deli- 
 cate, but still equally humour, if it proceed from the 
 genuine source ; for whether we laugh at George 
 Daiidin and Mons Jourdain, or smile at the Misa?i~ 
 trope and Tartiiffe, or do both alternately at the 
 Maladt Imaginaire, the entertainment still proceeds 
 from delineations appropriate to the persons of the 
 drama ; like those in the pictures of Hogarth, who 
 was as great a master of humour with his pencil, as 
 any writer of comedy, or novellist, with his pen. It 
 is commonly asserted that Congreve, with a profusion 
 of wit, has no humour ; but this is by no means the 
 case. It is true, his men of the town, and his cox- 
 combs, are framed in one mould, and all his per- 
 sonages occasionally make repartees ; but there is 
 much individual character among them, and his 
 scenes of Sir Sampson Foresight, Ben and Miss 
 Prue, Lady Wishfort and Millamont, are full of 
 genuine and exquisite humour. Humour was abun- 
 dant in English comedy till its place was usurped by 
 sentiment. I fear it would not be too severe a cen- 
 sure to assert, that the want of humour is now sup- 
 plied by quibble, cant, and extravagance. 
 
 THE BEST OF WIVES. 
 
 A man had once a vicious wife ; 
 (A most uncommon thing in life ;) 
 His days and nights were spent in strife 
 Unceasing. 
 
 Her tongue went glibly all day long, 
 Sweet contradiction still her song, 
 And all the poor man did was wrong, 
 And ill <lone. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 A truce without doors or within, 
 From speeches long as tradesmen spin, 
 Or rest from her eternal din, 
 
 He found not. 
 
 665 
 
 He ever)' soothing art display'd ; 
 Tried of what stuff her skin was made : 
 Failing in all, to Heav'n he pray'd 
 
 To take her. 
 Once walking by a river's side 
 In mournful terms, " My dear," he cried, 
 " No more let feuds our peace divide, 
 
 I'll end them. 
 " Weary of life, and quite resign'd 
 To drown I have made up my mind, 
 So tie my hands as fast behind 
 
 As can be. 
 " Or Nature may assert her reign, 
 My arms assist, my will restrain, 
 And swimming, I once more regain 
 
 My troubles." 
 With eager haste the dame complies, 
 While joy stands glist'ning in her eyes ; 
 Already in her thoughts he dies 
 
 Before her. 
 " Yet, when I view the rolling tide, 
 Nature revolts," said he; " beside, 
 I would not be a suicide, 
 
 And die thus : 
 " It would be better far, I think, 
 While close I stand upon the brink, 
 You push me in — nay, never shrink, 
 
 But do it." 
 To give the blow the more effect, 
 Some twenty yards she ran direct, 
 And did what she could least expect 
 
 She should do. 
 He slips aside, himself to save, 
 So souse she dashes in the wave, 
 And gave what ne'er before she gave, 
 
 Much pleasure. 
 
 " Dear husband, help ! I sink!" she cried j 
 " Thou best of wives /" the man replied, 
 " I would — but you my hands have tied, 
 God help ye 1" 
 
 ENGLISH WOMEN. 
 
 England is the paradise for women, a proverb : En- 
 gland is also said to be a heaven for women and a 
 hell for horses. Hence the saying, that if a bridge 
 was made over the narrow seas, all the women in 
 Europe would come over hither ; yet it is worth 
 notice that no language has so many invectives against 
 the sex, as the English. 
 
 Rochester's embarrassment. 
 Lord Rochester had not confidence enough to speak 
 in the house of peers. One day, making an attempt, 
 he gave a true picture of this defect. " My lords," 
 said he, " I rise this time— my lords, I mean to 
 divide this discourse into four branches — my lords, if 
 ever I attempt to branch in this house again, I'll give 
 you leave to cut me off root and branch for ever." 
 
 COINING. 
 
 A gentleman seeing a man whom he knew, heavy 
 ironed in Newgate, asked what great offence he bad 
 committed. — " Nothing," replied the prisoner, " but 
 the simple one of striking a man and a woman." 
 " Who were they," said the gentleman. — " There 
 they are, sir," taking a halfpenny from his pocket, 
 " as base a couple as you ever saw, though they look 
 so well." 
 
 ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF CLAPHAM 
 ACADEMY.* 
 
 Ah me ! those old familiar bounds ! 
 That classic house, those classic grounds 
 
 My pensive thought recalls ! 
 What tender urchins now confine, 
 What little captives now repine, 
 
 Within yon irksome walls ! 
 Ay, that's the very house ! I know 
 Its ugly windows, ten a-row ! 
 
 * No connection with any other ode. 
 
666 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 $$& ehimneys in the rear ! 
 And there's the iron rod so high, 
 That drew the thunder from the sky 
 
 And turn'd our table-beer ! 
 There I was birch'd ! there I was bred .' 
 There like a little Adam fed 
 
 From Learning's woful tree ! 
 The weary tasks I used to con ! — 
 The hopeless leaves I wept upon ! — ■ 
 
 Most fruitless leaves to me ! — 
 The summon'd class ! — the awful bow ! — 
 I wonder who is master now 
 
 And wholesome anguish sheds ! 
 How many ushers now employs, 
 How many maids to see the boys 
 
 Have nothing in their heads ! 
 And Mrs. S * * * ?— Doth she abet 
 (Like Pallas in the parlour) yet 
 
 Some favour'd two or three.— 
 The little Crichtons of the hour, 
 Her muffin-medals that devour, 
 
 And swill her prize bohea ? 
 
 Ay, there's the play-ground ! there's the lime, 
 Beneath whose shade in summer's prime 
 
 So wildly I have read ! — . 
 Who sits there now, and skims the cream 
 Of young Romance, and weaves a dream 
 
 Of Love and Cottage-bread ? 
 Who struts the Randall of the walk? 
 Who models tiny heads in chalk ? 
 
 Who scoops the light canoe ? 
 What early genius buds apace ? 
 Where's Poynter ? Harris? Bowers? Chase? 
 
 Hal Baylis ? blithe Carew ? 
 Alack ! thy're gone — a thousand ways 1 
 And some are serving in '* the Greys," 
 
 And some have perish'd young ! — 
 Jack Harris weds his second wife ; 
 Hal Baylis drives the wane of life ; 
 
 And blithe Carew — is hung » 
 Grave Bowers teaches A B C 
 To savages at Owhyee ; 
 
 Poor Chase is with the worms '— 
 All, all are gone — the olden breed ! — 
 New crops of mushroom boys succeed, 
 
 " And push us from our /©raw /" 
 Lo ! where they scramble forth, and shout, 
 And leap, and skip, and mob about, 
 
 At play where we have play'd ! 
 Some hop, some run, (some fall,) some twine 
 Their crony arms ; some in the shine, 
 
 And some are in the shade f 
 Lo there wnat mix'd conditions run ! 
 The orphan lad ; the widow's son ; 
 
 And fortune's favour'd care — 
 The wealthy born, for whom she hath, 
 MacAdamized the future path — 
 
 The nabob's pamper'd heir. 
 Some brightly starr'd- -some evil born,— 
 For honour some, and some for scorn,-^— 
 
 For fair or foul renown ! 
 Good, bad, indiff'rent — none may lack ! 
 Look; here's a White, and there's a Black ! 
 
 And there's a Creole brown ! 
 Some laugh and sing, some mope and weep, 
 And wish their frugal sires would keep 
 
 Their only sons at home ; — 
 Some tease the future tense, and plan 
 The full-grown doings of the man, 
 
 And pant for years to come ! 
 A foolish wish ! There's one at hoop : 
 And four at Jives. ' and five who stoop 
 
 The marble taw to speed ! 
 And one that curvets in and out, 
 Reining his fellow Cob about,— 
 
 Would I were in his steed ! 
 Yet he would gladly halt and drop 
 That boyish harness off, to swop 
 
 With this world's heavy van — 
 To toil, to tug. O little fool ! 
 While thou canst be a horse at school, 
 
 To wish to be a man ! 
 Perchance thou deem'st it were a thing 
 To wear a crown, — to be a king ! 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 And sleep on regal down ! 
 Alas ! thou know'st not kingly cares ; 
 Far happier is that head that wears 
 
 That hat without a crown ! 
 And dost thou think that years acquire 
 Ifew added joys 1 Dost think thy sire 
 
 More happy than his son 1 
 That manhood's mirth ! — Oh, go thy ways 
 To Drury-lane when plays, 
 
 And see how forced our fun ! 
 Thy taws are brave ! — thy tops are rare ! — ■ 
 Our tops are spun with coils of care ! 
 
 Our dumps are no delight ! — 
 The Elgin marbles are but tame 
 And 'tis at best a sorry game 
 
 To fly the muse's kite ! 
 Our hearts are dough, our heels are lead 
 Our topmost joys- fall dull and dead 
 
 Like balls with no rebound ! 
 And often with a faded eye 
 We look behind, and send a sigh 
 
 Towards that merry ground ! 
 Then be contented. Thou hast got 
 The most of heaven in thy young lot ; 
 
 There's sky-blue in thy cup ! 
 Thou'lt find thy mauhocd all too fast — 
 Scon come, soon gone ! and age at last 
 
 A sorry breaking-up i 
 
 IRISH WAKES. 
 
 The wakes, that is to say, the assemblages of the 
 neighbours in melancholy convention round the bo- 
 dies of the deceased, during the nights that pass be- 
 tween death and interment, form no inconsiderable 
 part in the occasional amusements of an Irish village, 
 and no incurious characteristic in the customs of the 
 country. The body of the deceased is laid out in a 
 large room upon a bedstead or table, and covered by 
 a sheet with the face only exposed ; sprigs of rose- 
 mary, mint, and thyme, flowers and odorous herbage 
 are spread over the coverlid, and the corpse is sur- 
 mounted by plates of snuff and tobacco to regale the 
 visitants. Tobacco pipes are plentifully distributed 
 
 667 
 
 for the purpose of fumigation, and to counteract any 
 unwholesome odours from the dead body. In the an- 
 cient Irish families, or those wherein civil refinements 
 have not exploded old t customs, two and sometimes 
 four female bards attend on those mournful occasions, 
 who are expressly hired for the purpose of lamenta- 
 tion ; this is probably a rellque of druidical usage 
 coeval with the Phoenician ancestry ; and they sing, 
 by turns, their song- of death in voices sweet and 
 piercing, but in tones the most melancholy and af- 
 fecting. They sing together, in rude extempore verse, 
 the genealogy and family history, and they recount 
 all the exploits, and virtues, and even the very 
 dresses, conversations, and endearing manners of the 
 deceased. Here there appears a display of different 
 ages, characters, and passions, all the young and the 
 old ; the serious and the comical ; the grave and the 
 gay of the lower classes assemble. No where does 
 the real genius and humour of the people so strongly 
 appear, tragedy, comedy, broad farce, pantomime, 
 match-making, love-making, speech-making, song- 
 making, and story-telling, and all that is comical in 
 the genuine Irish character, develope themselves with 
 the most fantastical freedom in the rustic melo-drame; 
 the contrasted scenes succeed each other as quick as 
 thought ; there is a melancholy in their mirth, and a 
 mirth in their melancholy, like that which pervades 
 their national music, and the opposite passions alter- 
 nately prevail, like light and shade playing upon the 
 surface of a sullen stream. The people come many 
 miles to one of those serio-comic assemblies ; refresh- 
 ments of cakes, whiskey, and ale are distributed 
 between the acts to the visitants, who sit up all 
 night: but the grand feast is reserved to precede the 
 funeral obsequies. A whole hecatomb of geese, tur- 
 kies, fowls, and lambs are sacrificed some days be- 
 fore for the occasion, and the friends, acquaintances, 
 and neighbours of the deceased are regaled with an 
 abundant cold collation, and plenty of ale, spirits, and 
 wine : while the company of the lower order assem- 
 ble in the exterior barn or court-yard, and are feasted 
 with baskets of cakes and tubs of ale. When the fu_ 
 neral sets out for the place of interment, the road fa. 
 
568 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 miles is covered by an impervious crowd, horse and 
 foot, sometimes to the number of several thousands, 
 especially if the deceased be a person in ordinary re- 
 spect or esteem with his neighbours. The bards form 
 the procession, and, at intervals, renew the hymn of 
 grief, which is chorused by the whole crowd, with 
 shouts of " Ululo," that rend the skies. 
 
 ON A CLERICAL GAMESTER. 
 
 What, can he be a teacher of moral regards 
 Who reads us a Sunday-night lecture on cards 1 
 Who cites " Hoyle on Whist" both in chapter and 
 
 verse, 
 With the orthodox chances of filling a purse 1 
 Tells of eighty odd pounds in a family way, 
 He won at a sitting — by dint of mere play ' 
 Counted thirteen by cards, in revokes and in tricks, 
 And ne'er flinch'd all the evening from seven to six ; 
 But took odds on each point his opponent could 
 
 name, 
 And call'd this improvement, I think, on the game. 
 Oh ! if such be a priest whom promotion delights, 
 Ordain him archdeacon of Boodle's and White's. 
 
 MODERN BELIEF. 
 
 What legions of fables and whimsical tales 
 Pass current for gospel where priestcraft prevails ! 
 Our ancestors thus were most strangely deceiv'd ; 
 What stories and nonsense fcr truth they believ'd ! 
 But we, their wise sons, who these fables reject, 
 Even truth, now-a-days, are too apt to suspect : . 
 From believing too much the right faith we let fall ; 
 So now we believe — troth ! just nothing at all. 
 
 UNNECESSARY CANDOUR. 
 
 What Tom one day says, he the next will deny, 
 And candidly tell us — 'tis all a d — 'd lie : 
 Friend Thomas, this candour from you is not wanted, 
 For why should you own it ? — 'Tis taken for granted. 
 
 ART OF STORY-TELLING. 
 
 Story-tellers maybe divided into the Short, the 
 Long, the Marvellous, the Lisipid, and the De- 
 lightful. 
 
 The Short Story-teller is he who tells a great deal 
 in few words, engages your attention, pleases your 
 imagination, or quickly excites your laughter. Of this 
 rank were Xenophon, Plutarch, and Macrobius, among 
 the ancients. 
 
 When the Nepheli of Aristophanes, a satire upon 
 Socrates, was acting, his friends desired him to re- 
 tire and hide behind them. " No," said Socrates, 
 " I will stand up here, where I may be seen ; for 
 now I think myself like a good feast, and that every 
 one has a share of me." 
 
 Brasidas, the famous Lacedaemonian general, caught 
 a mouse ; it bit him, and by that means made its 
 escape. " O, Jupiter !" said he, " what creature is 
 there so contemptible, but that it may have its liberty 
 if it will contend for it 1" 
 
 The Long Story-teller is one who tells little or no- 
 thing in a great number of words ; for this many 
 among the moderns are famous, particularly the 
 French ; and among ourselves, in this kingdom, 
 we have a vast number of the better sort. There are 
 six deans, four judges, six and thirty counsellors at 
 law, sixty-five attornies, some few fellows of the 
 college, every mayor and alderman throughout the 
 whole nation, all old gentlemen and ladies without 
 exception, five of the college of physicians, three or 
 four lords, two hundred squires, and some few people 
 of distinction besides. 
 
 The following is a fragment of a long story, by way 
 of example, containing a hundred and twenty-nine 
 words, which might have been said in these ten fol- 
 lowing ; viz. " Nine years ago I was to preach for 
 a friend." 
 
 " I remember once, I think it was about seven 
 years ago — no, I lie, it was about nine years ago ; 
 for it was just when my wife was lying-in of Dicky. 
 I remember particularly, the midwife would have had 
 me stay to keep her company, and it was the heaviest 
 day of storm and rain that I ever saw before or since ; 
 but, because I engaged to preach for a very worthy 
 friend of mine, who lived about twenty miles off, and 
 this being Saturday, 1 could not defer it to the next 
 morning, though I had an excellent nag and could 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 669 
 
 have rid it in three hours ; I bought him of a neigh- 
 bour, one Mr. Masterson ; yet, because I would not 
 put my friend in a fright, &c." Thus far he went in 
 one minute ; the story lasted an hour ; so that, upon 
 a fair computation, he spoke seven thousand seven 
 hundred and forty words, instead of six hundred, by 
 which means he made use of seven thousand one 
 hundred and forty more than he had occasion for. 
 
 The Marvellous is he who is fond of telling such 
 things as no man alive, who has the least use of his 
 reason, can believe. This humour prevails very 
 much in travellers and the vain-glorious : but it is 
 with them very pardonable, because no man's faith 
 is imposed upon ; or, if it should be so, no ill conse- 
 quence attends persons seriously extravagant, ex- 
 pecting others should give credit to what they know 
 impossible for the greatest dunce to swallow. 
 
 One of these, who had travelled to Damascus, told 
 his company that the bees of that country were as 
 big as turkies. " Pray, sir," said a gentleman, beg- 
 ging pardon for the question, " how large were the 
 hives?"' " The same size with ours," replied the tra- 
 veller. " Very strange," said the other : " but how 
 got they into their hives?" — " That is none of my 
 business ; egad, let them look to that." 
 
 Another who had travelled as far as Persia, spoke 
 to his man John, as he was returning home, telling 
 him how necessary it was that a traveller should 
 draw things beyond the life, otherwise he could not 
 hope for that respect from his countrymen which 
 otherwise he might have : " but at the same time, 
 John," said he, " wheresoever I shall dine or sup, 
 keep you close to my chair, and if I do very much 
 exceed the bounds of truth, punch me behind, that 
 I may correct myself." It happened one day, that 
 he dined with a certain gentleman, who shall be 
 nameless, where he affirmed that he saw a monkey 
 in the island of Borneo, which had a tail threescore 
 yards long. John punched him, " I am certain it 
 was fifty, at least." John punched again. " I be- 
 lieve, to speak within compass, for I did not measure 
 it, it must have been forty." John gave him another 
 touch. " I remember it lay over a quickset hedge, 
 and therefore could not be less than thirty." John 
 
 at him again. " I could take my oath it was twenty." 
 This did not satisfy John. Upon which the master 
 turned about in a rage, and said, " Damn you for a 
 puppy ! would you have the monkey without any 
 tail at all ?" 
 
 The Insipid, who may not unfitly be called sopo- 
 rific, is one who goes plodding on in a heavy, dull 
 relation of unimportant facts. You shall have an 
 account, from such a person, of every minute cir- 
 cumstance that happened in the company where he 
 had been ; what he did, and what they did ; what 
 they said, and what he said ; with a million of trite 
 phrases; with an "And so," beginning every sen- 
 tence ; and " To make a long story short ;" and 
 " As I was saying;" with many more expletives of 
 equal signification. It is a most dreadful thing when 
 men have neither the talent of speaking, nor the dis- 
 cretion of holding their tongues ; and that, of all 
 people, such as are least qualified, are commonly the 
 most earnest in this way of conversation. 
 
 The Delightful Story-teller is one who speaks not 
 a word too much, or too little ; who can, in a very 
 careless manner, give a great deal of pleasure to 
 others, and desires rather to divert, than be applauded ; 
 who shows good understanding, and a delicate turn 
 of wit in every thing which comes from him ; who 
 can entertain his company better with a history of a 
 child and its hobby-horse, than one of the soporifics 
 can with an account of Alexander and Bucephalus. 
 Such a person is not unlike a bad reader, who makes 
 the most ingenious piece his own ; that is, dull and 
 detestable, by only coming through his mouth. 
 
 LtTTLE MOTJTHS. 
 
 From London, Paul the carrier coming down 
 
 To Wantage, meets a beauty of the town ; 
 
 They both accost with salutation pretty, 
 
 As (< How dost Paul ?" " Thank ye, and how dost 
 
 Betty ?" 
 " Did'st see our Jack, nor sister? No, you've seen 
 I warrant, none but those who saw the queen." 
 " Words often spoke in jest," says Paul, " are true, 
 I came from Windsor, and if some folks knew 
 As much as I, it might be well for you." 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 Why give me somethin 
 
 670 
 
 " Lord, Paul, what is't V 
 
 for't ;" 
 
 " This kiss and this." "The matter's then in short, 
 The parliament have made a proclamation, 
 Which will this -week be sent all round the nation ; 
 That maids with little mouths do all prepare 
 On Sunday next to come before the mayor, 
 And that all bachelors be likewise there. 
 For maids with little mouths shall, if they please, 
 From the young men choose husbands two a-piece." 
 Betty with bridled chin extends her face, 
 And then contracts her lips with simp'ring grace, 
 Cries, " Hem ! pray what must all the huge ones do 
 For husbands, when we little mouths have two 1" 
 " Hold, not so fast," cries he, " pray pardon me, 
 Maids with huge gaping wide mouths must have 
 
 three." 
 Betty distorts her face with hideous squall, 
 And with mouth a foot wide begins to bawl, 
 " Oh, oh, is't so 1 — The case is alter'd, Paul. 
 Is that the point ? I wish the three were ten ; 
 I warrant I'll find mouth, if they'll find men." 
 
 ON TWO TWIN-SISTERS, WHO DIED AT THE SAME TIME} 
 AND WERE BURIED IN ONE GRAVE. 
 
 Fair marble, tellto future days. 
 That here two virgin sisters lie ; 
 
 Whose life employ'd each tongue in praise, 
 Whose death gave tears to ev'ry eye. 
 
 In stature, beauty, years, and fame, 
 Together as they grew, they shone ; 
 
 So much alike, so much the same, 
 
 That death mistook them both for one. 
 
 IRISH RECEIPT TO CURE A LOVE FIT. 
 
 Tie one end of a rope fast over a beam, 
 And make a slip noose at t'other extreme ; 
 Then just underneath let a cricket be set, 
 On which let the lover most manfully get : 
 Then over his head let the snicket be got, 
 And under one ear be well settled the knot : 
 The cricket kick'd down let him take a fair swing, 
 And leave all the rest of the work to the string. 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 MEDITATION ON A PUDDING. 
 
 By Dr. Johnso7i. 
 
 Let us seriously reflect of what a pudding is com- 
 posed : it is composed of flour, that once waved in 
 the golden grain, and drank the dews of the morning, 
 — of milk pressed from the swelling udder by the 
 gentle hand of the beauteous milk maid, whose beauty 
 and innocence might have recommended a worse 
 draught, who, while she stroked the udder, indulged 
 no ambitious thoughts of wandering in palaces, formed 
 no plans for destruction of her fellow-creatures; — 
 milk, which is drawn from the cow, that useful 
 animal that eats the grass of the field, and supplies 
 us with that which made the greatest part of the food 
 of mankind in the age which the poets have agreed 
 to call golden. It is made with an egg, that miracle 
 of nature which the theoretical Burnett has compared 
 to creation. An egg contains within its beautiful 
 smooth surface an unformed mass, which, by incu- 
 bation of the parent, becomes a regular animal, fur- 
 nished with bones and sinews, and covered with 
 
 feathers. Let us consider, can there be more 
 
 wanting to complete the Meditation on a Pudding, if 
 more is wanting, more~may be found: it contains 
 salt, which keeps the sea from putrefaction — salt, 
 which is made the image of intellectual excellence, 
 contributes to the foundation of a pudding. 
 
 TRUE NOBILITY. 
 
 Lord Melcombe, when his name was Bubb, was 
 appointed ambassador to Spain. Lord Chesterfield 
 told him it would not do, as the Spaniards cannot 
 suppose a man to possess any dignity whose name is 
 a monosyllable — " You must make an addition to it 
 — I can help you to one, suppose you make it Silly 
 Bubb." 
 
 ON SEEING A VICAR IN HIS CUPS. 
 
 When Bacchus once the priest subdues, 
 
 With his prevailing liquor, 
 The man, in spite of art, breaks loose, 
 
 Abstracted from the vicar. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 671 
 
 Sober, he kept the formal path ; 
 
 In's cups, he's not the same man; 
 But reel'd and stagger'd in his faith, 
 
 And hiccup 'd like a layman. 
 Vast many pretty things he spoke, 
 
 Deserving our attention ; 
 Not scripture fit to feed a flock, 
 
 But of his own invention : 
 Yet, whether truths said o'er his glass, 
 
 Of which I took great notice, 
 Were or in vino Veritas, 
 
 Or'n verbo sacerdotis, 
 I could not tell ; yet praise was due, 
 
 Though unto which to give it, 
 I vow I know not, of the two, 
 
 The liquor, or the Levite, 
 His scarlet cheeks lnflam'd with drink, 
 
 Together with his white head; 
 Made him appear just like a link, 
 
 When at one end 'tis lighted. 
 He drank in earnest, broke his jest," 
 
 No scripture phrases utter'd ; 
 The man he play'd, and not the priest, 
 
 But put the best side outward. 
 Till drown'd at last in Bacchus' streams, 
 
 Trie Levite's weak condition 
 Lull'd him to sleep, to dream strange dreams, 
 
 Or see some wond'rous vision. 
 
 VOLUNTEER FIELD-DAY, AND SHAM FTG1IT. 
 
 All blown up by valour, for glory to go, 
 Each lists just to leorn how to handle a foe ; 
 If they dare 'gainst old England to lift up a paw 
 What* a harvest of laurels they'll reap from the 
 
 war ; 
 Then urged bv the. fair — the swains qui-kly run 
 To buckle the knapsack and shoulder tl e gun ; 
 And many are the feats that the warriors do, 
 At the volunteer dinner, or a grand review. 
 Spoken.'] Vel papa, says Miss Sophinishba Squint- 
 pretty, I can't see as how vy you vont let our John 
 be a soldier ; there's Mr. Taptub, the innkeeper's son, 
 
 has only been in the wolunteers a wery little time, 
 and his sweetheart tells me, he charges beautifully, 
 and she's seen him practise in the hay season. A 
 soldier ! pho ! nonsense ; no ; the boy's next to a fool 
 now. Yes, my love, says his wife, he is just at your 
 elbow ; but why not indeed ; I'm sure my John has 
 as pretty a leg for regimentals as Mr. Macscrewemall, 
 the undertaker, who heads the corpse : — But you 
 want your children to be as ignorant as yourself. 
 You'd never have known how to have got on, if I 
 had net showed you the way. — Ah ! Mr. Squintpretty, 
 if I had been as dull and as still as yourself, 1 don't 
 know — Now don't bother papa, mama, because I'm 
 just determined to sport steel at the next review, 
 and for that reason I have — but here comes Mr. 
 Snipred, the military tailor, with my clothes, and you 
 shall see me inarshalized afore you can say how much 
 do they cost. Well, I declare they look very nice ; 
 and that feather, beautiful — my dear boy, your looks 
 will make you a kernal. Do you think so, mamma \ 
 I do. Do you, why then — 
 Here's to parade, in double quick pace, 
 With my head up so high, and my coat deck'd with 
 
 lace. 
 Where the ladies astonished, will sigh and say 
 How beautiful looks, the lovely ensign J. 
 At parade then they mix, and sure such a set 
 Of staunch hearted heroes before ne'er was met; 
 Distinction and place are lost in the day, 
 When their country commands to rehearse for a fray; 
 In well formed ranks they are stationed all, 
 The crooked, the dapper, the short, and the tall, 
 The doctor, and butcher, 'like in front or van, 
 And a tailor's on a level with the gentleman. 
 
 Spoken.'] And there they are all the noble souls ia 
 the parish, from Ben Bumper the bruiser, to little 
 Sam Shuttle the weaver, and close in order ; they look 
 as even as a row of oak and gooseberry trees, or 
 the lower jaw of an old woman, but fine to a man. 
 There, then, is Kernal Ferewemall on the field, fea- 
 thered like a mournmg-coach horse. Attention—? 
 excellent ! Make ready — charge. Oh, oh, oh ! what'g 
 the matter with Sergeant Pattypan. Why Corporal 
 
679. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Dumpling has run his bagnet into my cartridge box. 
 Mr. Evergape, mind the word, sir— you are picking 
 your comrade's teeth with your bagonette — fall in, 
 fall in. I am failed in, sir. Where 1 Why into the Pad- 
 dington Caual. Shoulder arms — O ! shame, shame, 
 gentlemen, the wrong shoulder ; so you must recover 
 arms, bravo, well disciplined. Stand at ease. I'll 
 be damned if I can stand at ease, you are so tall and 
 I am so short, you keep tickling my ear with your 
 pigtail. Shoulder arms — good. Prime and load — 
 better. Fire — pop, pop, pop, pop. Never heard a 
 better fire ; I've got twenty men in my company, 
 and I heard seventeen of them fire distinctly. What's 
 gone with the other three 1 — Pop, pop, pop — there 
 they are all. O my ! I am so dry : I must have 
 summat to drink afore I goes into action again. Why 
 you mustn't go now, its irregular. Well, we a'nt 
 regulars you know. You'll be shot for a deserter. 
 Pho ! I shall go the back way to that house over the 
 way, the Marquis of Granby's Head. Mr. Hucka- 
 back, which is the back way to the Marquis of Gran- 
 by's Head 1 Up the nape of his neck, sir, I should 
 think. To prevent mischief, gentlemen, unfix bago- 
 nets. O, look at the kernal, the kernal ! The gallant 
 colonel's horse, having never before smelt powder, at 
 the unexpected shock, released himself from his too 
 martial rider, by throwing him: — not into the arms, 
 but on the heads of his valorous troop, who luckily 
 had, according to command, previously unfixed bayo- 
 nets : or else his charger's next visit to the churchyard 
 might have been with the colonel : but no such loss 
 to chivalry happened. With the exception of giving 
 Bill Alum a black eye with the point of his boot, and 
 tearing corporal Fribble's shirt-frill with his spur, all 
 was in statu quo. Hollo ! where's Mr. Alamode 
 going 1 He says he won't stop any longer — he's af- 
 fronted ; — he says, Mr. Sponge, the baker, fired off so 
 close to his ear, that he has singed off half his whis- 
 kers. The gallant colonel was about to harangue, 
 when a shower of rain prevented his stream of oratory, 
 and threw a damp on the spirits of the day. So tfiey 
 Right about faced, and gailop'd away, 
 Sans order, sans time, sans martial array j 
 
 For the dinner it was ordered exactly at four, 
 And to the hour it wanted but a minute or more. 
 Their appetites whetted with fatigues of the field. 
 Each eager and able his knife to wield, 
 The enemy appears — and they all let loose, 
 Nor give a bit of quarter to turkey or goose ; 
 So valorous were they, and so great were the feats 
 That they did on the pastry, the puddings, and the [ 
 meats, \ 
 
 That the landlord brought a bill which astonished all, p 
 At so wonderful a havoc by a corps so small. 
 
 Spoken.'] Aye ! and as I was saying, the last cam- 8 
 paign that I served — Where was that, colonel 1 
 That ! in Hungerfordshire, and hard service we had 
 of it : but it was all for the king, and a man shouldn't 
 mind having his dinner at unregular hours for the 
 public good -. a true patriot will deny doing nothing 
 for his country. Mr. Alamode will you attack the 
 wing of this fowl 1 — No, Sir, I'd rather come upon 
 the /lank of that beef. Perhaps, sir, you won't re- 
 fuse standing a little grape shot. — 'Not in the least, 
 sir, before I sit down opposite to the outerworks of 
 this giblet pie. You are not going to leave us yet 1 
 Yes, indeed, but I must tho' ; for, being haded, 1 
 cannot help goi?ig off. Nonsense, man, you are not 
 primed yet. Silence for the colonel's toast. Well, 
 gentlemen, as you insist on a toast, I shall just say 
 this, which is that, " May the volunteers of this ' 
 parish prove the terror of the world." Bravo. Now 
 I shall go. Oh ! but you must stay and hear the co- 
 lonel's song. O, aye, certainly, by all manner of, 
 means. Well, gentlemen, I'll endeavour to sing you; 
 one of my own : — 
 
 " To die is best, if — 
 Perhaps you sing professionally, colonel, — Shame, I 
 shame, interruption. Mutiny, punish him. What! 
 punishment shall he undergo 1 — What, why he shall 
 Eat like an alderman, and drink huzza 
 To the volunteer corps and reviewing day. 
 Confusion to all foes — whensoe'er they attack, 
 For if we load our bellies, we'll never turn our | 
 backs. 
 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 fORTY-FlVE. 
 
 Dr. Barnard, being in conversation with Foote, 
 Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and other dis- 
 tinguished characters, Barnard happened to say, 
 " that he thought no man could improve when past 
 the age of forty-five." Upon this Dr. Johnson ob- 
 served, that he (Barnard) was an instance to the 
 contrary ; for there was great room for improvement 
 in him, and he ivished he would set about it. This 
 produced the following elegant bagatelle- from Dr. 
 Barnard in the course of the next day ; addressed 
 " To Sir Joshua Reynolds, and Co." 
 
 I lately thought no man alive 
 Could e'er improve past forty-five, 
 
 And ventur'd to assert it : 
 The observation was not new, 
 But seem'd to me so just and true 
 
 That none could controvert it. 
 
 " No, sir," says Johnson ; " 'tis not so . 
 That's your mistake, and I can show 
 
 An instance if you doubt it. 
 You, sir, who are near forty-eight, 
 May much improve, 'tis not too late ; 
 
 I wish you'd set about it." 
 
 Encourag'd thus to mend my faults, 
 I turn'd his counsel in my thoughts, 
 
 Which way I should apply it : 
 learning and wit seern'd past my reach, 
 For who can learn when none will teach 1 
 
 And wit — I could not buy it. 
 
 Then come, my friends, and try your skill : 
 You can inform me, if you will, 
 
 (My books are at a distance.) 
 With you I'll live and learn, and then 
 Instead of books I shall read men ; 
 
 So lend me your assistance. 
 
 Dear knight of Plympton,* teach me how 
 To suffer with unruffled brow, 
 
 * Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 2g 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 673 
 
 And smile serene, like thine ; 
 The jest uncouth, or truth severe, 
 To such I'll turn my deafest ear, 
 
 And calmly drink my wine. 
 Thou say'st, not only skill is gain'd, 
 But genius too may be attain'd, 
 
 By studious imitation. 
 Thy temper mild, thy genius fine, 
 I'll copy till I make thee mine 
 
 By constant application. 
 The art of pleasing teach me, Garrick j 
 Thou who reversest odes Pindaric 
 
 A second time read o'er.t 
 Oh ! could we read thee backward too, 
 Last thirty years thou should'st review, 
 
 And charm us thirty more. 
 If I have thoughts, and can't express 'em, 
 Gibbon shall teach me how to dress 'em 
 
 In terms select and terse ; 
 Jones teach me modesty and Greek ; 
 Smith how to think, Burke how to speak, 
 
 And Beauclerc to converse. 
 Let Johnson teach me how to place 
 In fairest light each borrow'd grace ; 
 
 From him I'll learn to write : 
 Copy his clear familiar style ; 
 And, from the roughness of his file, 
 
 Grow, like himself, polite. 
 
 DIALOGUE BETWEEN SWIFT AND HIS LANDLORD. 
 
 The three towns of Navan, Kells, and Trim, 
 which lay in Swift's route on his first journey to 
 Laracor, seem to have deeply arrested his atten- 
 tion, for he has been frequently heard to speak of 
 the beautiful situation of the first, the antiquity of 
 the second, and the time-shaken towers of the 
 third. There were three inns in Navan, each ot 
 which claim to this day the honour of having en- 
 tertained Dr. Swift ! It is probable that he dined 
 at one of them, for it is certain that he slept at 
 
 t Alluding to Garrick, in a whim, reading Cumberland'! 
 odes backward. 
 
674 
 
 Kells, in the house of Jonathan Belcher, a Leices- 
 tershire man, who had built the inn in that town 
 on the English model, which still exists, and, in 
 point of capaciousness and convenience, would not 
 disgrace the first road in England. The host, 
 whether struck by the commanding sternness of 
 Swift's appearance, or from natural civility, showed 
 him into the best room, and waited himself at 
 table. The attention of Belcher seems so far to 
 have won upon Swift as to have produced some 
 conversation. " You're an Englishman, sir ?" said 
 Swift. " Yes, sir." " What is your name?" 
 " Jonathan Belcher, sir." An Englishman and 
 Jonathan too, in the town of Kells — who would 
 have thought it ! What brought you to this coun- 
 try ? " " I came with Sir Thomas Taylor, sir ; 
 and I believe I Could reckon fifty Jonathans in my 
 family." "Then you are a man of family?" 
 " Yes, sir; I have four sons and three daughters 
 by one mother, a good woman of true Irish mould." 
 ""Have you been long out of your native coun- 
 try?" " Thirty years, sir." "Do you ever ex- 
 pect to visit it" again?" "Never." "Can you 
 say that without a sigh ?" " 1 can, sir ; my family 
 is my country ! ' " Y/hy, sir, you are a better 
 philosopher than those who have written volumes 
 on the subject : then you are reconciled to your 
 fate ?" "I ought to be so ; I am very happy ; I 
 like the people, and, though I was not born in 
 Ireland, I'll die in it, and that's the same thing." 
 Swift paused in deep thought for near a minute, 
 and then with much energy repeated the first line 
 of the preamble of the noted Irish statute — Ipsis 
 Hibemis Hibemiores ! — " (The English) are more 
 Irish than the Irish themselves .'" 
 
 Satire, when general, being levelled at all, is 
 never resented for an offence by any ; since every 
 individual person makes bold to understand it of 
 others, and very wisely removes his particular 
 part of the burthen upon the shoulders of the 
 world, which are broad enough and able to bear 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 it. " Tis but a ball bandied to and fro, and every 
 man carries a racket about him to strike it from 
 himself among the rest of the company." 
 
 DISTINCTIONS IN FEMALE FRAILTY 
 
 One Mrs. Mapp, a famous she bone-setter and 
 mountebank, coming to town with a coach and six 
 horses, on the Kentish road was met by a rabble 
 of people, who, seeing her very oddly and tawdrily 
 dressed, took her for a foreigner, and concluded 
 she must be George the First's mistress. Upon this 
 they followed the coach, bawling out, No Hanover 
 w — ! No Hanover w — ! The lady within the 
 coach was much offended, let down the glass, and 
 screamed louder than any of them, she was no 
 Hanover w-. — she was an English one ! Upon 
 which they cried out, " God bless your ladyship !" 
 quitted the pursuit, and wished her a good jour- 
 ney. 
 
 PRINCE EUGENE'S TIE WIG. 
 
 A whimsical circumstance occurred on Prince 
 Eugene's going to court ; Swift gives this account 
 of it : " When Mr. Secretary St. John went to 
 conduct him, he found him in the utmost confusion 
 imaginable : Hoffmann, the Emperor's resident, 
 had told his Highness that morning, that it was 
 impossible for him to go to court without a long 
 wig, and his was a tied up one. " How !" said the 
 Prince ; " I know not what to do, for I never had 
 a long periwig in my life ; and I have sent to all 
 my valets and footmen to see whether any of then* 
 have one, that I might borrow it, but not one of 
 them has such a thing. What am I to do ?" It 
 was with the utmost difficulty the secretary could 
 convince him it was a thing of no consequence, and 
 only observed by gentlemen-ushers. 
 
 THE LOVE-SICK SWAIN. 
 
 I look'd, and I sigh'd, and I wish'd I could speak, 
 And very fain would have been at her ; 
 
 But when I strove most my fond passion to break, 
 Still then I said least of the matter. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 675 
 
 I swore to myself, and resolv'd I would try, 
 
 Some way my poor heart to recover ; 
 But that was all vain, for I sooner could die 
 
 Than live with forbearing to love her. 
 Dear Celia ! be kind then ; and since your own eyes 
 
 By looks can command adoration, 
 Give mine leave -to talk too, and do not despise 
 
 Those oglings that tell you my passion. 
 We'll look, and we'll love, and tho' neither should 
 speak, 
 
 The pleasure we'll still be pursuing ; 
 And so, without words, I don't doubt we may make 
 
 A very good end of this wooing. ongp.eve. 
 
 SWIFT AND THE EGGS. 
 
 There happened, while Swift was at Laracor, the 
 sale of a farm and stock, the farmer beiug dead. 
 Swift chanced to walk past during the auction just as 
 a pad of eggs had been put up : Roger, Swift's clerk, 
 bid for them, and was overbid by a farmer of the 
 name of Hatch. " What, Roger, won't you buy the 
 eggs V exclaimed Swift. " No, sir," said Roger, "I 
 see they are just a'going to hatch." 
 
 CUCUMBER FORCING. 
 
 Lord Kelly had a very red face : " Pray my 
 Lord," said Foote to him, "come and look over 
 my garden wall : my cucumbers are very back- 
 ward." 
 
 BEST BARGAIN. 
 
 Tell me no more I am deceiv'd, 
 
 That Chloe's false and common : 
 I always knew (at least believed) 
 
 She was a very woman : 
 As such I lik'd, as such caress'd ; 
 She still was constant when possess'd, 
 
 She could do more for no man. 
 But, oh ! her thoughts on others ran, 
 
 A.nd that you think a hard thing ; 
 Perhaps she fancy'd you the man, 
 
 And what care I one farthing 1 
 You think she's false, I'm sure she's kind ; 
 I take her body, you her mind, 
 
 Who has the better bargain ? 
 2g2 
 
 A LETTER GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF A PESTILENT 
 NEIGHBOUR. 
 
 Sir, 
 You must give me leave to complain of a pesti- 
 lent fellow in my neighbourhood, who is always 
 beating mortar, yet I cannot find that he ever 
 builds. In talking, he uses such hard words that I 
 want a drugger-maxi to interpret them. But all is 
 not gold that glisters. A pot he carries to most 
 houses where he visits. He makes his 'prentice 
 his gally slave. I wish our lane were purged of 
 him. Yet he pretends to be a 'cordial man. Every 
 spring his shop is crowded with country-folks ; 
 who by their leaves, in my opinion, help him to do 
 a great deal of mischief. He is full of scruples, 
 and so very litigious, that he fifes bills against all 
 his acquaintance : and, though he be much troubled 
 with the simples, yet I assure you he is a. Jesuitical 
 dog ; as you may know by his bark. Of all poetry 
 he loves the dram-a-tick best. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 ON ITS BEING OBSERVED OF A CELEBRATED PUBLIC 
 CHARACTER THAT THERE WAS FALSEHOOD IN HIS 
 VERY LOOKS. 
 
 That there is falsehood in his looks, 
 
 I must and will deny; 
 They say their master is a knave, 
 
 And sure they do not lie. 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 Write injuries in dust, but kindness in marble. 
 
 If the. truth of this proverb is not to be slighted, 
 
 Your principles doubtless are just, 
 Your kindness to me you in marble indited, 
 Your injuries you wrote in the dust. 
 
 SWIFT'S PUNNING. 
 
 Nothing can more strongly show Swift's fondness 
 for puns of all sorts, than an extract from one of 
 his letters. " The Bishop of Clogher has made an 
 if-punthathe is mighty proud of, and designs to send 
 it over to his brother Tom : but Sir Andrew Foun- " 
 tain has written to Tom Ashe last post, told him 
 
676 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 the pun, and desired him to send it over to the 
 Bishop as his own ; and if it succeeds, it will he a 
 pure bite. I'll tell you the pun. If there was a 
 hackney coach at Mr. Pooley's door, what town in 
 Egypt would it be ? Why, it would be Hecatom- 
 polis ; Hack at Tom Pooley's. Silly '." 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 Spoken i?i the Character of a Sailor, on ope?iing' the 
 
 New Theatre at North-Shields. 
 Holloa ! my Masters ! where d'ye mean to stow usl 
 
 {Without. 
 We're come to see what pastime ye can show us. 
 Sail, step aloft — you sha'n't be long without me. 
 I'll walk their cma>7ier-deck, and look about me. 
 
 [Enters. 
 Tom and Dick Topsail are above — I hear 'em ; 
 Tell 'em to keep a birth ; and, Sail — sit near 'em. 
 Sail's a smart lass — I'd hold a butt of stingo 
 In three weeks time she'd learn the playhouse lingo. 
 She loves your plays, she understands their meaning : 
 She calls 'em — Moral rules made entertaining. 
 Your Shakspeare books, she knows 'em to a tittle ; 
 And I myself (at sea) have read — a little. 
 At London, sirs \ when Sail and I were courting, ' 
 I tow'd her ev'ry night a playhouse sporting. 
 Mass ! I could like 'em and their whole 'paratus, 
 But for their fiddlers and their damn'd sonatas. 
 Give me the merry sons of guts and rosin, 
 That play "God save"" the king," and " Nancy 
 
 Dawson." 
 Well — tho' the frigate's not so much bedizen'd, 
 
 [Looking about. 
 'Tis snug enough ! — 'tis clever for the size on't, 
 And they can treat with all that's worth regarding 
 On board the Drury-Lane or Common-garden. 
 Bell rings.'] Avast ! — a signal for the launch, I 
 
 fancy ; 
 What say you, Sam, and Dick, and Doll, and 
 
 Nancy ? 
 Since they have trimm'd the pleasure-barpe so 
 
 tightly, 
 Shan't you, and I, and Sail, come see them nightly 1 
 
 The jolly crew will do their best endeavours ; 
 They'll grudge no labour to deserve your favours : 
 A luckier fate they swear can ne'er behap 'em, 
 Than to behold you pleas'd, and hear you — clap 'em. 
 
 EPITAPH ON JUDGE BOAT. 
 
 Here lies judge Boat within a coffin, 
 
 Pray, gentlefolks, forbear your scoffing ; 
 
 A Boat a judge ? yes, where's the blunder 1 
 
 A 'wooden judge is no such wonder ! 
 
 And in his robes you must agree, 
 
 No Boat was better deckt than he. 
 
 'Tis needless to describe him fuller, 
 
 In short he was an able sculler* swift. 
 
 SUPERFICIAL, IGNORANT, AND LEARNED READERS. 
 
 Readers may be divided into three classes ; the 
 superficial, the ignorant, and the learned : and I 
 have with much felicity fitted my pen to the genius 
 and advantage of each. The superficial reader will 
 be strangely provoked to laughter ,• which clears 
 the breast and the lungs, is sovereign against the 
 spleen, and the most innocent of all diuretics. The 
 ignorant reader, between whom and the former the 
 distinction is extremely nice, will find himself dis- 
 posed to stare, which is an admirable remedy for 
 ill eyes, serves to raise and enliven the spirits, 
 and wonderfully helps perspiration. But the reader 
 truly learned, chiefly for whose benefit I wake 
 when others sleep, and sleep when others wake, 
 will here find sufficient matter to employ his spe- 
 culations for the" rest of his life. swift. 
 
 THE TIPSY MEMBER. 
 
 A member of parliament applied to the post-office, 
 to know why some of his franks had been charged ? 
 The answer was : " We supposed, sir, they were not 
 of your writing. The hand is not the same." Why, 
 not precisely the same ; but the truth is, I happened 
 to be a little tipsy when I wrote them." " Then, sir, 
 will you be so good, in future, to write drunk, when 
 you make free." 
 
 * Qu. Whether the author meant scholar, and wilfullj 
 
 mistook. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 677 
 
 SMOKING WAGER. 
 
 The principal solace of Dr. Aldrich between the 
 II variety of his learned pursuits, was that of smok- 
 ;j ing ; of which habit he was so fond, that, among 
 many other compositions, he produced a " Smok- 
 ing Catch," to be sung by four men smoking their 
 pipes. His excessive attachment to this amuse 
 nient becoming a subject of pleasant remark in the 
 I university, a student, one morning at breakfast, 
 ; laid his companion a wager, that the Dean was 
 l smoking at that instant. Away they accordingly 
 hastened to the deanery ; and, admitted to the 
 I study, told the Dean the occasion of their visit ; 
 when, addressing himself, in perfect good humour, 
 to him who had laid that he was smoking, he said, 
 " You see, sir, you have lost your wager; for I 
 am not smoking, but — filling my pipe." 
 
 GUINEA NOTE. 
 
 While the Beggars' Opera was under rehearsal 
 at the Haymarket Theatre, in 1823, Miss Paton 
 expressed her wish to sing the air of " The Miser 
 thus a shilling sees," a note higher ; to which the 
 stage-manager immediately replied, " Then, Miss, 
 you must sing, " The Miser thus a guinea sees." 
 
 AN ASSIZE TOWN. 
 
 A pompous sheriff, dress'd exceeding fine, 
 
 With awkward javelin-men, in double line ; 
 
 Two judges eager for the hour to dine : 
 
 A swaggering captain, with a blust'ring look 
 
 Resembling Exon's noted, quoted — cook ; 
 
 A group of counsel whom one always sees 
 
 With spruce tie-wigs, and bands, sans briefs, sans 
 
 fees : 
 Attornies anxious to create dispute, 
 And ever wishing for a Chancery-suit ; 
 Raw country girls, not much averse to please 
 Those lucky counsel, who have touch'd some fees ; 
 Juries who find for plaintiff or defendant. 
 Just as their stomachs feel, to make an end on't ; 
 The town all uproar, riot, noise, and pother, 
 And drunken witnesses one upon t'other. 
 
 JNGENIOUS DEFENCE. 
 
 A notorious rogue being brought to the Tbar, and 
 knowing his case to he desperate, instead of plead- 
 ing, took to himself the liberty of jesting, and 
 thus said, " I charge you in the king's name, to 
 seize and take away that man (meaning the Judge) 
 in the red gown, for 1 go in danger of my life, 
 because of him." 
 
 THE WONDERFUL WONDER OE WONDERS. 
 
 There is a certain person lately arrived at this 
 city, of whom it is very proper the world should be 
 informed. His character may perhaps be thought 
 very inconsistent, improbable, and unnatural ; how- 
 ever, I intend to draw it with the utmost regard to 
 truth. This I am the better qualified to do, because 
 he is a sort of dependant upon our family, and almost 
 of the same age ; though I cannot directly say, I 
 have ever seen him. He is a native of this country, 
 and has lived long among us ; but what appears 
 wonderful, and hardly credible, was never seen be- 
 fore, by any mortal. 
 
 It is true indeed he always chooses the lowest 
 place in company ; and contrives it so, to keep out 
 of sight. It is reported, however, that in his 
 younger days he was frequently exposed to view, 
 but always against his will, and was sure to smart 
 for it. 
 
 As to his family, he came into the world a younger 
 brother, being of six children the fourth in order of 
 birth ; of which the eldest is now head of the house ; 
 the second and third carry arms ; but the two 
 youngest are only footmen : some indeed add, that 
 he has likewise a twin brother, who lives over against 
 him and keeps a victualling house ; he has the re- 
 putation to be a close, griping, squeezing fellow ; 
 and that when his bags are full, he is often needy; 
 yet when the fit takes him, as fast as he gets he lets 
 it fly. 
 
 When in office, no one discharges himself, or does 
 his business better. He has sometimes strained hard 
 for an honest livelihood; and never got a bit, till 
 every body else was done. 
 
 One practice appears very blamable in him ; that 
 
678 
 
 every morning he privately frequents unclean houses, 
 where any modest person would blush to be seen. 
 And although this be generally known, yet the 
 world, as censorious as it is, has been so kind to 
 overlook this infirmity in him. To deal impartially, 
 it must be granted that he is too great a lover of 
 himself, and very often consults his own ease, at the 
 expense of his best friends : but this is one of his 
 blind sides ; and the best of men I fear are not with- 
 out them. 
 
 He has been constituted by the higher powers in 
 the station of receiver general, m which employ- 
 ment some have censured him for playing fast and 
 loose. He is likewise overseer of the golden mines 
 which he daily inspects, when his health will permit 
 him. 
 
 He was long bred under a master of arts, who in- 
 stilled good principles into him, but these were soon 
 corrupted. I know not whether this deserves men- 
 tion : that he is so very capricious, as to take it for 
 an equal affront, to talk either of kissing or kicking 
 him, which has occasioned a thousand quarrels : 
 however, nobody was ever so great a sufferer for 
 faults, which he neither was, nor possibly could be 
 guilty of. 
 
 In his religion he has thus much of the quaker, 
 that he stands always covered, even in the presence 
 of the king ; in most other points a perfect idolater, 
 although he endeavours to conceal it ; for he is 
 known to offer daily sacrifices to certain subterraneous 
 nymphs, whom he worships in an humble posture, 
 prone on his face, and stript stark naked ; and so 
 leaves his offerings behind him, which the priests 
 of those goddesses are careful enough to remove, 
 upon certain seasons, with the utmost privacy at 
 midnight, and from thence maintain themselves and 
 families. In all urgent necessities and pressures, 
 he applies himself to these deities, and sometimes 
 even~in the streets and highways, from an opinion 
 that those powers have an influence -in all places, 
 although their peculiar residence be in caverns under 
 ground. Upon these occasions, the fairest ladies will 
 not refuse to lend their hands to assist him: for, 
 although they are ashamed to have him seen in their 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 company, or even so much as to hear him named ; 
 yet it is well known that he is one of their constant 
 followers. 
 
 In politics, he always submits to what is upper- 
 most ; but he peruses pamphlets on both sides with 
 great impartiality, though seldom till every body else 
 has done with them. 
 
 His learning is of a mixed kind, and he may pro- 
 perly be called a helluo librorum, or another Jacobus 
 de Voragine ; though his studies are chiefly confined 
 to schoolmen, commentators, and German divines, 
 together with modern poetry and critics : and he is 
 an atomic philosopher, strongly maintaining a void 
 in nature, which he seems to have fairly proved by 
 many experiments. 
 
 I shall now proceed to describe some peculiar 
 qualities, which, in several instances, seem to dis+ 
 tinguish this person from the common race of other 
 mortals. 
 
 His grandfather was a member of the rump par- 
 liament, as the grandson is of the present, where he 
 often rises, sometimes grumbles, but never speaks. 
 However he lets nothing pass willingly, but what is 
 well digested. His courage is indisputable, for he 
 will take the boldest man alive by the nose. 
 
 He is generally the first a-bed in the family, and 
 the last up ; which is to be lamented ; because when 
 he happens to rise before the rest, it has been 
 thought to forebode some good fortune to his supe- 
 riors. 
 
 As wisdom is acquired by age, so, by every new 
 wrinkle in his face, he is reported to gain some new 
 knowledge: 
 
 In him we may observe the true effects and con- 
 sequences of tyranny in a state : for as he is a great 
 oppressor of all below him, so there is nobody more 
 oppressed by those above him ; yet, in his time he 
 has been so highly in favour, that many illustrious 
 persons have been entirely indebted to him for their 
 preferments. 
 
 He has discovered from his own experience, the 
 true point wherein all human actions, projects, and 
 designs do chiefly terminate : and how mean and 
 sordid they are at the bottom. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 679 
 
 It behoves the public to keep him quiet ; for 
 his frequent murmurs are a certain sign of intestine 
 tumults. 
 
 No philosopher ever lamented more the luxury 
 fcr which these nations are so justly taxed ; it has 
 been known to cost him tears of blood : for iu his 
 own nature he is far from being profuse ; though in- 
 deed he never stays a night at a gentleman's house, 
 without leaving something behind him. 
 
 He receives with great submission whatever his 
 patrons think fit to give him ; and when they lay 
 heavy burdens upon him, which is frequently enough, 
 he gets rid of them as soon as he can ; but not with- 
 out some labour, and much grumbling. 
 
 He is a perpetual hanger on : yet nobody knows 
 how to be without him. He patiently suffers him- 
 self to be kept und^r, but loves to be well used, and 
 in that case will sacrifice his vitais to give you ease : 
 and he has hardly one acquaintance, for whom he 
 has not been bound ; yet, as far as we can find, was 
 never known to lose any thing by it. 
 
 He is observed to be very unquiet in the com- 
 pany of a Frenchman in new clothes, or a young 
 coquette. 
 
 He is, in short, the subject of much mirth and 
 raillery, which he seems to take well enough ; though 
 it has not been observed that ever any good thing 
 came from himself. 
 
 There is so general an opinion of his justice, that 
 sometimes very hard cases are left to his decision : 
 and while he sits upon them, he carries himself ex- 
 actly even between both sides, except where some 
 knotty point arises ; and then he is observed to lean 
 a little to the right or left, as the matter inclines 
 him ; but his reasons for it are so manifest and con- 
 vincing, that every man approves them. 
 
 EPITAPH 
 
 For the Tomb erected to the Marquis of Anglesea's 
 Leg., deposited at Waterloo. 
 Here lies, and let no saucy knave 
 
 Presume to sneer or laugh, 
 To learn, that mould'ring in this cave, 
 Is laid a British Calf. 
 
 For he who writes these lines is sure 
 
 That those who read the whole, 
 Would find that laugh were premature, 
 
 For here too lies a Sole. 
 And here rive little ones repose, 
 
 Twin-born with other five ; 
 Unheeded by their brother toes, 
 
 Who now are all alive. 
 A leg and foot, to speak more plain, 
 
 Rest here of one commanding ; 
 Who, though his wits he may retain, 
 
 Lost half his understanding. 
 Who, when the guns, with thunder fraught, 
 
 Pour'd bullets thick as hail, 
 Could only m this way be brought 
 
 To give the foe leg bail. 
 And now in England, just as gay 
 
 As in the battle brave ; 
 Goes to the rout, review, or play, 
 
 With one foot in the grave. 
 Fortune, indeed, has shown her spite, 
 
 For he will still be found, 
 Should England's foes engage in fight j 
 
 Resolv'd to stand his ground : 
 And but indulg'd in harmless whim, 
 
 Since he cculd walk with one ; 
 She saw two legs were lost on him, 
 
 Who never deign'd to run. 
 
 garrick's eye. 
 Miss Pope was one evening in the green-room, 
 commenting on the excellencies of Garrick, when, 
 amongst other things, she said '■' he had the most 
 wonderful eye imaginable — an eye, to use a vulgar 
 phrase, that would penetrate through a deal board." — 
 Aye," cried Wewitzer, " I understand — what we 
 call a gimblet eye !*' 
 
 CATHOLICISM AND PROTESTANISM. 
 
 Querist. Where, observed a Roman Catholic, 
 in warm dispute with a Protestant, where was 
 your religion before Luther ? 
 
 Q. Did you wash your face this morning ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. Where was your face before it was washed ? 
 
680 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 A BLESSED srOT. 
 
 From an Epigram of Abxdfadhel Ahmed, surnamed 
 Al Hamadani, recorded in D' HeroeloU 
 Hamadan is my native place ; 
 
 And I must say, in praise of it, 
 It merits, for its ugly face, 
 
 What every body, says of it. 
 Its children equal its old men 
 
 In vices and avidity ; 
 And they reflect the babes again 
 
 In exquisite stupidity. 
 
 ORIGINAL PLAY-BILLS. 
 
 The usual method of advertising the performances 
 at the London theatres was originally by affixing 
 them to numerous posts, which formerly encumbered 
 the streets of the metropolis ; and hence the phrase, 
 posting-bills. Taylor, the water-poet, relates that 
 master Field, the player, riding up Fleet-street at a 
 great pace, a gentleman called him, and asked him 
 what play was played that day 1 He being angry 
 to be staid on so frivolous a demand, answered that 
 lie might see what play was to- be played- on every 
 post. " I cry your mercy," said the gentleman, " I 
 took you for a post, you rode so fast." 
 
 WILKES'S QUERIES. 
 
 I Avisb you at the devil, said somebody to 
 Wilkes. 
 
 I don't wish you there. 
 
 Why? 
 
 Because I never wish to meet you again. 
 
 Where the devil did you come from ? said Wilkes, 
 to a beggar in the Isle of Wight. 
 
 From the devil. 
 
 What is going on there ? 
 
 Much the same as here. 
 
 What's that ? 
 
 The rich taken in, and the poor kept out. 
 mouth versus eyes. 
 From the French of La Fontaine. 
 
 Cyprus to wit : Sweet Mouth versus Fine Eyes, 
 Before the Chamber of Precedencies. 
 
 The case was opened by Sweet Mouth, who said, 
 
 " I summon Hearts. Let their reports be read. 
 
 Let them decide, my Lords, which of us two 
 
 Has most to say, to charm with, and to do. 
 
 Do, did I say ? I'm ready to take oath, 
 
 I've more than I can do, though nothing loth : 
 
 Only, it seems, I've not the happy art, 
 
 Of shedding tears, like Eyes ! With all my heart : 
 
 My glory centers not in sight alone : 
 
 I satisfy three senses, they but one. 
 
 Odours and sounds to my sweet state belong, 
 
 And to delightful words I join a charming song. 
 
 My very sighs exhale a world of sweets, 
 
 Like zephyrs in the time of violets -. 
 
 I have such ways to make a lover blest, 
 
 Such heaps — your Lordships will excuse the list : 
 
 And then, if Fine Eyes lay a wager with us, 
 
 To see who first can strike some heart beneath us, 
 
 Lord ! how Fine Eyes go toiling round and round, 
 
 While, speak we but a word — the man's on ground : 
 
 We want no tricks, not we, to give the rosy wound. 
 
 Let Fine Eyes shut, they're no such wonder, they : 
 
 Sweet Mouth has always treasures to display j 
 
 Coral without, and precious pearl within ; 
 
 Who, when I deign to play, can hope to win 1 
 
 Let presents fall in oriental showers, 
 
 The favours I bestow beat all their dowers. 
 
 Thirty-two pearls I wear about me here, 
 
 Of which the least in beauty and least clear, 
 
 Surpasses all with which the East is lit ; 
 
 As many millions should not purchase it." 
 
 Thus spoke Sweet Mouth : on which was seen to 
 rise 
 A lover, who was counsel for Fine Eyes. 
 He said, as you may guess, that for their part, 
 Love, without them, could never find the heart : 
 That as to tears, he felt, he must own, shocked, 
 To hear their very tenderness rebuked. 
 What could sighs do, he should be glad to know, 
 Unless their warrants stood prepared to flow ? 
 The fact was, both were good, and Sweet Mouth there 
 Wronged her own cause, and hurt her character. 
 There are delicious tears ; and there are sighs, 
 On t' other hand, not over good or wise j 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 681 
 
 And Mouth had better, as she says she can, 
 
 Have gained the cause by silence than this plan. 
 
 " What are the silent charms, the godlike powers 
 
 To show for her cause, when compared with ours 1 
 
 We charm a hundred and a thousand ways, 
 
 By sweetness, by a stealth, by sparkling rays, 
 
 And by what Sweet Mouth blames — but is the part 
 
 We glory in the most — the gentle art 
 
 Of melting with a tear the manliest heart. 
 
 Where Sweet Mouth gains a single conquest, we 
 
 Roll in a round of ceaseless victory : 
 
 And for one song in which she bears the prize, 
 
 A hundred thousand sparkle with Fine Eyes. 
 
 In courts, and cities, in the poet's groves, 
 
 What is there heard of but our darts and loves ? 
 
 Such sudden strokes we deal, such deeds we vaunt, 
 
 That those do well, who say that we enchant . 
 
 We come, and all surrender up their arms . 
 
 Though often in the whirl of those alarms, 
 
 Fine Mouth comes following in, and then pretends 
 
 her charms. 
 Heaven grant the people ask not who she is, 
 Or she may speak, and " thank the gods amiss. 
 'Tis true, she has two words of magic touch, 
 * I love ;' but cannot Fine Eyes say as much 1 
 We have a tongue that with no words at all 
 Can ask, and hint, and tell a tale, and call, 
 And ravish more than all the pearls and songs, 
 Which Sweet Mouth musters round her tongue of 
 tongues." 
 
 The Counsel started here, and took occasion 
 To make a very happy peroration. 
 He caught a lady's eye, just coming in, 
 With an approach the sweetest ever seen: 
 He changed his tone, and with a gravity, 
 Seconded well by a reposing eye, 
 Said — " I've been taking up your Lordship's time 
 With trifling matters fitter for a rhyme ; 
 Look there : my Lords, I think 'twould be absurd, 
 After that sight, to add another word. 
 Pray give the sentence : — we are quite secure : 
 My client would not tire the court I'm sure." 
 
 The lady, with a pretty shame, looked round 
 
 With speaking eyes, which dealt so wide a wound, 
 
 2 g 3 
 
 That all hands dropt their papers for surprise, 
 And not a heart but gave it for Fine Eyes. 
 Sweet Mouth at this, seeing how matters went, 
 And forced to raise some new astonishment, 
 Resumed, and said — " To what has just been dropt, 
 (Which, by the way, is shockingly corrupt,) 
 There is one word alone I wish to say : 
 My Lords, Fine Eyes do little but by day : 
 That silent tongue of theirs, when in the dark 
 Makes but a sorry sort of frigid spark ; 
 What I can do, needs surely no remark." 
 
 This reason settled the dispute instanter : , 
 
 Fine Eyes were much, but Sweet Mouth the en- 
 chanter. 
 Fine Eyes, however, took it in good part, 
 And Sweet Mouth gave the Judge a kiss with all her 
 heart. 
 
 A TRUE CRITIC. 
 
 A true critic hath one quality in common- with 
 a whore and an alderman, never to change his title 
 or his nature. 
 
 swift's maggots. 
 Swift dining one day with a lady, complained that 
 a leg of mutton, one of the dishes at table, was full 
 of maggots ; — s< Not half so full as your head, doc- 
 tor," replied the lady drily. The doctor was silent 
 and did not rally for the remainder of the evening. 
 
 IRISH PRIESTCRAFT. 
 
 An Irish peasant complained to the Catholic 
 priest of his parish, that some person had stolen his 
 best pig, and supplicated his reverence to help him 
 to the discovery of the thief. The priest promised 
 his best endeavours ; and his inquiries soon lead- 
 ing him to guess the offender, he took the following 
 amusing method of bringing the matter home to 
 him. Next Sunday, after the service of the day, he 
 called out with a loud voice, fixing his eyes on the 
 suspected individual, " Who stole Pat Doolan's 
 pig?" There was a long pause, and no answer ; he 
 did not expect that there would be any, and de- 
 scended from the pulpit without saying a word 
 
682 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 more. A second Sunday arriving without the pig 
 being restored, his reverence, again looking stead- 
 fastly at the stubborn purloiner, and throwing a 
 deep note of anger into the tone of his voice, re- 
 peated the question, " Who stole Pat Doolan's pig "i 
 I say, who stole poo?- Pat Doolan's pig ?" Still there 
 was no answer, and the question was left as before, 
 to work its effect in secret on the conscience of the 
 guilty individual. The hardihood of the offender 
 however exceeded all the honest priest's calcula- 
 tions. A third Sunday arrived and Pat Doolan was 
 still without his pig. Some stronger measures how 
 became necessary. After service was performed, 
 his reverence, dropping the question of " Who 
 stole Pat Doolan's pig ?" but still without directly 
 accusing any one of the theft, reproachfully ex- 
 claimed, " Jimmie Doran ! Jimmie Doran ! you 
 trate me with contimpt." Jimmie Doran hung 
 down his head, and next morning the pig- was 
 found at the door of Pat Doolan's cabin. 
 
 Another Irish priest, by name Felix Macabe, 
 author of a grammar of the English language, was 
 expatiating from the pulpit on the reciprocal duties 
 of the pastor and his flock, and on the account to 
 be given on that subject at the day of final retribu- 
 tion. "Well, father Felix," he observed, " the great 
 Judge will say, and how have you fulfilled the 
 duties of your office ? Have you neglected the 
 charge you undertook, or supplied the wants of 
 your parishioners ? and I shall reply, "Holy Father, 
 I prached to them, and I prached to them, 1 prayed 
 for their sowls, and I gave them my blessings.' 
 Well, Father Felix, and how did your flock trate 
 you ? Did they pay you their dues and bring you 
 their offerings ? And then you villains, what am I 
 to say?" added he, apostrophizing the congrega- 
 tion, " You know you do nothing but chate me." 
 
 CLERICAL FEAST. 
 
 "In the year 1470, says Fuller, in his Church 
 History, " George Nevill, brother to the great Earl 
 of Warwick, at his instalment into the Archbishop- 
 rick of York, gave a prodigious feast to all the 
 nobility, most of the prime clergy, and many of the 
 
 great gentry ; wherein by his bill cf fare, three 
 hundred quarters of wheat, three hundred and 
 thirty tuns of ale, one hundred and four tuns of 
 wine, one pipe of spiced wine, eighty fat oxen, six 
 wild bulls, one thousand and four wethers, three 
 hundred hogs, there hundred calves, three thou- 
 sand geese, three thousand capons, three hundred 
 pigs, one hundred peacocks, two hundred cranes, 
 two hundred birds, two thousand chickens, four 
 thousand pigeons, four thousand rabbits, two 
 hundred and four bitterns, four thousand ducks, 
 two hundred pheasants, five hundred partridges, 
 four thousand woodcocks, four hundred plovers, 
 one hundred curlews, one hundred quails, one 
 thousand egrets, two hundred rees, above four 
 hundred bucks, does, and roebucks, one thousand 
 five hundred and six hot venison pasties, four thou- 
 sand cold venison pasties, one thousand dishes of 
 jelly pasted, four thousand dishes of plain jelly, 
 four thousand cold custards, two thousand hot 
 custards, three hundred pike, three hundred bream, 
 eight seals, four porpoises, and four hundred tartis. 
 At this feast the Earl of Warwick was steward ; the 
 Earl of Bedford, treasurer ; the Lord of Hastings, 
 comptroller, with many more noble officers ; servi- 
 tors, one thousand ; cooks, sixty-two ; kitcheners, 
 five hundred and fifteen. But," continues 
 honest Fuller, " seven years after, the king seized 
 on all the estate of this archbishop, and sent him 
 over to Calais in France, where vinctus jacuit in 
 summa inopia, he was kept bound in extreme 
 poverty. Justice thus punished his former prodi- 
 gality." 
 
 CLEARING A TITLE. 
 
 Sir Thomas More, on the day that he was be- 
 headed, had a barber sent to him, because his hair 
 was long, which was thought would make him more 
 commiserated by the people. The barber came to 
 him, and asked him, " whether he would please to 
 be trimmed?" "In good faith, honest fellow," 
 saith Sir Thomas, " the king and I have a suit for 
 my head ; and till the title be cleared, I will do no 
 cost upon it." 
 
CHURCH LIVERY. 
 
 One Sunday, as Roger Cox, Dean Swift's clerk, 
 was going to church, his scarlet waistcoat caught 
 Swift's eye ; Roger howed, and observed, that he 
 wore scarlet because he belonged to the church 
 militant. 
 
 WIT. 
 
 Wit has its walks and purlieus, out of which it 
 may not stray the breadth of an hair, upon peril 
 of being lost. 
 
 foote's wife. 
 
 Dr. Nash, of Worcester, being in town one spring, 
 not long after Foote's marriage, intended to pay his 
 old fellow-collegian a visit, but was much surprised 
 at hearing that lie was in the Fleet -prison. Thither 
 he hastened directly ; and found him in a dirty two- 
 pair-of- stairs back room, with furniture every way 
 suitable to such an apartment. The Doctor, shocked 
 at this circumstance, began to condole with him ; 
 when Fcote cut him short by turning the whole into 
 raillery : " Why, is not this better," said he, " than 
 tlie gout, the fever, the small-pox, and 
 ' The thousand various ills 
 That flesh is heir to V 
 This is a mere temporary confinement ; without pain, 
 and not very uncongenial (let me tell you) to this 
 sharp biting weather : whereas the above disorders 
 would not only give pain and confinement for a time, 
 but perhaps ultimately prevent a man from ever 
 going into the world again." 
 
 Laughing on in this manner, the Doctor perceived 
 something stir behind him in the bed ; upon which 
 he got up, and said he would call another time. — 
 e ' No, no," said the other, sit down : '* 'tis nothing 
 but my Foot." — " Your foot'!" said the Doctor : 
 " well ; I want no apologies, I shall call another 
 time." — " I tell you again," said the other, " 'tis 
 nothing but my Foot ; and to convince you of its 
 being no more, it shall speak to you directly." Upon 
 this his poor wife put her head from under the bed- 
 clothes ; and, with much confusion and embarrass- 
 ment, made many apologies for her distressed situa- 
 tion. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 683 
 
 INNS FOR ALL CLASSES. 
 
 The gentry to the Ki?ig's Head 
 
 The nobles to the Crown, 
 The knights unto the Golden Fleece, 
 
 And to the Plough the clown. 
 The church-man to the Mitre, 
 
 The shepherd to the Star, 
 The gardener hies him to the Rose, 
 
 To the Drum the man of war. 
 To the Feathers, ladies, you ; the Globe 
 ' The seaman does not scorn, 
 
 The usurer to the Devil, and 
 
 The cit unto the Horn, " 
 The huntsmau to the White Hart, 
 
 To the Ship the merchants go, 
 But those that do the Muses love, 
 
 The sign called River Po. 
 The bankrupt to the World's End, 
 
 The fool to the Fortune hies, 
 Unto the Mouth the ovster wife, 
 
 The fiddler to the Pies. 
 The punk unto the Cockatrice, 
 
 The drunkard to the Vine, 
 The beggar to the Bush, or else 
 
 He'll with Duke Humphrey dine. 
 
 ASCENSION DAV. 
 
 Foote, in walking about his own grounds at North- 
 end one morning with a friend, spied dashing towards 
 them on the Fulhara road, two persons in one of those 
 high phaetons so much the vogue of that day. " Is 
 not that Moody," said he, " in that strange three- 
 pair-of stairs phaeton ?" — " Yes," said his friend ; 
 " and Mr. Johnson, the stock-broker, with him : ancl 
 yet I wonder how he can leave his business, for I 
 think this is no holiday." — " Why, no," said Foote ; 
 " I think not. except they choose to call this ascen- 
 sion day." 
 
 NEW MINISTRIES. 
 
 There is one thing in all new ministries ; for the 
 first week or two they are in a hurry, or not to be 
 seen ; and when you come afterwards, they arc 
 engaged, swift. 
 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 684 
 
 CONJUGAL LOVE. 
 
 Could Kate for Dick compose the Gordian string, 
 The Tyburn knot how near the nuptial ring ! 
 A loving wife, obedient to her vows, 
 Is bound in duty to exalt her spouse. 
 
 ON SEEING VERSES WRITTEN UPON WINDOWS AT 
 
 INNS. 
 
 The sage who said he would be proud 
 
 Of windows in his breast, 
 Because he ne'er one thought allow'd 
 
 That might not be confest ; 
 His window scrawl'd by ev'ry rake, 
 
 His breast again would cover ; 
 And fairly bid the devil take 
 
 The di'mond and the lover. 
 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 That love is the devil I'll prove when requir'd j 
 
 These rhymers abundantly show it : 
 They swear that they all by love are inspir'dj. 
 
 And the devil's a damnable poet. 
 
 THE BEST OF A BAD JOB. 
 
 When Dr. Franklin was agent in England for the 
 province of Pennsylvania, he was frequently applied 
 to by the ministry for his opinion respecting the opera- 
 tion of the Stamp Act ; but his answer was uniformly 
 the same, " that the people of America would never 
 submit to it," After the news of the destruction of 
 the stamped papers had arrived in England, the mi- 
 nistry again sent for the Doctor to consult with ; and 
 in conclusion offered this proposal : " That if the 
 Americans would engage to pay for the damage done 
 in the destruction of the stamped paper, &c. the 
 parliament would then repeal the act." The Doctor, 
 having paused upon this question for some time, at 
 last answered it as follows : — " This puts me in mind 
 of a Frenchman, who, having heated a poker red-hot, 
 ran furiously into the street, and addressing the first 
 Englishman he met there, ' Hah ! monsieur, voulez- 
 vous give me de plaisir, de satisfaction, to let me run 
 this poker only one foot into your body V — ' My 
 body 1' replied the Englishman : ' what do you 
 mean?' — • Vel den, only so far,' marking about six 
 inches. 4 ' Are you mad V returned the other ; ' I 
 
 tell you, if you don't go about your business, I'll 
 kuock you down.' — ' Vel den,' said the Frenchman, 
 softening his voice and manner ; ' vil you, my good 
 sir, only be so obliging as to pay me for the trouble 
 and expense of heating this poker V " 
 
 CRITICISM. 
 
 Nothing can be finer than Swift's description of 
 the dwelling and attendants of Criticism in the Bat- 
 tle of the Books. " This malignant deity dwelt on 
 the top of a snowy mountain in Nova Zembla : 
 Momus found her extended in her den upon the 
 spoils of numberless volumes half devoured. At 
 her right hand sat Ignorance, her father and hus- 
 band, blind with age ; at her left, Pride, her mo- 
 ther, dressing her up in the scraps of paper herself 
 had torn. There was Opinion, her sister, light of 
 foot, hood-winked, and headstrong, yet giddy and 
 perpetually turning. About her played her chil- 
 dren, Noise and Impudence, Dulness and Vanity, 
 Positiveness, Pedantry, and III Maimers." 
 swift's similes. 
 
 Is not religion a cloak • honesty a pair of shoes 
 worn out in the dirt ; self-love a surtout ; vauity 
 a shirt ; and conscience a pair of breeches, which, 
 though a cover for lewdness, as well as nastiness, 
 is easily slipt down for the service of both. 
 
 THE PLEASING REPULSE. 
 
 She that denies me, I would have, 
 
 Who craves me 1 despise, 
 Venus has pow'r to rule my heart, 
 
 But not to please my eyes. 
 Temptations offer'd, I still scorn, 
 
 Deny'd, I seek them still, 
 I'll neither glut my appetite, 
 
 Nor seek to starve my will. 
 Diana, double-clcth'd, offends, 
 
 So Venus, naked quite, 
 The last begets a surfeit, and 
 
 The other no delight. 
 That crafty girl will please me best, 
 
 Who No for Yes can say, 
 And ev'ry wanton willing puss 
 
 Can season with a Nay. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 685 
 
 MR. CESAR. 
 Swift dined one day in company with the Lord 
 Keeper, his son, and their two ladies, and Mr. 
 Ceesar, treasurer of the navy, at his house in the 
 city. They happened to talk of Brutus, and Swift 
 said something in his praise ; when it struck him 
 immediately that he had made a hlunder in doing 
 so ; and therefore recollecting himself, he said, 
 '* Mr. Ceesar, I be-g your ]>ardo7t." 
 
 OLIVER C'ROMAVELL. 
 
 A Ballad, by Samuel Butler 
 Draw near, good people, all draw near, 
 And hearken to my ditty ; 
 A stranger thing, 
 Than this I sing, 
 Came never to this city. 
 
 Had you but seen this monster, 
 You wou'd not give a farthing 
 
 For the lions in the grate, 
 
 Nor the mountain-cat, 
 Nor the bears in Paris-garden. 
 You wou'd defy the pageants, 
 Are borne before the mayor ; 
 
 The strangest shape, 
 
 You e'er did gape 
 Upon at Bart'lmy-fair ! 
 His face is round and decent, 
 As is your dish or platter, 
 
 On which there grows 
 
 A thing like a nose, 
 Bur, indeed, it is no such matter. 
 On both sides of th' aforesaid 
 Are eyes, but th'are not matches, 
 
 On which there are 
 
 To be seen two fair, 
 And large, well-grown mustaches. 
 Now this with admiration 
 Does all beholders strike, 
 
 That a beard should grow 
 
 Upon a thing's brow, 
 Did ye ever see the like ? 
 
 He has no skull, 'tis well known 
 To thousands of beholders ; 
 
 Nothing, but a skin, 
 
 Does keep his brains in 
 From running about his shoulders. 
 On both sides of his noddle 
 
 Are straps o'th' very same leather , 
 
 Ears are imply 'd, 
 
 But th'are mere hide, 
 Or morsels of tripe, choose ye whether. 
 Between these two extendeth 
 A slit from ear to ear, 
 
 That, every hour, 
 
 Gapes to devour 
 The sowce, that grows so near. 
 Beneath a tuft of bristles, 
 As rough as a frize-jerkin ; 
 
 If it had been a beard, 
 
 'Twou'd have serv'd a herd 
 Of goats, that are of his near kin. 
 Within a set of grinders 
 
 Most sharp and keen, corroding 
 
 Your ir'n aud brass, 
 
 As easy as, 
 That you wou'd do a pudding. 
 But the strangest thing of all is, 
 Upon his rump there groweth 
 
 A- great long tail, 
 
 That useth to trail 
 Upon the ground, as he goeth. 
 
 This monster was begotten 
 Upon one of the witches 
 
 B' an imp, that came to her, 
 Like a man, to woo her, 
 With black doublet and britches. 
 When he was whelp'd, for certain, 
 In divers several countries 
 The hogs and swine 
 Did grunt and whine, 
 And the ravens croak'd upon trees. 
 
686 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 The winds did blow, the thunder 
 And lightning loud did rumble ; 
 
 The dogs did howl, 
 
 The hollow tree in th' owl — 
 'Tis a good horse that ne'er stumbl'd. 
 As soon as he was brought forth, 
 At th' midwife's throat he flew ; 
 
 And threw the pap 
 
 Down in her lap ; 
 They say, 'tis very true. 
 
 And up the walls he clamber'd, 
 With nails most sharp and keen, 
 
 The prints whereof, 
 
 I'th' boards and roof, 
 Are yet for to be seen. 
 
 And out o'th' top o'th' chimney 
 He vanish'd, seen of none ; 
 For they did wink, 
 Yet by the stink 
 Knew, which way he was gone. 
 
 The country round about there 
 Became like to a wiidern- 
 -ess ; for the sight 
 Of him did fright 
 Away men, women, and children. 
 
 Long did he there continue ; 
 
 And all those parts much harmed; 
 'Till a wise-woman, which 
 Some call a White -witch, 
 Him into a hogsty charmed. 
 
 There, when she had him shut fast, 
 With brimstone and with nitre 
 She sing'd the claws 
 Of his left paws, 
 With tip of his tail and his right ear. 
 
 And with her charms and ointments 
 She made him tame as a spaniel ; 
 For she us'd to ride 
 On his back astride, 
 Nor did he do her any ill. 
 
 But, to the admiration 
 Of all both far and near, 
 He hath been shown 
 In every town, 
 And eke in every shire. 
 And now, at length, he's brought 
 Unto fair London city, 
 Where, in Fleet-street, 
 All those may see't, 
 That will not believe my ditty. 
 God save the king and parliament,* 
 And eke the prince's highness ; 
 And quickly send 
 The wa-s an end, 
 As here my song has — Finis. 
 
 A GOOD SOKT OF MAN. 
 
 ; ' Pray," said a lady to Foote, " what sort of man 
 is Sir John D. V — " Oh ! a very good sort of man." 
 — " But what do you call a good sort of man?*'-— 
 " Why, Madam, one who preserves all the exterior 
 decencies of igriorance" 
 
 swift's living. 
 On rainy days alone I dine, 
 Upon a chick, and pint of wine : 
 On rainy days I dine alone, 
 And pick my chicken to the bone. 
 
 THE WIFE'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 Havard the actor (better known, from the urbanity 
 of his manners, by the familiar name of Billy Ha- 
 vard) had the misfortune to be married to a most 
 notorious shrew and drunkard. One day dining at 
 Garrick's, he was complaining of a violent pain in 
 his side. Mrs. Garrick offered to prescribe for him. 
 " No, no," said her husband ; " that will not do, my 
 dear : Billy has mistaken his disorder ; his great cmn- 
 plaint lies in his rib." 
 
 CHURCHES. 
 
 Qiceiy — Whether churches are not dormitories 
 of the living, as well as of the dead ? swift. 
 
 * From this circumstance it appears, that this ballad was 
 written before the murder of the king ; and that it ia the ear- 
 liest performance of Butler's that was made public. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 687 
 
 EXCUSE FOR DULNESS. 
 
 Swift makes the following very good excuse for a 
 dull man on leaving a circle of wits : " Sir, I sup- 
 pose, by the laughing and merriment of the company 
 we have left, there were many good things said. Now, 
 as I never invent a jest myself, so I make it a rule 
 never to laugh at other people's." 
 
 PEDANTIC CONFESSION. 
 
 A pedant, having received a letter from his friend, 
 with a request that he would buy him some books, 
 neglected the affair, and by way of excuse said, 
 when he met his friend, " / am sorry that 1' never 
 received the letter you sent me about the books." 
 
 QUALITIES OF WIT. 
 
 All wit and fancy, like a diamond, 
 The more exact and curious 'tis ground, 
 Is forc'd for every caract to abate 
 As much in value, as it wants in^weight. 
 
 regent's punch. 
 The receipt for this " nectarious drink" is as fol- 
 lows : — three bottles of champagne, a bottle of hock, 
 a bottle of curacoa, a quart of brandy, a pint of rum, 
 two bottles of madeira, two bottles of seltzer water, 
 four pounds of bloom raisins, Seville oranges, lemons, 
 white sugarcandy, and instead of water, green tea. 
 The whole to be highly iced. 
 
 THE DEVIL. 
 
 The Devil was the first o'th' name, 
 
 From whom the race of rebels came, 
 
 Who was the first bold undertaker 
 
 Of bearing arms against his maker; 
 
 And, though miscarrying in th' event, 
 
 Was never yet known to repent, 
 
 Though tumbl'd from the top of bliss 
 
 Down to the bottomless abyss ; 
 
 A property, which from their prince 
 
 The family owns ever since, 
 
 And therefore ne'er repent the evil 
 
 They do, or suffer, like the Devil, butler, 
 
 POETICAL. LAW REPORTS. 
 
 Cowper, the poet, in one of his letters has made 
 the following humorous proposal for the publica- 
 tion of poetical law-reports : — 
 
 " Poetical reports of law-cases are not very com- 
 mon ; yet it appears to me desirable that they 
 should be so ; — many advantages would accrue from 
 such a measure. They would in the first place be 
 more commodiously deposited in the memory, just 
 as linen, grocery, and other articles, when neatly 
 packed, are known to occupy less room, and to lie 
 more conveniently in any trunk, chest, or box, to 
 which they may be committed. In the next place, 
 being divested of that infinite circumlocution, and 
 the endless embarrassment in which they are in- 
 volved by it, they would become surprisingly in- 
 telligible in comparison with their present obscurity. 
 And lastly, they would by that means be rendered 
 susceptible of musical embellishment ; and instead 
 of being quoted in the country with that dull 
 monotony, which is so wearisome to by-standers, 
 and frequently lulls even the judges themselves to 
 sleep, might be rehearsed in recitative, which 
 would have an admirable effect in keeping the atten- 
 tion fixed and livery, and would not fail to disperse 
 that heavy atmosphere of sadness and gravity which 
 hangs over the jurisprudence of our country. I 
 remember many years ago being informed by a 
 relation of mine, who in his youth had applied him- 
 self to the study of the law, that one of his fellow- 
 students, a gentleman of sprightly parts, and very 
 respectable talents, of the poetical kind, did actu- 
 ally engage in the prosecution of such a design, for 
 reasons 1 suppose somewhat similar to, if not the 
 same with, those I have now suggested. He began 
 with Coke's Institutes, a book so rugged in its 
 style that an attempt to polish it seemed an Her- 
 culean labour, and not less arduous and difficult 
 than it would be to give the smoothness of a rab- 
 bit's fur to the prickly back of a hedgehog. But 
 he succeeded to admiration, as you will perceive by 
 the following specimen, which is all that my said 
 relation could recollect of the performance. 
 
688 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Tenant in fee- 
 Simple is lie, 
 
 And need neither quake nor quiver, 
 Who hath his lands 
 Free from demands 
 
 To him and his heirs for ever."' 
 
 The hint which he thus threw out, Cowper has 
 riimself acted upon in his report of the case of 
 Nose v. Eyes. (See page 328.) 
 
 An ingenious author has actually versified the 
 substance of Sir Edward Coke's Reports. The 
 point of each case (with the name) is comprised 
 in a couplet, as in the following instances : — 
 A*rcher. If he for life enfeoff in fee 
 
 It bars remainders in contingency. 
 "Snagg. If a person says, " he kill'd my wife," 
 
 No action lies if she be yet alive. 
 Foster. Justice of peace may warrant send 
 
 To bring before him such as do offend. 
 
 A poetical Report of a poor-law case occurs in 
 Burns' Justice, which runs as follows : — 
 A woman having a settlement 
 
 Married a man with none j 
 The question was, he being dead, 
 
 If that she had was gone. 
 Quoth Sir John Pratt, "the settlement 
 
 Suspended doth remain, 
 Living the husband, but him dead, 
 
 It doth revive again." 
 
 Chorus of the Puisne Judges. 
 " Living the husband, but him dead, 
 
 It doth revive again !" 
 
 VAUXHALL WEATHER. 
 
 It having happened for several successive sum- 
 mers, that wet weather took place just as the 
 Vauxhall season commenced, Tom Lowe, Tyers's 
 principal vocal performer, accidentally meeting the 
 proprietor, expressed an anxious desire to know 
 when he meant to open his gardens. " Why are 
 you so particular, Mr. Lowe ?" said Jonathan. " I 
 have a very good reason, sir, and should like to 
 know the very day." "Why, why?" reiterated 
 
 Tyers, impatiently. " That I may bespeak a great 
 coat to sing in ; for you know we shall be sure to 
 have rain." 
 
 MODERN SERMONS. 
 
 There is no species of composition that seems to 
 stand more in need of an infusion of fresh vigour than 
 sermons. — Many of our preachers seem to think that 
 the intrinsic charms of the truth are so obvious as to 
 supersede the necessity of any outward display of 
 them ; and however much, as Swift observed in his 
 day, they may fall short of the apostles in working 
 miracles, they greatly surpass them in the art of set- 
 ting men asleep. 
 
 THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. 
 
 With a whirl of thought opprest, 
 
 I sunk from reverie to rest. 
 
 A horrid vision seiz'd my head ; 
 
 I saw the graves give up their dead : 
 
 Jove, arm'd with terrors, burst the skies; 
 
 And thunder roars, and lightning flies. 
 
 Amaz'd, confus'd, its fate unknown, 
 
 The world stands trembling at his throne ; 
 
 While each pale sinner hangs his head : 
 
 Jove, nodding, shook the heav'ns, and said . 
 
 " Offending race of human kind, 
 
 By nature, reason, learning, blind ; 
 
 You who through frailty stepp'd aside, 
 
 And you who never fell — through pride , 
 
 You who in different sects have shamm'd, 
 
 And come to see each other damn'd, 
 
 (So some folks told you, but they knew 
 
 No more of Jove's designs than you) : — 
 
 The world's mad business now is o'er, 
 
 And I resent these pranks no more ; 
 
 I to such blockheads set my wit ! 
 
 I damn such fools ! go, go ; you're bit." 
 
 SWIFT. 
 
 DE NOVO. 
 
 Dr. Franklin, when he heard people say " they 
 were tired of a thing," merely through a want of 
 proper perseverance, he used to reply, " Well, do as 
 married people do j tire and begin again" 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 689 
 
 BACKWARDS AND FORWARDS, 
 
 A seaman coming before the judges of the 
 Admiralty for admittance into an office of a ship 
 hound for the Indies, was by one of the judges much 
 slighted, as an insufficient person for that office he 
 sought to obtain ; the judge telling him, " that he 
 believed he could not say the points of his com- 
 pass." The seaman answered, " that he could say 
 them, under favour, better than he could say his 
 pater-noster." The judge replied, "That he would 
 wager twenty shillings with him upon that." The 
 seaman taking him up, it came to trial : and the sea- 
 man began, and said all the points of his compass 
 very exactly : the judge likewise said his pater- 
 noster : and when he had finished it, he required 
 the wager, according to agreement, because the 
 seaman was to say his compass letter than he his 
 pater-noster, which he had not performed. "Nay, 
 I pray, sir, hold," quoth the seaman, "the wager 
 is not finished ; for I have but half done :" and so 
 he immediately said his compass backwards very 
 exactly ; which the judge failing to do in his pater- 
 noster, the seaman carried away the prize. 
 
 WHISTLING PRAYERS. 
 
 While Caroline, wife of George the Second, was 
 dressing, prayers used to be read in tbe outward 
 room, where hung a naked Venus. Mrs. Selwyn, 
 bed-chamber woman in waiting, was one day or- 
 dered to bid the chaplain, Dr. Madox, afterwards 
 bishop of Worcester, begin the service. He said 
 archly, " And a very proper altar-piece is here, 
 madam." Queen Anne had the same custom ; 
 and once ordering the door to be shut while she 
 shifted, the chaplain stopped. The queen sent to 
 ask why he did not proceed ? He replied, " he 
 would not whistle the word of God through the 
 key-hole." 
 
 SIR SIMON AND HODGE ; OR, THE ADDITIONAL 
 WRINKLE. 
 
 As Hodge, one day, was swelt'ring in the sun— 
 A dry old dog, yet a true child of fun ! — 
 Sir Simo.i came, to see his man so blithe, 
 Panting beneath the labour of his scythe ; 
 
 For Hodge had risen ere the early dawn, 
 And now 'twas noon, nor yet clean shaved tbe lawn. 
 Much had he done, which he was pleased to view, 
 But curs'd the little that remained to do ! 
 His arms were weary, and his aged back 
 Seern'd, ev'ry sinew, at each bend, to crack ; 
 At ev'ry stroke, the drops of sweat fast pace 
 Down the rough furrows of his time-plough'd face ; 
 And still he stops, though he can scarcely stand, 
 To sweep his dewy forehead with his hand '. 
 -With frequent rubbings, whet his ling'ring blade, 
 And sighs for ev'ning, and the fresh'ning shade. 
 
 Now, old Sir Simon was as queer a soul 
 As Hedge himself, but nothing like so droll : 
 He had some wit, and thought that he had more ; 
 As many a greater wit has done before — ■ 
 And many another, we may well maintain 
 Has since done too, and still will do again. 
 " Hodge," says Sir Sim, " you can't well be dry, 
 For you are wet enough, I see, to fry : 
 Now, had you been but dry enough to burn, 
 A jug of ale had done you no ill-turn !" 
 Hodge smil'd at very mention of the nappy ; 
 But, at the sight, was wondrously more happy : 
 For, now, Sir Simon, having had his joke, 
 Drew the full pitcher from beneath his cloak. 
 
 Hodge seiz'd, with eager hand, the foaming prize ; 
 And, heav'n-ward raising both his grateful eyes, 
 Fast down his throat, the welcome liquor pours ; 
 Nor heeds his master, loudly though he roars — 
 " Stop, Hodge ! why, Hodge ! zounds ! Hodge, why 
 
 don't you stop ? 
 I'm thirsty, too ; zounds ! Hodge, leave me a drop l" 
 
 Sir Simon bawl'd, as loud as he could bawl ; 
 But Hodge ne'er stopp'd, till he had swallow'd all. 
 As slowly, now, he panting gains his breath, 
 That seern'd awhile o'er-match'd by struggling death— 
 " Hodge," says Sir Simon, " prithee canst not hear ? 
 Why, zounds ! I bade thee not drink all the beer ! 
 Deuce take thy throat, mine's hoarse with so muck 
 
 bawl,! 
 I've half a mind to ram down jug and all. 
 I told thee I was dry, as well as thee ; 
 But not a drop, plague take thee, 's left for me V* 
 
690 
 
 Hodge, now, affected wonderful surprise. 
 And like a pig's, just stuck, appear'd his eyes — 
 " Lord, sir," says he, and seemed to be contrite, 
 Tho' bent, by trick, to pacify the knight— 
 " lse be main sorry thus to give offence : 
 But to a person of your worship's sense, 
 lse need not say, for that would be absurd, 
 While a man drinks, he ne'er can hear one word !" — 
 " Not hear, while drinking 1" straight Sir Simon 
 
 cries ; 
 Fill'd, in his turn, with a stuck pig's surprise : 
 ", Why, sure — why sure, Hodge, — that can never 
 
 be — 
 Egad, I'll fetch another jug, and see." 
 Away the knight, with his best speed, now went, 
 To find the truth, as told by Hodge, intent : 
 And Hodge, meantime, contriv'd the means to 
 
 make 
 Sir Simon, what he said, for gospel take. 
 
 " Now, Hodge," the knight returning, cried, 
 '* we'll try 
 If what you tell me truth be, or a lie, 
 I'll drink, and you must bellow — ' Stop, stop, stop ! 
 Do pray, sir, you may add, leave me a drop.' 
 This, when I hear, I certainly will do ; 
 So, as I drink, remember, Hodge, bawl you." 
 
 Sir Simon heav'd the pitcher to his head ; 
 Hodge op'd his mouth, but not a word he said : 
 Yet gap'd so wide, there seem'd abundant fear 
 The fellow meant to tear from ear to ear. 
 " This truth, so strange," to Hodge Sir Simon cried, 
 "I ne'er could have believ'd, had I not tried ! 
 Thus, Hodge, it is, though life wears fast away, 
 Wiser, and wiser, we grow ev'ry day ! 
 This time thou hadst, I fairly own, most brains ; 
 So freely take the liquor for thy pains." 
 
 Hodge thus got paid, for playing off his wit ; 
 And pleas'd his master was, though he was bit : 
 Convinc'd that he had gain'd a wrinkle more ; 
 No matter where — than e'er he had before .' 
 
 CREST OF THE TEMPLE. 
 
 The Pegasus which appears over the principal en- 
 trance of the Inner Temple, and which is the crest 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 of that society, takes its origin from the seal used 
 by the first Knights Templars. Hugh de Payens and 
 Geoffrey de St. AldemaT, had, it is said, engraved 
 upon their seal the figures of two men riding upon 
 one horse, — a type of their poverty. A rude re- 
 presentation of this seal may be seen in the Historia 
 Minor of Matthew Paris. This emblem was cor- 
 rupted by the lawyers, the successors to the 
 Knights Templars, into a Pegasus, and to this day 
 remains their crest. The Society of the Middle 
 Temple adopted the emblem of a lamb bearing a 
 banner ; or in heraldic language, a device of a field 
 argent charged with a cross gules, and upon the 
 nombrel thereof a holy lamb with its nimbus and 
 banner. These two devices, which are scattered 
 very liberally over all the gateways in the Temple, 
 gave rise to the following 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 As by the Templars' holds you go, 
 
 The horse and lamh, display'd 
 In emblematic figures, show 
 
 The merits of their trade. 
 That clients may infer from thence 
 
 How just is their profession, 
 The lamb sets forth their innocence, 
 
 The horse their expedition. 
 O happy Britons 1 happy isle ! 
 
 Let foreign nations say, 
 Where you get justice without guile, 
 
 And law without delay. 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 Deluded men, these holds forego, 
 
 Nor trust such cunning elves ; 
 Those artful emblems tend to show 
 
 Their clients, not themselves 
 'Tis all a trick, these are all shams 
 
 By which they mean to cheat, you ; 
 But have a care ! — for you're the lambs ; 
 
 And they the wolves that eat you. 
 Nor let the thought of no delay,* 
 
 To these their courts misguide you, 
 'Tis you're the showy horse, and they 
 
 The jockeys that will ride you ! 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 691 
 
 POVERTY AND POETRY. 
 
 It is not poetry, that makes men poor ; 
 
 For few do write, that were not so before ; 
 
 And those that have writ best, had they been rich, 
 
 Had ne'er been clapp'd with a poetic itch ; 
 
 Had lov'd their ease too well, to take the pains 
 
 To undergo that drudgery of brains ; 
 
 But being for all other trades unfit, 
 
 Only t' avoid being idlej set up wit, butler. 
 
 VOX POPULI. 
 
 When the Rev. John Wesley, one of the founders 
 of the religious society which bears his name, was 
 vainly endeavouring to convince his sister that the 
 voice of the people is the voice of God. " Yes," 
 she mildly replied, " it cried, crucify him, crucify 
 him." 
 
 LIQUIDATING CLAIMS. 
 
 During a remarkably wet summer, Joe Vernor., 
 whose vocal taste and humour contributed for 
 many years to the entertainment of the frequenters 
 of Vauxhall gardens, but who was not quite so good 
 a timist in money matters as in music, meeting an 
 acquaintance who had the misfortune to hold some 
 of his unhonoured paper, was asked by him, not 
 uninterestedly, how the gardens were going on. 
 " Oh, swimmingly .'" answered the jocose Joe. 
 "Glad to hear it," retorted the creditor, "their 
 swimming state, I hope, will cause the singers to 
 liquidate their notes." 
 
 WHOLESALE AND RETAIL. - 
 
 In little trades more cheats and lying 
 Are us'd in selling, than in buying; 
 But in the great, unjuster dealing 
 Is us'd in buying, than in selling. 
 
 BUTLER. 
 PHILOLOGICAL PETITIONS* 
 
 In this age of innovation, when the procreative 
 genius of upstart linguists is aiming to subvert 
 common-sense phraseology, the following petitions 
 will be received as literary morceaux. 
 
 "The humble petition of who and which, 
 " Showeth, 
 
 "That your petitioners being in a forlorn and 
 destitute condition, know not to whom we should 
 apply ourselves for relief, because there is hardly 
 any man alive who hath not injured us. We are 
 descended of ancient families, and kept up our 
 dignity and honour many years, till the jack-sprat 
 that supplanted us. How often have we found 
 ourselves slighted by the clergy in their pulpits, 
 and the lawyers at the bar ? Nay, how often have 
 we heard, in one of the most polite and august 
 assemblies in the universe, to our great mortifi- 
 cation, these words, 'That that that noble lord 
 urged;' which if one of us had had justice done, 
 would have sounded nobler thus, ' That which 
 that noble lord urged.' Senates themselves, the 
 guardians of British liberty, have degraded us, and 
 preferred that to us ; and yet no decree was ever 
 given against us. In the very acts of parliament, 
 in which the utmost right should be done to every 
 body, word, and thing, we find ourselves often 
 either not used, or used one instead of another. In 
 the first and best prayer children are taught, they 
 learn to misuse us : " Our Father, which art in 
 heaven ;" should be " Our Father, who art in 
 heaven ;" and even a Convocation, after long 
 debates, refused to consent to an alteration of it. 
 in our General Confession we say, " Spare thou 
 them, O God, which confess their faults," which 
 ought to be "who confess their faults." What 
 hopes then have we of having justice done us, when 
 the makers of our very prayers and laws, and the 
 most learned in all faculties, seem to be in a con- 
 federacy against us, and our enemies themselves 
 must be our judges. 
 
 "The Spanish proverb says, El sabio muda con- 
 sejo, el necio no ; i.e. " A wise man changes his 
 mind, a fool never will." You are well able to 
 settle this affair, and to you we submit our cause. 
 We desire you to assign the butts and bounds of 
 each of us ; and that for the future we may both 
 enjoy our own. We would desire to be heard by 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 692 
 
 wir counsel, but that we fear in their very plead- 
 ings they would betray our cause : besides, we 
 ihave been oppressed so many years, that we can 
 appear no other way but in forma pauperis. All 
 which considered, we hope you will be pleased to 
 do that which to right and justice shall appertain. 
 " And your petitioners, &c." 
 
 THE 7UST REMONSTRANCE OF AFFRONTED THAT. 
 
 " Though I deny not the petition of Messrs. who 
 and which, yet you should not suffer them to be 
 rude, and to call honest people names : for that 
 tears very hard on some of those rules of decency 
 Tvhich you are justly famous for establishing. They 
 may fkul fault, and correct speeches in the senate, 
 and at the bar, but let them try to get themselves 
 so oft'en and with so much eloquence repeated in a 
 sentf nee, as a great orator doth frequently intro- 
 duce, me. 
 
 " ' My lords, (says he) with humble submission, 
 That That I say is this ; That, That That gentleman 
 has advanced, is not That That he should have 
 proved to your lordships.' Let those two questi- 
 onary petitioners try to do this with their Whos 
 and their Whiches. 
 
 '* What great advantage was I of to Mr. Dryden 
 in his Indian Emperor, 
 
 '* You force me still to answer you in That,' 
 tto furnish out a rhyme to Morat ? and Avhat a poor 
 "figure would Mr. Bayes have made without his 
 K Egad and all That ?' How can a judicious man 
 'distinguish one thing from another, without saying, 
 -'This here,' or 'That there?' And how can a 
 sober man, without using the expletives of oaths 
 (in which indeed the rakes and bullies have a great 
 advantage over others) make a discourse of any 
 tolerable length without 'That is;' and if he be 
 a very grave man indeed, without ' That is to 
 say ?' And how instructive as well as entertaiaing 
 are those usual expressions in the mouths of great 
 men, « Such things as That,' and « The like of 
 That.' 
 
 " I am not against reforming the corruptions of 
 speech you mention, and own there are proper 
 geasOiOS for the introduction of other words besides 
 
 That ; but I scorn as much to supply the place of a 
 Who or a Which at every turn, as they are unequal 
 always to fill mine ; and I expect good language 
 and civil treatment, and hope to receive it for the 
 future : That, That I shall only add is That 
 *' I am, yours, 
 
 « THAT." 
 
 SPECTATOR. 
 
 FLATTERY - ADVOCATED. 
 
 They, that they do write in authors' praises, 
 
 And freely give their friends their voices, 
 
 Are not confin'd to what is true ; 
 
 That's not to give, T>ut pay a due : 
 
 For praise, that's due, does give no more 
 
 To worth, than what it had before ; 
 
 But to commend without desert 
 
 Requires a mastery of art, 
 
 That sets a gloss on what's amiss, 
 
 And writes what shou'd be, not what is. 
 
 BUTLER. 
 TORMENTS OF TANTALIZATION. 
 
 Virgil, who has cast the whole system of Platonic 
 philosophy, so far as it relates to the soul of man, 
 into beautiful allegories, in the sixth book of his 
 iEneid gives the following punishment of a volup- 
 tuary after death : 
 
 ■ —Lucent genialibus altis 
 
 Aurea fulcra toris, epuleeque ante ora paratse 
 Regifico luxu : furiarum maxima juxta 
 Accubat, et manibus prohibet contingere mensas : 
 Exurgitque facem attollens, atque intonat ore. 
 
 Mn. vi. 604. 
 They lie below on golden beds display'd, 
 And genial feasts with regal pomp are made : 
 The queen of furies by their side is set, 
 And snatches from their mouths the untasted 
 
 meat ; 
 Which, if they touch, her hissing snakes she 
 
 rears, 
 Tossing her torch, and thund'ring in their ears. 
 
 Dry den. 
 The following story exhibits a lively representa- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 69$ 
 
 tibn of a person lying under the torments of a kind 
 of tantalism, or Platonic hell. Monsieur Pontignan, 
 speaking- of a love-adventure that happened to him 
 in the country, gives the following account of it. 
 
 "When I was in the country last summer, I was 
 often in company with a couple of charming 
 women, who had all the wit and beauty one could 
 desire in female companions, with a dash of co- 
 quetry, that from time to time gave me a great 
 many agreeable torments. I was, after my way, 
 in love with both of them, and had such frequent 
 opportunities of pleading my passion to them when 
 they were asunder, that I had reason to hope for 
 particular favours from each of them. As I was 
 walking one evening in my chamber with nothing 
 about me but my night-gown, they both came into 
 my room, and told me they had a very pleasant 
 trick to put upon a gentleman that was in the same 
 house, provided I would bear a part in it. Upon 
 this they told me such a plausible story, that I 
 laughed at their contrivance, and agreed to do 
 whatever they should require of me. They imme- 
 diately began to swaddle me up in my night-gown, 
 with long pieces of linen, which they folded about 
 me till they had wrapt me in above a hundred 
 yards of swathe. My arms were pressed to my 
 sides, and my legs closed together by so many 
 wraDoers one over another, that I looked like an 
 ./Egyptian mummy. As I stood bolt upright upon 
 one end in this antique figure, one of the ladies 
 burst out a laughing. " And now, Pontignan,'' says 
 she, " we intend to perform the promise that we 
 find you have extorted from each of us. You have 
 often asked the favour of us, and I dare say you 
 are a better bred cavalier than to refuse to go to 
 bed to two ladies that desire it of you." After 
 having stood a fit of laughter, I begged them to 
 uncase me, and do with me what they pleased. 
 " No, no," said they, " we like you very well as 
 you are ;" and upon that ordered me to be carried 
 to one of their houses, and put to bed in- all my 
 swaddles. The room was lighted up on all sides : 
 and I was laid very decently between a pair of 
 sheets, with my head (which was indeed the only 
 
 part I could move) upon a very high pillow : this 
 was no sooner done, but my two female friends 
 came into bed to me in their finest night clothes. 
 You may easily guess at the condition of a man 
 that saw a couple of the most beautiful women in 
 the world undrest and a-bed with him, without 
 being able to stir hand or foot. I begged them to 
 release me, and struggled all I could to get loose,, 
 which I did with so much violence, that about 
 midnight they both leaped out of bed, crying out 
 they were undone. But seeing me safe, they took 
 their posts again, and renewed their raillery. Find- 
 ing all my prayers and endeavours were lost, I 
 composed myself as well as I could, and told them 
 that if they would not unbind me, I would fall 
 asleep between them, and by that means disgrace 
 them for ever. But, alas ! this was impossible ; 
 could I have been disposed to it, they would have 
 prevented me by several little ill-natured caresses 
 and endearments which they bestowed upon me. As 
 much devoted as I am to womankind, I would not 
 pass such another night to be master of the whole 
 sex. My reader will doubtless be curious to know 
 what became of me the next morning. Why truly 
 my bedfellows left me about an hour before day,, 
 and told me, if I would be good and lie still, they 
 would send somebody to take me up as soon a^ it 
 was time for me to rise. Accordingly about nh&e 
 o'clock in the morning an old woman came, to un- 
 swathe me. I bore all this very patient xy a being 
 resolved to take my revenge of my tormentors* 
 and to keep no measures with them as, soon as £ 
 was at liberty ; but upon asking my old woman 
 what was become of the two ladies, she told me she 
 believed they were by that time within sight of" 
 Paris, for that they went away in a. coach and six 
 before five o'clock in the morning." spectator* 
 
 DISADVANTAGES OF WIT. 
 
 A man of quick and active wit 
 
 For drudgery is more unfit, 
 
 Compar'd to those of duller part?, 
 
 Than running-nags to draw in carts, bttler. 
 
694 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER 
 
 EVER V- DAY PEDANTS, 
 
 A man who lias 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 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 
 life. 
 
 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 gentle- 
 man's knowledge lies all within the verge of the 
 court '. He will tell you the names of the principal 
 favourites, 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. When he has gone thus far 
 he has shown you the whole circle of his accom- 
 plishments, his parts are drained, and he is disabled 
 from any farther conversation. What are these 
 but rank pedants ? and yet these are the men who 
 value themselves most on their exemption from the 
 pedantry of colleges. 
 
 The military pedant always talks in a camp, and 
 is storming towns, making lodgements, and fight 
 ing battles from one end of the year to the other. 
 Every thing he speaks smells of gunpowder ; if you 
 take away his artillery from him, he has not a word 
 to say for himself. The law pedant is perpetually 
 putting cases, repeating the transactions of West- 
 minster hall, wrangling with you upon the most 
 indifferent circumstances of life, and not to be con- 
 vinced of the distance of a place, or of the most 
 trivial point in conversation, but by dint of argu- 
 ment. The state pedant is wrapt up in news, and 
 lost in polities. If you mention either of the 
 sovereigns of Europe, 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 any thing, is an insipid pedantic 
 character, and equally ridiculous. 
 
 Of all the species of pedants, the book-pedant ia 
 much the most supportable ; he has at least an 
 exercised understanding, and a head which is full 
 though confused, so that a man who converses with 
 him may often receive hints from him 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 re?d a 
 great number of books without taste or distinc- 
 tion. 
 
 The truth of it is, learning, like travelling, 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. 
 
 Shallow pedants cry up one another much more 
 than men of solid and useful learning. To read 
 the titles they give an editor, or collator of a 
 manuscript, you would take him for the glory of 
 the commonwealth of letters, and the wonder of 
 his age, when perhaps upon examination you find 
 that he has only rectified a Greek particle, or laid 
 out a whole sentence in proper commas. 
 
 They are obliged indeed to be thus lavish of 
 their praises, that they may keep one another in 
 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. 
 
 ACCOMODATING BUILDING. 
 
 When Sir Nicholas Bacon, the Lord Keeper, 
 lived, every room in Gorhambury was served with 
 a pipe of water, from the ponds distant about a 
 mile off. In the lifetime of Mr. Anthony Bacon, 
 the water ceased ; after whose death, his lordship, 
 coming to the inheritance, could not recover the 
 water without infinite charge. When he was Lord 
 Chancellor, he built Verulam-house, close by the 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 695 
 
 pond-yard, for a place of privacy when he was 
 called upon to despatch any urgent business. And 
 being 1 asked, why he built that house there ? his 
 lordship answered, " That since he could not carry 
 the water to his house, he would cany his house to 
 the water." 
 
 SUPERFICIAL KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 All smatt'rers are more brisk and pert, 
 Than those that understand an art ; 
 As little sparkles shine more bright, 
 Than glowing coals, that give them light. 
 
 BUTLER. 
 MAP.HIAGE COMMISSION. 
 
 A merchant, originally from Paris, having ac- 
 quired a great fortune in one of the French West 
 India Islands, concluded with himself he could not 
 be happy in the enjoyment of it, unless he shared 
 it with a woman of merit ; and knowing none to 
 his fancy, he resolved to write to a worthy corres- 
 pondent of his at Paris. He knew no other style 
 than that he used in his trade ; therefore, treating 
 of affairs of love as he did his business, after 
 giving his friend, in a letter, several commissions, 
 and reserving this for the last, he went on thus : 
 
 " Item — Seeing that I have taken a resolution to 
 marry, and that I do not find a suitable match for 
 me here, do not fail to send, by next ship bound 
 hither, a young woman of the qualifications and 
 form following : — As for a portion, I demand none. 
 Let her be of an honest family, between twenty 
 and twenty-five years of age, of a middle stature 
 and well proportioned, her face agreeable, her 
 temper mild, her character blameless, her health 
 good, and her constitution strong enough to bear 
 the change of the climate, that there may be no 
 occasion to look out for a second through lack of 
 the first soon after she comes to hand, which must 
 be provided against as much as possible, consider- 
 ing the great distance and the dangers of the sea. 
 If she arrives here conditioned as above said, with 
 the present letter indorsed by you, or at least an 
 attested copy thereof, that there may be no mistake 
 or imposition, I hereby oblige and engage myself 
 to satisfy the said letter, by marrying the bearer 
 
 at fifteen days' sight. In witness whereof I sub- 
 scribe this, &c." 
 
 The Parisian correspondent read over and over 
 this odd article, which put the future spouse on 
 the same footing with the bales of goods he was to 
 send to his friend ; and after admiring the prudent 
 exactness of the American, and his laconic style in. 
 enumerating the qualifications which he insisted 
 on, he endeavoured to serve him to his mind ; andr 
 after many inquiries, he judged he had found a 
 lady fit for his purpose, in a young person of re- 
 putable family but no fortune, of good humour 
 and of a polite education, well shaped and more 
 than tolerably handsome. He made the proposal 
 to her as his friend had directed ; and the young 
 gentlewoman, who had no subsistence buc from a 
 cross old aunt, who gave her a great deal of un- 
 easiness, accepted it. A ship bound for that island 
 was then fitting at Rochelle ; the gentlewoman 
 went on board the same, together with the bales of 
 goods, being well provided with all necessaries, 
 and particularly with a certificate in due form, and 
 indorsed by the correspondent. She was also in- 
 cluded in the invoice, the last article of which ran 
 thus : 
 
 '* Item — A young gentlewoman of twenty-five 
 years of age, of the quality and shape and condi- 
 tioned as per order, as appears by the affidavits 
 and certificates she has to produce." 
 
 The writings which were thought necessary for 
 so exact a man as her future husband, were, an 
 extract of the parish register ; a certificate of her 
 character, signed by the curate ; an attestation of 
 her neighbours, setting forth that she had for the 
 space of three years lived with an old aunt who 
 was intolerably peevish, and had not during all 
 that time given her said aunt the least occasion of 
 complaint ; and, lastly, the goodness of her con- 
 stitution was certified, after the consultation, by 
 four noted physicians. Before the gentlewoman's 
 departure, the Parisian correspondent sent several 
 letters of advice, by other ships, to his friend, 
 whereby he informed him that per such a ship he 
 should send a young woman, of such an age, cha- 
 
6*96 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 racter, and condition, &c. ; in a word, such as he 
 desired to marry.— The letters of advice, the bales, 
 and the gentlewoman, came safe to the port ; and 
 our American, who happened to be one of the fore- 
 most on the pier, at the lady's landing, was 
 charmed to see a handsome person, Avho having 
 heard him called by his name, told him, " Sir, I 
 have a hill of exchange upon you, and you know 
 that it is not usual for people to carry a great deal 
 of money about them in such a long voyage as I 
 have now made. I beg the favour you will be 
 pleased to pay it." At the same time she gave him 
 his correspondent's letter ; on the back of which 
 was written, "The bearer of this is the spouse you 
 ordered me to send you." "Ah, Madam 1" said 
 the American, " I never yet suffered my bills to be 
 protested ; and I assure you this shall not be the 
 first. I shall reckon myself the most fortunate of 
 all men, if you allow me to discharge it." " Yes, 
 sir," replied she, " and the more willingly, since 
 I am apprized of your character. We had several 
 persons of honour on board, who knew you very 
 well, and who, during my passage, answered all 
 the questions I asked them concerning you in so 
 advantageous a manner, that it has raised in me a 
 perfect esteem for you."— The first interview was 
 in a few days after followed by the nuptials, which 
 were very magnificent. The new-married couple 
 were very well satisfied with their happy union 
 made by "a bill of exchange. 
 
 JUDICIAL INADVERTENCE. 
 Scene in the Criminal Court, at the Car low Assizes. 
 Dramatis Persona? .—Lord Norbury, Chief Justice 
 
 of the Common Pleas ; Mr. Cassan, a barrister ; 
 
 Dr. Jacob, a physician. Time— immediately 
 
 after sentence of death passed on a prisoner for 
 
 murder . — 
 
 Mr. Cassan requested to be allowed to proceed 
 with a traverse presentment case. 
 
 His Lordship nodded assent. 
 
 Mr. Cassan proceeded — In this case, my Lord, 
 I am counsel — 
 
 Lord N. — How do you do, Doctor Jacob ? I'm 
 glad to see you look so well. 
 
 Doctor Jacob. — I am glad to have it in my power 
 to return the compliment, my lord. 
 
 Mr. Cassan, still on his legs, and raising his 
 voice — My lord, in this case I am counsel for Mr. 
 Joseph Mulhall — ■ 
 
 Lord N. — Doctor Jacob, I have been very ill 
 since I last had the pleasure of seeing you. 
 
 Doctor Jacob — So have I, too, my lord. 
 
 Mr Cassan (with stentorian lungs) — My lord, I 
 have twice stated that in this case — 
 
 Lord N.— Doctor Jacob, I have to congratulate 
 you on the marriage of your son j he is a young 
 man of high professional talent — of great reputa- 
 tion. 
 
 Doctor Jacob — I thank you, my lord. 
 
 Mr. Cassan (still loud and with great emphasis) — 
 My lord, I shall occupy the attention of the court 
 but a short time — 
 
 Rochester's footman. 
 Rochester found out a footman that knew all 
 the court, and he furnished him with a red coat 
 and a musket as a sentinel, and kept him all the 
 winter long, every night, at the doors of such ladies 
 as he believed might be carrying on intrigues. 
 
 franklin's own epitaph. 
 
 The following epitaph was written by Iianklin 
 
 many years previous to his death . 
 
 THE BODY 
 
 of 
 
 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 
 
 PRINTER, 
 
 (like the cover of an old book, 
 
 its contents torn out, 
 
 and strift of its lettering and gildinc) 
 
 lies here food for worms ; 
 
 yet the work itself shall not be lost, 
 
 for it will (as he believed) appear once 
 
 more in a new 
 
 and more beautiful edition, 
 
 corrected and amended 
 
 by the author. 
 
697 
 
 CHOICE MORSELS OF DRAMATIC WIT 
 
 A KING OF LOW COMPANY. 
 
 Scene an aleJwuse room. 
 
 Several shabby fellows, with punch and tobacco, 
 tony lumpkin at the head of the table, a little 
 higher than the rest : a mallet in his hand. 
 
 Omnes. Hurrea, hurrea, hurrea, bravo. 
 
 1 Fel. Now, gentlemen, silence for a song-. The 
 squire is going- to knock himself down for a song. 
 
 Omnes. Ay, a song, a song. 
 
 Tony. Then I'll sing you, gentlemen, a song I 
 made upon this alehouse, the Three Pigeons, 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain, 
 
 With grammar, and nonsense, aud learning ; 
 Good liquor, I stoutly maintain, 
 
 Give genius a better discerning. 
 Let them brag of their heathenish gods, 
 
 Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians ; 
 Their quis, and their quaas, and their quods, 
 
 They're all but a parcel of pigeons. 
 
 Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 
 "When methodist preachers come down 
 
 A preaching that drinking is sinful, 
 I'll wager the rascals a crown, 
 
 They always preach best with a skinful. 
 But when you come down with your pence, 
 
 For a slice of their scurvy religion, 
 I'll leave it to all men of sense, 
 
 But you, my good friend, are the pigeon. 
 
 Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 
 2u 
 
 Then come, put the jorum about, 
 
 And let us be merry and clever ; 
 Our hearts and our liquors are stout ; 
 
 Here's the Three Jolly Pigeons for ever. 
 Let some cry up woodcock or hare, 
 
 Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons ; 
 But of all the birds in the air, 
 
 Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons. 
 
 Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 
 
 Omnes. Bravo, bravo. 
 
 1 Fel. The squire has got spunk in him. 
 
 2 Fel. I loves to hear him sing, bekeays he never 
 gives us nothing that's low. 
 
 3 Fel. O, damn any thing that's low ; I can't bear 
 it. 
 
 4 Fel. The genteel thing is the genteel thing at 
 any time, if so be that a gentleman bees in a con- 
 catenation accordingly. 
 
 3 Fel. I like the maxum of it, master Muggins. 
 What though T am obligated to dance a bear, a man 
 may be a gentleman for all that. May this be my 
 poison if my bear ever dances but to the very genteel- 
 est of tunes — " Water parted," or the minuet in 
 Ariadne. 
 
 2 Fel. What a pity it is the squire is not come to 
 his own. It would be well for all the publicans 
 within ten miles round of him. 
 
 Tony. Ecod, and so it would, master Slang. I'd 
 then show what it was to keep choice of company. 
 
 2 Fel. Oh, he takes after his own father for that. 
 To be sure old squire Lumpkin was the finest gentle- 
 man I ever set my eyes on. For winding the straight 
 
69S 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 horn, or beating a thicket for a hare, or a wench, he 
 never had his fellow. It was a saying in the place, 
 that lie kept the best horses, dogs, and girls in the 
 whole county. 
 
 Tony. Ecod, and when I'm of age I'll be no bastard, 
 I promise j^on. I have been thinking of Bet Bouncer 
 and the miller's grey mare to begin with. - But come, 
 my boys, drink about and be meny, for you pay no 
 reckoning. 
 
 DRILLING A COUNTRY ESTABLISHMENT OF 
 DOMESTICS. 
 
 Enter haudcasti,?., followed by three or four 
 awkward servants. 
 
 Hard. Well, I hope you're perfect in the table ex- 
 ercise I have been teaching you these three days. 
 You all know your posts and your places, and can 
 show that you have been used to good company, 
 without stirring from home. 
 
 Omnes. Ay, ay. 
 
 Hard. When company comes, you are not to pop 
 out and stare, and then run in again, like frighted 
 rabbits in a warren. 
 
 Omnes. No, no. 
 
 Hard. You. Diggory, whom I have taken from the 
 barn, are to make a show' at the side-table ; and you, 
 Roger, whom I have advanced from the plough, are 
 to place yourseif behind my chair. But you're not 
 to stand so, with your hands in your pockets. Take 
 your hands from your pockets, Roger, and from your 
 head, you blockhead you. See how Diggory carries 
 his hands. They're a little too stiff, indeed, but 
 that's no great matter. 
 
 Dig. Ay, mind how I hold them : T learned to 
 hold my hand this way when I was upon drill for the 
 militia. And so being upon drill — 
 
 Hard. You must not be so talkative, Diggory ; 
 you must be all attention to the guests : You must 
 hear us talk, and not think of talking ; you must see 
 us drink and not think of drinking ; you must see us 
 eat, and not think of eating. 
 
 Dig, By the laws, your worship, that's parfectly 
 
 uupossible. Whenever Diggory sees yeating going 
 forwards, ecod he's always wishing for a mouthful 
 himself. 
 
 Hard. Blockhead ! is not a bellyful in the kitchen 
 as good as a bellyful in the parlour ! Stay your 
 stomach with that reflection. 
 
 Dig. Ecod I thank your worship, I'll make a. shift 
 to stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef in. the 
 pantry. 
 
 Hard. Diggory, you are too talkative. Then if I 
 happen to say a good thing, or tell a good story at 
 table, you must not all burst out a laughing, as if you 
 made part of the company. 
 
 Dig. Then ecod your worship must not tell the 
 story of Ould Grouse in the gun-room : I can't help 
 laughing at that— he! he ! he ! — for the soul of mt>. 
 We have laughed at that these twenty years — ha ! 
 ha ! ha ! 
 
 Hard. Ha ! ha ! ha ! The story is a good one. 
 Well, honest Diggory, you may laugh at that. — but 
 still remember to be attentive. Suppose one of the 
 company should call for a glass of wine, how will you 
 behave! A glass of wine, sir, if you please. [To Dig - 
 gory] — Eh, why don't you move 1 
 
 Dig. Ecod, your worship, I never have courage till 
 I see the eatables and drinkables brought upon the 
 table and then I'm as bauld as a lion. 
 Hard. What, will nobody move ? 
 
 1 Serv. I'm not to leave this place. 
 
 2 Serv. I'm sure it's no pleace of mine. 
 
 3 Serv. Nor mine, for sartain. 
 Dig. Wauns, and I'm sure it cannabe mine. 
 Hard. You numskulls ! and so while, like your 
 
 betters, you are quarrelling for places, the guests 
 must be starved. O you dunces ! I find I must begin 
 
 all over again.-r But don't I hear a coach drive 
 
 into the yard 1 To your posts, you blockheads. I'll 
 go in the mean time and give my old friend's son a 
 hearty welcome at the gate. [Exit. 
 
 Dig. By the elevens, my place is gone quite out 
 of my head. _ 
 
 Roger. I know that my place is to be every v/here. 
 
 1 Serv, Where the devil is mine 1 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 699 
 
 2 Serv. My place is to be no where at all ; and so 
 l'ze go about my business. 
 
 FREE AND EASY VISITORS. 
 
 hardcastle enters the room in which marlow and 
 
 Hastings (who mistake his house for an inn) are 
 
 seated. 
 
 Hard. Gentlemen, you are heartily welcome. 
 Which is Mr. Marlow \ Sir, you're heartily welcome. 
 It's not my way r you see, to receive my friends with 
 my back to the fire ; I like to give them a hearty re- 
 ception in the old style at my gate • I lite to .see 
 their horses and trunks taken care of. 
 
 Mar. [Aside.] He has got our names from the ser- 
 vants already. [To Hard.] We approve your caution 
 and hospitality, sir. [To Hast.] I have been think- 
 ing, George, of changing our travelling dresses in the 
 morning j I am grown confoundedly ashamed of 
 mine. 
 
 Hard. I beg, Mr. Marlow, you'll use no ceremony 
 in this house. 
 
 Hast. I fancy, George, you're right : the first blow 
 is half the battle. 
 
 Hard. Mr. Marlow — Mr. Hastings — gentlemen — 
 pray be under no restraint in this house. This is 
 Liberty-hall, gentlemen ; you may do just as you 
 please here. 
 
 Mar. Yet, George, if we open the campaign too 
 fiercely at first, we may want ammunition before it is 
 over. We must show our generalship, by securing, 
 if necessary, a retreat. 
 
 Hard. Your talking of a retreat, Mr. Marlow, puts 
 me in mind of the duke of Marlborough, when he 
 went to besiege Denain. He first summoned the 
 garrison. 
 
 Mar. Ay, and we'll summon your garrison, old 
 boy. 
 
 Hard. He first summoned the garrison, which 
 might consist of about five thousand men — 
 
 Hast. Marlow, what's o'clock 1 
 
 Hard, I say, gentlemen, as I was telling you, he 
 summoned the garrison, which might consist of about 
 five thousand men. 
 
 Mar, Five minutes to seven. 
 2 n 2 
 
 Hard. Which might consist of about five thousand 
 men, well appointed with stores, ammunition, and 
 other implements of war. Now says the duke of 
 Marlborough, to George Brooks that stood next to him, 
 you must have heard of George Brooks — I'll pawn 
 my dukedom, says he, but I take that garrison with- 
 out spilling a drop of blood. So 
 
 Mar. What, my good friend, if you give us a glass 
 of punch in the mean time, it would help us to carry 
 on the siege with vigour. 
 
 Hard. Punch, sir ! This is the most unaccount- 
 able kind of modesty I ever met with. [Aside. 
 
 Mar. Yes, sir, punch. A glass of warm punch ; 
 after our journey, will be comfortable. 
 
 Enter servant, with a tankard. 
 This is Liberty -hall, you know. 
 
 Hard. Here's a cup, sir. 
 
 Mar. So this fellow, in his Liberty-hall, will only 
 let us have just what he pleases. [Aside, 
 
 Hard. [Taking the cup] I hope you'll find it to 
 your mind. I have prepar'd it with my own hands, 
 and I believe you'll own the ingredients are tolerable. 
 Will you be so good as to pledge me, sir 1 Here, Mr. 
 Marlow, here is to our better acquaintance. 
 
 [Drinks, and gives the cup to Marlow. 
 
 Mar. A very impudent fellow this ! but he's a cha- 
 racter, and I'll humour him a little. [Aside.] Sir, my 
 service to you. 
 
 [Drinks, and gives the cup to Hastings. 
 
 Hast. I see this fellow wants to give us his com- 
 pany, and forgets that he's an innkeeper, before he has 
 learned to be a gentleman. [Aside. 
 
 Mar. From the excellence of your cup, my friend, 
 I suppose you have a good deal of business in this 
 part of the country. Warm work, now and then at 
 elections I suppose. 
 
 [Gives the tankard to Hardcastle. 
 
 Hard. No, sir, I have long given that work over. 
 Since our betters have hit upon the expedient of 
 electing each other, there's no business for us that 
 sell ale. [Gives the tankard to Hastings. 
 
 Hast. So then you have no turn for politics, I find. 
 
 Hard. Not in the least. There was a time, indeed. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 700 
 
 I fretted myself about the mistakes of government, 
 like other people ; but finding myself every day grow 
 more angry, and the government growing no better, 
 I left it to mend itself. Since that, I no more trouble 
 my head about who's in or who's out, than I do about 
 John Nokes or Tom Stiles. So my service to you. 
 
 Hast. So that with eating above stairs and drink- 
 ing below, with receiving your friends within and 
 amusing them without, you lead a good, pleasant, 
 bustling life of it. 
 
 Hard. I do stir about a good deal, that's certain. 
 Half the differences of the parish are adjusted in this 
 very parlour. 
 
 Mar. [After drinking] And you have an argu- 
 ment in your cup, old gentleman, better than any in 
 Westminster-hall. 
 
 Hard. Ay, young gentleman, that, and a little 
 philosophy. 
 
 Mar. Well, this is the first time I ever heard of an 
 innkeeper's philosophy. [Aside. 
 
 Hast. So then, like an experienced general, you 
 attack them on every quarter. If you find their reason 
 manageable, you attack them with your philosophy ; 
 if you find they have no reason, you attack them with 
 this. Here's your health, my philosopher. [Drinks. 
 
 Hard. Good, very good, thank you ; ha ! ha ! 
 Your generalship puts me in mind of prince Eugene 
 when he fought the Turks at the battle of Belgrade. 
 You shall hear. 
 
 Mar. Instead of the battle of Belgrade, I think it's 
 almost time to talk about supper. What has your 
 philosophy got in the house for supper ? 
 
 Hard. For supper, sir ! Was ever such a re- 
 quest to a man in his own house ! [Aside. 
 
 Mar. Yes, sir, supper, sir ; I begin to feel an ap- 
 petite. I shall make devilish work to-night in the 
 larder, I promise you. 
 
 Hard. Such a brazen dog sure never my eyes 
 beheld. [Aside.] Why really, sir, as for supper, I 
 can't well tell. My Dorothy and the cookmaid settle 
 these tilings between them. I leave these kind of 
 things entirely to them." 
 
 Mar, You do, do you 1 
 
 Hard. Entirely. By-the-by, I believe they are in 
 actual consultation upon what's for supper this 
 moment in the kitchen. 
 
 Mar. Then I beg they'll admit me as one of tht4r 
 privy council. It's a way I have got. When T tra- 
 vel, I always choose to regulate my own supper. Let , 
 the cook be called. No orfence, I hope, sir. 
 
 Hard. O no, sir, none in the least : yet I don't | 
 know, our Bridget, the cookmaid, is not very com- '".' 
 municative upon these occasions. Should we send ' 
 for her, she might scold us all out'of the house. , 
 
 Hast. Let's see the list of the larder then. I ask tj 
 it as a favour. I always match my appetite to my , 
 bill of fare. , 
 
 Mar. [To Hardcastle, who looks at them with sur- 
 prise] Sir, he's very right, and it's my way too. 
 
 Hard. Sir, you have a right to command here. 
 Here, Roger, bring us the bill of fare for to-night's . 
 supper. I believe it's drawn out. Your manner, Mr. ' 
 Hastings, puts me in mind of my uncle, colonel Wal- I 
 lop. It was assaying of his, that no man was sure of 
 his supper till he had eaten it. 
 
 [Servant brings on the bill of fare, and exit. 
 
 Hast. All upon the high ropes ! His uncle a colo- , 
 nel ! we shall soon hear of .his mother being a justice i 
 of peace. [Aside.] But let's hear the bill of fare. 
 
 Mar. [Perusing] What's here? For the first 
 course ; for the second course ; for the dessert. The 
 devil, sir, do you think we have brought down the 
 whole joiners' company, or the corporation of Bedford, 
 to eat up such a supper 1 two or three little things, \ 
 clean and comfortable, will do. 
 
 Hast. But let's hear it. 
 
 Mar. [Reading] For the first course ; at the top\ 
 a pig and prune sauce. 
 
 Hast. Damn your pig, I say. 
 
 Mar. And damn your prune sauce, say I. 
 
 Hard. And yet, gentlemen, to men that are hun- ' 
 
 gry, pig, with prune sauce, is very good eating. J* 
 
 Their impudence confounds me. [Aside.] Gentlemen,/ 
 you are my guests, make what alterations you please. 
 Is there any thing else you wish to retrench or alter, 
 gentlemen ? 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 A pork pie, a boiled rabbit a7idsau- 
 
 701 
 
 Mar. Item 
 sages,aJ?orentine, a shaking pudding, and a disk of 
 tijf — taff — taffety cream ! 
 
 Hast. Confound your made dishes ! I shall be as 
 much at a loss in this house, as at a green and yellow 
 dinner at the French ambassador's table. I'm for 
 plain eating. 
 
 Hard. I'm sorry, gentlemen, that I have nothing 
 ycu like ; but if there be any thing you have a parti- 
 
 I cular fancy to 
 
 Mar. Why really, sir, your bill of fare is so exqui- 
 
 i site, that any one part of it is full as good as another. 
 
 1 Send us what you please. So much for supper. And 
 
 | now to see that our beds are aired, and properly taken 
 
 care of. 
 
 Hard. I entreat you'll leave all that to me. You 
 shall not stir a step. 
 
 Mar. Leave that to you ! I protest, sir, you must 
 excuse me, I always look to these things myself. 
 
 Hard. I must insist, sir, you'll make yourself easy 
 on that head. 
 
 Mar. You see I'm resolved on it. A very trou- 
 blesome fellow, as ever I met with. [Aside. 
 Hard. Well, sir, I'm resolved at least to attend 
 you. — This may be modern modesty, but I. never saw 
 any thing look so like old-fashioned impudence. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 FEMALE QUALIFICATIONS. 
 HASTINGS AND TONY LUMPKIN. 
 
 Hast. Then you're no friend to the ladies, I find, 
 my pretty young gentleman? 
 
 Tony. That's as I find 'urn, 
 
 Hast. Not to her of your mother's choosing, I dare 
 answer 1 And yet she appears to me a pretty well- 
 tempered girl. 
 
 Tony. That's because you don't know her as well 
 as I. Ecod ! I know every inch about her ; and 
 there's not a more bitter cantankerous toad in all 
 Christendom. 
 
 Hast. Pretty encouragement this for a lover. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Tony. I have seen her since the height of that. She 
 
 has as many tricks as a hare in a thicket, or a colt 
 the first day's breaking. 
 
 Hast. To me she appears sensible and silent ! 
 Tony. Ay, before company. But when she's with 
 her playmates she's as loud as a hog in a gate. 
 
 Hast. But there is a meek modesty about her that 
 charms me. 
 
 Tony. Yes, but curb her never so little she kicks 
 up, and you're flung in the ditch. 
 
 Hast. Well, but you must allow her a little beauty. 
 Yes, you must allow her some beauty. 
 
 Tony. Bandbox ! She's all a made up thing, mun. 
 Ah ! could you but see Bet Bouncer of these parts, 
 you might then talk of beauty. Ecod, she has two 
 eyes as black as sloes, and cheeks as broad and red 
 as a pulpit cushion. She'd make two of she. 
 
 Hast. Well, what say you to a friend that would 
 take this bitter bargain off your hands t 
 Tony. Anon. 
 
 Hast. Would you thank him that would take Bliss 
 Neville, and leave you to happiness and your dear 
 Betsy ? 
 
 Tony. Ay ; but where is there such a friend, for 
 who would take her 1 
 
 Hast. I am he. If you but assist me, I'll engage 
 to whip her off to France, and you shall never hear 
 more of her. 
 
 Tony. Assist you ! Ecod, I will, to the last drop of 
 my blood. I'll clap a pair of horses to your chaise, 
 that shall trundle you off in a twinkling, and maybe 
 get you a part of her fortin, beside, in jewels, that you 
 little dream of. 
 
 Hast. My dear squire, this looks like a lad of spirit. 
 Tony. Come along then, and you shall see more 
 of my spirit before you have done with me. 
 We are the boys 
 That fear no noise 
 Where thundering cannons roar. 
 
 CIRCUITOUS JOURNEY. 
 
 Hastings alone. 
 Hastings. What an idiot am I, to wait here for a 
 fellow, who probably takes delight in mortifying me. 
 
702 
 
 He never intended to be punctual, and I'll wait no 
 longer. What do I see] It is he, and perhaps with 
 news of my Constance. 
 
 Enter tony, booted and spattered. 
 My honest squire ! I now find you a man of your 
 word. This looks like friendship. 
 
 Tony. Ay, I'm your friend, and the best friend you 
 have in the world, if you knew but all. This riding 
 by night, by-the-by, is cursedly tiresome. It has 
 shook me worse than the basket of a stage coach. 
 
 Hast. But how t Where did you leave your fel- 
 low travellers 1 Are they in safety 1 Are they 
 housed 1 
 
 Tony. Five and twenty miles in two hours and a 
 half, is no such bad driving. The poor beasts have 
 smoked for it. Rabbit me, but I'd rather ride forty 
 miles after a fox, than ten with such varment. 
 
 Hast. Well, but where have you left the ladies ? I 
 die with impatience. 
 
 Tony. Left them! Why, where should I leave 
 them, but where I found them ? 
 
 Hast. This is a riddle. 
 
 Tony. Riddle me this, then. What's that goes 
 round the house, and round the house, and never 
 Ouches the house 1 
 
 Hast. I'm still astray. 
 
 Tony. Why, that's it, mon. I. have led them 
 astray. By jingo, there's not a pond or slough within 
 five miles of the place, but they can tell the taste of. 
 
 Hast. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I understand ; you took them 
 in a round, while they supposed themselves going 
 forward, And so you have at last brought them home 
 again. 
 
 Tony. You shall hear. I first took them down 
 Feather-bed-lane, where we stuck fast in the mud. — 
 I then rattled them crack over the stones of Up-and- 
 down-hill — I then introduced them to the gibbet on 
 Heavy-tree-heath, — and from that, with a circum- 
 bendibus, I fairly lodg'd them in the horsepond at 
 the bottom of the garden. 
 . Hast. But no accident, I hope. 
 
 Tony. No, no. Only mother is confoundedly 
 frightened. She thinks herself forty miles off. She's 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 sick of the journey, and th e cattle can scarce crawl. 
 So if your own horses be ready, you may whip off 
 with cousin, and I'll be bound that no soul here cau 
 budge a foot to follow you. 
 
 Hast. My dear friend, how can I be grateful 1 
 
 Tony. Ay, now it's dear friend, nobie squire. Just 
 now, it was all idiot, cub, and run me through the 
 guts. Damn your way of fighting, I say. After we 
 take a knock in this part of the country, we shake 
 hands and be friends. But if you had run me 
 through the guts, then I should be dead, and you 
 might go shake hands with the hangman. 
 
 Hast. The rebuke is just. But I must hasten to 
 relieve Miss Neville ! if you keep the old lady 
 employed, I promise to take care of the young one. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Tony. Never fear me. Here she comes. Vanish ! 
 She's got into the pond, and is draggled up to the 
 waist like a mermaid. 
 
 Enter 
 
 MRS. HARDCASTLE. 
 
 Mrs. H. Oh, Tony, I'm kill'd ! Shook ! Battered 
 to death ! I shall never survive it. That last jolt that 
 laid us against the quickset-hedge has done my busi- 
 ness. 
 
 Tony. Alack, mamma, it was all your own fault. 
 You would be for running away by night, without 
 knowing one inch of the way. 
 
 Mrs. H. I wish we were at home again. I never 
 met so many accidents in so short a journey. 
 Drench'd in the mud, overturn'd in a ditch, stuck fast 
 in a slough, jolted to a jelly, and at last to lose our 
 way. Whereabouts do you think we are, Tony 1 
 
 Tony. By my guess we should be upon Crack- 
 skull common, about forty miles from home. 
 
 Mrs. H. O lud ! O lud ! the most notorious spot 
 in all the country. We only want a robbery to make 
 a complete night on't. 
 
 To?iy. Don't be afraid, mamma, don't be afraid. 
 Two of the five that kept here are hanged, and the 
 other three may not find us. Don't be afraid. Is that 
 a man that's galloping behind us ? No ', it's only a 
 tree. Don't be afraid. 
 
Mrs. H. The fright will certainly kill me. 
 
 Tony. Do you see any thing like a black hat mov- 
 ing behind the thicket \ 
 
 Mrs. H. O death ! . ^ „ ., 
 
 Tony. No, it's only a cow. Dent be afraid, 
 mamma ! don't be afraid. 
 
 Mrs. H. As I'm alive, Tony, I see a man coming 
 towards us. Ah ! I'm sure on't. If he perceives us 
 we are undone. 
 
 Tony. Fathec-in-law, by all that's unlucky, come 
 to take one of his night walks, [^side.] Ah, it's a 
 highwayman, with pistols as long as my arm. A 
 damn'd ill looking fellow. 
 
 Mrs. H Good heaven defend us ! he approaches. • 
 
 Tony. Do you hide yourself in that thicket, and 
 leave me to manage him. If there be any danger 
 I'll cough and cry hem. When I cough be sure to 
 keep close. 
 
 [Mrs. H. hides behind a tree. 
 
 Enter iiarucastle. 
 Hard. I'm mistaken, or I heard voices of people in 
 want of help. O, Tony, is that you 1 I did not expect 
 you so soon back. Are your mother and her charge 
 in safety 1 ,. ' ' " 
 
 Tom/. Very safe, sir, at my aunt Pedigree s. Hem. 
 Mrs. H. [From behind] Ah, death ! I find there s 
 danger. , 
 
 Hard. Forty miles in three hours ; sure, that s too 
 much, my youngster. • 
 
 Tony. Stout horses and willing minds make short 
 journeys, as they say. Hem. 
 
 Mrs. H. [From behind] Sure, he'll do the dear 
 boy no harm. , 
 
 Hard. But I heard a voice here ; I should be glad 
 to know from whence it came 1 
 
 Tom,. It was I, sir, talking to myself, sir. I was 
 savins that forty miles in three hours was very good 
 P-oing. Hem. As to be sure it was. Hera. I have 
 got a sort of cold by being out in the air. We 11 go 
 in, if vou please. Hem. 
 
 Hard. But if you talked to yourself, you did not 
 answer yourself. I am certain I heard two voices, 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 and am resolved [raising hi 
 
 ?03 
 voice] to find the other 
 
 Mrs H. {Running forward from behind] O lud, 
 he'll murder my poor boy, my darling. Here, good 
 gentleman, whet your rage upon me. Take my money, 
 my lite, but spare that young gentleman, spare my 
 child, if you have any mercy. . 
 
 Hard. My wife ! as I am a christian. • From 
 whence can she come, or what does she mean ! 
 
 Mrs. H. [Kneeling] Take compassion on us, good 
 Mr Highwayman. Take our money, our watcnes, 
 all we have, but spare our lives. We gill never 
 bring you to justice, indeed we wont, good ftlr. 
 Highwayman. 
 
 Hard.. I believe the. woman s out oi her senses. 
 What, Dorothy, don't you know me 1 
 
 Mrs H Mr. Hardcastle, as I'm alive! l-,iy .ears 
 banded me. But who, my dear, could have expected 
 to meet you here, in this frightful place, so far irora 
 home i— What has brought you to follow us 1 
 
 Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you have not lost your wits 
 So far from home, when you are within forty yards ot 
 your own door. [To Tony] This is one of your old 
 tricks, you graceless rogue you. [To Mrs. H] Don t 
 you know the gate and the inulbery-tree ; and don t 
 you remember the horsepond, my dear 1 
 
 Mrs H. Yes, I shall remember the horsepond as 
 
 lono- as I live ; I have caught my death in it. [To 
 
 Tony] And it is to you, you graceless varlet I owe 
 
 all this. I'll teach you to abuse your mother, I will. 
 
 Tony. Ecod, mother, all the parish says you have 
 
 spoiled me, and so you may take the fruits on t. 
 
 Mrs. H. Ill spoil vou, I will. [Beats him off. 
 
 Hard. Ha ! ha ! ha ! [She Stoops to Conquer. 
 
 CAPTAIN BEAUGARD AND CALEB QUOTEM. 
 
 Quo. Captain, your most obedient. 
 
 Beau. Yours, sir. 
 
 Quo. My name, sir, is Caleb Quotem, at your ser- 
 vice My father was well known in this parish, and 
 the country round, as the poet says-sexton and crier 
 here, thirty years and upwards. By trade a plumber 
 and glazier, to which I have added many others j as 
 
'04 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 auctioneer, schoolmaster, engraver, watch-maker, 
 sign-painter, &c. &c. Talking of signs puts me, in 
 mind of the zodiac. — You must know I am allowed 
 to possess some knowledge of the sciences ; globes, 
 terrestrial and celestial, telescopes, and household 
 furniture ; — understand all sorts of fixtures, magnets, 
 marble slabs, polar stars, and corner cupboards. 
 
 Beau. Damn the fellow ! — he has travelled over 
 both hemispheres, and now fixed himself in a corner 
 cupboard ! But pray, what may your business be 
 with me, sir 1 
 
 Quo. My business is that of my father's, as Shak- 
 speare says ; but my reason for attending you is — 
 talking of reason, puts me in mind of the man in 
 Bedlam, who swore all mankind were mad, for they 
 had locked him up, and he could not divine the 
 cause ; now this man, as the poet says, had " cool 
 reason on his side." Talking of side, puts me in mind 
 of myself — I am beside myself — that is, I threw 
 myself beside you, to express how much I am " your 
 h urnble servant," as Dryden says. 
 
 Beau. A mighty expressive sentence, truly, Mr. 
 Quotem. 
 
 Quo. Captain, I shall be happy to serve you on all 
 occasions — I can make or mend pumps, or windows, 
 paint cupboards, or carriages, repair watches or 
 weather-glasses — in short, (as a great author says,) 
 " I'm up to every thing." Talking of every thing, I 
 write ballads and epitaphs ; cut tombstones and sell 
 coffin furniture — shall be glad to serve you with any 
 of the last articles at the lowest price, as the poet 
 says. 
 
 Beau. Ihopelsha'nt trouble you for any of the 
 last articles soon, Mr. Quotem ; — your town of Wind- 
 sor is very wholesome. 
 
 Quo. The air is salubrious, and the fields look 
 green, as Pope says. Yet somehow or other people 
 drop away very speedily. 
 
 Beau. Why you seem the very picture of health. 
 
 Quo. That is chiefly owing to a part of my pro- 
 fession — or rather my father's profession, at which I 
 always assist. 
 
 Beau, What's that i 
 
 Quo. Grave making ; turning up the fresh earth, 
 you know, is healthy employ — I should like to dig 
 your grave. Talking of grave-making, puts me in 
 mind of physic ; — do you know, I dabble a little in 
 that way ! 
 
 Beau. Indeed I 
 
 Quo. When none of the faculty are on the spot, 
 neighbours call me in, being very near several pati- 
 ents — my house — churchyard. 
 
 Beau. Churchyard ! — Oh ! very near your pati- 
 ents, I dare say. 
 
 Quo. Ha i. ha ! come that's a good one — as man and 
 boy, concerned in every thing, flimsy affairs, and 
 weighty matters. How do you think I employ my 
 hours ? A day, now, a summer's day, as Milton 
 says. 
 
 Beau. I can't guess, indeed. 
 
 Quo. Morning, rise at five — father not up — run 
 to church — ring bell — back to school — look over big 
 boy's accounts — teach children catechism — breakfast 
 at eight — swallow muffins — play tune — German flute, 
 or fiddle — fright jackdaws from chickens — church- 
 yard — dig graves till ten — run to penfold— advertise 
 strayed cattle — make out registers, marriage banns, 
 and certificates, till eleven — home — scold wife — put 
 on fire— away I go — round for prayers — help curate 
 on with surplice — run to school — whip boys' bottoms, 
 back time enough to cry Amen. — Thus passes away 
 my forenoon, as Congreve says. 
 
 Beau. Forenoon ! Zounds, man, you've done a 
 day's work already. 
 
 Quo. Talking of work — dine at one — go into shop, 
 pound rosin or rhubarb — same mortar — mix up balls 
 of putty — box of pills — pint of paint — dose of jalap — • 
 mend sash or sideboard — repair sun — change moon — ■ 
 blot out seven stars— squint at time-piece — put new 
 wheel to watch, and weights to kitchen clock — sand 
 to hour glass — main-spring to watch, or sucker to 
 pump. Thus passes my time till four — burying, per- 
 haps — never out of the way — boys toll bells — at hand 
 to chime in — assist in the service — anthem from Job, 
 " Dust to dust" — go home and play at blindman's 
 buff with boys till six. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER.' 
 
 705 
 
 Beau. What a devil of a fellow is this ! 
 
 Quo. Don't interrupt me, captain. 
 
 Beau. Well, then, at six ? . 
 
 Quo. At six, as the poet says, attend at the great 
 room — auctioneer — knock down household goods — 
 going, going, gone ! — to my shop — cut tombstones — 
 ■write epitaphs, to amuse myself — set 'em to music — 
 feed hogs — coop hens — drive ducks from the pond — 
 sunset — night comes on— shut up shop, school, and 
 vestry — night curfew — go home — chimney corner — 
 call my wife — stir fire — draw cork — smoke pipe — 
 quaff — crack joke — laugh — lie down-^-or, to make 
 out time, '* Wind up the clock," as Yorick says. 
 Thus ends the history of a day. 
 
 Beau. Thank heaven his day is done, as the poet 
 Bays — and here comes one to prevent his beginning 
 another. Review. 
 
 AN HYPOCRITE'S ATTEMPT TO SEDUCE HIS FRIENd's 
 WIFE. 
 
 Enter doctor cantwell and lady Lambert. 
 
 Dr. C. Here I am, madam, at your ladyship's com- 
 mand ; how happy am I that you think me worthy — 
 
 Lady L. Please to sit, sir. 
 
 Dr. C. Well but, dear lady, ha ! You can't con- 
 ceive the joyousness I feel at this so much desired 
 interview. Ah ! ah ! I have a thousand friendly 
 things to say to you : and how stands your precious 
 health? is your naughty cold abated yet? I have 
 scarce closed my eyes these two nights with my con- 
 cern for you. 
 
 Lady L. Your charity is too far concerned for me. 
 
 Dr. C. Ah ! don't say so ; don't say so ; you merit 
 more than mortal man can do for you. 
 
 Lady L. Indeed you overrate me. 
 
 Dr. C. I speak it from my heart : indeed, indeed, 
 indeed I do. 
 
 Lady L. O dear ! you hurt my hand, sir. 
 
 Dr. C. Impute it to my zeal, and want of words 
 for expression : precious soul I I would not hurt you 
 for the world : no, it would be the whole business of 
 my life 
 
 Lady L. But to the affair I would speak to you about. 
 2 g 3 
 
 Dr. C. Ah ! thou heavenly woman ! 
 
 Lady L. Your hand need not be there, sir. 
 
 Dr. C. I was admiring the softness of this silk. 
 They are indeed come to prodigious perfection in all 
 manufactures; how wonderful is human art! Here 
 it disputes the prize with nature : that all this soft 
 and gaudy lusture should be wrought from the labours 
 of a poor worm ! 
 
 Lady L. But our business, sir, is upon another 
 subject : sir John informs me, that he thinks himself 
 under no obligations to Mr. Darnley, and therefore 
 resolves to give his daughter to you. 
 
 Dr. C. Such a thing has been mentioned, madam ; 
 but, to deal sincerely with you, that is not the happi- 
 ness I sigh after ; there is a soft and serious excel- 
 lence for me, very different from what your step- 
 daughter possesses. 
 
 Lady . L. Well, sir, pray be sincere and open your 
 heart to me. 
 
 Dr. C. Open my heart ! can you then, sweet lady, 
 be yet a stranger to it ? Has no action of my life been 
 able to inform you of my real thoughts ? 
 
 Lady L. Well, sir, I take all this, as I suppose 
 you intend it, for my good and spiritual welfare. 
 
 Dr. C. Indeed I mean your cordial service. 
 
 Lady L. I dare say you do : you are above the 
 low, momentary views of this world. 
 
 Dr. C. Why, I should be so ; and yet, alas ! I find 
 this mortal clothing of my soul is made like other 
 mens', of sensual flesh and blood, and has its frailties. 
 
 Lady Ij. We all have those, but yours are well 
 corrected by your divine and virtuous contemplations. 
 
 Dr. C. Alas ! madam, my heart is not of stone : I 
 may resist, call all my prayers, my fastings, tears and 
 penance to my aid ; but yet, I am not an angel ; I 
 am still but a man ; and virtue may strive, but 
 nature will be uppermost. I love, you madam. 
 
 Ljady L. Ah, doctor, what have you done to me? the 
 trouble of my mind is not to be expressed. You have 
 indeed discovered to me what, perhaps, for my own 
 peace 'twere better I had never been acquainted with v 
 but I had not an opportunity to lay my heart open to 
 you. 
 
 Dr. C. Ah ! do not endeavour to decoy my foolish 
 
706 
 
 heart, too apt to flatter itself. You cannot sure think 
 kindly of me ! 
 
 Lady L. Well, well, I would have you imagine 
 so. 
 
 Dr. C. Besides, may I not with reason suspect, 
 that this apparent goodness is but artifice ; a shadow 
 of compliance, meant only to persuade me from your 
 daughter. 
 
 Lady L. Methinks this doubt of me seems rather 
 founded on your settled resolution not to resign her. — 
 I am convinced of it. I can assure you, sir, I should 
 have saved you this trouble, had I known how deeply 
 you were engaged to lier. 
 
 Dr. C. Tears then I must believe you But 
 
 indeed you wrong me. I have myself pressed sir 
 John to give Charlotte to young Darnley. 
 
 Lady L. Mere artifice. You knew that modest 
 resignation would make sir John warmer in your 
 interest. 
 
 Dr. C. No, indeed, indeed. I had otker motives, 
 which you may hereafter be made acquainted with, 
 and will convince you ' 
 
 Lady L. Well, sir, now I'll give yon reason to 
 guess why, at our last meeting, I pressed you so 
 warmly to resign Charlotte. 
 
 Dr. C. Ah dear ! ah dear ! 
 
 Lady L. You cannot blame me for having opposed 
 your happiness, when my own, perhaps, depended 
 upon it. 
 
 Dr. C. Spare me, spare me ; you kill me with this 
 kindness. 
 
 Lady L. But now that I have discovered my weak- 
 ness, be secret ; for the least imprudence 
 
 Dr. C. It is a vain fear. 
 
 Lady L. Call it not vain ; my reputation is dearer 
 to me than life. 
 
 Dr. C. Where can it find so sure a guard 1 The 
 grave austerities of my life will dumb-found suspicion, 
 and yours may defy detraction. 
 
 Lady L. Well, doctor, 'tis you must answer for my 
 folly. 
 
 Dr. C. I take it all upon myself. 
 
 Lady L. But there's one thing still to be afraid of. 
 
 Dr. C. Nothing, nothing. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Lady L. My husband, sir John. 
 
 Dr. C. Alas, poor man ! I will answer for him. 
 Between ourselves, madam, your husband is weak ; I 
 can lead him by the nose any wheFe. 
 
 [Sir John Lambert conies from behind a screen. 
 No, caitiff, I'm to be led no further. 
 
 Dr. C. Ah 1 woman. 
 
 Sir J. Is this your sanctity 1 this your doctrine 1 
 these your meditations ! 
 
 Dr. C. Ts then my brother in a conspiracy against 
 me? 
 
 Sir J. Your brother ! I have been your friend, 
 indeed, to my shame ; your dupe ; but your spell has 
 lost its hold : no more canting ; it will not serve your 
 turn any longer. 
 
 Lady L. Now heaven be praised. 
 
 Dr. C. It seems you wanted an excuse to part 
 with me. 
 
 Sir J. Ungrateful wretch ! but why do I reproach 
 you ! Had I not been the weakest of mankind, you 
 never could have proved so great a villain. Get out 
 of my sight , leave my house : of all my follies, which 
 is it tells you, that if you stay much longer, T shall 
 not be tempted to wrest you out of the hands of the 
 lav/ and punish you as you deserve 
 
 AFFECTIONATE COURTSHIP. 
 BETTY, CHARLOTTE, and DR. CA1NTWELL. 
 
 Bet. Doctor Cantwell desires to be admitted, 
 madam. 
 
 Char. Let him come in. 
 
 Enter doctor cantwell. 
 Your servant, sir. — Give us chairs, Betty, and leave 
 the room. — [Exit Betty] — Sir, there's a seat — What 
 can the ugly cur say to me 1 — he seems a little puz- 
 zled. r Hums a tune. 
 
 Dr. C. Look ye, young lady, I am afraid, notwith- 
 standing your good father's favour, I am not the man 
 you would desire to be alone with upon this occasion. 
 
 Char. Your modesty is pleased to be in the right. 
 
 Dr. C. I'm afraid too, notwithstanding all my en- 
 deavours to the contrary, that you entertain a pretty- 
 bad opinion of me. 
 
 Char. A worse, sir, of no mortal breathing. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 707 
 
 Dr. C. Which opinion is immoveable. 
 
 Char. No rock so firm ! 
 
 Dr. C. I am afraid then it will be a vain pursuit, 
 when I solicit you, in compliance with my worthy 
 friend's desire and my own inclinations, to become my 
 partner in that blessed estate in which we may be a 
 comfort and support to each other. 
 
 Char. I would die rather than consent to it. 
 
 Dr. C. In other woirds, you hate me. 
 
 Char. Most transcendently. 
 
 Dr. C. Well, there is sincerity at least in your 
 confession : you are not, I see, totally deprived of all 
 virtue, though I must say I never could perceive in 
 you but very little. 
 
 Char. Oh, fie ! you flatter me. 
 
 Dr. C. No ; I speak it with sorrow, because you 
 are the daughter of my best friend. But how are we 
 to proceed now ? are we to preserve temper ? 
 
 Char. Oh ! never fear me, sir, I shall not fly out, 
 being convinced that nothing gives so sharp a point 
 to one's. aversion as good breeding ; as, on the con- 
 trary, ill manners often hide a secret inclination. 
 
 Dr. C. Well then, young lady, be assured so far 
 am I from the unchristian disposition of returning in- 
 juries that your antipathy to me causes no hatred in 
 my soul towards you ; on the contrary, I would wil- 
 lingly make you happy, if it may be done according 
 to my conscience, with the interest of heaven in 
 view. 
 
 Char. Why, I can't see, sir, how heaven can be 
 any way concerned in a transaction between you and 
 me. 
 
 Dr. C. When you marry any other person, my 
 consent is necessary. 
 
 Char. So I hear, indeed ! but pray, doctor, how 
 could your modesty receive so insolent a power, with- 
 out putting my poor father out of countenance with 
 your blushes ? 
 
 Dr. C. I sought it not ; but he would crowd it 
 among other obligations. He is good natured ; and I 
 foresaw it might serve to pious purposes. 
 
 Char. I don't understand you. 
 
 Dr. C. I take it for granted, that you would marry 
 Mr. Darnley. Am I right ? 
 
 Char. Once in your life, perhaps, you may. 
 
 Dr. C. Nay, let us be plain. Would you marry 
 him? 
 
 Char. You're mighty nice, methinks. Well, I would, 
 
 Dr. C. Then I will not consent. 
 
 Char. You won't? 
 
 Dr. C. My conscience will not suffer me. I know 
 you to be both, luxurious and worldly-minded ; and 
 you would squander upon the vanities of the world, 
 those treasures which ought to be better laid out. 
 
 Char. Hum ! — I believe I begin to conceive you. 
 
 Dr. C. Jf you can think of any project to satisfy 
 my conscience, I am tractable. You know -there is 
 a considerable moiety of your fortune which goes to 
 my lady in case of our disagreement. 
 
 Char. That's enough, sir. — You think we should 
 have a fellow feeling in it. At what sum do you rate 
 your concurrence to my inclinations ? that settled, I 
 am willing to strike the bargain. 
 
 Dr. C. What do you think of half? 
 
 Char. How ! two thousand pounds ? 
 
 Dr. C. Why, you know you gain two thousand 
 pounds ; and really the severity of the times for the 
 poor, and my own stinted pittance, which cramps my 
 charities, will not suffer me to require less. 
 
 Char. But how is my father to be brought into 
 this? 
 
 Dr. C. Leave that to my management. 
 
 Char. And what security do you expect for the 
 money ? 
 
 Dr. C. Oh ! Mr. Darnley is wealthy : when I 
 deliver my consent in writing, he shall lay it down 
 to me in bank-bills. 
 
 Char. Pretty good security ! — On one proviso 
 though. 
 
 Dr. C. Name it. 
 
 Char. That you immediately tell my father that 
 you are willing to give up your interest to Mr. Darn- 
 ley. 
 
 Dr. C. Hum ! — stay— I agree to it ; but in the 
 mean time, let me warn you, child, not to expect to 
 turn that, or what has now passed between us, to my 
 confusion, by sinister construction, or evil represent- 
 ation to your father. I am satisfied of the piety of 
 
70S 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 my own intentions, and care not what the wicked 
 think of them ; but force me not to take advantage of 
 sir John's good opinion of me, in order to shield 
 myself from the consequences of your malice. 
 
 Char. Oh ! I shall not stand in my own light : I 
 know your conscience and your power too well, dear 
 doctor ! 
 
 Dr. C. Well, let your interest sway you. Thank 
 heaven, I am actuated by more worthy motives. 
 
 Char. No doubt on't. 
 
 Dr. C. Farewell, and think me your friend. [Exit. 
 
 Char. What this fellow's original was, I know- 
 not ; but from his conscience and cunning, he would 
 make an admirable Jesuit. 
 
 THE ILLITERATE FANATIC. 
 
 DOCTOR CANTWELL, old LADY LAMBERT, and 
 
 SEYWARD. 
 
 Sey. Sir, Mr. Mawworm is without, and would be 
 glad to be permitted to speak with you. 
 
 Old Lady L. Oh pray, doctor, admit him ; I have 
 not seen Mr. Mawworm this great while ; he's a 
 pious man, though in an humble estate ; desire the 
 worthy creature to walk in. 
 
 Enter mawworm. 
 —How do you do, Mr. Mawworm? 
 
 Maw. Thank your ladyship's axing — I'm but deadly 
 poorish indeed ; the world and 1 can't agree — I got 
 the books, doctor— and Mrs. Grunt bid me give her 
 service to you, and thank you for the eighteen-pence. 
 
 Dr. C. Hush, friend Mawworm ! not a word more ; 
 you know I hate to have my little charities blaz'd 
 about : a poor widow, madam, to whom I sent my 
 mite. 
 
 Old Lady L. Give her this. 
 
 [Offers a purse to Mawworm. 
 
 Dr. C. I'll take care it shall be given up to her. 
 
 [Puts it up. 
 
 Old Lady L. But what is the matter with you, 
 Mr. Mawworm 1 
 
 Maw. I don't know what's the matter with me— 
 
 I'm a breaking my heart 1 think it a sin to keep 
 
 a shop. 
 
 Old Lady L. Why, if you think it a sin, indeed — 
 pray w-hat's your business 1 
 
 Maw. We deals in grocery, tea, small-beer, char- 
 coal, butter, brickdust, and the like. 
 
 Old Lady L. Well, you must consult with your 
 friendly director here. 
 
 Maw. I wants to go a preaching. 
 
 Old Lady L. Do you 1 
 
 Maw. I'm almost sure I have had a call. 
 
 Old Lady L. Ay 1 
 
 Maw. I have made several sermons already ; I 
 does them extrumpery, because I can't write ; and 
 now the devils in our alley says, as how my head's 
 turned. 
 
 Old Lady L. Ay, devils indeed ■ b ut don't you 
 mind them. 
 
 Maw. No, I don't 1 rebukes them, and 
 
 preaches to them, Avhether they will or not. We lets 
 our house in lodgings to single men ; and sometimes 
 I gets them together, with one or two of the neigh- 
 bours, and makes them all cry. 
 
 Old Lady L. Did you every preach in pub- 
 lic ? 
 
 Maw. I got upon Kennington-common, the last 
 review day; but the boys threw brickbats at me, and 
 pinned crackers to my tail; and I have been afraid 
 to mount ever since. 
 
 Old Lady L. Do you hear this, doctor ? throw 
 brickbats at him, and pinned crackers to his pious 
 tail ! can these things be stood by 1 
 
 Maw. I told them so says" I, I does nothing 
 
 clandecently ; I stand here contagious to his majes- 
 ty's guards/and I charge you upon your apparels not 
 to mislist me. 
 
 Old Lady L. And it had no effect 1 
 
 Maw. No more than if I spoke to so many post- 
 esses : but if he advises me to go a preaching, and 
 quit my shop, I will make an excressance further into 
 the country. 
 
 Old Lady L. An excursion, you would say. 
 
 Maw. I am but a sheep, but my bleatings shall be 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 709' 
 
 heard afar off ; and that sheep shall become a shep- I store by me, because we have, words now and then ; 
 herd : nay, if it be only as it were a shepherd's dog - , j but as I says, if such was the case, would ever she 
 
 have cut me down that there time as I was melan- 
 choly, and she found me hanging behind the door ; I 
 don't believe there's a wife in the parish would have 
 done so by her husband. 
 
 Dr. C. I believe 'tis near dinner-time ; and sir John 
 will require my attendance. 
 
 Maw. Oh ! I am troublesome — nay, I only come 
 to you, doctor, with a message from Mrs. Grunt. 1 
 wish your ladyship heartily and heartily farewell ; 
 doctor, a good day to you. 
 
 Old Lady L. Mr. Mawworm, call on me some 
 time this afternoon ; I want to have a little private 
 discourse with you ; and, pray, my service to your 
 spouse. 
 
 Maw. I will, madam - r you are a malefactor to all 
 goodness ; I'll wait upon your ladyship ; I will in- 
 deed : [Going- returns] Oh, doctor, that's true ; Susy 
 desired me to give her kind love and respects to you. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Dr. C. Madam, if you please, I will lead you into 
 the parlour. 
 
 Old Lady L. No, doctor, my coach waits at the 
 door. The Hypocrite. 
 
 to bark the stray lambs into the field. 
 
 Old Lady L. He wants method, doctor. 
 
 Dr.C. Yes, madam ■ but there is the matter, and 
 I despise not the ignorant. 
 
 Maw. He's a saint till I went after him, I was 
 
 little better than the devil ; my conscience was tanned 
 with sin, like a piece of neat's leather, and had no 
 more feeling than the sole of my shoe ; always roving- 
 after fantastical delights : I used to go every Sunday 
 evening, to the Three Hats at Islington ! it's a public- 
 house, mayhap, your ladyship may know it : I was 
 a great lover of skittles too, but now I can't bear 
 them. 
 
 Old Lady L. What a blessed reformation ! 
 
 Maw. I believe, doctor, you never know'd as how 
 I was instigated one of the stewards of the reforming 
 society. I convicted a man of five oaths, as last 
 Thursday was a seu'night, at the Pewter-platter, in 
 the Borough ; and another of three, while he was 
 playing trap-ball in St. George's-fields : I bought this 
 waistcoat out of my share of the money. 
 
 Old Lady L. But how do you mind your business? 
 
 Maw. We have lost almost all our customers ; be- 
 cause I keeps extorting them whenever they come 
 into the shop. 
 
 Old Lady L. And how do you live 1 
 
 Maw. Better than ever we did : while we were 
 worldly-minded, my wife and I (for I am married to 
 as likely a woman as you shall see in a thousand) 
 could hardly make things do at all ; but since this 
 good man has brought us into the road of the righte- 
 ous, we have always plenty of every thing ; and my 
 wife goes as well dressed as a gentlewoman — we 
 have had a child too. 
 
 Old Lady L. Merciful! 
 
 Maw. And between you and me, doctor, I believe 
 Susy's breeding again. 
 
 Dr. C. Thus it is, madam ; I am constantly told, 
 though I can hardly believe it, a blessing follows 
 wherever I come. 
 
 Maw. And yet, if you would hear how the neigh- 
 bours reviles my wife ; saying as how she sets no 
 
 LOW AMBITION AND HONOURABLE FEELING 
 CONTRASTED. 
 
 Sir Pertinax Macsycophant and his Son 
 Egerton. 
 
 Sir Per. Weel, sir ! vary weel ! vary weel ! are 
 nat ye a fine spark ? are nat ye a fine spark, I say ? 
 
 — ah ! you are a so you wou'd not come up till 
 
 the levee \ 
 
 Eger. Sir, I beg your pardon ; but I was not very 
 well : besides, I did not think my presence there 
 was necessary. 
 
 Sir Per. [Snappi?ig him up] Sir, it was necessary ; 
 I tauld you it was necessary, and, sir, I must now tell 
 you that the whole tenor of your conduct is most 
 offensive. 
 
 Eger. I am sorry you think so, sir; I am sure I 
 do not intend to offend you. 
 
 Sir Per. I care not what you intend — Sir, I tell 
 
710 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHIL0S0PHEK. 
 
 you, you do offend. What is the meaning of this 
 conduct, sir 1 neglect the levee ! — 'sdeath, sir, you 
 ■ ■ what is your reason, I say, for thus neglecting 
 the levee, and disobeying my commands 1 
 
 Eger. [With a stifled filial resentment.'] Sir, I 
 am not used to levees : nor do I know how to dispose 
 of myself ; or what to say, or do, in such a situation. 
 
 Sir Per. [With a proud angry resentment.] 
 Zounds ! sir, do you nat see what others do? gentle 
 and simple, temporal and spiritual, lords, members, 
 judges, generals, and bishops ; aw crowding, bustling, 
 and pushing foremost intill the middle of the circle, 
 and there waiting, watching, and striving to catch a 
 look or a smile fra the great mon, which they meet 
 wi' an amicable reesibility of aspect — a modest ca- 
 dence of body, and a conciliating cooperation of the 
 whole mon ; which expresses an officious promptitude 
 for his service, and indicates, that they luock upon 
 themselves as the suppliant appendages of his power, 
 and the enlisted Swiss of his poleetical fortune ; this, 
 sir, is what you ought to do, and this, sir, is what I 
 never once omitted for these five and tharty years, let 
 who would be minister. 
 
 Eger. [Aside.] Contemptible ! 
 
 Sir Per. What is that you mutter, sir? 
 
 Eger. Only a slight reflection, sir, not relative to 
 you. 
 
 Sir Per. Sir, your absenting yourself fra the levee 
 at this juncture is suspeecious ; it is looked upon as 
 a kind of disaffection, and aw your countrymen are 
 highly offended at your conduct. For, sir, they do 
 not look upon you as a friend or a well-wisher either 
 to Scotland or Scotchmen. 
 
 Eger. [With a quick warmth.] Then, sir, they 
 wrong me, I assure you ; but pray, sir, in what par- 
 ticular can I be charged either with coldness or 
 offence to my country ? 
 
 Sir Per. Why, sir, ever since your mother's uncle, 
 Sir Stanley Egerton, left you this three thousand 
 pounds a year, and that ycu have, in compliance with 
 his will, taken up the name of Egerton, they think 
 you are grown proud — that you have enstranged 
 yourself fra the Macsycophants — have associated with 
 your mother's family — with the opposeetion, and with 
 
 those who do not wish well till Scotland : besides, 
 sir, the other day, in a conversation at dinner at your 
 cousin Campbel M'Kenzie's, before a whole table 
 full of your ain relations, did not you publicly wish 
 a total extinguishment of aw party, and of aw 
 national distinctions whatever, relative to the three 
 kingdoms 1 [ With great a?iger.] And, you block- 
 head — was that a prudent wish before so many of 
 your ain countrymen ] — or was it a filial language to 
 hold before me '.' 
 
 Eger. Sir, with your pardon, I cannot think it 
 unfilial or imprudent. [With a most patriotic warmth.] 
 I own I do wish — most ardently wish, for a total ex- 
 tinction of all party ; particularly that those of Eng- 
 lish, Irish, and Scotch, might never more be brought 
 into contest or competition, unless, like loving bro- 
 thers, in generous emulation for one common cause. 
 
 Sir Per. How, sir ! do you persist 1 What! would 
 you banish aw party, and aw distinction between 
 English, Irish, and your ain countrymen ? 
 
 Eger. [With great dignity of spirit.] I would, 
 sir. 
 
 Sir Per. Then damn you, sir, you are nai true Scot. 
 Ay, sir, you may look as angry as you will, but again 
 I say, you are nai true Scot. 
 
 Eger. Your pardon, sir, I think he is the true Scot, 
 and the true citizen, who wishes equal justice to the 
 merit and demerit of every subject of Great Britain ; 
 amongst whom I know but of two distinctions. 
 
 Sir Per. Wee!, sir, and what are those — what are 
 those 1 
 
 Eger. The knave and the honest man. 
 
 Sir Per. Pshaw ! rideeculous. 
 
 Eger. And he, who makes any other — let him be 
 of the North, or of the South — of the East, or of the 
 West — in place, or out of place, is an enemy to the 
 whole, and to the virtues of humanity. 
 
 Sir Per. Ay, sir, this is your brother's impudent 
 doctrine, for the which I have banished him for ever 
 fra my presence, my heart, and my fortune. — Sir, I 
 will have no son of mine, because truly he has been 
 educated in an English seminary, presume, under the 
 mask of candour, to speak against his native land, 
 or against my principles. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 11 
 
 Eger. I never did — nor do I intend it. 
 
 Sir Per. Sir, I do not believe you — I do not believe 
 you. But, sir, I know your connections and associ- 
 ates, and I know too, you have a saucy lurking pre- 
 judice against your ain country: you hate it ) yes, 
 your mother, her family, and your brother, sir, have 
 aw the same, dark, disaffected rankling ; and by that 
 and their politics together, they will be the ruin of 
 you — themselves — and of aw who connect with them. 
 
 However, nai mair of that now ; I will talk at 
 
 large to you about that anon. In the mean while, 
 
 sir, notwithstanding your contempt of my advice, and 
 your disobedience till my commands, I will convince 
 you of my paternal attention till your welfare, by my 
 management of this voluptuary — this Lord Lumber- 
 court, whose daughter you are to marry. You ken, 
 sir, that the fellow has been my patron above these 
 five and thirty years. 
 
 Eger, True, sir. 
 
 Sir Per. Vary weel. And now, sir, you see by 
 
 his prodigality, he is become rny dependent ; and ac- 
 cordingly I have made my bargain with him : the 
 devil a baubee he has iu the world but what comes 
 through these clutches ; for his whole estate, which 
 has three implecit boroughs upon it — mark — is now 
 in my custody at nurse ; the which estate, on my 
 paying off his debts, and allowing him a life lent of 
 live thousand pounds per annum is to be made over 
 till me for my life, and, at my death is to descend till 
 ye and your issue. — The peerage of Lumbercourt, 
 
 you ken, will follow of course. So, sir, you see, 
 
 there are three impleecit boroughs, the whole patri- 
 mony of Lumbercourt, and a peerage at one slap. — 
 
 Why, it 4s a stroke — a hit — a hit Zounds ! sir, 
 
 a mon may live a century and not make sic an hit 
 again. 
 
 Eger. It is a very advantageous bargain indeed, 
 sir — but what will my lord's family say to it ? 
 
 Sir Per. Why, mon, he cares not if his family were 
 aw at the devil, so his luxury is but gratified : — only 
 let him have his race -horse to feed his vanity ; his 
 harridan to drink drams with him, scrat his face, and 
 burn his periwig, when she is in her maudlin hyste- 
 rics — and three or four discontented patriotic depend- 
 
 ents to abuse the ministry, and settle the affai rs of 
 the nation, when they are aw intoxicated ; and then, 
 sir, the fellow has aw his wishes and aw his wants, 
 in this world and the next. 
 
 Enter tomlins. 
 
 Tom. Lady Rodolpha is come, sir. 
 
 Sir Per. And my lord I 
 
 Tom. Not yet, sir ; he is about a mile behind, the 
 servants say. 
 
 Sir Per. Let me know the instant he arrives. 
 
 Tom. I shall, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Sir Per. Step you out, Charles, and receive Lady 
 Rodolpha ; and, I desire you will treat her with as 
 much respect and gallantry as possible ; for my lord 
 has hinted that you have been very remiss as a lover. 
 — So go, go and receive her. 
 
 Eger. 1 shall, sir. 
 
 Sir Per. Vary weel, vary weel ; — a guid lad : go, 
 go and receive her as a lover should. [Exit EgertonJ] 
 Hah ' I must keep a devilish tight hand upon this 
 fellow, I see, or he will be touched with the patriotic 
 phrenzy of the times, and run counter till aw my de- 
 signs. I find he has a strong inclination to have a 
 judgment of his ain, independent of mine, in aw po- 
 litical matters ; but as soon as I have finally settled 
 the marriage writings with my lord, I will have a 
 thorough expostulation with my gentleman, I am 
 resolved — and fix him unalterably in his political 
 conduct. — Ah ! I am frightened out of my wits, lest 
 his mother's family should seduce him to desert to 
 their party, which would totally ruin my whole scheme, 
 and break my heart. — A fine time of day for a block- 
 head to turn patriot — when the character is exploded, 
 marked, proscribed 1 Why, the common people, the 
 vary vulgar, have found out the jest, and laugh at a 
 patriot now-a-days, just as they do at a conjurer, a 
 magician, or any other impostor in society. 
 
 EIGHT HONOURABLE FOLLY AND BASE FLATTERY. 
 
 Sir Pertinax and Lord Lumbercourt. 
 Lord Lum. Sir Pertinax, I kiss your hand. 
 
712 
 
 Sir Pet. Your lordship's most devoted. 
 Lord Lum. Why, you stole a march upon me flw 
 morning; gave me the slip, Mac; though I neve 
 wanted your assistance more in my life. I thought 
 you would have called on me. 
 
 Sir Per My dear lord, I beg ten milhous of par- 
 dons for leaving town before you j but you ken that 
 your lordship at dinner yesterday settled it that we 
 should meet this morning at the levee. 
 
 Lord Lum. That I acknowledge, Mac— I did pro^ 
 raise to be there, I own. 
 
 Sir Per. You did, indeed. And accordingly I was 
 at the levee, and waited there till every soul was 
 gone, and, seeeing you did not come, I concluded 
 that your lordship was gone before. 
 
 Lord Lum. Why to confess the truth, my dear 
 Mac, those old sinners, Lord Freakish, General Jo ly, 
 Sir Anthony Soaker, and two or three more of that 
 set laid hold of me last night at the opera ; and, as 
 the General says, " from the intelligence of my head 
 this morning," I believe we drank pretty deep ere we 
 departed : ha, ha, ha ! . 
 
 Sir Per. Ha, ha, ha ! nay, if you were with that 
 party, my lord, I do not wonder at not seeing your 
 lordship at the levee. ; 
 
 Lord Lum. The truth is, Sir Pertinax, my fellow 
 let me sleeD too long for the levee. But T wish 1 haa 
 seen you before you left town ; I wanted you dread- 
 Sir Per. I am heartily sorry 'that T was not in the 
 way :— but on what account did you want me? 
 
 Lord Lum. Ha, ha, ha ! a cursed awkward affair. 
 And, ha, ha, ha ! yet I can't, help laughing at it nei- 
 ther, though it vexed me confoundedly. 
 
 Sir Per. Vext you, my lord ! Zounds, I wish I had 
 been with vou : but, for heaven's sake, my lord, what 
 was it that could possibly vex your lordship ? 
 
 LordXwm. Why, that impudent, teasing, dunning 
 rascal, Mahogany, my upholsterer.— You know the 
 fellow 1 
 
 Sir Per. Perfectly, my lord. 
 
 Lord Lum. The impudent scoundrel has sued me 
 
 up to some damned kind of a- something or other 
 
 in the law which I think they call an execution. 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 - Sir Per. The rascal ! 
 
 Lord Lum. Upon which, sir, the fellow, by way of 
 asking pardon, ha, ha, ha ! had the modesty to wait 
 on me two or three days ago, to inform my honour, 
 ha, ha, ha! as he was pleased to dignify me, that 
 the execution was now ready to be put in force against 
 my honour ; but that out of respect to my honour, 
 as he had taken a great deal of my honour's money, 
 he would not suffer his lawyer to serve it, till he 
 had first informed my honour, because he was not 
 willing to affront my honour ; ha, ha, ha 1 a son of ^ 
 a whore ! 
 
 Sir Per. I never heard of so impudent a dog. 
 
 Lord Lum. Now my dear Mac, ha, ha, ha ! as the 
 scoundrel's apology was so very satisfactory, and his fl 
 information so very agreeable, I told him that, m ) c 
 honour, I thought that my honour could not do less 
 than to order his honour to be paid immediately. 
 
 Sir Per. Vary weel, vary weel, you were as com- r 
 plaisant as the scoundrel till the full, I think, my I 
 
 lord. ,„,-*»• t 
 
 Lord Lum. You shall hear, you shall hear, Mac ; | 
 
 so, sir, with great composure, seeing a smart oaken I 
 
 cudgel that stood very handily in a corner of my 
 
 dressing-room, I ordered two of my fellows to hold , 
 
 the rascal, and another to take the cudgel and return | 
 
 the scoundrel's civility with a good drubbing as long ;. 
 
 as the stick lasted. ! 
 
 Sir Per. Ha, ha, ha ! admirable ! as guid a stroke : 
 
 of humour as ever I heard of. And did they drub j 
 
 him, my lord? . | 
 
 Lord iAim. Most liberally, most liberally, sir. And 
 
 T ., ,. ,i _jir ■ _,.u l,~.,^ v^etorl till T 
 
 JUUIU. J. Mill. na,yob*»»w»..j, j .- , 
 
 there I thought the affair would have rested, till £.1 
 should think proper to pay the scoundrel ; but this j ( 
 morning, just as I was stepping into my chaise, my 
 servants all about me, a fellow, called a tipstaff, step-i, 
 ped op, and begged the favour of my footman, who, 
 threshed the upholsterer, and of the two that held 
 him, to go along with him upon a little business to 
 my Lord Chief Justice. | 
 
 Sir Per. The devil ! . |i 
 
 Lord Lum. And at the same instant, I, in my turn; 
 was accosted by two other very civil scoundrels, who, 
 with a most insolent politeness, begged my pardon, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 and informed me that I must not go into my own 
 chaise. 
 
 Sir Per. How, my lord ! not intill your ain carriage 1 
 
 Lord Lum. No, sir ; for that they, by order of the 
 sheriff, must seize it, at the suit of a gentleman — one 
 Mr. Mahogany, an upholsterer. 
 
 Sir Per. An impudent villain ! 
 
 Lord Lum. It is all true, I assure you : so you see, 
 
 my dear Mac, what a damned country this is to live 
 
 | in, where noblemen are obliged to pay their debts just 
 
 like merchants, cobblers, peasants, or mechanics — is 
 
 not that a scandal, dear Mac, to the nation ? 
 
 Sir Per. My lord, it is not only a scandal, but a 
 national grievance. 
 
 Lord Lum. Sir, there is not another nation in the 
 world has such a grievance to complain of. Now in 
 other countries were a mechanic to dun, and tease, 
 and behave as this Mahogany has dene, a nobleman 
 might extinguish the reptile in an instant ; and that 
 only at the expense of a few sequins, florins, or louis 
 d'ors, according to the country where the affair hap- 
 pened. 
 
 Sir Per. Vary true, my lord, vary true — and it is 
 monstrous that a mon of your lordship's condition is 
 not entitled to run one of these mechanics through 
 the body, when he is impertinent about his money ; 
 but our laws, shamefully, on these occasions, make 
 no distinction of persons amongst us. 
 
 Lord Lum. A vile policy, indeed, Sir Pertinax. — 
 But, sir, the scoundrel has seized upon the house too, 
 that I furnished for the girl I took from the opera. 
 
 Sir Per. I never heard of sic an a scoundrel. 
 
 Lord Lum. Ay, but what concerns me most — lam 
 afraid, my dear Mac, that the villain will send down 
 to Newmarket, and seize my string of horses. 
 
 Sir Per. Your string of horses 1 zounds ! we must 
 prevent that at all events : that would be sic an a 
 disgrace. I will despatch an express to town directly, 
 to put a stop till the rascal's proceedings. 
 
 Lord Lum. Pr'ythee do, my dear Sir Pertinax. 
 
 Sir Pen O ! it shall be done, my lord. 
 
 Lord Lum. Thou art an honest fellow, Sir Pertinax, 
 upon honour. 
 
 713 
 
 Sir Per. O ! my lord, it is my duty to oblige your 
 lordship to the utmost stretch of my abeelity. 
 
 BATH FASHIONABLES. 
 
 Sir Pertinax Macsycophant, Egerton, Lord 
 
 arid Lady Lumbercouet, and their daughter 
 
 Lady Rodoepha. 
 
 Sir Per. Weel ; but, Lady Rodolpha, I wanted 
 to ask your ladyship some questions about the com- 
 pany at the Bath ; they say you had aw the world 
 there. 
 
 Lady Rod. O, yes ! there was a very great mob 
 there indeed ; but very little company. Aw canaille, 
 except our ain party. The place was crowded with 
 your little purse-proud mechanics ; an odd kind of 
 queer looking animals that have started intill fortune 
 fra lottery tickets, rich prizes at sea, gambling in 
 Change-Alley, and sic like caprices of fortune ; and 
 away they aw crowd to the Bath to learn genteelity, 
 and the names, titles, intrigues, and bou-mots of us 
 people of fashion ; ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Lord Lum. Ha, ha, ha ! I know them : I know 
 the things you mean, my dear, extremely well. I 
 have observed them a thousand times, and wondered 
 where the devil they all came from ; ha, ha, ha '. 
 
 Lady Lum. Pray, Lady Rodolpha, what were your 
 diversions at Bath ? 
 
 Lady Rod. Guid traith, my lady, the company 
 were my diversion ; and better nai human follies 
 ever afforded ; ha, ha, ha ! sic an a mixture, and sic 
 oddities, ha, ha, ha! a perfect gallimaufry. Lady 
 Kunegunda M'Kenzie and I used to gang about till 
 every part of this human chaos, on purpose to recon- 
 noitre the monsters and pick up their frivolities ; ha, 
 ha, ha ! 
 
 Sir Per. Ha, ha, ha ! why that must have been a 
 high entertainment till your ladyship. 
 
 Lady Rod. Superlative and inexhaustible, Sir Per- 
 tinax ; ha, ha, ha! Madam, we had in one group, 
 a peer and a sharper, a duchess and a pin-maker's 
 wife, a boarding-school miss and her grandmother, 
 a fat parson, a lean general, and a yellow admiral ; 
 ha, ha, ha ! aw speaking together, and bawling and 
 
714 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 wrangling in fierce contention, as if the fame and 
 fortune of aw the parties were to be the issue of the 
 conflict. 
 
 Sir Per. Ha, ha, ha ! pray, madam, what was the 
 object of their contention 1 
 
 Lady Rod. O ! a very important one, I assure 
 you ; of no less consequence, madam, than how 
 an odd trick at whist was lost, or might have been 
 saved. 
 
 Omnes. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 Lady Lum. Ridiculous ! 
 
 Lord Lum. Ha, ha, ha ! my dear Rodolpha, I have 
 seen that very conflict a thousand times. 
 
 Sir Per. And so have I, upon honour, my lord. 
 Lady Rod. In another party, Sir Pertinax, ha, ha, 
 ha ! we had what was called the cabinet-council, 
 which was composed of a duke and a haberdasher, a 
 red-hot patriot and a sneering courtier, a discarded 
 statesman and his scribbling chaplain, with a busy, 
 bawling, muckle-headed, prerogative lawyer ; all of 
 whom were every minute ready to gang together by 
 the lugs, about the in and the out meenistry ; ha, 
 ha, ha ! 
 
 Sir Per. Ha, ha, ha ! weel, that-is a droll motley 
 cabinet, I vow.— — Vary whimsical, upon honour. — 
 But they are aw great politicians at Bath, and settle 
 a meenistry there with as much ease as they do the 
 tune of a country dance. 
 
 Lady Rod. Then, Sir Pertinax, in a retired part of 
 
 the room in a by corner snug we had a 
 
 Jew and a bishop 
 
 Sir Per. A Jew and a bishop ; — ha, ha ! — a de- 
 velish guid connection that , — and pray, my lady, 
 what were they about 1 
 
 Lady Rod. Why, sir, the bishop was striving to 
 convert the Jew — while the Jew, by intervals, was 
 slily picking up intelligence fra the bishop, about the 
 change in the meenistry, in hopes of making a stroke 
 in the stocks. 
 
 Omnes. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Sir Per. Ha, ha, ha ! admirable ! admirable ! I 
 honour the smouse : — hah ! it was develish clever of 
 him, my Jord, develish clever. 
 
 Lord Lum. Yes, yes ; the fellow kept a sharp look- 
 out. I think it was a fair trial of skill on both sides, 
 Mr. Egerton. 
 
 Eger. True, my Lord, but the Jew seems to have 
 been in the fairer way to succeed. 
 
 Lord Lum. O ! all to nothing, sir ; ha, ha, ha !- — 
 Well, child, I like your Jew and your bishop much. 
 It 's develish clever. Let us have the rest of the 
 history, pray, my dear. 
 
 Lady Rod. Guid traith, my lord, the sum total is 
 — that there we aw danced, and wrangled, and flat- 
 tered, and slandered, and gambled, and cheated, and 
 mingled, and jumbled, and wallopped together — 
 clean and unclean — even like the animal assembly in 
 Noah's ark. 
 
 Omnes. Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Lord Lum. Ha, ha, ha ! — Well, you are a droll 
 girl, Rodolpha ; and, upon my honour, ha, ha, ha ! 
 you have given us as whimsical a sketch as ever was 
 hit off. 
 
 Sir Per. Ah ! yes., my lord, especially the animal 
 assembly in Noah's ark. It is an excellent picture of 
 the oddities that one meets with at the Bath. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF SCOTCH BOOING. 
 
 Sir Pertinax Macsycophant and his Son 
 Egerton. 
 
 Sir Per. Charles, I have often told you, and now 
 again I tell you, once for aw, that the manoeuvres 
 of pliability are as necessary to rise in the world, 
 as wrangling and logical subtlety are to rise at. the 
 bar . why you see, sir, I have acquired a noble for- 
 tune, a princely fortune — and how do you think I 
 raised it 1 
 
 Eger. Doubtless, sir, by your abilities. 
 
 Sir Per. Doubtless, sir, you are a blockhead: — 
 nai, sir, I'll tell you how I raised it : sir, I raised 
 it — by bowing ; [Bows ridiculously low.'] — by bow- 
 ing : sir, I never could stand straight in the presence 
 of a great mon, but always bowed, and bowed, and 
 bowed — as it were by instinct. 
 
 Eger. How do you mean by instinct, sir 1 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Sir Per. How do I mean by instinct 1 — Why, sir, 
 I mean by— -by — by the instinct of interest, sir, which 
 is the universal instinct of mankind. Sir, it is won- 
 derful to think, what a cordial, what an amicable — 
 nay, what an infallible influence bowing has upon the 
 pride and vanity of human nature. Charles, answer 
 me sincerely, have you a mind to be convinced of 
 the force of my doctrine, by example and demon- 
 stration ? 
 
 Eger. Certainly, sir. 
 
 Sir Per. Then, sir, as the greatest favour I can 
 confer upon you, I'll give you a short sketch of the 
 stages of my bowing, as an excitement, and a land- 
 mark for you to bow by, and as an infallible nostrum 
 to rise in the world. 
 
 Eger. Sir, I shall be proud to profit by your expe- 
 rience. 
 
 Sir Per. Vary weel, sir : sit ye down then, sit you 
 down here: {They sit down?\ — and now, sir, you 
 must recall to your thoughts, that your grandfather 
 was a man, whose penurious income of half-pay was 
 the sum total of his fortune ; and, sir, aw my provi- 
 sion fra him was a modicum of Latin, an expertness 
 in arithmetic, and a short system of worldly counsel ; 
 the principal ingredieuts of which were, a persevering 
 industry, a rigid economy, a smooth tongue, a pliabi- 
 lity of temper, and a constant attention to make every 
 man well pleased with himself. 
 
 Eger. Very prudent advice, sir. 
 
 Sir Per. Therefore, sir, I lay it before you. 
 
 Now, sir, with these materials, I set out a raw-boned 
 stripling fra the North, to try my fortune with them 
 here in "the South ; and my first step intill the world 
 was a beggarly clerkship in Sawney Gordon's count- 
 ing-house, here in the city of London, which you'll 
 say afforded but a barren sort of a prospect. 
 
 Eger. It was not a very fertile one indeed, sir. 
 
 Sir Per. The reverse, the reverse : weel, sir, seeing 
 myself in this unprofitable situation, I reflected 
 deeply : I cast about my thoughts morning, noon, 
 and night, and marked every man aud every mode 
 of prosperity; at last I concluded that a matrimonial 
 adventure, prudently conducted, would be the readiest 
 
 715 
 
 gate I could gang for the bettering of my condition, 
 and accordingly I set about it : now, sir, in this pur- 
 suit, beauty ! beauty ! — ah ! beauty often struck 
 mine eeo, and played about my heart ! and fluttered, 
 and beat, and knocked, and knocked ; but the devil 
 an entrance I ever let it get ; for I observed, sir, that 
 beauty — is generally — a proud, vain, saucy, expen- 
 sive, impertinent sort of a commodity. 
 
 Eger. Very justly observed, sir. 
 
 Sir Per. And therefore, sir, I left it to prodigals 
 and coxcombs, that could afford to pay for it ; and 
 in its stead, sir — mark ! I looked out for an ancient, 
 weel-jointured, superannuated dowager ; a consump- 
 tive, toothless, ptisicky, wealthy widow ; or a 
 shrivelled, cadaverous piece of deformity in the shape 
 of an izzard, or an appersi-and — or, in short, ainy 
 thing, ainy thing that had the siller, the siller — for 
 that, sir, was the north star of my affections. Do 
 you take me, sir? was nai that right 1 
 
 Eger. O ! doubtless — doubtless, sir. 
 
 Sir Per. Now, sir, where do you think I ganged to 
 look for this woman with the siller ? — nair till court, 
 nai till play- houses or assemblies — nai, sir, I ganged 
 till the kirk, till the anabaptist, independent, bradlo- 
 nian, and muggletonian meetings ; till the morning 
 and evening service of churches and chapels of ease, 
 and till the midnight, melting, conciliating love-feasts 
 of the methodists ; and there, sir, at last, I fell upon 
 an old, slighted, antiquated, musty maiden, that 
 looked — ha, ha, ha ! she looked just like a skeleton in 
 a surgeon's glass case. Now, sir, this miserable object 
 was religiously angry with herself and aw the world ; 
 had nai comfort but in metaphysical visions, and su- 
 pernatural deliriums ; ha, ha, ha ! sir, she was as 
 mad — as mad as a Bedlamite. 
 
 Eger. Not improbable, sir : there are numbers of 
 poor creatures in the same condition. 
 
 Sir Per. O ! numbers — numbers. Now, sir, this 
 cracked creature used to pray, aud sing, and sigh, and 
 groan, and weep, and wail, and gnash her teeth con- 
 stantly morning and evening, at the tabernacle in 
 Moorfields : and as soon as I found she had got the 
 siller, aha ! guid traith, I plumpen me down upon my 
 
716 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 knees close by her— -cheek by jowl — and prayed, and 
 sighed, and sung, and groaned, and gnashed my teeth 
 as vehemently as she could do for the life of her ; ay, 
 and turned up the whites of mine een, till the strings 
 awmost cracked again : — I watched her motions, 
 handed her till her chair, waited on her home, got 
 most religiously intimate with her in a week, — mar- 
 ried her in a fortnight, buried her in a month ; — 
 iouched the siller, and with a deep suit of mourning, 
 a melancholy port, a sorrowful visage, and a joyful 
 heart, I began the world again ; — and this, sir, was 
 the first bow, that is, the first effectual bow, I ever 
 made till the vanity of human nature : — now, sir, do 
 you understand this doctrine ? 
 
 Eger. Perfectly well, sir. 
 
 Sir Per. Ay, but was it not right 1 was it not in- 
 genious, and weel hit off 1 
 
 Eger. Certainly, sir : extremely well 
 
 Sir Per. My next bow, sir, was till your ain mo- 
 ther, whom I ran away with fra boarding-school ; 
 by the interest of whose family I got a good smart 
 place in the Treasury : — and, sir, my vary next step 
 was intill Parliament ; the which I entered with as 
 ardent and as determined an ambition as ever agitated 
 the heart of Caesar himself. Sir, I bowed, and 
 watched, and hearkened, and ran about, backwards 
 and forwards ; and attended, and dangled upon the 
 then great mon, till I got intill the vary bowels of 
 his confidence, — and then, sir, I wriggled, and 
 wrought, and wriggled, till I wriggled myself among 
 the very thick of them : hah ! I got my snack of the 
 clothing, the foraging, the contracts, the lottery tickets, 
 and aw the political bonuses ; — till at length, sir, I 
 became a much wealthier man than one half of the 
 golden calves I had been so long a-bowing to : {He 
 rises, and Egerton rises too] — and was nai that bow- 
 ing to some purpose ? 
 
 Eger. It was indeed, sir. 
 
 Sir Per. But are you convinced of the guid effects, 
 and of the utility of bowing. 
 
 Eger, Thoroughly, sir. 
 
 Sir Per. Sir, it is infallible : — but, Charles, ah ! 
 while I was thus bowing, and wriggling, and raising 
 
 this princely fortune, ah ! I met with many heart- 
 sores and disappointments fra the want of literature, 
 eloquence, and other popular abeleties. Sir, guin I 
 could but have spoken in the house, I should have 
 done the deed in half the time ; but the instant I 
 opened my mouth there, they aw fell a-laughing at 
 me ; — aw which deficiencies, sir> I determined at 
 any expense, to have supplied by the polished educa- 
 tion of a son, who, I hoped, would one day raise the 
 house of Macsycophant till the highest pitch of 
 ministerial ambition. This, sir, is my plan : I have 
 done my part of it ; nature has done hers : you are 
 popular, you are eloquent ; aw parties like and re- 
 spect you ; and now, sir, it only remains for you to 
 be directed — completion follows. 
 
 LEGAL TERGIVERSATION EXPLAINED. 
 
 Sit Pertixax Macsycophant and Counsellor 
 Plausible. 
 
 Sir Per. Why, Counsellor, did you ever see so im- 
 pertinent, so meddling, and so obstinate a blockhead 
 as that Serjeant Eitherside \ confouud the fellow, he 
 has put me out of aw temper. 
 
 Plans. But, Sir Pertinax, there is a secret spring 
 in this business that you do not seem to perceive ; 
 and which, I am afraid, governs the matter respecting 
 these boroughs. 
 
 Sir Per. What spring do you mean, counsellor 1 
 
 Plans. I have some reason to think that my lord is 
 tied down by some means or other to bring the Ser- 
 jeant in, the very first vacancy, for one of these 
 boroughs : — now that, I believe, is the sole motive 
 why the serjeant is so strenuous that my lord should 
 keep the boroughs in his own power ; fearing that you 
 might reject him for some man of your own. 
 
 Sir Per. Odswounds and death ! Plausible, you 
 are clever, devilish clever. By the blood, you have 
 hit upon the vary string that has made aw this discord. 
 — Oh ! I see it, I see it now. But hauld — hauld— 
 bide a wee bit — a wee bit, mon ; I have a thought 
 come intill my head — yes — I think, Plausible, that 
 with a little twist in our negotiation, that this very 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 / I, 
 
 string, properly tuned, may be still made to produce 
 the very harmony we wish for. Yes, yes ! 1 have 
 it : this serjeant, I see, understands business — and, 
 if I am not mistaken, knows how to take a hin* 
 
 P laics. O ! nobody better, Sir Pertinax. 
 
 Sir Per. Why then, Plausible, the short road is 
 always the best with sic a mon. — You must even 
 come up till his mark at once, and assure him from 
 me, that I will secure him a seat for one of these 
 vary boroughs. 
 
 Plates. O ! that will do, Sir Pertinax — that will 
 do, I'll answer for it. ^ 
 
 Sir Per. And further — T beg you will let him know 
 that I think myself obliged to consider him in this 
 affair, as acting for me as weel as for my lord, as a 
 common friend till baith : — and for the services he 
 has already done us, make my special compliments 
 till him — and pray let this amicable bit of paper be 
 my faithful advocate to convince him of what my 
 gratitude further intends for his great [Gives him a 
 bank-bill.'] equity in adjusting this agreement be- 
 twixt my lord and me. 
 
 Plaus. Ha, ha, ha ! upon my word, Sir Perti- 
 nax, this is noble. — Ay, ay ! this is an eloquent bit 
 of paper indeed. 
 
 Sir Per. Maister Plausible, in aw human dealings 
 the most effectual method is that of ganging at once 
 tdl the vary bottom of a man's heart : — for if we ex- 
 pect that men should serve us, we must first win their 
 affections by serving them. 
 
 Enter Lord Ltjmbercourt and Serjeant 
 
 ElTHERSIDE. 
 
 Serf. I assure you, Sir Pertinax, that in all his 
 lordship's conversation with me upon this business, 
 and in his positive instructions — both he and I always 
 understood the nomination to be in my lord, durante 
 vita. 
 
 Plaus. Well, but gentlemen, gentlemen, a little 
 patience. Sure this mistake, some how or other, 
 may be rectified. — Pr'ythee, Mr. Serjeant, let you 
 and I step into the next room by ourselves, and re- 
 consider the clause rel'ative to the boroughs, and try 
 
 if we cannot hit upon a medium that will be agree- 
 able to both parties. 
 
 Serj. [With great warmth.'] Mr. Plausible, I have 
 considered the clause fully ; am entirely master of the 
 question; my lord cannot give up the point. It is 
 unkind and unreasonable to expect it. 
 
 Plaus. Nay, Mr. Serjeant, I beg you will not mis- 
 understand me. Do not think I want his lordship to 
 give up any point without an equivalent. Sir Perti- 
 nax, will you permit Mr. Serjeant and me to retire a 
 few moments to reconsider Lhis point 1 
 
 Sir Per. For Heaven's sake, as your lordship and I 
 can have but one interest for the future, let us have 
 nai mair words about these paltry boroughs, but con- 
 clude the agreement just as it stands : otherwise there 
 must be new writings drawn, new consultations of 
 lawyers j new objections and delays will arise; cre- 
 ditors will be impatient and impertinent, so that we 
 shall nai finish the Lord knows when. 
 
 Lord Lum. You are right, you are right : say no 
 more, Mac, say no more. Split the lawyers — you 
 judge the point better than all Westminster-Hall 
 could. It shall stand as it is : yes, you shall settle 
 it your own way ; for your interest and mine are the 
 same, I see plainly. 
 
 Sir Per. JNo doubt of it, my lord. 
 
 Lord Lum. ! here the lawyers come. 
 
 Enter Counsellor Plausible and Serjeant 
 Eithersibe. 
 
 Serj. My lord, Mr. Plausible has convinced me — 
 fully convinced me. 
 
 Plaus. Yes, my lord, I have convinced him ; I 
 have laid such arguments before Mr. Serjeant as were 
 irresistible 
 
 Serj. He has indeed, my lord : besides, as Sir 
 Pertinax gives his honour that your lordship's nomi- 
 nation shall be sacredly observed, why, upon a nearer 
 review of the whole matter, I think it will be the 
 wiser measure to conclude the agreement just as it 
 is drawn. 
 
 Lord Lum. I am very glad you think so, Mr. Ser- 
 jeant, because that is my opinion too ; so, my dear 
 
71S 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Eitherside, do you and Plausible despatch the busi- 
 ness now as soon as possible. 
 
 Serj. My lord, every thing will be ready in less 
 than 'an hour. Come, Mr. Plausib^, let us go and 
 fill up the blanks, and put the last hand to the writings 
 on our part. 
 
 Plans. I attend you, Mr. Serjeant. 
 
 [Exeunt Lawyers. 
 
 Lord Lum. And while the lawyers are preparing 
 the writings, Sir Pertinax, I will go and saunter with 
 the women. [Exit singing', * Sons of care,' 8fc. 
 
 Sir Per. So ! a little flattery mixt with the finesse 
 of a gilded promise on the one side, and a quantum 
 sufficit of the aurum palpabile on the other, have at 
 last made me the happiest father in Great-Britain. 
 Hah ! my heart expands itself, as it were, through 
 every part of my whole body, at the completion of this 
 business, and feels nothing but dignity and elevation. 
 
 BAFFLED CUNNING. 
 
 Sir Pertinax Macsycophant and his Son. 
 
 Sir Per. Come hither, Charles. 
 
 Eger. Your pleasure, sir. 
 
 Sir Per. About twa hours since I told you, Charles, 
 that I received this letter express, complaining of 
 your brother's activity at an election in Scotland 
 against a particular friend of miue, which has given 
 great offence ; and, sir, you .are mentioned in the 
 letter as weei as he : to be plain, I must, roundly tell 
 you, that on this interview depends my happiness as 
 a father and as a man ; and my affection to you, sir, 
 as a son, for the remainder of our days. 
 
 Eger. I hope, sir, I shall never do any thing either 
 to forfeit your affection, or disturb your happiness. 
 
 Sir Per. I hope so too : but to the point. The fact 
 is this : there has been a motion made this vary day 
 to bring on the grand affair, which is settled for Fri- 
 day seven-night : — now, sir, as you are popular, have 
 talents, and are weel heard, it is expected, and I in- 
 sist upon it, that you endeavour to atone, sir, for your 
 late misconduct, by preparing, and taking a large 
 share in that question, and supporting it with aw 
 your power. 
 
 Eger. Sir, I have always divided as you directed, 
 
 except on one occasion ; never voted against your 
 friends, only in that affair. — But, sir, I hope you wiL 
 not so exert your influence, as to insist upon my sup- 
 porting a measure by an obvious, prostituted sophis- 
 try, in direct opposition to my character and my con- 
 science. 
 
 Sir Per. Conscience ! why, you are mad ! did you 
 ever hear any man talk of conscience in political 
 matters ? Conscience, quotha? I have been in parlia- 
 ment these three and tharty years, and never heard 
 the term made use of before : — sir, it is an unparlia- 
 mentary woid, and you will be laughed at for it j 
 therefore, I desire you will not offer to impose upon 
 me with sic phantoms, but let me know your reason 
 for thus slighting my friends and disobeying my com- 
 mands. — Sir, give me an immediate and an explicit 
 answer. 
 
 Eger. Then, sir, I must frankly tell you, that you 
 work against my nature ; you would connect me with 
 men T despise, and press me into measures I abhor ; 
 would make me a devoted slave to selfish leaders, 
 who have no friendship but in faction — no merit but 
 in corruption — nor interest in any measure but their 
 own ; — and to such men I cannot submit ; for know, 
 sir, that the malignant ferment which the venal am- 
 bition of the times provokes in the heads and hearts 
 of other men, I detest. 
 
 Sir Per. What are you about, sir? malignant fer- 
 ment ! and venal ambition ! Sir, every man should 
 be ambitious to serve his country — and every man 
 should be rewarded for it : and pray, sir, would nai 
 you wish to serve your country ? Answer me that. — 
 I say, would nai you wish to serve your country? 
 
 Eger. Only show me how I can serve my country, 
 and my life is hers. Were I qualified to lead her 
 armies, to steer her fleets, and deal her honest ven- 
 geance on her insulting- foes ; — or could my eloquence 
 pull down a state leviathan, mighty by the plunder of 
 his country, black with the treasons of her disgrace, 
 and send his infamy down to a free posterity, as a 
 monumental terror to corrupt ambition, I would be 
 foremost in such service, and act it with the unremit- 
 ting ardour of a Roman spirit. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 vary weel ! the fellow is 
 
 K> 
 
 Sir Per. Vary weel, sir 
 beside himself ! 
 
 Eger. But to be a common barker at envied power 
 — vu Deat the drum of faction, and sound the trumpet 
 of insidious patriotism, only to displace a rival — or 
 to be a servile voter in proud corruption's filthy train 
 — to market out my voice, my reason, and my trust, 
 to the party-broker who best can promise or pay for 
 prostitution ; these, sir, are services my nature abhors 
 — for they are such a malady to every kind of virtue, 
 | as must in time destroy the fairest constitution that 
 ever wisdom framed, or virtuous liberty fought for. 
 
 Sir Per. Why, are you mad, sir ? you have cer- 
 tainly been bit by some mad whig or other : but 
 now, sir, after aw this foul-mouthed phrenzy, and 
 patriotic vulgar intemperance, suppose we were to 
 ask you a plain question or twa : Pray, what single 
 instance can you, or any man, give of the political 
 vice or corruption of these days, that has nai been 
 practised in the greater states, and in the most vir- 
 tuous times % I challenge you to give me a single 
 instance. 
 
 Eger. Your pardon, sir — it is a subject I wish to 
 decline : you know, sir, we never can agree about it. 
 
 Sir Per. Sir, I insist upon an answer. 
 
 Eger. I beg you will excuse me, sir. 
 
 Sir Per. I will not excuse you, sir. — I insist. 
 
 Eger. Then sir, in obedience, and with your pa- 
 tience, I will answer your question. 
 
 Sir Per. Ay ! ay ! I will be patient, never fear : 
 Come, let us have it, let us have it. 
 
 Eger. You shall ; and now, sir, let prejudice, the 
 rage of party, and the habitual insolence of success- 
 ful vice — pause but for one moment — and let religion, 
 laws, power herself, the policy of a nation's virtue, 
 and Britain's guardian genius, take a short, impar- 
 tial retrospect but of one transaction, notorious in this 
 land — then must they behold yeomen, freemen, citi- 
 zens, artisans, divines, courtiers, patriots, merchants, 
 soldiers, sailors, and the whole plebeian tribe, in 
 septennial procession, urged and seduced by the con- 
 tending great ones of the land to the altar of perjury 
 — with the bribe in one hand, and the evangelist in 
 
 the other — impiously and aidaciously affront the 
 Majesty of Heaven, by calling him to witness that 
 they have not received, nor ever will receive, reward 
 or consideration for his suffrage. — Is not this a ftct, 
 sir 1 Can it be denied 1 Can it be believed by those 
 who know not Britain : Or can it be matched in the 
 records of human policy'? — Who then, sir, that re- 
 flects one moment, as a Briton or a Christian, on 
 this picture, would be conducive to a people's infamy 
 and a nation's ruin 1 
 
 Sir Per. Sir, I have heard your rhapsody with a 
 great deal of patience, and great astonishment — and 
 you are certainly beside yourself. What the devil 
 business have you to trouble your head about the sins 
 or the souls of other men 1 You should leave this 
 matter till the clergy, wha are paid for looking after 
 them ; and let every man gang to the devil his ain 
 way : besides it is nai decent to find fault with what 
 is winked at by the whole nation — nay, and prac- 
 tised by aw parties. 
 
 Eger. That, sir, is the very shame, the ruin I 
 complain of. 
 
 Sir Per. Oh ! you are vary young, vary young in 
 these matters ; but experience will convince you, sir, 
 that every man in public business has twa consciences 
 — a religious and a political conscience. Why, you 
 see a merchant now, or a shopkeeper, that kens the 
 science of the world, always looks upon an oath at a 
 custom-house, or behind a counter, only as an oath in 
 business, a thing of course, a mere thing of course, 
 that has nothing to do with religion ; — and just so it 
 is at an election, — for instance now — I am a candi- 
 date, pray observe, and I gang till a periwig-maker, 
 a hatter, or a hosier, and I give ten, twenty, or tharty 
 guineas for a periwig, a hat, or a pair of hose ; and 
 so on, through a majority of voters ; — vary weel ; — 
 what is the consequence r Why, this commercial in- 
 tercourse, you see, begets a friendship betwixt us, a 
 commercial frieudship — and in a day or twa these 
 men gang and give me their sufferages ; weel ! what 
 is the inference 1 Pray, sir, can you, or any lawyer, 
 divine, or casuist, caw this a bribe ? Nai, sir, in fair 
 political reasoning, it is ainly generosity on the one 
 
7<20 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 side, and gratitude on the other. „ So, sir, Jet me 
 have nai mare of your religious or philosophical re- 
 finements, but prepare, attend, and speak till the 
 question, or you are nai son of mine. Sir, I insist 
 upon it. 
 
 Enter Sam. 
 
 Sam. Sir, my lord says the writings are now ready, 
 and his lordship and the lawyers are waiting for you 
 and Mr. Egerton. 
 
 Sir Per. Vary weel : we'll attend his lordship. — 
 [Exit Sam.'] I tell you, Charles, aw this conscien- 
 tious refinement in politics is downright ignorance, 
 and impracticable romance ; and, sir, I desire to hear 
 no more of it. Come, sir, let us gang down and 
 finish this business. 
 
 Eger. [Stopping Sir Per. as he is going off.~\ Sir, 
 •with your permission, I beg you will first hear a word 
 or two upon the subject. 
 
 Sir Per. Weel, sir, what would you say 1 
 
 Eger. I have often resolved to let you know my 
 aversion to this match — «j>- 
 
 Sir Per. How, sir ! 
 
 Eger. But my respect, and fear of disobliging you, 
 have hitherto kept me silent 
 
 Sir Per. Your aversion ! your aversion, sir ! how 
 dare you use sic language till me 1 Your aversion ! 
 Look you, sir, I shall cut the matter very short : — 
 consider, my fortune is nai inheritance ; aw mine ain 
 acquisition : I can make ducks and drakes of it ; so 
 do not provoke me, but sign the articles directly. 
 
 Eger. I beg your pardon, sir, but I must be free 
 on this occasion, and tell you at once, that I can no 
 longer dissemble the honest passion that fills my heart 
 for another woman. 
 
 Sir Per. How ! another woman ! and, you villain, 
 how dare you love another woman without my leave? 
 But what other woman — who is she ? Speak, sir, 
 speak. 
 
 Eger. Constantia. 
 
 Sir Per. Constantia ! oh, you profligate ! what ! 
 a creature taken in for charity ! 
 
 Eger. Her poverty is not her crime, sir, but her 
 misfortune j her birth is equal tp the noblest ; and 
 
 virtue, though covered with a vilbge garb, is virtue 
 still; and of more worth to me than all the splendour 
 of ermined pride or redundant wealth. Therefore, 
 sir 
 
 Sir Per. Haud your jabbering, you villain, hand 
 yuur jabbering ; none of your romance or refinement 
 till me. I have but one question to ask you — but 
 one question— and then I have done with you for 
 ever, for ever ; therefore think before' you answer : 
 — Will you marry the lady, or will you break my 
 heart ? 
 
 Eger. Sir, my presence shall not offend you any 
 longer : but when reason and reflection take their 
 turn, I am sure you will not be pleased with yourself 
 for this unpaternal passion. [Going, 
 
 Sir Per. Tarry, I command you ; and, I command 
 you likewise not to stir till you have given me an an- 
 swer, a definitive answer : will you marry the lady, 
 or will you not 1 
 
 Eger. Since you command me, sir, know then, 
 that I cannot, will not many her. [Exit. 
 
 Sir Per. Oh ! the villain has shot me through the 
 head : he has cut my vitals ! I shall run distracted ; 
 the fellow destroys aw my measures — aw my schemes : 
 — there never was sic a bargain as I have made with 
 this foolish lord : — possession of his whole estate, 
 with three boroughs upon it— six members.— Why, 
 what an acquisition ! what consequence ! what dig- 
 nity ! what weight till the house of Macsycophant . 
 O ! damn the fellow ! three boroughs, only for send- 
 ing down six broom-sticks. — O ! miserable ! miser- 
 able ! ruined ! undone ! For these five and twenty 
 years, ever since this fellow came into the world, 
 have I been secretly preparing him for ministerial 
 dignity — and with the fellow's eloquence, abilities, 
 popularity, these boroughs, and proper connections, he 
 might certainly, in a little time, have done the deed ; 
 and sure never were times so favourable, every thing 
 conspires, for aw the auld political post-horses are 
 broken-winded and foundered, and cannot get on, 
 and as till the rising generation, the vanity of sur- 
 passing one another in what they foolishly call taste 
 and elegance, binds them hand and foot in the chain 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER^ 
 
 of luxury, wnich will always set them up till the 
 best bidder ; so that if they can but get wherewithal 
 to supply their dissipation, a minister may convert 
 the political morals of aw sic voluptuaries intill a 
 vote that would sell the nation till Prester John, and 
 their boasted liberties till the great Mogul :— and this 
 opportunity I shall lose by my son's marrying a var- 
 tuous beggar for love : — O ! confound her vartue ! 
 it will drive me distracted. 
 
 [Exit 
 
 SYCOPHANCY AND INDEPENDENCE CONTRASTED 
 
 Sir Peutinax Macsycophant and. Stdney 
 
 Sid. Sir Pertinax, your servant : — Mr. Tomlins 
 told me you desired to speak with me.' 
 
 Sir Per. Yes, I wanted to speak with you upon a 
 very singular business. Maister Sidney give me your 
 hand. — Guin it did nai look like flattery, which I 
 detest, I would tell you Maister Sidney, that you are 
 an honour till your cloth, your country, and till hu- 
 man nature. 
 
 Sid. Sir, you are very obliging. ' 
 
 Sir Per. Sit you down, Maister Sidney : — sit you 
 
 down here by me. My friend, I am under the 
 
 greatest obligations till you for the care you have 
 taken of Charles. — The principles — religious, moral, 
 and political, that you have infused intill him, de- 
 mand the warmest return of gratitude both fra him 
 and fra me. 
 
 Sid. Ycur approbation, sir, next to that of my own 
 conscience, is the best test of my endeavours, and the 
 highest applause they can receive. 
 
 Sir Per. Sir, you deserve it — richly deserve it. 
 And now, sir, the same care that you have had of 
 Charles — the same my wife has taken of her favourite 
 Constantia. And sure, never were accomplish- 
 ments, knowledge or principles, social and religious, 
 infused intill a better nature. 
 
 Sid. In truth, sir, I think so too. 
 
 Sir Per. She is besides a gentlewoman, and of as 
 guid a family as any in this county. 
 
 Sid. So I understand, sir. 
 
 Sir Per. Sir, her father had a vast estate j the 
 
 which he dissipated and melted in feastings and 
 
 2 i 
 
 721 
 
 friendships, and charities, hospitalities, and sic kind 
 
 of nonsense. But to the business. Maister 
 
 Sidney, I love you — yes, I love _you — and I have 
 been looking out and contriving how to settle you in 
 the world. — Sir, I want to see you comfortably and 
 honourably fixed at the head of a respectable family ; 
 and guin you were mine ain son a thousand times, I 
 could nai make a more valuable present till you for 
 that purpose, as a partner for life, than this same Con- 
 stantia, with sic a fortune down with her as you your- 
 self shall deem to be competent, and an assurance of 
 every canonical contingency in rny power to confer 
 or promote. 
 
 Sid. Sir, your offer is noble and friendly : but 
 though the highest station would derive lustre from 
 Constantia's charms and worth, yet were she more 
 amiable than love could paint her in the lover's 
 fancy — and wealthy beyond the thirst of the miser's 
 appetite — I could not — •would not wed her. [Rises. 
 Sir Per. Not wed her ! odswuns, man ! you sur- 
 prise me ! — Why so ? — What hinders 2 
 
 Sid. I beg you will not ask a reason for my refusal 
 — but, briefly and finally — it cannot be ; nor is it a 
 subject I can longer converse upon. 
 
 Sir Per. Weel, weel, weel, sir, I have done — I have 
 done. Sit down, man; — sit down again ; — sit you 
 down. — I shall mention it no more ; — not but I must 
 confess honestly till you, friend Sidney, that the match, 
 had you approved of my proposal, besides profiting 
 you, would have been of singular service till me like- 
 wise. However, you may still serve me as effectually 
 as if you had married her. 
 
 Sid. Then, sir, I am sure I will most heartily. 
 Sir Per. I believe it, friend Sidney, and I thank 
 you. 1 have nai friend to depend upon but your- 
 self. My heart is almost broke. 1 cannot help 
 
 these tears. And, to tell you the fact at once— 
 
 your friend Charles is struck with a most dangerous 
 
 malady — a kind of insanity. You see I cannot 
 
 help weeping when I think of it ; — in short — this 
 Constantia, I am afraid, has cast an evil eye upon 
 him. — Do you understand me 1 
 Sid. Not very well, sir. 
 Sir Per. Why, he is grievously smitten with the 
 
'22 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 love of her ; and, I am afraid, will never be cured 
 without a little of your assistance. 
 
 Sid. Of my assistance ! pray, sir, in what manner ? 
 
 Sir Per. In what manner? — Lord, Maister Sidney, 
 how can you be so dull ? Why, how is any man cared 
 of his love till a wench/but by ganging to bed till 
 her ? Now do you understand me ? 
 
 Sid. Perfectly, sir — perfectly. 
 
 Sir Per. Vary weel. Now then, my vary guid 
 
 friend, gin you wou'd- but give him that hint, and 
 take an opportunity to speak a good word for him till 
 the wench ; — and guin you wou'd likewise cast about 
 a little now, and contrive to bring them together 
 once ; why, in a few days after, he wou'd nai care a 
 pinch of snuff for her. \Sidney starts up.] What 
 is the matter with you, mon ? What the devil gars 
 you start and look so astounded ? 
 
 Sid. Sir, you amaze me. Tn what part of my 
 
 mind or conduct have you found that baseness which 
 entitles you to treat me with this indignity ? 
 
 Sir Per. Indignity ! What indignity do you mean, 
 sir ? Is asking you to serve a friend with a wench, 
 an indignity ? Sir, am I not your patron and bene- 
 factor 1 Ha? 
 
 Sid. You are, sir, and I feel your bounty at my 
 heart ; but the virtuous gratitude, that sowed the deep 
 sense of it there, does not inform me that, in return, 
 the tutor's sacred function, or the social virtue of the 
 man, must be debased into the pupil's pander, or the 
 patron's prostitute. 
 
 Sir Per. How ! what, sir ! do you dispute ? Are 
 you nai my dependent 1 ha ? And do you hesitate 
 about an ordinary civility, which is practised every 
 day by men and women of the first fashion ? Sir, let 
 me tell you, however nice you may be, there is nai a 
 client about the court that wou'd nai jump at sic an 
 opportunity to oblige his patron. . .. . . 
 
 Sid. Indeed, sir, I believe the doctrine of pimping 
 for patrons, as well as that of prostituting eloquence 
 and public trust for private lucre, may be learned in 
 your party schools : for where faction and public 
 venality are taught as measures necessary to good 
 government and general prosperity — there every vice 
 is to be expected. 
 
 Sir Per. Oho ! oho ! vary weel ! vary weel 1 fine 
 slander upon ministers ! fine sedition against govern- 
 ment ! — O, ye villain ! you — you — you are a black 
 
 sheep ; and. I'll mark you 1 am glad you show 
 
 yourself. Yes, yes, you have taken off the mask 
 
 at last ; you have been in my service for many years, 
 and I never knew your principles before. 
 
 Sid. Sir, you never affronted them before ? if you 
 had, you should have known them sooner. 
 
 Sir Per. It is vary weel. — I have done with you. 
 — Ay, ay ; now I can account for my son's conduct 
 • — his aversion till courts, till ministers, levees, public 
 
 business, ami his disobedience till my commands. ■ 
 
 Ah ! you are a Judas — a perfidious fellow ; — you have 
 ruined the morals of my son, you villain. — But I have 
 done with you. — However, this I will prophesy at our 
 parting, for your comfort — that guin you are so very 
 squeamish about bringing a lad and a lass together, 
 or about doing sic an harmless innocent job for your 
 patron, ycoi will never rise in the church. 
 
 Sid. Though my conduct, sir, should not make me 
 rise in her power, I am sure it will in her favour, in 
 the favour of my own conscience too, and in the 
 esteem of all worthy men ; and that, sir, is a power 
 and dignity beyond what patrons, or any minister, 
 can bestow. [Exit, 
 
 Sir Per. What a rigorous, saucy, stiff-necked rascal 
 it is ! I see my folly now. I am undone by mine aia 
 policy. This Sidney is the last man that shou'd have 
 been about my son. The fellow, indeed, hath given 
 him principles, that might have done vary weel among 
 the ancient Romans, but are damn'd unfit for the 
 modern Britons. Weel, guin I had a thousand 
 sons, I never wou'd suffer one of these English uni- 
 versity-bred fellows to be about a son of mine again; 
 for they have sic an a pride of literature and character, 
 and sic saucy English notions of liberty continually 
 fermenting in their thoughts, that a man is never sure 
 of them. Now, if I had had a Frenchman, or a 
 foreigner of any kind, about my son, I cou'd have 
 pressed him at once into my purpose, or have kicked 
 the rascal out of my house in a twinkling. 
 
 [Man of the World. 
 
FEMALE INFLUENCE. 
 
 MIRABELE and FAINALL. 
 
 Mir. I wonder, Fainall, that you who are married, 
 and of consequence should be discreet, will suffer 
 your wife to be of a scandalous party. 
 
 Fain. Faith, I am not jealous. Besides, most who 
 are engag'd are women and relations ; and for the 
 men, they are of a kind too contemptible to give 
 scandal. 
 
 Mir. I am of another opinion. The greater the 
 coxcomb, always the more the scandal : for a woman, 
 who is not a fool, can have but one reason for asso- 
 ciating tv ith a man who is one. 
 
 Fain. Are you jealous as often as you see Wit- 
 woud entertain'd by Millamant 1 
 
 Mir. Of her understanding I am, if not of her 
 person. 
 
 Fain. You do her wrong ; for, to give her her due, 
 she has wit. 
 
 Mir. She has beauty enough to make any man 
 think so ; and complaisance enough not to contradict 
 him who shall tell her so. 
 
 Fain. For a passionate lover, methinks you are a 
 man somewhat too discerning in the failings of your 
 mistress. 
 
 Mir. And for a discerning man, somewhat too 
 passionate a lover ; for I like her with all her faults ; 
 nay, like her for her faults. Her follies are so natural, 
 or so artful, that they become her ; and those affec- 
 tions which in another woman would be odious, serve 
 but to make her more agreeable. I'll tell thee, Fain- 
 all, she once us'd me with that insolence, that in 
 revenge I took her to pieces ; sifted her, and separated 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 723 
 
 probability in a little time longer I shall like them 
 as well. 
 
 Fain. Marry her, marry her ; be half as well ac- 
 quainted with her charms, as you are with her defects, 
 and my life on't, you are your own man again. 
 
 {Way of the World. 
 
 her faili 
 
 I studied 'em, and got 'em by rote. 
 
 The catalogue was so large, that I was not without 
 hopes one day or other to hate her heartily : to which 
 end I so us'd myself to think of 'em, that at length, 
 contrary to my design and expectation, they gave me 
 every hour less and less disturbance ; 'till in a few 
 days it became habitual to me to remember 'em 
 without being displeas'd. They are now grown 
 as familiar to me as my own frailties ; and in all 
 2 1 2 
 
 FRIENDLY SUPPORT OF CHARACTER. 
 FAINALL, WITWOUD, and MIRAEELL. 
 
 Fain. What have you done with Petulant 1 
 
 Wit. He's reckoning his money my money it 
 
 was 1 have no luck to-dav. 
 
 Fain. You may allow him to win of you at play ; 
 for you are sure to be too hard for him at repar- 
 tee ; since you monopolize the wit that is between' 
 you, the fortune must be his of course. 
 
 Mir. I don't find that Petulant confesses the supe- 
 riority of wit to be your talent, Witwoud. 
 
 Wit. Come, come, you are malicious now, and 
 
 wou'd breed debates Petulant's my friend, and a 
 
 very honest fellow, and a very pretty fellow, and has 
 
 a smattering faith and troth a pretty deal of an 
 
 odd sort of a small wit: nay, I'll do him justice. 
 
 I'm his friend, I won't wrong him. And if he 
 
 had any judgment in the world, he wou'd not 
 
 be altogether contemptible. Come, come, don't de- 
 tract from the merit of my friend. 
 
 Fain. You don't take your friend to be over-nicely 
 bred 1 
 
 Wit. No, no, hang him, the rogue has no manners 
 
 at all, that I must own no more breeding than a 
 
 bum baily, that I can grant you— 'tis pity ; the fellow 
 has fire and life. 
 
 Mir. What courage ? ■ 
 
 Wit. Hum, faith I don't know as to that, I can't 
 
 say as to that. Yes, faith, in a controversy, he'll 
 
 contradict any body. 
 
 Mir. Tho' 'twere a man whom he fear'd, or a wo- 
 man whom he lov'd. 
 
 Wit. Well, well, he does not always think before 
 he speaks ; — we have all. our failings : you are too 
 hard upon him, you are, faith. Let me excuse him" 
 
 1 can defend most of his faults, except one or 
 
 two : one he has, that's the truth on't j if he were 
 
?24 
 
 TH3 LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 my brother, I cou'd not acquit him — that indeed I 
 cou'd wish were otherwise. 
 
 Mir. Ay, marry, what's that, Witwoud 1 
 
 Wit. O pardon me expose the infirmities of 
 
 my friend 1 No, my dear, excuse me there. 
 
 Fain. What, I warrant he's unsincere, or 'tis some 
 such trifle. 
 
 Wit. No, no, what if he be ? 'tis no matter for 
 that, his wit will excuse that : a wit shou'd no more 
 be sincere, than a woman constant ; one argues a 
 decay of parts, as t'other of beauty. 
 
 Mir. May be you think him too positive 1 
 
 Wit. No, no, his being positive is an incentive to 
 argument, and keeps up conversation. 
 
 Fain-. Too illiterate 1 
 
 Wit. That ! that's his happiness his want of 
 
 learning gives him the more opportunities to show his 
 natural parts. 
 
 Mir. He wants words 1 
 
 Wit. Ay: but I like him for that now; for Ins 
 want of words gives me the pleasure very often to 
 explain his meaning. 
 
 Fain. He's impudent ? 
 
 Wit. No, that's not it. 
 
 Mir. Vain ! • \ 
 
 Wit. No. 3. 
 
 Mir. What ? he speaks unseasonable truths some- 
 times, because he has not wit enough to invent an 
 evasion ? 
 
 Wit. Truths ! ha, ha, ha ! no, no ; since you will 
 
 have it. 1 mean, he never speaks truth at all, 
 
 that's all. He will lie like a chambermaid, or a 
 
 woman of quality's porter. Now that is a fault. 
 
 \Way of the World. 
 
 BEAUTY DEPENDENT ON A LOVER'S FANCY. 
 MIRAEELE, MILLAMANT, and WITWOUD. 
 
 Mil. Mirabell, did you take exceptions last night? 
 
 O ay, and went away now I think on't, I'm 
 
 angry no, now I think on't I'm pleas'd for I 
 
 believe I gave you some paiu. 
 
 Mir. Does that please you ? 
 
 Mil. Infinitely ; I love to give pain. 
 
 Mir. You wou'd affect a cruelty which is not 
 
 in your nature ; your true vanity is in the power of 
 pleasing. 
 
 Mil. O I ask your pardon for that one's cruelty 
 
 is in one's power ; and when one parts with one's 
 cruelty, one parts with one's power ; and when one 
 has parted with that, I fancy one's old and ugly. 
 
 Mir. Ay, ay, sutler your cruelty to ruin the object 
 
 of your power, to destroy your lover and then how 
 
 vain, how lost a thing you'll be ! nay, 'tis true.: you 
 are no longer handsome when you've lost your lover ; 
 your beauty dies upon the instant ; for beauty is the 
 
 lover's gift; 'tis he _ bestows your charms your 
 
 glass is all a cheat. The ugly and the old, whom^ 
 the looking-glass mortifies, yet after commendation 
 can be flatter'd by it, and discover beauties in it ; for 
 that reflects our praises, rather than our face. 
 
 Mil. O the vanity of these men ! Fainall, d'ye 
 hear him 1 If the)' did not commend us, we were 
 not handsome ! now you must know they cou'd not 
 commend one, if one was not handsome. Beauty 
 
 the lover's gift Lord, what is a lover, that it can 
 
 give 1 Why, one makes lovers as fast as one pleases, 
 and they live as long as one pleases, and they die as 
 soon as one pleases ; and then if one pleases, one 
 makes more. 
 
 Wit. Very pretty. Why, you make no more of 
 making of lovers, Madam, than of making so many 
 card-matches. 
 
 Mil. One no more owes one's beauty to a lover, 
 than one's wit to an echo ; they can but reflect what 
 we look and say ; vain empty things if we are silent 
 or unseen, and want a being. 
 
 Mir. Yet to those two vain empty things, you owe 
 two the greatest pleasures of your life. 
 
 Mil. How so 1 
 
 Mir. To your lover you owe the pleasure of hear- 
 ing yourselves prais'd ; and to an echo the pleasure 
 of hearing yourselves talk. 
 
 Wit. But I know a lady that loves talking so in- 
 cessantly, she won't give an echo fair play ; she has 
 that everlasting rotation of tongue, that an echo must 
 wait 'till she dies, before it can catch her last words. 
 
 Mil. fiction ; Fainall, let us leave these men. 
 
 [Way of the World. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER, 
 
 PRISON SCENE. 
 
 \Torrento, with his dress torn, from the last night's 
 riot, is dragged in by the turnkeys — he resists, 
 clamouring outside as he comes.] 
 
 Tor. Why, you scoundrels, you rehegadoes, you 
 dogs in office, what's this for ! To be dragged out of 
 my first sleep in my dungeon, to look in the faces of 
 such a confoundedly ugly bet of cannibals. 
 
 Gaoler. Bring him along. [He is forced in. 
 
 Tor. [Continuing to struggle] — Cannot 1 sleep or 
 starve as I like? I'll blow up the prison, — I'll mas- 
 sacre the gaoler, I'll do worse — I'll let the law loose 
 oti you — Villains. 
 
 Gaoler. Poh ! Master Torrento, you need not be 
 in such a passion. You vised to' have no objection to 
 good company — ha, ha, ha ! He has been moulting 
 his feathers a little last night. [To the hussars. 
 
 Tor. Company — Banditti ! Who are those fellows ? 
 Are they all hangmen ? [Looking at the hussars. 
 
 Major. A mighty handsome idea, by the glory of 
 the twentieth. [Laughing. 
 
 Col. Sirrah! you must see that we are officers. 
 Take care. 
 
 Tor. Officers! — aye, sheriff's officers. Honest 
 housekeepers, with very rascally countenances. 
 
 Cor. Muffs and meerschaums ! — Very impudently- 
 conjectured. 
 
 Tor. Well then, parish officers! Hunters of brats, 
 beggars, and light bread. 
 
 Maj. [Laughing']— Another guess *br your life. 
 
 Col. Insolence! Sirrah, we are in his Majesty's 
 service. 
 
 Tor. Oh ! I understand — Customhouse officers. 
 Tubs, tobacco, and thermometers. [They murmur. 
 
 Cor. Cut off the scoundrel's head ! 
 
 [Half drawing his sabre. 
 
 Tor. I knew it; ardent spirits, every soul of them 
 —seicers. 
 
 Maj. C&sars ! Well done. This is our man — 
 [To the hussars] — I like him — the freshest rascal !. 
 
 Tor. Gaoler, I will not be disturbed for any man. 
 Why am I brought out before these, — fellows in 
 livery ? This gaol is my house ; my freehold ; jny 
 
 725 
 
 goods and chattels. My very straw's my own j un- 
 touchable, but by myself — and the rats. 
 
 Maj. Here's a freeholder i v 
 
 Col. With a vote for the galleys. 
 
 Tor. [Turning to the prisoners, harangue* bur- 
 lesauely.] — Gentlemen of the gaol — 
 
 [Prisoners cheer. 
 
 Col. A decided speech ! 
 
 Cor. Out of the orator's way ! Muffs and meer- 
 schaums ! [The prisoners lift Torrento on a bench, 
 laughing and clamouring^] 
 
 Tor. [Haranguing] — Are we to suffer ourselves 
 to be molested in our domestic circle ; in the loveli- 
 ness of our private lives ; in our otiuvi cum dignitate? 
 Gentlemen of the gaol! [cheering.] — Is not our re- 
 sidence here for our country's good? [cheering] — 
 Would it not be well for the country if ten-times as 
 many, that hold their heads high, outside these walls, 
 were now inside them ? [cheering.] — I scorn to appeal 
 to your passions ; but shall we suffer our honourable 
 straw, our venerable bread and water, our virtuous 
 slumbers, and our useful days, to be invaded, crushed, 
 and calcitrated, by the iron boot-heel of arrogance 
 and audacity ? [cheering.] — No ! freedom is like the 
 air we breathe, without it we die ! — No ! every man's 
 cell is his castle. By the law, we live here ; and 
 should not all that live by the law, die by the law ?. 
 — Now gentlemen, a general cheer ! here's liberty, 
 property, and purity of principle ! Gentlemen of the 
 gaol! 
 
 [They carry him round the hall. Loud cheering. 
 
 Gaol. Out with ye, ye dogs ! No rioting ! Turn- 
 keys ! [calls.] — The black-hole and double irons. 
 
 [He drives them off, and follows them. 
 
 Cor. A dungeon Demosthenes ! Muffs and meer- 
 schaums. 
 
 Maj. A regular field preacher, on my conscience. 
 
 Col. [To J'or.] — So, then, we must not fix our 
 head- quarters here. 
 
 Tor. Confound rae if I care, if your head-quarters 
 and all your other quarters were fixed here. 
 
 Col. No insolence sir. What are you ? 
 
 Tor. A gentleman. [Haughtily. 
 
 Cor. Psba ! every body's a gentleman now. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 726 
 
 Col. Aye, that accounts for the vices of the age. 
 
 Tor. A gentleman, sir, by the old title of liking 
 pleasure more than trouble ; play more than money ; 
 love more than marriage ; fighting more than either ; 
 and any thing more than the unparalleled impudence 
 of your questions. 
 
 Maj. Sirrah ! do you mean this to me 1 I'll— 
 
 Tor. Aye, sirrah, and to every honourable person 
 present. 1 never drink a health without sending the 
 toast round. In matters of contempt, I make it a 
 point of honour to be impartial. 
 
 [Pride shall have a Fall. 
 
 RIGHT HONOURARLE DIGNITY.^ 
 
 Paul Plyant, Lord Froth, Brisk, Careless. 
 Sir Paul. When Mr. Brisk jokes, your lordship's 
 laugh does so become you, he, he, he ! 
 
 Lord F. Ridiculous !— Sir Paul, you're strangely 
 mistaken ; I find champagne is powerful. I assure 
 you, Sir Paul, I laugh at nobody's jest but my own, 
 or a lady's, I assure you Sir Paul. 
 
 Brisk. Howl how, my lord ! What affront my wit ! 
 let me perish, do I never say any thing worthy to be 
 laugh'd at ? 
 
 Ld. F. O foy, don't misapprehend me ; I don't 
 say so, for I often smile at your conceptions. But 
 there is nothing more unbecoming a man of quality, 
 than to laugh ; 'tis such a vulgar expression of the 
 passion ! every body can laugh. Then, especially to 
 laugh at the jest of an inferior person, or when any 
 body else of the same quality does not laugh with 
 one. Ridiculous ! to be pleased with what pleases 
 the crowd ! now, when I laugh, I always laugh 
 alone ! 
 
 Brisk. I suppose that's because you laugh at your 
 own jests,. 'egad, ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Ld. F. He, he ! I swear though, your raillery pro- 
 vokes me to smile. 
 
 Brisk. Ay, my lord, it 's a sign I hit you in the 
 teeth, if you show 'em. - 
 
 Ld. F. He, he, he, I swear that's so very pretty, I 
 can't forbear. 
 
 Care, But does your lordship never see comedies 1 
 
 Ld. F. O yes, sometimes, but I never laugh. 
 
 Care. Nol 
 
 Ld. F. Oh, no, never laugh indeed, sir. 
 
 Care. No ! Why what d'ye go there for 1 
 
 Ld. F. To distinguish myself from the commonalty, 
 and mortify the poets ;— ftie fellows grow so con- 
 ceited when any of their foolish wit prevails upon 
 the side boxes. — I swear — he, he, he; I have often J 
 
 constrained my inclination to laugh he, he, he, to 
 
 avoid giving them encouragement. 
 
 Care. You are cruel to yourself, my lord, as well 
 as malicious to them. 
 
 Ld. F. I confess I did myself some violence at first, 
 but now I think I have conquered it. 
 
 Brisk. Let me perish, my lord, but there is some- 
 thing very particular in the humour ; 'tis true, it 
 makes against wit, and I'm sorry for some friends of 
 mine that write, but 'egad I love to be malicious.— 
 
 Nay, deuce take me, there's wit in't too and wit 
 
 must be foiled by wit ; cut a diamond with a dia- 
 mond, no other way, 'egad. 
 
 Ld. F. Oh, I thought you would not be long before ; 
 you found out the wit. 
 
 Care. Wit ! in what 1 where the devil's the wit in 
 not laughing when a man has a mind to't ? 
 
 [Double Dealer. I 
 
 A BLUE STOCKING LADY's IDEA OF LOVE. 
 
 Lady Froth and Cynthia. 
 
 Cyn. Indeed, madam ! is it possible your ladyship 1 
 could have been so much in love 1 
 
 Lady F. I could not sleep ; I did not sleep one' 
 wink for three weeks together. 
 
 Cyn. Prodigious ! I wonder want of sleep, and so' 
 much love, and so much wit as your ladyship has,; 
 did not turn your brain. 
 
 Lady F. O my dear Cynthia, you must not rally 
 your friend — but really, as you say, I wonder too— 
 but then I had a way. For between you and I, I had 
 whimsies and vapours, but I gave them vent. 
 
 Cyn. How, pray, madam -1 
 
 Lady F. O, I writ, writ abundantly . - .-Do you 
 never write 1 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 727 
 
 Cyn. Write, what? 
 
 Lady F. Song?, elegies, satires, encomiums, pane- 
 gyrics, lampoons, plays, or heroic poems. 
 
 Cyn. O lord, not I, madam ; I am content to be a 
 courteous reader. 
 
 Lady F. O inconsistent ! in love, and not write <- 
 if my lord and I had been both of your temper, we 
 
 had never come together O bless me ! what a 
 
 sad thing would that have been, if my lord and I 
 should never have met ! 
 
 Cyn. Then neither my lord nor you would ever 
 have met with your match, on my conscience. 
 
 Lady F. O my conscience no more we should ; 
 
 thou say'st right for sure my Lord Froth is as 
 
 fine a gentleman, and as much a man of quality ! Ah ! 
 
 nothing at all of the common air 1 think I may 
 
 say, he wants nothing but a blue riband and a star, 
 to make him shine the very phosphorus of our hemi- 
 sphere. Do you understand those two hard words ? 
 if you don't I'll explain them to you. 
 
 Ct/n. Yes, yes, madam, I am not so ignorant. 
 
 At least I won't own it, to be troubled with your in- 
 structions. [Aside. 
 
 Lady F. Nay, I beg your pardon ; but being de- 
 rived from the Greek, I thought you might have 
 escaped the etymology. — But I am the more amazed, 
 to find you a woman of letters, and not write ! Bless 
 me ! how can Meilefont believe you love him ? 
 
 Cyn. Why, faith, madam, he that won't take my 
 word, shall never have it under my hand, 
 
 Lady F. I vow Mellefont's a pretty gentleman, hut 
 methinks he wants a manner. 
 
 Cyn. A manner ! What's that, madam? 
 
 Lady F. Some distinguishing quality, as for exam- 
 ple, the bel air or brilliant of Mr. Brisk ; the solem- 
 nity, yet complaisance of my lord, or something of 
 his own that should look a little je ne tcai quoi ; he 
 is too much a mediocrity in my mind. 
 
 Cyn He does not indeed affect either pertness or 
 formality, for which I like him. [Double Dealer. 
 
 maskwell's soliloquy. 
 Cynthia, let thy beauty gild my crimes ; and what- 
 soever I commit of treachery or deceit shall be im- 
 
 puted to me as a merit.— Treachery, what treachery"? 
 Love cancels all the bonds of friendship, and sets 
 men right upon their first foundations. Duty to 
 kings, piety to parents, gratitude to benefactors, ahcl 
 fidelity to friends, are different and particular ties ; 
 but the name of rival cuts them all asunder, and is 
 a general acquittance — Rival is equal, and love like 
 death, an universal leveller of mankind. Ha ! but 
 is there no such a thing as honesty ? yes, and who- 
 soever has it about him, bears an enemy in his breast : 
 for your honest man, as I take it, is that nice, scru- 
 pulous, conscientious person who will cheat nobody 
 but himself; such another coxcomb as your wise 
 man, who is too hard for all the world, and will be 
 made a fool of by nobody but himself. Ha, ha, ha; 
 w T ell, for wisdom and honesty give me cunning and 
 hjpocrisy ; Oh, 'tis such a pleasure to angle for fair- 
 faced fools 1 — Then that hungry gudgeon Credulity 
 
 will bite at any thing Why, let me see, I have 
 
 the same face, the same words and accents when I 
 speak what I do think, and when I speak what 1 do 
 not think — the very same — and dear dissimulation is 
 the only art not to be known from nature. 
 
 Why will mankind be fools, and be deceiv'd ? 
 
 And why are friends' and lovers' oaths believ'd? 
 
 When each who searches strictly his own mind, 
 
 May so much fraud and power of baseness find. 
 
 [Double Dealer. 
 
 AK OVER-RIGHTEOUS LADY. 
 CARELESS and MELLEIONT. 
 
 Care. Meilefont, get out of the way, my lady Ply- 
 ant's coming, and I shall never succeed while thou 
 art in sight — =— tho' she begins to tack about; but I 
 made love a great while to no purpose. 
 
 Mtl. Why, what's the matter? she is convinced 
 that I don't care for her. 
 
 Care. I cannot get an answer from her that does 
 not begin with her honour, or her virtue, her religion, 
 or some such cant. Then she has told me the whole 
 story of Sir Paul's nine years courtship ; how he has 
 lain for whole nights together upon the stairs before 
 her chamber door ; and that the first favour he re- 
 ceived from her was a piece of an old scarlet petticoat 
 
728 
 
 for a stomacher j which, since the day of his mar- 
 riage, he has, out of a piece of gallantry, converted 
 into a night-cap, and wears it still with much solem- 
 nity on his anniversary wedding night. 
 
 Mel. That I have seen, with the ceremony there- 
 unto belonging — for on that night he creeps in at the 
 bed's -feet, like a gulled Bassa that has married a re- 
 lation of the Grand Signior, and- that night he has 
 his arms at liberty. Did she not tell you at what a 
 distance she keeps him 1 He has confessed to me, 
 that but at some certain times, that is, I suppose, 
 when she apprehends being with child, he never has 
 the privilege "of using the familiarity of a husband 
 with a wife. He was once given to scrambling with 
 his hands, and spraulins in his sleep, and ever since 
 she has swaddled him/up in blankets, and his hands 
 and feet swathed down, and so put to bed; and 
 there he lies with a great beard like a Russian bear 
 upon a drift of snow. You are very great with him. 
 I wonder he never told you his grievances ; he will, 
 I warrant you. 
 
 Care. Excessively foolish ! — — But that which gives 
 me most hopes of her, is her telling me of the many 
 temptations she has resisted. 
 
 Mel. Nay, then you have her ; for a woman's brag-_ 
 ging to a man that she has overcome temptations, is 
 an argument that they were weakly offered, and a 
 challenge to him to- engage her more irresistibly. 'Tis 
 only an enhancing the price of the commodity, by 
 telMng you how many customers have underbid her. 
 
 Cure. Nay, I don't despair — but still she has a 
 grudging to you — I talked to her t'other night at my 
 Lord Froth's masquerade, when I am satisfied she 
 knew me, and I had no reason to complain of my re- 
 ception ; but I find women are not the same bare- 
 fac'd and in masks and a vizor disguises their in- 
 clinations as much as their faces. 
 
 Mel. 'Tis a mistake ; for women may most pro- 
 perly be said to be unmasked when they wear vizors - y 
 for that secures them from blushing and being out of 
 countenance, and next to being in the dark, or alone, 
 they are most truly themselves in a vizor mask. 
 Here they come. I'll leave you. Ply her close, and 
 by and by clap a Mlkt-doxix into her hand : for a 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 woman never thinks a man truly in love with her 'till 
 he has been fool enough to think of her out of her 
 sight, and to lose so much time as to write to her. 
 
 [Double Dealer. 
 
 FRIENDS IN NEED. 
 
 You?ig wouldbe and richmore. 
 
 Y. W. Come, Frank, canst thou lend me a brace 
 of hundred pounds 1 
 
 Rich. What would you do with them ? 
 
 Y. W. Do with them ? There's a question indeed 
 — : — Do you think I would eat them? 
 
 Rich. Yes, o' my troth Avould you, and drink them 
 together. Look 'e, Mr. Wou'dbe, whilst you kept 
 well with your father, I could have ventured to have 
 lent you five guineas. But as the case stands, I can 
 assure you I have lately paid off my sister's fortune, 
 and : — ■ 
 
 Y. W. Sir, this put-off looks like an affront, when 
 you know I don't use to take such things. 
 
 Rich. Sir, your demand is rather an affront, when 
 you know I don't use to give such things. 
 
 Y. W. Sir, I'll pawn my honour. 
 
 Rich. That's mortgaged already for more than it it 
 worth ; you had better pawn your sword thore 'twil\ 
 bring you forty shillings. 
 
 Y. W. 'Sdeath, sir — [Takes his siuord off the table. 
 
 Rich. Hold, Mr. Wou'dbe suppose I put an end 
 
 to your misfortunes all at once. 
 
 Y. W. How, sir ? 
 
 Rich. Why, go to a magistrate, and swear you 
 would have robbed me of two hundred pounds. — ■ 
 Look'e sir, you have been often told, that your ex- 
 travagance would some time or other be the ruin of 
 you ; and it will go a great way in your indictment, 
 to have turned the pad upon your friend. 
 
 Y. W. This usage is the height of ingratitude from 
 you, in whose company I have spent my fortune. 
 
 Rich. I'm therefore a witness, that it was very ill 
 spent— why would you keep company, be at equal 
 expenses with me that have fifty times your estate i 
 What was gallantry in me, was prodigality in you: 
 mine was health, because I could pay for it ; yours 
 a disease, because you could not. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 this all I must expect from our 
 there can be no such thine 
 
 Y. TV. And is 
 
 friendship ? 
 
 Rich. Friendship 
 without an equality. 
 
 Y. TV. That is, there can be so such thing when 
 there is occasion for't. 
 
 Rick. Right, sir our friendship was over a 
 
 bottle only ; and whilst you can pay your club of 
 friendship, I'm that way your humble servant ; but 
 
 when once you come borrowing, I'm this way 
 
 your humble servant. [Exit. 
 
 Y. IV. Rich, big, proud, arrogant villain ! I have 
 been twice his second, thrice sick of the same love, 
 and thrice cured by the same physic, aud now he 
 
 drops me for a trifle That an honest fellow in his 
 
 cups should be such a rogue when he is sober ! 
 
 The narrow-hearted rascal has been drinking coffee 
 this morning. Well, thou dear solitary half-crown, 
 
 adieu ! -Here, Jack, take this, pay for a bottle of 
 
 wine, and bid Balderdash bring it himself. [Exit 
 Serv.] Kow melancholy are my poor breeches ; not 
 
 one chink ! Thou art a villainous hand, for thou 
 
 hast picked my pocket. This vintner now has all 
 
 the marks of an honest fellow, a broad face, a copious 
 look, a strutting belly, and a jolly mien. I have 
 brought him above three pounds a night for these two 
 years successively. The rogue has money, I'm sure, 
 if he would but lend it. 
 
 Enter balderdash, icith a bottle and glass. 
 
 Oh, Mr. Balderdash, good morrow. 
 
 Bald. Noble Mr. Wou'dbe, I'm your most humble 
 servant. I have brought you a whetting- glass, the 
 best old hock in Europe ; I know 'tis your drink in a 
 morning. 
 
 Y. W. I'll pledge you, Mr. Balderdash. 
 
 Bald. Your health, sir. [Drinks. 
 
 Y. TV. Pray, Mr. Balderdash, tell me one thing, but 
 first sit down : now tell me plainly what you think 
 of me ? 
 
 Bald. Think of you, sir ! I think that you are the 
 honestest, noblest gentleman, that ever drank a glass 
 ©f wine ; and the best customer that ever came into 
 my house. 
 
 Y. TV. And do you reallv think as you speak 1 
 2i3 
 
 729 
 
 Bald. May this wine be my poison, sir, if I don't 
 speak from the bottom of my heart. [Drinks. 
 
 Y. W. And how much money do you think I have 
 spent in your house : 
 
 Bald. Why, truly, sir, by a moderate computation, 
 1 do believe that I have handled of your money the 
 best part of live hundred pounds within these two 
 yeais. 
 
 K IV. Very well '. And do you think that you lie 
 under any obligation for the trade I have promoted to 
 your advantage ? 
 
 Bald. Yes, sir ; and if I can serve you in any re- 
 spect, pray command me to the utmost of my ability. 
 
 Y. TV. Well ! thanks to my stars, there is still 
 some honesty in wine. Mr. Balderdash, I embrace 
 you and your kindness : I am at present a little low 
 in cash, and must beg you to lend me a hundred 
 pieces. 
 
 Bald. Why truly, Mr. Wou'dbe, I was afraid it 
 would come to this ; I have had it in my head seve- 
 ral times to caution you upon your expenses : but 
 you were so very genteel in my house, and your 
 liberality became you so very well, that I was unwil- 
 ling to say any thing that might check your disposi- 
 tion ; but truly, sir, I can forbear no longer to tell 
 you, that you have been a little too extravagant. 
 
 Y. TV. But since you reaped the benefit of my ex- 
 travagance, you will, I hope, consider my necessity. 
 
 Bald. Consider your necessity ! I do with all my 
 heart ; and must tell you, moreover, that I will be no 
 longer accessary to it : I desire you, sir, to frequent 
 my house no more. 
 . Y. W. How, sir ! 
 
 Bald. I say, sir, that I have an honour for my 
 good lord your father, and will not suffer his son to 
 run into any inconvenience : sir. I shall order my 
 drawers not to serve you with a drop of wine. Would 
 you have me connive at a gentleman's destruction ? 
 
 Y. IV. But methinks, sir, that a person of your nice 
 conscience should have cautioned me before. 
 
 Bald. Alas ! sir, it was none of my business : 
 would you have me be saucy to a gentleman that 
 was my best customer ? Lack-a-day, sir, had you 
 money to hold it out still, I had been hanged rather 
 
730 THE LAUGHING 
 
 than be rude to you— But truly, sir, when a man is 
 ruined 'tis but the duty of a Christian to tell him of it. 
 
 Y. TV. Will you lend me money, sir 1 
 
 Bald. Will you pay me this bill, sir ? 
 
 Y. TV. Lend me the hundred pound, and I'll pay 
 the bill. 
 
 Bald. Pay me the bill, and I will not lend you 
 
 the hundred pounds, sir. But pray consider with 
 
 yourself, now, sir ; would not you think me an errant 
 coxcomb, to trust a person with money that has 
 always been so extravagant under my eye ? whose 
 profuseness I have seen, I have felt, I have handled 1 
 Have not I known you, sir, throw away ten pounds a 
 night upon a covey of pit-partridges, and a setting- 
 dog 1 Sir, you have made my house an ill house : my 
 very chairs will bear you no longer. — In short, sir, I 
 desire you to frequent the Crown no more, sir. 
 
 Y. TV. This is the punishment of hell ; the very 
 devil that tempted me to sin, now upbraids me with 
 the crime. I have villainously murdered my fortune, 
 and now its ghost, in the lank shape of poverty, 
 haunts me. [The Twin Rivals. 
 
 LEGAL INDUCEMENTS. 
 
 Y. TV. I have got possession of the castle, and if I 
 had but a little law to fortify me now, I believe we 
 might hold it out a great while. Oh ! here comes my 
 attorney. Mr. Subtleman, your servant. 
 Enter subtleman. 
 
 Sub. My lord, I wish you joy. My aunt has sent 
 me to receive your commands. 
 
 Y. TV. Has she told you any thing of the affair 1 
 . - Sub. Tsot a word, my lord. 
 
 Y. TV. Why then -come nearer. Can you 
 
 make a man right heir to an estate during the life of 
 an elder brother 1 
 
 Sub. I thought you had been the eldest. 
 
 Y. TV. That we are not yet agreed upon ; for you 
 must know, there is an impertinent fellow that takes 
 .a fancy to dispute the seniority with me. For look'e, 
 sir, my mother has unluckily sowed discord in the 
 family, by bringing forth twins ; my brother, 'tis true, 
 was first born ; but I believe from the bottom of my 
 Jieart I was the first begotten. 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 'Sub. I understand — you are come to an estate and 
 dignity, that by justice indeed is your own, but by 
 law it falls to your brother. 
 
 Y. TV. I had rather, Mr. Subtleman, it were his 
 by justice, and mine by law : for I would have the 
 strongest title, if possible. 
 
 Sub. I am very sorry there should happen any 
 breach between brethren ; so I think it would be but 
 a Christian and charitable act to take away all farther 
 disputes, by making you true heir to the estate by the 
 last wiil of your father. Look 'e, I'll divide stakes — 
 you shall yield the eldership and honour to him, and 
 he shall quit his estate to you. 
 
 Y. TV. Why, as you say, I don't much care if I do 
 grant him the eldest, half an hour is but a trifle : but 
 how shall we do about the will 1 Who shall we get to 
 prove it 1 
 
 Sub. Never trouble yourself for that : I expect a 
 cargo of witnesses and usquebaugh by the first fair 
 wind. 
 
 Y. TV. But we can't stay for them : it must be done 
 immediately. 
 
 Sub. Well, well ; we'll find some body, I warrant 
 you, to make oath of his last words. 
 
 Y. TV. That's impossible ; for my father died of an 
 apoplexy, and did not speak at all. 
 
 Sub. That's nothing, sir : he's not the first dead 
 man that I have made to speak. 
 
 Y. TV. You're a great master of speech, I don't 
 question, sir ; and I can assure you there will be ten 
 guineas for every word you extort from him in my 
 favour. 
 
 Sub. O, sir, that's enough to make your great 
 grandfather speak. 
 
 . Y. TV. Come, then, I'll carry you to my steward ; 
 he shall give you the names of the manors, and the 
 true titles and denominations of the estate, and then 
 you shall go to work. [The Twin Rivals. 
 
 INTERVIEW BETWEEN AN AUTHOR AND HIS 
 
 PUBLISHER. 
 
 SPRIGHTLY, VAMP, and CAPE. 
 
 Cape. Oh, no ) 'tis Mr. Vamp : Your commands, 
 good sir 1 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 731 
 
 Vamp. I have a word, master Cape, for your pri- 
 vate ear. 
 
 Cape. You may communicate j this gentleman is 
 a friend. 
 
 Vcmp. An author 1 
 
 Cape. Voluminous. 
 
 Vamp. In what way 1 
 
 Cape. Universal. 
 
 Vamp. Bless me ! he's very young, and exceed- 
 ingly well rigg'd; what, a good subscription, I 
 reckon 1 
 
 Cape. Not a month from Leyden ; an admirable 
 theologist ! he study'd it in Germany ; if you should 
 want such a thing now, as ten or a dozen manuscript 
 sermons, by a deceas'd clergyman, I believe he can 
 supply you. | 
 
 Vamp. No. 
 
 Cape. Warranted originals. 
 
 Vamp. No, no ; I don't deal in the sermon way, 
 now; I lost money by the last I printed, for all 'twas 
 wrote by a Methodist ; but I believe, sir, if they 
 ben't long, and have a good deal of Latin in 'em, I 
 can get you a chap. 
 
 Spri. For what, sir 1 
 
 Vamp. The manuscript sermons you have wrote, 
 and want to dispose of. 
 
 Spri. Sermons that I have wrote 1 
 
 Vamp. Ay, ay ; master Cape has been telling 
 me 
 
 Spri. He has ; I am mightily oblig'd to him. 
 
 Vamp. Nay, nay, don't be afraid ; I'll keep coun- 
 cil ; old Vamp had not kept a shop so long at the 
 Turnstile, if he did not know how to be secret ; why, 
 in the year fifteen, when I was in the treasonable 
 way, I never squeak'd ; I never gave up but one au- 
 thor in my life, and he was dying of a consumption, 
 so it never came to a trial. 
 
 Spri. Indeed ! 
 
 Vamp. Never -look here (shews the side of his 
 
 liead) crop'd close ! — bare as a board ! — and for no- 
 thing in the world but an innocent book of bawdy, as 
 I hope for mercy : oh! the laws are very hard, very 
 severe upon us. 
 
 Spri. You have given me, sir, so positive a proof 
 
 of your secrecy that you may rely upon my commu- 
 nication. 
 
 Vamp. You will be safe but, gadso ! we must 
 
 mind business, tho'. . Here, master Cape, you must 
 provide me with three taking titles for these pam- 
 phlets, and if you can think of a pat Latin motto for 
 the laigest 
 
 Cape. They shall be done. 
 
 Vamp. Do so, do so. Books are like women, mas- 
 ter Cape ; to strike they must be well dress'd ; fine 
 feathers make fine birds ; a good paper, an elegant 
 type, a handsome motto, and a catching title, has 
 drove many a dull treatise thro' three editions. — 
 Did you know Harry Handy 1 
 
 Spri. Not that I recollect. 
 
 Vamp. He was a pretty fellow ; he had his Latin, 
 ad ar.g-uem, as they say ; he wou'd have turn'd you 
 a fable of Dryden's, or an epistle of Pope's, into La- 
 tin verse in a twinkling ! except Peter Hasty, the 
 voyage -writer, he was as great a loss to the trade as 
 any within my memory. 
 
 Cape. What carried him off 1 
 
 Vamp. A halter; hang'd for clipping and coining, 
 master Cape ; I thought there was something the 
 matter by his not coming to our shop for a month or 
 two : he was a pretty fellow ! 
 
 Spri. Were you a great loser by his death 1 
 
 Vamp. I can't say ; — as he had taken to another 
 course of living, his execution made a noise ; it sold 
 me seven hundred of his translations, besides his 
 last dying speech and confession ; I got it ; he was 
 mindful of his friends in his last moments : he was a 
 pretty fellow J 
 
 Cape. You have no farther commands, Mr. Vamp? 
 
 Vamp. Not at present ; about the spring I'll deal 
 with you, if we can agree for a couple of volumes iu 
 octavo. 
 
 Spri. Upon what subject 1 
 
 Vamp. I leave that to him ; master Cape knows 
 what will do, tho' novels are a pretty light summer 
 reading, and do very well at Tunbridge, Bristol, and 
 the other watering places : no bad commodity for the 
 West India trade neither ; let 'em be novels, master 
 Cape. 
 
'32 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Cape. You shall be certainly supplied. 
 
 Vamp. I doubt not; pray how does Index go on 
 ■with your journal 1 i 
 
 Cape. He does not complain. 
 
 Vamp. Ah, I knew the time — but you have over- 
 Stoek'd the market. Titlepage and I had once lik'd 
 to have engaged in a paper. We had got a young 
 cantab for the essays ; a pretty historian from Aber- 
 deen ; and an attorney's clerk for the true intelli- 
 gence ; but, I don't know how, it dropp'd for want of 
 a politician. 
 
 Cape. If in that capacity I can be of any — — 
 
 Vamp. No, thank you, master Cape; in half a 
 year's time, I have a grandson of my own that will 
 come in ; he's now in training as a waiter at the 
 Cocoa tree coffee-house ; I intend giving him the run 
 of Jonathan's for three months, to understand trade 
 
 and the funds ; and then, I'll start him no, no, 
 
 you have enough on your hands ; stick to your busi- 
 ness ; and d'ye hear, 'ware clipping and coining ; 
 remember Harry Handy ; he was a pretty fellow ! 
 
 [The Author. 
 
 ' THE TWO HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT. 
 
 There is, by the constitution of this kingdom, an 
 assembly of many individuals, who, as the seventh 
 son of a seventh son is born a physician, are orators 
 by hereditary right ; that is, by birth they are enahled 
 to give their opinions and sentiments on all subjects, 
 where the interest of their country is concerned. To 
 this we are to add another assembly J consisting of 
 six hundred and fifty-eight individuals, where, though 
 the same privilege is, enjoyed as in the first instance, 
 yet this advantage is not possessed in virtue of any 
 inherent natural right, but is obtained in consequence 
 of an annual, triennial, or septennial deputation from 
 the whole body of the people ; if then we add to this 
 list the number of all those candidates who are am- 
 bitious of this honour, with the infinite variety of 
 changes that a revolution of twenty years will pro- 
 duce, we cannot estimate those funds of national ora- 
 tors in esse, posse, and velle, at a smaller quantity 
 than 20,000 ; and this, I believe, by the disciples of 
 Demoivre, will be thought a very moderate computa- 
 tion, [The Orators. 
 
 THE DEBATING SOCIETY. 
 
 scene, The Rubin Hood. 
 the president; dermot o'droheda, a chairman ; 
 Tim twist, a tailor; strap, a shoemaker ; anvil, 
 a smith; saji slaughter, a butcher; catch- 
 pole, a bailiff. All with pewter pots before them. 
 Prrs. Silence, gentlemen, are your pots reple- 
 nished with porter 1 
 
 All. Full, Mr. President. 
 
 Pres. We will then proceed to the business of the 
 day ; and let me beg, gentlemen, that you will, in 
 your debates, preserve that decency and decorum that 
 is due to the importance of your deliberations, and 
 the dignity of this illustrious assembly — 
 
 [Gets up, pulls off his hat, a?id reads the motion. 
 Motion made last Monday to be debated to-day, 
 " That, for the future, instead of that vulgar potation 
 called porter, the honourable members may be sup- 
 plied with a proper quantity of Irish usquebaugh. 
 " Dermot O'Droheda t his mark." 
 O'&roh. [Gets up.} That's I myself. 
 Pres. Mr. O'Droheda. 
 
 O'Drok. Mr. President, the case is this ; it is not 
 becase I am any grate lover of that same usquebaugh 
 that I have set my mark to the motion ; but becase I 
 did not think it was decent for a number of gontle- 
 men that were, d'ye see, met to settle the affair of the 
 nation, to be guzzling a pot of porter ; to be sure the 
 liquor is a pretty sort of a liquor enough when a man 
 is hot with trotting between a couple of poles; but 
 this is anotherguess matter, becase why, the head is 
 concerned ; and if it was not for the malt and the 
 haps, dibble burn me but I would as soon take a 
 drink from the Thames, as your porter. But as to 
 usquebaugh ; ah long life to the liquor — it is anexhili- 
 rator of the bowels, and a stomatic to the head ; I 
 say, Mr. President, it invigorates, it stimulates, it — 
 in short it is the onliest liquor of life, and no man 
 alive will die whilst he drinks it. 
 
 [Sits down, twist gets up, having a piece of 
 paper, containing the heads of what he sai/s, in his 
 hat. 
 
 Pres. Mr. Timothy Twist. 
 
 T. Twist. Mr. President, I second Mr. O'Dro- 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 733 
 
 heda's motion ; and, sir, give me leave — I say, Mr. 
 President — [looks in his hat] give me leave to ob- 
 serve, that, sir, tho' it is impossible to add any force 
 to -what has been advanced by my honourable friend 
 in the straps ; yet, sir, [looks into 7iis hat again,] it 
 may, sir, I say, be necessary to obviate some objec- 
 tions that may be made to the motion ; and first it 
 may be thought — I say, sir, some gentlemen may 
 think, that this may prove pernicious to our manufac- 
 ture — [looks in his hat,] and the duty doubtless it 
 is of every member of this illustrious assembly to 
 have a particular eye unto that ; but, Mr. Presi- 
 dent — sir, [looks in his hat, is confused, and sits 
 doivn.] 
 
 Pres. Mr. Twist, O pray fiuish, Mr. Twist. 
 
 Tivist. I say, Mr. President, that, sir, if, sir, it be 
 considered that — as — I say — [looks in his hat,]I have 
 nothing farther to say. [Sits down, and strap gets 
 up.] 
 
 Pres. Mr. Strap. 
 
 Strap. Mr. President, it was not my intention to 
 trouble the assembly upon this occasion, but when I 
 hear insinuations thrown out by gentlemen, where the 
 interest of this country is so deeply concerned, I own 
 I cannot sit silent ; and give me leave to say, sir, 
 that there never came before this assembly a point of 
 more importance than this ; it strikes, sir, at the very 
 root, sir, of your, constitution ; for, sir, what does this 
 motion imply"? it implies that porter, a wholesome, 
 domestic manufacture, is to be prohibited at once. 
 And for what, sir 1 for a foreign, pernicious commo- 
 dity. I had, sir, formerly the honour, in conjunction 
 with my learned friend in the leather apron, to ex- 
 pel sherbet from amongst us, as I looked upon lemons 
 as a fatal and foreign fruit ; and can it be thought, 
 sir, that I will sit silent to this? No, sir, I will put 
 my shoulders strongly against it ; I will oppose it 
 manibus totibus. Por should this proposal prevail, it 
 will not end here : fatal, give me -leave to say, will, 
 I foresee, be the issue ; and I shan't be surprised in 
 a few days, to hear from the same quarter, a motion 
 for the expulsion of gin, and a premium for the im- 
 portation of whiskey. [A hum of approbation, with 
 significant nods and winks from the other members. 
 
 He sits down, and anvil and another member 
 get up together ; some ay Anvil, others Jacobs. 
 
 Pres. Mr. Anvil. 
 
 Anvil. Mr. President, sir — 
 
 [The members all blow their ?ioses, and cough ; 
 anvil talks all the while, but is not heard.] 
 
 Pres. Silence, gentlemen; pray, gentlemen. A 
 worthy member is up. 
 
 Anvil. I say, Mr. President, that if we consider 
 this case in its utmost extent — [All the members 
 cough and blow their noses again.] I say, sir, I will. 
 Nay, I insist on being heard. If any gentleman has 
 any thing to say any where else, I'lL hear him. 
 
 [Members all laugh, and anvil sits down in a 
 passion, and slaughter gets up. 
 
 Pres. Mr. Samuel Slaughter. 
 
 Slaug. Sir, I declare it, at the bare hearing of this 
 here motion, I am all over in a sweat ; for my part I 
 can't think what gentlemen mean by talking in that 
 there manner ; not but I likes that every man should 
 deliver his mind ; I does mine ; it has been ever my 
 way ; and when a member opposes me I like him the 
 better for it ; it's right ; I'm pleas'd ; he can't please 
 me more ; it is as it should be ; and though I differ 
 from the honourable gentleman - in the flannel 
 night-cap over the way, yet I am pleased to hear him 
 say what he thinks ; for, sir, as I said, it is always my 
 rule to say what I think, right or wrong — [a loud 
 laugh.] Ay, ay, gentlemen may laugh, with all my 
 heart, I am used to it, I don't mind it a farthing ; but, 
 sir, with regard to that there motion, 1 entirely agree 
 with my worthy friend with the pewter pot at his 
 mouth. Now, sir, I would fain ask any gentleman 
 this here question ; "Can any thing in nature be more 
 natural for an Englishman than porter 1 I declare, 
 Mr. President, I think it the most wholesomest liquor 
 in the world. But if it must be a change, let us 
 change it for rum, a wholesome palatable liquor, "a 
 liquor that — in short, Mr. President, I don't know- 
 such a liquor. Ay, gentlemen may stare ; I say, and 
 I say it upon my conscience, I don't know such a 
 liquor. Besides, I think there is in this here affair a 
 point of law, which I shall leave to the consideration 
 
734 THE LAUGHING 
 
 of the. learned, and for that there reason, I shall take 
 up no more of your time. 
 
 [He sits down, catchpole gets up. 
 
 Pres. Mr. Catchpole. 
 
 Catch. I get up to the point of law. And though, 
 sir, I am bred to the business, I can't say I am pre- 
 pared for this question. But though this usquebaugh, 
 as a dram, may not (by name) be subject to a duty, 
 yet it is my opinion, or rather belief, it will be con- 
 sider'd, as in the case of horses, to come under the 
 irticle of dry'd goods — But I move that another day 
 rliis point be debated. 
 
 Slaught. I secend the motion. 
 
 [Catchpole gives a paper to the President, who 
 reads it. 
 
 Pres. Hear your motion. 
 
 " That it be debated next Thursday, whether the 
 dram usquebaugh is subject to a particular duty ; or, 
 as in the case of horses, to be considered under the 
 Wticle of dry'd goods." 
 
 All. Agreed, agreed. [The Orators. 
 
 EDUCATION OF A MIMIC. 
 SIB WILLIAM WEALTHY and SHIFT. 
 
 Sir Will. Pray, sir, where was you born ? 
 
 Shift. At my father's. 
 
 Sir Will. Hum ! And what was he? 
 
 Shift. A gentleman. 
 
 Sir Will. What was you bred 1 
 
 Shift. A gentleman. 
 
 Sir Will. How do you live 1 
 
 Shift. Like a gentleman. 
 
 Sir Will. Cou'd nothing induce you to unbosom 
 yourself. 
 
 Shift. Look'e, Sir William, there is a kind of some- 
 thing in your countenance, a certain openness and 
 generosity, a.je ne scai quoi in your manner, that I 
 will unlock : You shall see me all. 
 
 Sir Will. You will oblige me. 
 
 Shift. You must know then, that fortune, which 
 frequently delights to raise the noblest structures from 
 the simplest foundations ; who from a tailor made a 
 pope, from a gin-shop an empress, and many a prime 
 minister from nothing at all, has thought fit to raise 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 me to my present height, from the humble employ- 
 ment of light your honour A link boy. 
 
 Sir Will. A pleasant fellow. Who were your 
 
 parents ? 
 
 Shift. I was produced, sir, by a left-handed mar- 
 riage, in the language of the newspapers, between 
 an illustrious lamplighter and an eminent itinerant cat 
 
 and dog butcher. — Cat's meat, and dog's meat. 1 
 
 dare say, you have heard my mother, sir. But as to 
 this happy pair I owe little besides my being, I shall 
 drop them where they dropt me in the street. 
 
 Sir Will. Proceed . 
 
 Shift. My first knowledge of the world I owe to a 
 school, which has produced many a great man ; the 
 avenues of the play-house. There, sir, leaning on my 
 extinguish'd link, I learn'd dexterity from pick- 
 pockets, connivance from constables, politics and 
 fashions from footmen, and the art of making and 
 breaking a promise, from their masters. Here, sirrah 
 
 light me across the kennel. 1 hope your honour 
 
 will remember poor Jack. You ragged rascal, I 
 
 have no halfpence Pll pay you the next time I 
 
 see you. — —But, lack-a-day, sir, that time I saw as 
 seldom as his tradesmen. 
 
 Sir Will. Very well. 
 
 Shift. To these accomplishments from without the 
 theatre, I must add one that I obtain'd within. 
 
 Sir Will. How did you gain admittance there % 
 
 Shift. My merit, sir, that, like my link, threw a 
 radiance round me. A detachment from the head- 
 quarters here took possession, in the summer, of a 
 country corporation, where I did the honours of the 
 barn, by sweeping the stage, and clipping the candles. 
 There my skill and address was so conspicuous, that 
 it procur'd me the same office the ensuing winter at 
 Drury-lane, where I acquir'd intrepidity ; the crown 
 of all my virtues. 
 
 Sir Will. How did you obtain that 1 
 
 Shift. By my post. For I think, sir, he that dares 
 stand the shot of the gallery in lighting, snuffing, and 
 sweeping, the first night of a new play, may bid defi- 
 ance to the pillory, with all its customary compli- 
 ments. 
 
 Sir Will. Some truth in that. 
 
the Laughing philosopher. 
 
 Shift. But an unlucky enab-apple, apply'd to my 
 right eye, by a patriot gingerbread-baker from the 
 Borough, who would not suffer three dancers from 
 Switzerland, because he hated the French, forced me 
 to a precipitate retreat. 
 
 Sir Will. Poor devil ! 
 
 Shift. Broglio and Contades have done the same. 
 But as it happen'd, like a tennis-ball I rose higher from 
 the rebound. 
 
 Sir Will. How so 1 
 
 Shift. My misfortune, sir, mov'd the compassion of 
 one of our performers, a whimsical man, he took me 
 into his service. To him I owe, what, I believe, will 
 make me useful to you. 
 
 Sir Will. Explain. 
 
 Shift. Why, sir, my master was remarkably happy 
 . in an art, which however disesteem'd at present, is, 
 by Tully, reckon'd among the perfections of an ora- 
 tor — Mimickry. 
 
 Sir Will. Why you are deeply read, Mr. Shift. 
 
 Shift. A smattering — But as I was saying, sir, 
 nothing came amiss to my master. Bipeds, or qua- 
 drupeds ; rationals, or animals ; from the clamour of 
 the bar to the cackle of the barn-door ; from the sopo- 
 rific twang of the tabernacle of Tottenham-court, to 
 the melodious bray of their long-ear'd brethren in 
 Bunhill-fields ; all were objects of his imitatiou, and 
 my attention. In a word, sir, for two whole years, 
 under this professor, I study'd and starved, im- 
 poverish'd my body, and pamper'd my mind ; till 
 thinking myself pretty near equal to my master, I 
 made him one of his own bows, and set up for 
 myself. 
 
 Sir Will. You have been successful, I hope. 
 
 Shift. Pretty well. 1 can't complain. My art, sir, 
 is a passe-par-tout. I seldom want employment. 
 Let's see how stand my engagements. [Pulls out a 
 pocket book.'] Hum, — hum, — Oh! Wednesday at 
 Mrs. Gammut's near Hanover-square ; there, there, I 
 shall make a meal upon the Mingotti ; for her lady- 
 ship is in the opera interest : but, however, I shall 
 revenge her cause upon her rival Mattei, Sunday even- 
 ing at Lady Sustinuto's concert. Thursday I dine 
 upon the actors, with ten templars, at the Mitre in 
 
 735 
 
 Fleet-street. Friday I am to give the amorous parley of 
 two intriguing cats in a gutter, with the disturbing 
 of a hen-roost, at Mr. Deputy Sugarsops, near the 
 Monument. So, sir, you see my hands are full. In 
 short, Sir William, there is not a buck or a turtle de- 
 voured within the bills of mortality, but there I may, 
 if I please, stick a napkin under my chin. 
 
 Sir Will. I'm afraid, Mr. Shift, I must break in a 
 little upon your engagements ; but you shall be no 
 loser by the bargain. 
 
 Shift. Command me. [The Minor. 
 
 UNION OF VICE AND FANATICISM. 
 SIR GEORGE, MRS. COLE, LOADER, and DICK. 
 
 Mrs. C. Gently, gently, good Mr. Loader. 
 
 Load. Come along, old Moll. Why, you jade, you 
 look as rosy this morning, I must have a smack at 
 your muns. Here, taste her, she is as good as old 
 hock to get you a stomach. 
 
 Mrs. C. Fye, Mr. Loader, I thought you had forgot 
 me. 
 
 Load. I forget you ! I would as soon forget what 
 is trumps. 
 
 Mrs. C. Softly, softly, young man. There, there, 
 mighty well. And how does your honour dol I han't 
 seen your honour, I can't tell the — Oh ! mercy on 
 me, there's a twinge 
 
 Sir Geo. What is the matter, Mrs. Cole t 
 
 Mrs. C. My old disorder, the rheumatise ; I han't 
 
 been able to get a wink of Oh la ! what, you 
 
 have br,en in town these two days 1 
 
 Sir Geo. Since Wednesday. 
 
 Mrs. C. And never once call'd upon old Cole. 
 No, no, I am worn out, thrown by and forgotten, like 
 a tatter'd gaiment, as Mr. Squintum says. Oh, he 
 is a dear man ! But for him I had been a lost sheep ; 
 never known the comforts of the new birth ; no,- 
 There's your old friend, Kitty Carrot, at home still. 
 What, shall we see you this evening ? I have kept 
 the green room for you ever since I heard you were 
 in town. 
 
 Load. What, shall we take c\ snap at old Moll's. 
 Hey, beldam, have you a good batch of Burgundy 
 abroach \ 
 
736 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Mrs. C. Bright as a ruby ; and for flavour ! You 
 
 know the colonel He and Jenny Cummings drank 
 
 three flasks, hand to fist, last night. 
 
 Load. What, and bilk thee of thy share. 
 
 Mis. C. Ah, don't mention it, Mr. Loader. No, 
 that's all over with me. The time has been, when I 
 could have earn'd thirty shillings a day by my own 
 drinking, and the next morning was neither sick nor 
 sorry : but now, O laud, a thimbleful turns me topsy- 
 turvy. 
 
 Load. Poor old girl ! 
 
 Mrs C. Ay, I have done with these idle vanities ; 
 any thoughts are fix'd upon a better place. What, I 
 suppose, Mr. Loader, you will be for your old friend 
 the black-ey'd girl, from Rosemary-lane. Ha, ha ! 
 Well, 'tis a merry little tit. A thousand pities she's 
 
 such a reprobate ! But she'll meud ; her time is 
 
 liot come : all shall have their call, as Mr. Squintum 
 says, sooner or later ; regeneration is not the work of 
 a day. No, no, nc. Oh! 
 
 Sir Geo. Not worse, I hope. 
 
 Mrs. C. Rack, rack, gnaw, gnaw, never' easy, 
 abed or up, all's one. Pray, honest friend, have you 
 any clary, or mintwater in the house 1 
 
 Dick. A case of French drams. 
 
 Mrs. C. Heaven defend me ! I would not touch a 
 dram for the world. 
 
 Sir Geo. They are but cordials, Mrs. Cole. Fetch 
 'em, you blockhead. [E.v. Dick. 
 
 Mrs. C. Ay, I am a going ; a wasting and a wast- 
 ing, Sir George. What will become of the house 
 
 when I am gone, heaven knows. — ■ — No When 
 
 people are miss'd, then they are mourned. Sixteen 
 years have I liv'd in the Garden, comfortably and 
 creditably : and, tho' I say it, could have got bail 
 any hour of- the day. Reputable tradesmen, Sir 
 George, neighbours, Mr. Loader knows ; no knock 
 me down doings in my house. A set of regular, 
 sedate, sober customers. No rioters. Sixteen did I 
 say — Ay, eighteen years I have paid scot and lot in 
 Iche parish of St. Paul's, and during the whole time, 
 nobody has said, Mrs. Cole, why do you so 1 Unless 
 twice that I was before Sir Thomas De Val, and three 
 times in the round-house. 
 
 Sir Geo. Nay, don't weep, Mrs. Cole. 
 
 Load. May I lose deal, with an honour at bottom, 
 if old Moll does not bring tears into my eyes. 
 
 Mrs. C. However, it is a comfort after all to think 
 one has passed thro' the world with credit and charac- 
 ter. Ay, a good name, as Mr. Squintum says, is 
 better than a gallipot of ointment. 
 
 Enter dick with a dram. 
 
 Load. Come, haste, Dick, haste ; sorrow is dry. 
 Here, Moll, shall I fill thee a bumper 1 
 
 Mrs. C. Hold, hold, Mr. Loader ! Heaven help you. 
 I could as soon swallow the Thames. Only a sip to 
 keep the gout out of my stomach. 
 
 Load. Why then, here's to thee. — Levant me, but 
 it is supernaculum. — Speak when you have enough. 
 
 Mrs. C. I won't trouble you for the glass ; my 
 hands do so tremble and shake, I shall but spill the 
 good creature. 
 
 Load. Well pull'd. But now to business. 
 Pr'ythee, Moll, did not I see a tight young wench, in 
 a linen gown, knock at your door this morning 1 
 
 Mrs. C. Ay ; a young thing from the country. 
 
 Load. Could we not get a peep at her this even- 
 ing 1 
 
 Mrs. C. Impossible ! She is engag'd to Sir Timothy 
 Totter. I have taken earnest for her these fhree 
 months. 
 
 Load. Pho, what signifies such a fellow as that ! 
 Tip him an old trader, and give her to the knight. 
 
 Mrs. C. Tip him an old trader ! — Mercy on us, 
 where do you expect to go to when you die, Mr. 
 Loader"? 
 
 Load. Crop me, but this Squintum has turn'd her 
 brains. 
 
 Sir Geo. Nay, Mr. Loader, I think the gentleman 
 has wrought a most happy reformation. 
 
 Mrs. C. Oh, it was a wonderful work. There had 
 I been tossing in a sea of sin, without rudder or 
 compass. And had not the good gentleman piloted 
 me into the harbour of grace, I must have struck 
 against the rocks of reprobation, and have been quite 
 swallow 'd up in the whirlpool of despair. He was 
 the precious instrument of my spiritual sprinkling. — 
 But however, Sir George, if your mind be set upou a 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 young country thing, to-morrow night I believe I can 
 furnish ycu. 
 
 Load. As how V 
 
 Mrs. C. I have advertis'd this morning, in the 
 register office, for servants under seventeen ; and ten 
 to one but I light on something that will do. 
 
 Load. Pillory me, but it has a face. 
 
 Mrs. C. Truly, consistently with my conscience, I 
 wou'd do any thing for your honour. 
 
 Sir Geo. Right, Mrs. Cole, never lose sight of that 
 monitor. But pray, how long has this heavenly 
 change been wrought in you 1 
 
 Mrs. C. Ever since my last visitation of the gout. 
 Upon my first fit, seven years ago, I began to have 
 my doubts and my waverings ; but I was lost in a 
 labyrinth, and nobody to show me the road. One 
 time, I thought of dying a Roman, which is truly a 
 comfortable communion enough for one of us : but it 
 wou'd not do. 
 
 Sir Geo. Why not \ 
 
 Mrs. C. I went one summer over to Boulogne to re- 
 pent ; and, wou'd you believe it, the barefooted, bald- 
 pated beggars would not give me absolution, without I 
 quited my business. — Did you ever hear of such a 
 set of scabby Besides, I cou'd not bear their bar- 
 barity. Would you believe it, Mr. Loader, they lock 
 up for their lives in a nunnery, the prettiest, sweetest, 
 tender young things ! Oh, six of them, for a sea- 
 son, wou'd finish my business here, and then I shou'd 
 have nothing to do, but to think of hereafter. 
 
 Load. Brand me, what a country I 
 
 Sir Geo. Oh, scandalous ! 
 
 Mrs. C. O no, it would not do. So in my last 
 illness, I was visited by Mr. Squintum, who stept in 
 with his saving grace, got me with the new birth, and 
 I became, as you see, regenerate, and another crea- 
 ture. 
 
 Enter dick. 
 
 Dick. Mr. Transfer, sir, has sent to know if your 
 honour be at home. 
 
 Sir Geo. Mrs. Cole, I am mortify'd to part with 
 you. But bus'ness, you know — 
 
 Mrs. C. True, sir George. Mr. Loader, your 
 arm Gently, oh, oh ! 
 
 737 
 
 Sir Geo. Wou'd you take another thimbleful, Mrs. 
 Cole? 
 
 Mrs. C. Not a drop 1 shall see you this evening I 
 
 Sir Geo. Depend upon me. 
 
 Mrs. C. To-morrow I hope to suit you We are 
 
 to have, at the tabernacle, an occasional hymn, with 
 a thanksgiving sermon for my recovery. After which, 
 I shall call at the register office, and see what goods 
 my advertisement has brought in. 
 
 Sir Geo. Extremely obliged to you, Mrs. Cole. 
 
 Mrs. C. Or if that should not do, I have a titbit 
 at home, will suit your stomach. Never brush'd by 
 a beard. Well, heaven bless you — Softly, have a 
 
 care, Mr. Loader Richard, you may as well give 
 
 me the bottle into the chair, for fear I should be taken 
 
 ill on the road. Gently so, so ! 
 
 [Exit Bins, cole and loader. 
 
 Sir Geo. Dick, show Mr. Transfer in Ha, ha, 
 
 what a hodge podge ! How the jade has jumbled 
 together the carnal and the spiritual ; with what ease 
 she reconciles her new birth to her old calling ! — No 
 wonder these preachers have plenty of proselytes, 
 whilst they have the address so comfortably to blend 
 the hitherto jarring interests of the two worlds. 
 
 [The Minor. 
 
 ADVANTAGEOUS MODES OF BANKRUFTCV. 
 PILLAGE and RESOURCE. 
 
 Pil. Ay, take my word for it, Mr. Resource, in the 
 whole round of the law, and, thank heaven, the 
 dominions are pretty extensive, there is not a nicer 
 road to hit than the region of bankrupts. 
 
 Res. I should have thought it a turnpike, for you 
 see how easily even a country attorney can find it. 
 
 Pil. Pshaw, what amongst manufacturers and 
 meagre mechanics 1 fellows not worth powder and 
 shot ; and yet these paltry provincials, master Re- 
 source, are often obliged to solicit my aid. 
 
 Res. Indeed ! 
 
 Pil. Why, t'other day, a poor dog, over head and 
 ears in debt, from the country, was recommended to 
 me by a client : the fellow had scrap'd together all 
 he could get, and came up to town, with a view of 
 running beyond sea, but I stopp'd him directly. 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 738 
 
 Res. Really! 
 
 Pil. O, ay, in a couple of months wash'd him as 
 white as a sheep that is just shorn. 
 
 Res. How did you bring it about 1 
 
 Pil. Easy enough. Made him take a house in 
 Cheapside, call'd him a citizen, in the London Gazette, 
 and his name of John Madge being as common as 
 carrots, not a soul in the country suspected that it 
 was he. 
 
 Res. How should they ? 
 
 Pil. Pass'd a tew necessary notes to get him num- 
 ber and value, white-wash'd him, and sent him home 
 to his wife. 
 
 Res. Cleanly and cleverly done. 
 
 Pil. When the country chaps brought in their bills, 
 he drew out of his pocket a certificate, and gave them 
 a receipt in full for all their demands. 
 
 Res. How the loobies must look. 
 
 Pil. Chop-fallen, no doubt : but he is in business 
 again. 
 
 Res. He is 1 
 
 Pil. O yes, and I hear does very well. For I left 
 him two hundred out of the six he brought with him, 
 to begin the world with credit afresh. 
 
 Res. Very generous indeed, Mr. Pillage. 
 
 Pil. O ! a trifling affair, got little by it '.—for the 
 matter of that, a mere statute is not much in itself. 
 
 Res. Ay ! well I thought it brought pretty perqui- 
 sites with it. 
 
 Pil. No, no ; it is a good hot -bed indeed to jaise 
 chancery suits in. 
 
 Res. Ay, that is a produce that deserves propaga- 
 tion. 
 
 Pil. What, I see you have found a remedy for 
 master Monk of the Minbries 1 I thought his was an 
 incurable disease. 
 
 Res. Only skinn'd over the sore, master Pillage, it 
 will soon break out again. 
 
 Pil. What were the means that you used ? 
 
 Res. Got some friend of mine to advance him cash 
 on a project. 
 
 Pil. Of what kind ? 
 
 Res. A scheme of his, to monopolize sprats and 
 potatoes. 
 
 Pil. And it took? 
 
 Res. Oh ! there was no danger of that. The peo- 
 ple of this country are always ready to bite at a 
 bubble. 
 
 Pil. Will it hold 1 
 
 Res. Pshaw ! We shall break before the season for 
 sprats, and as to the potatoes, we had laid in a ship 
 load or two. 
 
 Pil. For which you procured a good price ! 
 
 Res. Not a souse. They are all now in our cellars 
 in Southwark, and have shot out branches as tall as 
 the trees in the park. 
 
 Pil. Ha ! ha ! ha ! but apropos, can you guess 
 Sir Robert's business with us ? 
 
 Res. Very near, I believe. 
 
 Pil. What, the house is not a tumbling ? 
 
 Res. A pretty large crack. 
 
 Pil. Which he wants our assistance to plaster. 
 Why, I thought the knight was as firm as a rock. 
 
 Res. I knew better things. I saw the mansion was 
 daily decaying. Hush, here he comas. 
 
 Enter sir Robert, followed by a clerk. 
 
 Sir Rob. As we have effects in our hands, accept 
 the bills to be sure. But how to discharge them 
 when they are due. — So, gentlemen, I have sent for 
 you to beg your assistance. 
 
 Pil. Sir Robert, we shall be very happy to serve 
 you if you will tell us but how. 
 
 Sir Rob. Why, to deal plainly, gentlemen, my 
 affairs are come to a crisis, and without some sub- 
 stantial and speedy assistance, my credit will quickly 
 expire. 
 
 Pil. You surprise me : I never guess'd it in dan- 
 ger. Pray, Sir Robert, what brought on the disease, 
 was it an alley fever, or a gradual decay ? 
 
 Sir Rob. A complication of causes. Not but I 
 could have weather'd them all, had the house in Hol- 
 land but stood, their failure must be followed by 
 mine. 
 
 Pil. What, Van Swie ten's 1 
 
 Sir Rob. Have you heard any thing of him to-day 1 
 
 Pil. No doubt, I believe, of their stopping ; their 
 bills were offer'd at Garraway's under forty per cent. 
 As your name is not blown upon yet, suppose you 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 coin a couple of quires ! don't you think the circu- 
 lation might serve you 1 
 
 Sir Rob. No, that mint is exhausted, and private 
 : paper return'd to its primitive value. My real case 
 i can be no longer conceal'd. I must stop, and should 
 be glad of your advice how to manage the matter. 
 
 Pil. The're are two methods in use. The choice 
 will depend on how your affairs stand with the 
 world. 
 
 Sir Rob. Bitter bad, Mr. Pillage. 
 
 Pil. I guess'd as much, by your sending for us. 
 They treat us, master Resource, like a couple of 
 quacks, never apply but in desperate cases. 
 
 Res. But in all diseases there are different de- 
 grees. 
 
 Pil. True ; for instance, if you find you are pretty 
 near on a par, with perhaps a small balance per con- 
 tra, summon your creditors, lay your conditions fully 
 before them, convince them you have a fund to 
 answer all their demands, and crave a respite for three 
 Or four years. 
 
 Sir Rob. Just to call in my debts, and make the 
 most of my other effects 1 
 
 Res. True ; as the English merchants have a good 
 deal of milk in their blood, that is a favour rarely 
 refused. 
 
 Sir Rob. This master Pillage, will be only defer- 
 ring the evil. 
 
 Pil. That is, Sir Robert, as you manage the cards. 
 Don't you see that the length of time, with the want or 
 wish of ready money for trade, will dispose the bulk 
 of your creditors to sell their debts at a loss of thirty 
 or forty per cent 1 
 
 Sir Rob. True. 
 
 Res. No contemptible sum, when a man's deal- 
 ings are large. 
 
 Sir Rob. But how shall I profit by- — 
 
 Pil. "What hinders you from privately buying the 
 debts 1 
 
 Sir Rob. That indeed— 
 
 Res. A fine fortune sav'd out of the fire. 
 
 Pil. True. And now we talk of the fire, for a 
 present supply, you may burn a warehouse or two, 
 after it has been gutted of all its contents. 
 
 739 
 
 Res. And recover the full amount of the policy. 
 
 Pil. Did you never try that 1 
 
 Res. No, I don't think he has done any thing in 
 the fire way yet ; have you, Sir Robert 1 
 
 Sir Rob. Never once came into my head. 
 
 Pil. May be not ; oh ! for a fertile brain, there 
 are many means to be used j but what d'ye say to 
 my plan t 
 
 Sir Rob. What the summoning scheme ? I am so 
 involved, that I am afraid that project will never 
 prevail. 
 
 Pil. Then you have nothing left but a statute. 
 
 Sir Rob. But if my certificate should not be 
 granted 1 
 
 Pil. That is my proper business, Sir Robert. If 
 we find your creditors inclined to be crusty, there will 
 be no difficulty in creating demands to get number 
 and value. 
 
 Sir Rob. That will swell my debts to a monstrous 
 amount. 
 
 Res. So much the more for your honour ; consider 
 you are a knight, and your dignity demands you 
 should fail for a capital sum. 
 
 Sir Rob. Does it? 
 
 Pil. To be sure. Why, you would not sneak into 
 the Gazette like a Birmingham button-maker. 
 
 Res. Oh fie ! 
 
 Pil. He would never after be able to show his 
 head upon change. 
 
 Res. Never, never. 
 
 Pil. And then, you know, what with the portable 
 stuff, such as jewels, or cash, that he himself may 
 secrete, and the dividends that fall to the share of 
 his friends, which they will doubtless restore — 
 
 Res. He will be fit tobegin the world again with eclat. 
 
 Pil. In a much better condition than ever. 
 
 Res. And his children's children will have reason 
 to thank him. 
 
 Sir Rob. But is there not some danger in conceal- 
 ing the portable stuff, as you call it 1 
 
 Pil. Not in the least. Besides, to colour the busi- 
 ness, you may collect a purse of light guineas, with 
 an old batter'd family watch, and deliver them to 
 the commissioners, on your first examination. 
 
740 
 
 Res. That will give an air of integrity. 
 
 Sir Rob. You seem to think, then, gentlemen, 
 that it is the duty of every honest merchant to 
 break once at least in his life, for the good of his 
 family 1 
 
 Res. Not the least question of that. 
 
 Pil. Every day's practice confirms it. Well, Sir 
 Robert, when shall I provide you the tackle ? 
 
 Sir Rob. The tackle ! 
 
 Pil. In about a month or six weeks, I think, you 
 may be made fit to appear in the papers. 
 
 Sir Rob. In the Gazette, as a bankrupt 1 
 
 Res. Aye, but then no time must be lost. 
 
 Pil. .Not a moment, for should they smoke his 
 design- 
 er Rob. Gentlemen, I must decline your assist- 
 ance. 
 
 Pil. How? 
 
 Sir Rob. For, without considering the private in- 
 yury 1 may do to particular persons, this mischievous 
 method must soon affect the whole mercantile world. 
 
 Pil. Why, what has that — 
 
 Sir Rob. Mutual confidence is the very cement of 
 commerce. That weaken'd, the whole structure must 
 fall to the ground. 
 ■ Res. Hey ! " 
 
 Sir Rob. From the practice of these infamous arts, 
 as it is impossible they can be conceal'd, what suspi- 
 cions, what jealousies must, every man in trade enter- 
 tain ! 
 
 Pil. How 1 
 
 Sir Rob. What an injury besides, to those in my 
 unhappy condition ! The risks and losses unavoid- 
 ably connected with commerce, procure the unsuc- 
 cessful trader generally the compassion, sometimes 
 the friendly aid, of those of his order. 
 
 JRes. We know that well enough. 
 
 Sir Rob. But when bankruptcy becomes a lucra- 
 tive traffic, and men are found, to fail with a view of 
 making their fortunes, the unhappy and fraudulent 
 will be confounded together, and punishment fall on 
 Ms head who has a title to pity. 
 
 Pil. The man's mad. 
 1 Sir Rob. Perhaps I myself am a sacrifice to those 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 very arts you have recommended so warmly. But 
 there the mischief shall end. Men may suffer from 
 my calamities, but they never shall by my crimes. 
 
 [The Bankrupt* 
 
 NEWSPAPER EDITORSHIP. 
 
 margin with newspapers, account-books, Sfc. 
 ' September the 9th. Sold twelve hundred and 
 thirty. June the 20th. Two thousand and six. Good 
 increase for the time, considering too that the winter 
 has been pretty pacific : dabbled but little in treasons, 
 and not remarkably scurrilous, unless, indeed, in a 
 few personal cases. We must season higher to keep 
 up the demand. Writers in- Journals, like rope- 
 dancers, to engage the public attention, must venture 
 their necks every step that they take. The pleasure 
 people feel, arises from the risk t that we run— 
 what's the matter 1 
 
 Enter dingey. 
 
 Dingey. Mr. Hyson has left the answer to his last 
 letter on East India affairs. 
 
 Margin. A lazy rascal, now his letter is forgot, he 
 comes with an answer. Besides, the subject is stale. 
 Return it again. Are all our people in waiting ? 
 
 Dingey. The attorney general to the paper, that 
 answers the law cases, is not come yet. 
 
 Margin. Oh ! that's Ben Bond'em the bailiff; 
 prudently done, perhaps he has a writ against one of 
 our authors — Bid them enter, and call over their 
 names. 
 
 Dingey. Walk in, gentlemen. 
 Enter pepper, plaister, rumour, eorge'em, 
 
 eibber, comma, caustic, 6'flam, and others. 
 
 Dingey. Politicians, pro and con, Messieurs Pep- 
 per and Plaister. 
 
 Pepper, Plaister. Here. 
 
 Margin. Pepper and Plaister, as both the houses 
 are up, I shall adjourn your political warfare 'till 
 their meeting again. 
 
 Pepper. Don't you think the public would bear 
 one skirmish more before we close the campaign I I 
 have a trimmer here in my hand. 
 
 Plaister. To which I have as tart a retort. 
 
 Margin. No, no ; enough for the present, it is, 
 Plaister the propel timing the subject, that gives 
 
THE LAUGHING 
 
 Success to our labours. The conductor of a news- 
 paper, like a good cook, should always serve up things 
 in their season : who eats oysters in June 1 Plays and 
 Parliament houses are winter provisions. 
 
 Pepper. Then half the satire and salt will be lost : 
 Besides, if the great man should happen to die, or go 
 out. 
 
 Margin. Pshaw ! it will do as well for the great 
 man that comes in. Political papers should bear 
 vamping ; like sermons, change but the application 
 and text, and they will suit all persons and seasons. 
 
 Plaister. True enough ; but meantime, what can 
 we turn to ; for we shall be quite out of work 1 
 
 Margin. I warrant you, if you an't idle, there's 
 business enough, the press teems with fresh publica- 
 tions — histories, translations, voyages — 
 
 Pepper. That take up as much time to read as to 
 make. 
 
 Margin. And what with letters from Paris or 
 Spa, inundations, elopements, dismal effects of 
 thunder and lightning, remarkable causes at country 
 assizes, and with changing the ministry now and 
 then, you will have employment enough for the 
 summer. 
 
 Plaister. And so enter upon our old trade in the 
 winter 1 
 
 Margin. Aye, or for variety, as it must be tiresome 
 to take always one side ; you, Pepper, may go over to 
 administration, and Plaister will join opposition. The 
 novelty may perhaps give fresh spirits to both. 
 
 Pepper. With all my heart. A bold writer has 
 now no encouragement to sharpen his pen. I have 
 known the day when there was no difficulty in get- 
 ting a lodging in Newgate ; but now, all I can say 
 won't procure me a warrant from a Westminster 
 justice. 
 
 Margin. You say right, hard times, master Pep- 
 per, for persecution is the very life and soul of our 
 trade; but don't despair, who knows how soon 
 matters may mend 1 gentlemen, you may draw back. 
 Read the next. 
 
 Dingey. Critics — Thomas Comma, and Christo- 
 pher Caustic. 
 
 Margin. Where are they * 
 
 PHILOSOPHER* ^41 
 
 Dingey. As you could not find then! in constant 
 employment, they are engaged by the great, to do the 
 articles in the Monthly Reviews. 
 
 Margin. I thought they were done by doctor 
 Doubtful the Deist. 
 
 Dingey. .Formerly ; but now he deals in manuscript 
 sermons, and writes religious essays for one of the 
 Journals. 
 
 - Margin. Then he will soon sink. I foresaw what 
 would come of his dramming. Goon. 
 
 Dingey. Collectors of paragraphs, Roger Rumour, 
 and Phelim O'Flam. 
 
 Rumour, Flam. Here. 
 
 Dingey. Fibber and Forge'em, composers and 
 makers of ditlo. 
 
 Fibber, Forge'em. Here. 
 
 Margin. Well, Rumour, what have you brought 
 for the press ? 
 
 Rumour. I have been able to bring you no posi- 
 tives. 
 
 Margin. How ! no positives 1 
 
 Rumour. Not one. I have a probability from the 
 court end of the town, and two good supposes out of 
 the city. 
 
 Margin. Hand them here — [reads.'] "It is pro- 
 bable, that if the king of Prussia should join the 
 Czarina, France' will send a fleet into the Mediter- 
 ranean, which, by giving umbrage to the maritime 
 powers, will involve Spain by its family compact. 
 To which if Austria should, refuse to accede, there 
 may be a powerful diversion in Poland, made con- 
 junctly by Sweden and Denmark. And if Sardinia and 
 Sicily abide by the treaties, the German Princes can 
 never be neuter ; Italy will become the seat of war, 
 
 and all Europe soon set in a flame." Vastly well, 
 
 master Rumour, finely confused, and very alarming. 
 Dingey, give him a shilling for this. I hope ne» 
 other paper has got it? 
 
 Rumour. Oh fie ! did you ever now me guilty of 
 such a ■ 
 
 Margin. True, true, now let's see your supposes — 
 [Reads.'] " R is supposed, if Alderman Mango should 
 surrender his gown, he will be succeeded by Mr. 
 Deputy Drylips ; and if my Lord Mayor should con- 
 
742 
 
 THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 tinue ill of the gout, it is supposed the swan-hopping 
 will cease for this season." — The last supposed is 
 fudged in : why would you cram these upon me for a 
 couple 1 
 
 Rumour. As distinct as can be. 
 
 Margin. Fye, remember our bargain. You agreed 
 to do the court of aldermen always for sixpence. 
 
 Rumour. What, if a common hall should be called ? 
 
 Margin. Oh ! then you are to bave threepence a 
 motion, I know that very well : I am sure no gentleman 
 can accuse me of being sneaking. Dingey, give him 
 sixpence for his supposes. Well, Phelim O'Flam, any 
 deaths in your district 1 
 
 O'Flam. The devil a one. 
 
 Margin. How ! none 1 
 
 O'Flam. O yes, a parcel of nobodies, that died 
 worth nothing at all. Fellows that can't pay for a 
 funeral. Upon my conscience, I can't think what 
 becomes of the folks : for my part, I believe all the 
 people who live in town fall down dead in the 
 country ; and then too, since doctor Dispatch is gone 
 to the Bath, patients linger so long. 
 
 Margin. Indeed ! 
 
 V Flam. To be sure they do. Why, I waited at 
 the Jolly Topers, a matter of two days and a half, 
 for the last breath of Lady Dy Dropsy, for fear some 
 other collector should catch it. 
 
 Margin. A long time, indeed. 
 
 O'Flam. Wasn't it 1 considering that she had two 
 consultations, besides devilish tough. Mr. Margin, 
 I shall quit the mortality walk, so provide yourself as 
 soon as you can. 
 
 Margin. I hope not. 
 
 O'Flam. Why, what will I do 1 I am sure the 
 deaths won't keep me alive ; you see I am already 
 stripp'd to my shroud ; since November, that suicide 
 season, I have not got salt to my porridge. 
 Enter sir thomas tradeweil. 
 
 Sir Thomas. Is your name Matthew Margin ? 
 
 Margin. It is, and what then 1 
 
 Sir Thomas. Then, pray what right had you to kill 
 me in your last Saturday's paper ? 
 
 Margin. Kill you ! 
 
 Sir Thomas. Ay, sir, here the article is ; surely the 
 
 law has some punishment for such insolent rascals as 
 you. 
 
 Margin. Punishment I and for what 1 But, after 
 all, what injury have you sustain'd 1 
 
 Sir Thomas. Infinite. All my agents are come 
 post out of the country, my house is crowded with 
 cousins to be present at the opening of my will, and 
 there has been (as it is known she has a very good 
 jointure) no less than three proposals of marriage 
 already made to my relict. 
 
 Ikiargin. Let me look at the paragraph. [Reads.'] 
 " Last night, after eating a hearty supper, died sud- 
 denly, with his mouth full of custard, Sir Thomas 
 Tradeweil, knight, an amiable companion, an affec- 
 tionate relation, and a friend to the poor." — O'Flam, 
 this is some blunder of yours ; for, you see, here the 
 gentleman is, and alive. - 
 
 O'Flam. So he says, but the devil a one in this 
 case would I believe but himself ; because why, I 
 was told it by Jeremy O'Turlough, his own oody- 
 chairman, my dear : by the same token, I treated him 
 with a pint of porter for the good news. 
 
 Sir Thomas. Vastly oblig'd to you, Mr. O'Flam ; 
 but I have nothing to do with this wretched fellow, 
 it is you, Margin, shall answer for this. 
 
 Margin. Why, Sir Thomas, it is impossible but 
 now and then we must kill a man by mistake. And 
 in some measure to make amends, you see what a 
 good character the paper has given you. 
 Sir Thomas. Character ! 
 
 Margin. Aye, sir, I can tell you I have had a 
 crown for putting in many a worse. 
 
 O'Flam. Aye, Sir Thomas, consider of that, only 
 think what a comfort it is to live long enough after 
 ) T ou are dead, to read such a good account of yourself 
 in the papers. 
 
 Sir Thomas. Ha ! ha ! ha ! what a ridiculous 
 rascal ! but I would advise you, gentlemen, not to 
 take such liberties with me for the future. [Exit. 
 O'Flam. Indeed and we won't ; and I here give 
 Mr. Margin my word, that you shan't die again, as 
 long as you live, unless, indeed, we get it from under 
 your own hand. 
 
 [The Bankrupt, 
 
THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 APPEARANCE OF THE DEVIL. 
 DEVIL, HARRIET, and INVOICE. 
 
 Devil [iii a bottle.] Heigh-ho ! 
 Har. Who is that ? 
 Inv. That ! where ? 
 Har. Did not you hear a voice 1 
 Int. None. Fancy, my love ; only you* fears. 
 Devil. Heigh-ho ! 
 Har. There again ! 
 Inv. I hear it now. — Who is there ? 
 Devil. Me. 
 
 Inv. Me ! he speaks English ! Who and where are 
 you? 
 
 Devil. Here in this bottle ; where I have been 
 cork'd up for these six months. 
 
 Inv. Cork'd up in a bottle ! I never heard of such 
 a thing in my life, unless, indeed, in the Hay-market 
 once. — Cork'd up in a bottle d'ye say ? 
 
 Devil. Ay ; by the master of this house, a magi- 
 cian. 
 
 Inv. A magician ! Why then you are a spirit, I 
 suppose. 
 
 Devil. You are right ; I am the Devil. 
 Har. Mercy on us ! ■ 
 
 Devil. Don't be terrified, miss : You remember 
 the old proverb, " The devil is not so black as he is 
 painted." 
 
 Inv. Well, but, sir 
 
 Devil. A truce to your questions, my good sir, 
 for the present ! — Consider, rammed up in this narrow 
 compass, I can't be much at my ease ; now if you 
 
 will but break the bottle before you on the floor 
 
 Har. For heaven's sake, Mr. Invoice, take care- 
 what you do ! 
 
 Devil. Why, my pretty miss, what risk do you run? 
 your affairs can hardly be changed for the worse. 
 Har. That's true, indeed ! 
 
 Devil. Believe me, miss, as matters stand, we can 
 be of mutual use : Vour lover may deliver me from 
 prison, and I can prevent you both from going into 
 confinement. 
 
 Inv. What says my Harriet? shall I rely on the 
 gentleman's word? 
 
 Devil. Do, madam ! I am a devil of honour. 
 
 743 
 
 Besides, you have but a little time to consider ; in 
 less than five minutes, you will have the consul and 
 all his crew in the house. 
 
 Inv. Nay, then — Pray which is the bottle ? 
 Devil. That in the middle, right before you. 
 Inv. There it goes ! 
 
 \He breaks the bottle and the Devil rises out of it. 
 Thunder. 
 
 Har. Oh, what a 
 
 Devil. I am not surpris'd, miss, that you are a little 
 shock'd at my figure : I could have assum'd a much 
 more agreeable form ; but as we are to be a little 
 better acquainted, I thought it best to quit all dis- 
 guise and pretence ; therefore, madam, you see me 
 just as I am. 
 
 Har. I am sure, sir, you are ve — ve — very agree- 
 able. 
 
 Devil. Yo — yo — you are pleas'd to compliment, 
 madam. — Come, answer me sincerely ; am I such a 
 being as you expected to see ? 
 
 Har. Really, sir, I can hardly say what I expected 
 to see. 
 
 Devil. I own it is a puzzling quesiion ; at least, if 
 the world does us justice in the contradictory quali- 
 ties they are pleas'd to afford us. 
 
 Inv. You will forgive me, if I don't understand 
 you. , s 
 
 Devil. Why, for all their superlative epithets, you 
 cannot but see how much men are beholden to us ; 
 by our means it is that you measure the extent both 
 of your virtues and vices. 
 Inv. As how ? 
 
 Devil. As thus : In describing your friends, or your 
 foes, they are devilish rich, devilish poor, devilish ugly, 
 devilish handsome ; now and then, indeed, to vary 
 the mode of conversing, you make a little free with 
 our condition and country, as, hellish dull, damn'd 
 clever, hellish cold ; Psha ! how damn'd hot it is ! 
 
 Inv. True, sir ; but I consider this as a rhetorical 
 figure, a manner of speaking devis'd and practis'd by 
 dulness, to conceal the lack of ideas, and the want of 
 expressions. 
 
 Devil. Partly that, I confess : Not but there is 
 some truth in the case ; foi at different times we havt 
 
THE XATJGIIING PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 and do "assume the various forms you 
 
 744 
 
 the power ; 
 assign us. 
 
 Inv. We 1 I observe you always make use of the 
 plural • is that, sir, by way of distinction, or, is your 
 family pretty large and extensive ? 
 
 Devil. Multitudinous as the sands on the beach ; 
 or the moats in a sun-beam : How the deuce else do 
 you think we could do all the business below 1 Why, 
 there's scarce an individual amongst you, at least of 
 any rank or importance, but has five or six of us in 
 his train. 
 
 Inv. Indeed ! 
 
 Devil. A little before I got rammed in that phial, 
 I had been for some time on very hard duty in this 
 part of the world. 
 
 Inv. Of what kind ? 
 
 Devil. The daemon of power and I had long laid 
 siege to a subject, the man a grandee ; I was then a 
 popular spirit, and wore the mask of a patriot ; at 
 different times, we possessed him by turns ; but, in 
 the midst of a violent struggle, (by which means T got 
 lame on this leg, and obtained the nick-name of the 
 Devil upon sticks,) the daemon of vanity, a low under- 
 strapper amongst us, held over his head a circle of 
 gold, with five knobs on the top, and, whew ! flew 
 away with our prize in an instant. 
 
 Inv. Under-strapper ! what, are there different 
 ranks and orders amongst you 1 
 
 Devil. Without doubt. 
 
 Inv. And pray, sir — I hope, no offence ; but I 
 would not be wanting in proper respect — are you, 
 when at home, of condition 1 or how must I 
 
 Devil. You mean, am I a devil of fashion, or one i 
 of the base born 1 
 
 Inv. I do. 
 
 Devil. I have no reason to be asham'd of my family. 
 
 Inv. I don't doubt it. You will forgive me if I 
 make a mistake : Perhaps my lord Lucifer. 
 
 Devil. Who? 
 
 Inv. Lord Lucifer. 
 
 Devil. Lord Lucifer 1 how little you know of our 
 folks ! Lucifer a lord ! Why, that's the meanest 
 rascal amongst us, 
 
 Inv, Indeed ! 
 
 Devil. Oh, a paltry mechanic ! the very genius of 
 jobbing ! a mere bull and bear booby ; the patron of 
 lame clucks, brokers, and fraudulent bankrupts. 
 
 Inv. You amaze me I I vow I always thought him 
 a principal agent. 
 
 Devil. He ! Not at all. The fellow indeed gave 
 himself some airs of importance, upon following the 
 camp, and having the contractors and commissaries 
 under his care ; but that affair you know closed with 
 the war. 
 
 Inv. What, then, are they now entirely out of his 
 hands 1 
 
 Devil. Yes ; quite out of his : He only suggested 
 their cent, per cent, squeezings, and prompted their 
 various modes of extortion and rapine : But in his 
 room, they have six or seven demons a-piece, to 
 direct the dissipation of their ill-gotten wealth. 
 
 Inv. Indeed ! 
 
 Devil. Poor Lucifer, it is all over with him ! If it 
 were not for the fluctuation of India, an occasional 
 lottery, or a contested election, the Alley would be 
 empty, and Lucifer have as little to do as a pick- 
 pocket when the playhouses are shut. 
 
 Inv. Perhaps, sir, your name may be Belzebub 1 
 
 Devil. He! worse and worse! Not a devil that 
 has the least regard to his character would choose to 
 be seen in his company. Besides, it is the most petu- 
 lant, waspish, quarrelsome cur — Bui no wonder ; he 
 is the imp of chicane, and protects the rotten part of 
 the law. 
 
 Inv. Then he, at least, has employment enough. 
 
 Devil. Yes, during the term, he has a good deal to 
 do : He is the parent of quibbles, the guardian of 
 pettifoggers, bad bail, and of bailiffs ; the supporter of 
 alibies, the source of sham pleas, the maker and finder 
 of flaws, the patron of perjury, and a sworn foe to all 
 trials by jury ! Not long ago, though, my gentleman 
 was put to his shifts. 
 
 Inv. How was that ? 
 
 Devil. The law had laid hold of an old friend of 
 his, for being too positive as to a matter of fact : evi- 
 dence, evasion, protraction, pleas, every art, was 
 employed to acquit him, that the most consummate 
 skill could suggest ; but all to no purpose. 
 
I* HIS LAUGHING KHILOt*OiCjHI::». 
 
 /**». Yhafwas strange. 
 
 Devil. Beyond all belief ; he could have hang'd 
 a dozen innocent people, with half the pains that this 
 paltry perjury gave him. 
 
 Ihv. How came that about? 
 
 Devil. Why — 1 don't know — he had unfortunately 
 to do with- $h obstinate magistrate, who bears a 
 mortal hatred to rogues, and whose sagacity could 
 not be deceived. But, however, tho' he was not able 
 to save his friend from the shame of conviction, 
 (a trifle, which he indeed but little regarded.) yet he 
 had the address to evade, or at least defer, the time of 
 his punishment. 
 
 Inv. By what means? 
 
 Devil. By finding a flaw. 
 
 Inv. A flaw ! what's a flaw ? 
 
 Devil. A legal loophole, that the lawyers leave 
 open for a rogue now and then to creep through, 
 that the game mayn't be wholly destroyed. 
 
 Inv. Provident "sportsmen ! Would it not be too 
 much trouble to favour me with this particular in- 
 stance ? 
 
 Devil. Not. at all. Why, sir, when matters grew 
 desperate, and the case was given over for lost, little 
 Belzy starts up in the form of an able practitioner, 
 and humbly conceived, that his client could not be 
 convicted upon that indictment ; for as much as 
 therein he was charg'd with foreswearing himself 
 now ; whereas it clearly appeared, by the evi- 
 dence, that he had only foresworn himself then: If, 
 indeed, he had been indicted generally, for commit- 
 ting perjury now and then, proofs might be produced 
 of any perjury he may have committed; whereas, 
 by limitjhg the point of time to the now, no proofs 
 could be admitted as to the then. So that, with 
 submission, he humbly conceived, his client was 
 clearly absolved, and his character as fair and as 
 spotless as a babe that's just born, aud immaculate as 
 a sheet of white paper. i 
 
 Ihv. And the objection was good ? 
 
 Devil. Fatal ; there was no getting rid of the flaw. 
 
 Inv. And the gentleman 
 
 Devil. Walks about at his ease; not a public 
 p'aee, "but he thrusts his person full in your face. 
 
 t K 
 
 745 
 
 I/iv. That ought not to be ; the contempt of the 
 public, that necessary supplement to the best digested 
 body of laws, should in these cases be never dis- 
 pensed with. 
 
 Depil. In days of yore, when the world was but 
 young, that method had merit, and the sense of shame 
 was a kind of a curb ; but knaves are now so numerous 
 and wealthy, they can keep one another in counte- 
 nance, and laugh at the rest of the world. 
 
 Inv. There may be something in that. — Well, sir, 
 T have twice been out of my guess ; will you give 
 me leave to hazard a third ? Perhaps you are Bel- 
 phegor, or Uriel ? 
 
 Devil. Neither. They too are but diminutive 
 devils: the first favours the petty pilfering frauds; 
 he may be traced in the double score and soap'd pot 
 of the publican, the alum and chalk of the baker, in 
 the sophisticated mixtures of the brewers of wine and 
 beer, and in the false measures and weights of them all. 
 
 Inv. And Uriel ? 
 
 Devil. He is the demon of quacks and of mounte- 
 banks ; a thriving race all over the world, but their 
 true seat of empire is England : there, a short 
 sword, a tie, and a nostrum, a month's advertising, 
 with a shower of handbills, never fail of creating a 
 fortune. But of this tribe I foresee I shall have 
 occasion to speak hereafter. 
 
 Inv. Well, but, sir 
 
 Devil. Come, sir, I will put an end to your pain ; 
 for, from my appearance, it is impossible you should 
 ever guess at my person. — Now, miss, what think you 
 of Cupid. 
 
 Har. You ? you Cupid ? you the gay god of love 1 
 
 Devil. Yes ; me, me, miss ! — What, I suppose you 
 expected the quiver at my back, and the bow in my 
 hand ; the purple pinions, and filleted forehead, with 
 the blooming graces of youth and of beauty. 
 
 Har. Why, I can't but say the poets had taught 
 me to expect charms — 
 
 DeviU That never existed but in the fire of their 
 fancy ; all fiction and phrenzy ! 
 
 Inv. Then, perhaps, sir, these creative gentlemen " 
 may ere as much in your office, as it U clear thejr 
 have mistaken your person. 
 
74(5 THE LAUGHING 
 
 Devil. Why, their notions of me are but narrow. 
 It is true, I do a little business in the amorous way ; 
 but my dealings are of a different kind, to those they 
 describe. — My province lies in farming conjunctions 
 absurd and piepesterous : it is I (hat couple boys and 
 beluatnti, girls and greybeards, together ; and when 
 you s; e a nan of fashion loek'd in legitimate wedlock 
 with the stale leavings of half the fellows in town, or 
 a lady of fortune setting out for Edinburgh in a post- 
 chaise with her footman, you may always ser it down 
 as some of my haudy work. But this is but an incon- 
 siderable branch of my business. 
 
 Inv. Indeed ! 
 
 Devil. The several arts of the drama, dancing, 
 music, and painting, owe their existence to me : I 
 am the father of fashions, the inventor of quiute, trente, 
 quarante, and hazard ; the guardian of gamesters, the 
 genius of gluttony, and the author, protector, and 
 patron of licentiousness, lewdness, and luxury. 
 
 Inv. Your department is large. 
 
 Devil. One time or o ( her I may give you a more 
 minute account of these matters ; at present we have 
 not a moment to lose. Should my tyrant return, T 
 must expect to be again cork'd up in a bottle. [Knock- 
 ing] And hark ! it is the consul that knocks at the 
 door ; therefore be quick ! how can I serve you 1 
 
 Inv. You are no stranger, sir, to cur distress : 
 here, we are unprotected and friendless ; could your 
 art convey us to the place of our birth — 
 
 Devil. To England? 
 
 Inv. ll you please. 
 
 Devil. Without danger, and with great expedition. 
 Come to this window, and lay hold of my cloak. — I 
 have often resided in England ; at present indeed, 
 there are but few of our family there ; every seventh 
 year, we have a general dispensation for residence ; 
 for at that time the inhabitants themselves can play 
 the devil without our aid or assistance. — Off we 
 go ! stick fast to your hold ! Devil on two Sticks. 
 
 MEN OF WIT AND PLEASURE ABOUT TOWN. 
 
 Rhoderique. What, Monsieur D'Olive, the only 
 admirer cf wit and good words. 
 
 D'Olive. Morrow, wits : morrow, good wits : rhy 
 little parcels of wit, I have rods in pickle for you. 
 How dost, Jack ; may I call thee, sir, Jack yet 1 
 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Rhod. Faith, thcu followest a figure in thy jests, as 
 country gentlemen follow fashion, when they be worn 
 threadbare. 
 
 D'OL And what ! you stand gazing at what comes 
 here, and admire it, I dare say. 
 
 Rhod. And do not you 1 
 
 D 01. Net I, I airnire nothing but wit. 
 
 Rhod. But I wonder how she entertains time in 
 that solitary cell : does she not take tobacco, think 
 you 1 
 
 D'OL She does, she does: others make it their 
 physic, she makes it her food : her sister and she take 
 it by turn, first one, and then the other, and Vandcme 
 ministers to them both. 
 
 Rhod. How sayest thou by that Helen of Greece 
 the Countess's sister 1 there were a paragon, Mon- 
 sieur D'Olive, to admire and marry too. 
 
 D'OL Not for me. 
 
 Rhod. No 1 what exceptions lie against the choice ? 
 
 D'Ol. Tush, tell me not of choice ; if 1 stood af- 
 fected that way, I would choose my wife as men do 
 valentines, blindfold, or diaw cuts f or them, for so I 
 shall be sure not to be deceived in choosing ; for take 
 this of me, there's ten times more deceit in women 
 than in horse-flesh ; and I say still, that a pretty weli- 
 pae'd chamber-maid is the only fashion ; if she grows 
 full or fulsome, give her but sixpence to buy her a 
 hand-basket, and send her the way of all flesh, there's 
 no more but so. 
 
 Mug. Indeed that's the savingest way. 
 
 D'Ol. O me ! what a hell 'tis for a man to be tied 
 to the continual charge of a coach, with the appurte- 
 nances, horses, men, and so forth : and then to have 
 a man's house pestered with a whole country of guests, 
 grooms, panders, waiting-maids, &c. I careful to 
 please my wife, she careless to displease me ; shrewish 
 if she be honest ; intolerable if she be wise ; imperious 
 as an empress ; all she does must be law, all she says 
 gospel: oh, what a penance 'tis to endure her ! I 
 glad to forbear still, all to keep her loyal, and yet 
 perhaps when all's done, my 4ieir shall be like my 
 horse-keeper : fie on't ! thejvery thought of marriage 
 were able to' cool the hottest liver in France. 
 
 Chapman s Busty D'A7iibois.— Old ■play. 
 
141 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 AO"RD£"N', earl, and Kembie, 35 
 Abroad aixd at Lome, 543 
 Absence, eighteen reasoua for, -230 
 from church accounted for, 
 
 • universal , 39 
 
 ;rnt Jtfa.n, character 
 
 bv Bruyere, 10 1 
 
 painter, 632 
 building, 69 5 
 
 Abstraction of 
 
 Aceomruodatin; 
 
 • tactic3, 03— 129 
 
 thieves, correspond- 
 ency of, "210 
 Accommodation for thieves and tres- 
 
 passers, 443 
 Acting by rote, 421 
 
 true excellence of, 407 
 
 Actress and her washerwoman, 412 
 
 — proposals from, 555 
 
 Addison and Steele, 51 
 Address, for all occasions, 221 
 Advantages of being in debt, 108 
 Adventures of a louse, 008 
 Advertisement, American, 131 
 
 ■ extraordinary ,85, 472 
 
 matrimonial, 1/8 
 
 Advice, tardy, 49 
 
 to a poor gentleman, 277 
 
 prudent, to a dead man, 52 
 
 to servants, by Swift, 578 
 
 Advocate, Friendly, 82 
 Adultery, a genial offence; 503 
 
 a shandean isi.gTaimt, 220 
 
 iEsop in slavery. 302 
 Affectation, fashionable, 103 
 Affection, intuitive, 039 
 
 matrhnoni.il, 48 
 
 Age, characteristics of the present, 
 
 615 
 
 criterion of, 421 
 metamorphoses of, 023 
 2 K 2 
 
 Age rapidity of, 234 
 Agitation, everlasting, 037 
 Ague, parochitil bequest of, 503 
 Alcibiades and his deg, 293 
 Aldermen, court of, at Fishmongr-rs'- 
 
 ball, 442 
 Alderman'3 feast, stanzas on, 27 
 
 head a pie, 203 
 
 Aidrich's (Dr, J.) reasons for drink- 
 ing, 159 
 
 love of smoking, C77 
 
 Ale warm and ale to warm, 25 
 
 All in one story, 490 
 
 Alliteration, letter or, 633 
 
 All Saints' church in Langham place, 
 
 501 
 Ail Saints' day,& day of ail Saints, 447 
 Almack's on Friday, 523 
 Alphabet. Irish mode of teaching, 303 
 Amateur theatricals, 101 
 
 executioners, 432 
 
 Ambiguous robbery, 234 
 Ambition boundless, 63 
 Amende honourable, specimens of, 
 
 416, 485 
 American and Scotchman, dialogue 
 
 betv/een, 239 
 
 : new world, 180 
 
 oddities, 208 
 
 Anachronisms in the arts, 413 
 Anacreontic, or the returned K.iss. 
 
 130 
 Anagrams, ne plus ultra of, 235 
 Analogy sympathetic, 117 
 Ancestry, pride and folly of, 109, 153, 
 
 530 
 Ancestors, grammatical, 124 
 Ancestral enormities, 589 
 Animal and vegetable life, 184- 
 Answer, an idiot's, 115 
 Anticipation of curses, 54 
 of being hanged, 442 
 
 Anticipation, habit of, 573 
 
 s : n ] ow - i-f ej 333 
 
 Antipathies ofTillotson, 313 
 Antiquarian-, lesson to, 595 
 Apollo and Merit, address to, 61 
 Apothecary, inscription for, 3 5 9 
 i profound erudition 
 
 of, 
 
 April fords, epigram on, 539 
 Architect, the illustrious, 116 
 Argumcntum ad hominem, G."l 
 Arrests, anagrams on the pairi3 of, 
 
 198 
 Artemisia, the 'due stocking, 253 
 Artillery of hell against heaven, 047 
 Ascension day, 6S3 
 
 Assault, 
 
 de'soi 
 Ash-strii 
 Asaistan 
 
 Tori 
 
 ny or. 
 >d foi 
 
 ?e of, Q',5 
 humorous 
 
 135 
 
 Assize town described, 077 
 Astrology defined, 5C7 
 
 Astronomer, appointment cf, to viow 
 
 an eclipse, 494 
 Astronomer's room described, 73 
 Asylum for lunatics, 235 
 Atiumawian creed, inei\ rs of, 347 
 Attainments, superfluous and se- 
 cond-rate, 039 
 Atterbury, bishop, and lord Conings- 
 
 bury, 119 
 Avare, the, 02 
 
 Avonmore, lord, and Curran, 573 
 Auctioneering magistrate, 415 
 Auctioneers, eloquence of, 134 
 Augustan liberality, 300 
 sacrihees, 038 
 
 Author, advice to, 295 
 Author and critic, 380 
 
 — . calamities of, 418 
 
 — • mortifications of, 111 
 
US 
 
 Author, tevrora of a young one, 22 
 
 's new suit, 425 
 
 — s, club of, 113 
 
 Authorship, real calamities of. 567 
 Authority, proof of, 57 
 
 B-< bine, republic of, 222 
 
 Bachelor's recantation of a single 
 
 life, 482 
 
 s, tombstone advice to, 40 
 
 — of arts, how to obtain degree 
 
 of, 272 
 Backbiting, merits of, 252 
 Backwards «nd forwards, 689 
 Bacon's, Friar, study at Oxford, C5 
 
 how to save, 443 
 
 iord, and James I. 302 
 
 Bad company, toast of, 57 
 
 and worse, 399 
 
 character, utility of, 213 
 
 B.d habits, ocular proofs of, 576 
 
 singer, address to, 64 
 
 B. dcleley, Mrs., in the lock-up house, 
 
 :i64 
 Bail, literary, 326 
 Baker's funeral, the, 178 
 
 George, and tooth drawer, 45 
 
 ■ *s lodgings, comforts of, 236 
 
 Balaam's ass, 119 
 
 Balance, how to strike, 71 
 
 Ball, characters at a county, 319 
 
 conversation, charms of, 638 
 
 Balloons, variety of, 652 
 Bail-room, elegy written in, 174 
 Bandy joke, 166 
 
 B. ak-cierk and stable keepers, 201 
 Bankrupt turned preacher, 311 
 Bannister's, C, love of enemies, 
 
 K6 
 apology for late 
 
 hours, 111 
 
 ■ and tripeman, 33 
 
 Baptism, singular difficulty of, 640 
 Barber, alderman, and narrow toed 
 
 shoes, 199 
 
 and coxcomb, 59 
 
 staj;e struck, address of, 310 
 
 & Scotchman, bargain of, 336 
 
 Bcrd, miserable picture of, 648 
 Bam, ode to an old one, 555 
 Barnard, Dr. Johnson and sir J. Rey- 
 nolds, 673 
 
 Baronet's establishment, 566 
 Barrington's prologue, spoken at Sid- 
 ney, New South Wales, 133 
 Barristers, amusements of, 217 
 Barry and his carpenter, 41 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 ; Barry the painter and the duke oi 
 Norfolk, 61 
 Barrymore and Bannister, 390 
 Bashful man, confessions of, 163 
 Bassompiore, marshal, and spy, 395 
 Bath remedies, 64 
 
 ta;e, or fashionable duel, 342 
 
 wife of, gallantries of, 246 
 
 of love, 264 
 
 Beacon and bacon, C6 
 
 Bear and stake, 81 
 
 Beatitudes, enumev ti . of. 234 
 
 ■ applicath . 
 
 Beau Nash's method cf telling a 
 story, 396 
 
 's head, dissection cf, 115 
 
 Tibbs, 324 
 
 Beauty, amatory address to, 644 
 
 balance of, 65 
 
 discovery of, 71 
 
 everlasting, 112 
 
 universal adoration of, 532 
 
 Beautiful colours. 30, 33 
 maid, the, 179 
 
 Bed, paradox.es of, 166 
 
 Bedford, old duchess of, and George 
 
 III., 220 
 Bedmakers at Cambridge, 270 
 Beer-working un the sabbath, 1ST 
 Begging, modesty in, 56 
 Begone dull care, 486 
 Behaviour, indigent philosopher's 
 
 rules for, 278 
 Bell-hanger's handbill, 25 
 Bell-ringing, predilection for, 465 
 
 team, Irishman's, 30 
 
 Bencher, the incurious, 75 
 Benefit, medicinal and moral, 84 
 s of marriage, in twelve argu- 
 ments, 270 
 
 Ben Jonson, a bricklayer, 203 
 
 and his vintner, 112 
 
 and Devil's tavern, 521 
 
 's grace before king 
 
 James, 444. 
 Bequeathing a blessing, 209 
 Berkshire publican, 162 
 Best stock of lire, 655 
 — ■ — and Scarlett, characters of, 017 
 
 of a bad job, 365, 684 
 
 Better bargain, 67 Z 
 Betterton and TLiotson, 548 
 Bettesworth, Mr. sergeant, und Dean 
 
 Swift, 38S 
 Betting and praying, 545 
 Biblical fop described-, 397 
 Bigamy & trigamy distinguished, 489 
 
 Billiards, a scene from PfigfctHiara 
 
 Abbey, 536 
 Bill of an Irish eating-ho'.i?, 233 
 Billy Tailor, adventures of, 167 
 Biped thief delected, 463 
 Bipeds, 16 
 
 Birch, stanzas on, 46 
 Birmingham man iu America, 252 
 Bishop ;,nd his coachman, 333 
 
 und peas, nt, 1C5 
 
 's Messing, true worth cf. 333 
 
 — credit, state of, 32 
 
 Neville's feast, 682 
 
 s, the seven, 59 
 
 Biter bit, 53— 56 
 
 Biting and kissing hands, 83 
 Black eyes of love& vengeance, 413 
 Blacket, widow, of Oxford, 197 
 Black footman, retort of, 1J3 
 Blacksmith, the tippling, 87 
 Blaize, Mrs. Mary", elegy en, 340 
 Bleeding, effects of, 119 
 Blessed spot, epigram on, 680 
 Blessings of man enumerated and 
 
 disposed of, 420 
 Blood, merit of, 222 
 Blue-hot Lie fly, fable of, 3S6 
 
 devils, original cf, 434 
 
 stocking, or learned lady, ca- 
 p-rices of, 594 
 — —-stocking, vices ot, 262 
 Blunders, remedy for, 195 
 of translators, 338 
 
 Blunderton's (Dr.) early account of 
 
 Chiswick. 214 
 Boar's head tavern, the, 58, 230 
 Bodily infirmities, 79 
 Boisrobert's death, 36 
 Bolingbroke, Mallet, & Johnson, 647 
 Bookoe.lers, grace of, 310 
 Bore, character and definition of, 267 
 Borrowed countenance, 397 
 Bosom of love, 209 
 Botheration, 153 
 Bottle conjuring, wonders of, 447 
 
 pleasures of the, 175 
 
 s, flying, 36 
 
 Bottom to the last, 176 
 Boulter, the highwayman, 392 
 Bowels of an actcrney general, 145 
 
 of compassion, 467 
 
 Boxing, noule, 299 
 
 Box-lohby loungers, 103 
 
 Boyd, Hugh, and flying bottles, 33 
 
 Brains, art of living without, 420 
 
 Bransley the comedian's acting by 
 
 rote, 4«2 
 
749 
 
 Bread and meat, 64 
 Breakfast, literary, 35 
 Bray, vicar of, 1S3 
 
 ■ tedious, 159 
 
 luxurious, 62-1 
 
 Brewer ..aid negro, 534 
 Bribery, amorous, 84 
 
 cast , 77 
 
 Bricklayerj, artifices of, 201 
 Bright, Edward, of Maiden, 154 
 Brighton Belle, the, 163 
 
 pleasures of, described, 501 
 
 Broomstick, meditation on, 390 
 Brother feeling, 415 
 Brotherhood, unconscious, 231 
 
 and sisterhood, 637 
 
 Brotherly love, 300 
 
 Brown, Flint and Spark, 337 
 
 Brown's, (Sir Thomas) courtship, 406 
 
 Brutus the second, 296 
 
 Bruyere's absent man, 101 
 
 Bubb Lcddington's apology, 72 
 
 Buckingham, duke of, his character, 
 
 by Dry den, 434 
 ■ and father Fitz- 
 gerald on transubstantiarion, 258 
 — 's epigram on the monu- 
 ment, 212 
 Bucks have at ye all, 2G8 
 Buffon, dullest chapter of, 230 
 Bulfceley, lord, and Duke of Dorset. 
 
 306 
 Bulls, epistolary, 138 
 
 parliamentary, 97 
 
 Bullum versila Boatum, 572 
 
 Bumper, origin of, 548 
 
 Bung-hole and spigot proverb, i'lus- 
 
 tratsd, 60? 
 Bu«iaJ alive, prevention, 413 
 
 -, societies, benefits of, 620 
 
 Burnet's Own Times with Swift's 
 
 notes, 254 
 Bi;rnet, bishop, his inadvertence, 177 
 
 ■ judge, and coachman, 432 
 
 ■ on reformation, 309 
 
 en horse-stealing, 146 
 
 Burns's black coat, 213 
 
 Tarn O'Shanter, 449 
 
 Busby's (Dr.) government, 522 
 Business and pleasure, 3Q4 
 
 economy in, 420 
 
 Busy indolent, character of the, 439 
 Butler, duke of Ormond, and the 
 poor curate, 401 
 
 murderer. Ill 
 
 Samuel, characters by, 371 384 
 
 Butler's Oliver Cromwell, C85 
 
 Sketch of the devil, C87 
 
 Buttresses and pillars, 55 
 Byron, lord, on the letter H, 338 
 
 Caernarvon, earl of, his maiden 
 
 speech, 119 
 Caesar, Julius, and the coward, 57 
 
 Mr. and dean Swift, 685 
 
 Calais, delights of u trip to, GU 
 Cambridge and Oxford, equal pre- 
 
 sents to, 22 
 
 bed-makers, 270 
 
 — scholar, vagaries of, 224 
 
 Campaigns, theatrical, 626 
 Campbell, admiral, and lord Sand- 
 wich, 155 
 Candles, general fault of, 66 
 Candle-light reign, 439 
 
 wars, 30 
 
 Canning's friend of humanity and 
 
 knife grinder, 438 
 Canon and vicar, 39 
 Cantab and Cambridge mayor, 3C4 
 Cantabrigian, analogy, 137 
 
 degree qualification, 273 
 
 Capability Brown on servants, 452 
 
 Captain Godolphiu's exploits, 635 
 
 Captain's whiskers, a tale, 536 
 
 Capuchins of Burgundy, 168 
 
 Card-playing, Irish, 592 
 
 Cards and chess, invention of, 490 
 
 Card tricks of a Jew conjurer, 498 
 
 Care, antidote to, 486 
 
 Caroline, qxieen of George II., 467 
 
 Carpenter, country, equivoque of, 33 
 
 Carriages, appropriate, 39 
 
 Cases, two dhi'ereiit, 2C5 
 
 Cat, on the death of a ladj-'s, 60 
 
 Catch, musical and legal, 532 
 
 Catching an accent, 576 
 
 fish, 60 
 
 Catherine Hays, ballad on, 620 
 Catholic convent, 339 
 Catholics, Luther's anathema of, 4-15 
 Catholicism and Protestant'sm, 679 
 Cause and effect, discovery of 489 
 Causes, good and bad, 53 
 Celebrity and notoriety, 80 
 Celerity arid ambition, 010 
 Celia and Damon, 36 
 Cerberos's successor, 126 
 Ceremony, ridicule of, 300 
 Chains, hanging in, 2'J4 
 
 ad cheese, -298 
 . evictions of, 84 
 
 Chancery grants, 64 
 
 — suit, lasting wear of, 
 
 Changed lais, the, 355 
 Changing the fenbject, 293 
 Character of a coachman, 95 
 alderman, 382 
 
 anabaptist, 379 
 
 — bankrupt, 374 
 
 catholic, 378 
 
 cheat. 373 
 
 churchwarden, 382 
 
 — clown, 381 
 
 — degenerate noble, 371 
 
 — epigrammatist, 384 
 
 — herald, 383 
 
 — huffing courtier, 372 
 
 — jealous man, 384 
 
 — justice of peace, 381 
 
 — knave 374 
 
 — newsmonger, 370 
 
 — an obstinate man, 377 
 
 — a philosopher, 384 
 
 — play writer, 370 
 
 — popish priest, 380 
 
 — proud man, 376 
 
 — quaker, 378 
 — ranter, 379 
 
 rebel, 376 
 
 state convert, 375 
 
 tailor, 371 
 
 translator, 376. 
 
 Characters at a county ball, 319 
 
 Character, criterion of, 50 
 
 Charity and gallantry, 291 
 
 mistaken, 300 
 
 Charitable frolic, 480 
 
 Charles II., Commons' petition to, 
 i r nd answer, 362 
 
 — and duke of Buckingham, 235 
 
 and Mr. Penn,302 
 
 — his modesty, 38 • 
 
 ■ and Kiliigrew, 59 
 
 Chai-on, ingratitude of, 299 
 
 Charteris, colonel, 39 
 
 --, his safe agree- 
 ment, 62 
 
 Chastisement, periodical and expe- 
 dient, 452 
 
 Chastity, a marriage portion, 625 
 
 of wives, 411 
 
 Chateauneuf and Louis XIII., 46 
 
 Cheerfulness, invocation to, 542 
 
 Cheese, choice of a wife by, 123 
 
 ; the old, 79 
 
 Cheltenham, amusements of, 528 
 
 Cherry, Am'rew, the iromedian, 5;i 
 
7bO 
 
 Chester showman and his black 
 servant, 194 
 
 ■ Pennant's tour thro', 182 
 
 Chesterfield, lord, petition of, 2-33 
 
 and Johnson, 138 
 
 's test of polite- 
 ness, 449 
 
 • on true nobiiity T ,670 
 
 age of, 663 
 
 Children of peasants and nobles, 233 
 
 Chimney-sweep and clergyman, 32 
 
 China collector disappointed, 404 
 
 China mug, on the breaking of a, G32 
 
 China and crochery, G7 
 
 Chinese maxim, S3 
 
 Chiswick, etymology and oi'igin of, 
 
 214 
 Chivalry and priestcraft, 421 
 Choice company, bill of, 550, 212 
 
 of a wife, 345 
 
 spirits, club of, "306 
 
 Christening, or Peter and Joseph, 130 
 Christian forgiveness, 304 
 Church livery, 083 
 
 preferment, road to, 520 
 
 Churchill and the critics, 304 
 
 's character of Lo£hario,435 
 
 s parallel between, 2S8 
 
 Churchwarden, or feast of a child, 
 
 468 
 Church-yard reckoning, 202 
 Cibber the comedian's infirmities, 71) 
 Citizen at the opera, SO 
 
 ■ dying farewell of a, 294 
 
 journal of, 114 
 
 City sportsmen, diary of, 400, 589 
 City wit, choice specimen of, 502 
 Civic conundrum, 203 
 
 dinner and guests, 522 
 
 Civil-list peace establishment; 84 
 
 Civility, ill-ti?ned, 293 
 
 Civilities, costly, 213 
 
 Civil law, 333 
 
 Clapham academy, ode to, 055 
 
 Claret, Johnson and Burke on, 4/9 
 
 ■ match, decision of, 482 
 
 Classic translation, true idiom of, 402 
 Clearing a title, 682 
 Clergyman, to a foppish, 158 
 Clerical calls, purity of, Z2o 
 
 ■ chastisement, 511 
 
 cou: forts, cataloguw of, 264 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Clerical Ihigaiatj excuse of, 640 
 
 monopoly exposed, 632 
 
 preferment, 335 
 
 sin of overreaching, 473 
 
 Clifford, countess of Dorset, laconic 
 ! refusal of, 511 
 
 | Clifton Hot Wells, fatality of, 393 
 | Cioncartie, earl of, and chaplain, 171 
 | Clonmel, lord, his precaution, 70 
 J Clothes, follj' and vanity of, COB 
 Clubs, humours and characters of, 132 
 
 I of epigrammatists meeting, 513 
 
 j of odd fellows, 652 
 
 j fat and lean, 445 
 
 I origin of, 504 
 
 ! Coach, new name of, 163 
 j Coachmen, importunity of, 402 
 j Coachman and dairymaid, 30 
 I 
 
 gaii.-:;nvy Tad 
 g-ormsnaisjajs 
 
 prayers, 131 
 Cobbler, the philosophic, 134 
 
 eccentric amours of, 440 
 
 Cockle, sergeant, and countryman, 42 
 
 sir John, and the king, 491 
 
 Cockney excursions, pleasures and 
 pains of, 589 
 
 sportsmen's adventures £89 
 
 travellers and cattle drover, 
 
 431 
 
 Cockneyisms, inheritance of, 157 
 Cockneyism, vulgarities of, 529 
 Coffee-drinkers, slow death of, 209 
 
 anathematized, 591 
 
 Cogent theatrical reasoning, 625 
 Coincidence, unco'uteous, 32 
 Coining, new definition of, 6S5 
 Cole, Dr. and mayor of Chester, 303 
 College feast, luxuries of, 265 
 
 ■ frolics, 338 
 
 learning, a song, 279 
 
 life, humours and gallantries 
 
 of, 274 
 
 logic, specimens of, 528 
 i and the porter, 564 
 George, on theatrical pri 
 
 Coi'c 
 
 Coin 
 
 - Tileges, 419 
 
 Combat of three, 293 
 
 Combustible match, 337 
 
 Comforts com Dieted, 405 
 
 Comfortable lodgings, 393 
 
 Commandments, new use of, 335 
 
 strictly kept, 51 
 
 the eleventh, 20: 
 
 Commentator and critic,uncourtcous, 
 
 254 
 Commentators on Shak&peaVe, 615 
 Os-msjiasarv embarrassed, 622 
 
 Committal, the double, 133 
 Companion, patient, 97 
 Companicr.sb.ip, pleasures of, 309 
 Companions in exit, 68 
 Company dull at court, 63 
 Complaints en both sides, 64 
 Complaisant man, character of, 032 
 Compliment, un courteous, 
 returned, 429 
 
 Composer, a great one, 94 
 
 Compulsory grief, 473 
 
 Compunction of creeds, 392 
 
 Conclusion, peremptory aud justifi- 
 able, 640 
 
 Concord, matrimonial,' 53 
 
 Condemned sweep and highwa3'm?u, 
 dispute between, 429 
 
 Conduct, diplomatic change of, 23 4 
 
 Confession, royal 35 
 
 - of a jovial priest, 208 
 
 and disclosure, 230 
 
 Confessions of a bricklayer, 201 
 
 of the inconveniences 
 
 of being hanged, 583 
 Conjugal love, 684 
 
 penetration, want of, C39 
 
 Connoisseurship, folly and affecta- 
 tion of, 464, 
 Conquest, the only, 94 
 Conscience, rates of, 347 
 
 : specimen of a tailor's, 4S6 
 
 Consciences and beards, 59 
 Consequence, how to assume, 23 
 Consolation for a spendthrift, 28 
 
 matrimonial, 27 
 
 of the world, 227 
 
 Constants Philips and her two hus- 
 bands, 365 
 Consultation, medical, 77 
 Contentment and repose, 660 
 
 humour, secret3 of, 541 
 
 Contraband intellect, 302 
 Contradiction, spirit of, 341 
 Conversation, art and finesse cf,"546 
 Conversion, the Otaheitan, 107 
 
 royal attempts at, 392 
 
 Convivial souls, club of, 422 
 Conviviality, apology for, 111 
 Cook, the travelling, 146 
 Cooke, George, and the dirty beau, 
 
 463 
 Cookery, last oracle of, 545 
 
 Sh-cikspeare'a, 61 
 
 Cool retort, 345 
 Copper and brass, 3£3 .. 
 ©e*s#.ivs?ce, 484 
 
Coquette, the old one, 107 
 
 — to an old one, 431 
 
 dialogue of, 13 
 
 Cbquetty and gallantry, 179 
 
 Corkscrew, the lost, 472 
 
 Cornet and the farmer's wife, 289 
 
 Cornish curate and lawyer, 171 
 
 Correction, benefit of, 655 
 
 Cotton the Jesuit and Kenry IV. 233 
 
 Counsels' opinion, taking, 44S 
 
 Counsellor defeated, 494 
 
 Country commissions, 521 
 
 justice, duties of, 552 
 
 ■ theatre, humours and ec- 
 centricities of, 479 
 
 Countryman and razor-seller, 348 
 
 Couple, the careless, 146 
 
 Couplet on a pane of glass, 318 
 
 Court and city fools, 106 
 
 Court and city gaieties, 524 
 
 fools, services of, 527 
 
 Courtship and marriage, distinction 
 of, 495 
 
 Coventry, mayor of 15, 86 
 
 Cowper's case of Ncse & Eyes, 328 
 
 Coxcombry reproved, 174 
 
 Craniology outwitted, 29 
 
 of humps & bumps, 646 
 
 lecture on, 647 
 
 Creditor, grievances of, 511 
 
 Crim. con. novel, 289 
 
 Critic, address to, 406 
 
 disappointed, 124 
 
 definition of, by Swift, 430, 681 
 
 Criticism defined by Swift, 684 
 
 Critics, their favours, 29 
 
 author's expectation from, 591 
 
 in black, or lisping lady, 203 
 
 Crooked words, 29 
 
 Cross readings in verse, 353 
 
 Crossing proverbs, 414 
 
 Crow, Dr. and Isaac Shove, 360 
 
 Crowns, various, 50 
 
 Crucifixion, illustration of the, 292 
 
 Cuckolds counting, 90 
 
 Cucumber forcing, new method of,G75 
 
 Cumberland, duke of, at battle of 
 Dertirsgen, 78 
 
 and Sheridan, 454 
 
 Cunningham on sabbath breaking, 90 
 
 Curacy, weekly, journal of, 407 
 
 Curate and rector, 154 
 
 Curran's last joke, 212 
 
 Curran and the mint, 058 
 
 's dirty shirt, 455 
 
 'a fair play in duelling, 401 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Currency, importance cf 425 
 Curses, price of, 397 
 
 • simultaneous, 293 
 
 Curtis's, sir William toacts, 35 
 Cutting, variety and art of, 278 
 mistake, 304 | 
 
 Dagger Mar and Garrick, 416 
 Dainty criminal, 434 
 Damnation, victims to, 403 
 Damned authors, club of, 619 
 
 Soul, Italian play of, 549 
 
 Dancing card, extraordinary, 122 
 Daniel v. Dishclout, 567 
 D'Avenant, sir W. 29 
 David Jones, 391 
 Dancourt, the playwright, 10 
 Day, on Mr., who ran away from his 
 landlord, 122 
 
 too late, 447 
 
 Dead alive, hypochondriac whim, 542 
 
 ■ distinction of, 231 
 
 De novo, Franklin's example cf, 638 
 Dead march, Dr. Clubbe's, 27 
 Deaf and dumb, 448 
 Deafness, Dean Swift's, 303 
 
 accommodating, 622 
 
 Death and the doctor, 06 
 
 by degrees, 205 
 
 by order, 112 
 
 expostulation to, 546 
 
 ■ made to wait, 233 
 
 once too often, 85 
 
 Debt, advantages of being in, 108 
 Debts, methods of contracting, 335 
 Debtor and creditor, sympathy be- 
 tween, 44 
 
 's anxiety, remedy for, 474 
 
 Decanter, address to, 178 
 Decency and danger, 445 
 Deception, laudable, 61 
 Deficiency, mutual, 55 
 Defunct insolvent, letter from 
 Deicides, English, 233 
 Dejeung, description of, 622 
 Delay, prudent and profitable. 
 Deluge, reasons for crediting , 
 Deniocritus and Herac.itus, 280 
 Dennis, John, criticism of, 330 
 Dermody's expostulation to a tailor, 
 
 446 
 Despotism, true sph'it of, 637 
 D; serter, novel, 24 
 Bettingen, battle of, 78 
 Devil, biography cf, 687 
 buying and selling the, 391 
 
 449 
 
 485 
 
 751 
 
 Devil and Dr. Faustus, 185 
 
 and his due, 310 
 
 legal similitude of, 629 
 
 's heriot, 398 
 
 the, outwitted, 93, 167 
 
 original of the, 452 
 
 painter of Florence, and Virgin 
 
 Mary, 215 
 
 's ramble on earth, 474 
 
 relationship of the, 412 
 
 rules for raising the, 279 
 
 's tavern in Fleet-street, 521 
 
 Devonshire, duchess of, and dust- 
 man, 44 
 Dialogue in an American stage 
 coach, 512 
 
 — between two lovers, 131 
 
 of echo, 193 
 
 between an Irish innkeeper 
 
 and Englishman, 411 
 Diamond cut diamond, 299 
 Diary of a man of fashion, 303 
 Difficult task, 28 
 Difficulties, equality of, 20 
 Digression from an argtiment, 345 
 Dilatory inclinations, 20 
 Dilemma, difficult; 76 
 Dinner, economical and genteel, 309 
 in the steam-boat, 561 
 
 party of fashionables, 535 
 
 — ; and philosophy, 349 
 
 Discovery, unfortunate, or the watch- 
 man's mistake, 420 
 
 Discipline, military and moral, 51 
 Dispute, the hungry, 300 
 
 a family one, 30 
 
 Dissipation, cure for, 292 
 
 Divine, qualifications of a good one, 
 
 568 
 Divines of the 17th century 243 
 Divinity, best body of, 646 
 Do as other folks do, 651 
 Do as other people do, a maxim, 510 
 Dobbs, Mrs. and her tea party, 252 
 Doctor and captain, 342 
 Doctors Cheyne and Winter, 135 s 
 Doctrine.wholesome & efficacious, 301 
 Dodd, the comedian, entertaining 
 
 stories of, 413 
 -. — 's sermon on malt, 291 
 Dog latin, 300 
 
 Doldrum, Curran's explanation of,431 
 Dorinda, amours of, 145 
 Doris, frolics of, 20 
 Double confession, 158 
 defeat, 421 
 
752 
 
 Double dealer, 433 
 
 metamorphosis, 599 
 
 Double penitence, 398 
 Doubtful cause, 196 
 
 Dramatic characters, distinguished^] 
 
 Dramatist, the unlucky, 113 
 
 Dream, the last, 41 
 
 Dreams reversed^ 94 
 
 Dress, daily mortifications in, 532 
 
 and fashion, satire on, 23 
 
 instructions for, 60S 
 
 Drink, pyramid of, 263 
 Drinking club, characters of, 422 
 
 . : an author's intro- 
 duction to, 423 
 
 customs in England, 522 
 
 ■ national taste for, 83 
 
 predilections in, 380 
 
 reasons for, 159 
 
 Driving a conscience. 
 Dropping the king, 490 
 Dropsical man, the, 63 
 Drowning, how to avoid, 414 
 Drunk, reasons for getting, 131 
 Drunkard's reasoning, 30 
 
 's death-bed, 200 
 
 • epitaph on, 555 
 
 Drunkenness and its enjoyments, 589 
 
 — stages of, 369 
 
 degrees of, 360 
 
 DrUnken captain, death of, 642 
 Dry humour, or the fast day, 200 
 Dryden, John, and bis wife, 297 
 
 ■ 's character of Settle, 433 
 
 ■ the cele- 
 brated duke of Buckingham, 434 
 Dubois, cardinal, and swearing by 
 
 proxy, 204 
 Ducks and chickens, 338 
 Duels, charms of, 576 
 
 , code for regulating, 642 
 
 Duke Humphrey, Quin's soliloquy 
 
 over, 395 
 Dulness, remedy for, 540 
 
 palpable excuse for, 666 
 
 spirited remedy for, 447 
 
 Dull reading, remedy for, 646 
 
 Dumb eioquenGe, beauties of, 637 
 
 Dunmow, oath of, 98 
 
 Dunning, Mr. Serjeant, 351—353 
 
 Duties, professional, 50 
 
 Du Val the highwayman's epitaph, 29 
 
 Dying in peace, 453 
 
 father and his sons, 406 
 
 Bay-Tings, pair <ofruu g jcal, 207 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Early rising, disadvantage* of, 444 
 Ease under difficulties, 474 
 Easter week, recreations of, 662 
 Eau medickiale, virtues of, 230 
 Eccentric hospitality, Irish,. 287 
 Echo, dialogues with, in 1816, 193 
 
 in the reign of Charles I., 529 
 
 Eclipse deferred, 163 
 Economy and extravagance, es 
 tr ernes of, 607 
 
 and poverty, 38 
 
 in battle, 48 
 
 iir English trade, 420 
 
 in losses, 81 
 
 — rigid, 96 
 useless, 62 
 
 Tarn 
 
 Edinburgh lounger, diary of, 195 
 
 steam-boat, 121 
 
 Editorship, miseries of, 322 
 Edward IV. jmd Tanner of 
 
 worth, 8? 
 Egan and Curran, 570 
 Elder brother, by Caiman, 357 
 Eldest son, or fisherman puzzled, 389 
 Eidon and Eldin, 342 
 
 lord, eloquence of, 119 
 
 Election manoeuvre, 133 
 
 purity of, in Ireland, 654 
 
 England, 496 
 
 Elector, dignity of, 10S 
 
 Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaize, 341 
 
 written in a ball-room, 174 
 
 Elizabeth, queen, and beggar, 136 
 
 at Coventry, 15 
 
 Eloquence and punch, 539 
 
 Elwes, the miser, and apothecary, 93 
 
 Empty heads like garrets, 302 
 
 Eneas and William III. 122 
 
 Enemies, love of, 126 
 
 England, Frenchman's lecture on,653 
 
 English and Irish, 64 
 
 eccentricities and character- 
 
 istics, 441 
 
 farmer and hop planter, 397 
 
 sirloin, pride of, 4S3 
 
 universality, 269 
 
 women, paradise of, 665 
 
 Epicurism of Budge-row, 523 
 
 of the moderns, 545 
 
 Epigram, club, humours of, 513 
 
 definition of, 460 
 
 on the love of fools, 53 
 
 on the marriage of Miss 
 
 Little, 59, 443 
 on a -voung ladv with grey 
 
 Lairs. 72 
 
 Epigram on one who was ruined by 
 gaining a lawsuit, 111 
 
 on an awkward musician,! 18 
 
 on a ruined horse-racer, 123 
 
 on the statue of George II. 
 
 on Bloomsbury spire, 182 
 
 on avarice, 182 
 
 on a Cantab who was pluck- 
 ed for orders, 277 
 
 ■ on elegant wit, 292 
 
 on an old maid, 297 
 
 i on Miss Fury, 297 
 
 on a forgetful man, 302 
 
 on miser and mouse, 310 
 
 ■ on two bad writers, 326 
 
 on true wit, 333 
 
 on Pope's maxim,39 
 
 , definition of one, 361 
 
 ■ on female charms, 302 
 
 OU a foppish bookseller, 397 
 
 : rare virtues, 399 
 
 Adam's sleep, 399 
 
 Job's wife, 403 
 
 - — a rapid fortune, 405 
 
 Dr. Goodenough's proino~ 
 
 tion, 
 
 188 
 
 the monument, 212 
 
 on lord Ellenborough term- 
 ing adultery a venial offence, 503 
 
 on a deacon's epigrams, £27 
 
 ■ on a fat man, 571 
 
 ■ on the marriage of Mias 
 
 Black and Mr. White, 576 
 
 on a pennyless rake, 654 
 
 on a deformed peer, 659 
 
 on Lucan, 659 
 
 on inn-window rhymes, 684 
 
 on false appearances, 675 
 
 • on write injuries in dust, 675 
 
 ;n Southampton canal, 21 
 
 on the Temple crest, 690 
 
 on John Dennis, 330 
 
 on a clerical gamester, 668 
 
 on a modern belief, 608 
 
 — on my laundress, 1U 
 
 on a notorious liar, 668 
 
 on tw.e bad writers compli- 
 menting each other, 326 
 Epilogue to Tvraunic Love, 497 
 
 : the Lying Valet, 538 
 
 ■ Bi.rbarcs^a, 54$ 
 
 the Liar, 601 
 
 Episcopal bargains, 407 
 Epitaph on Du Val the highway- 
 man, 2y> 
 
"Epitaph on a glutton, 42 
 
 Dr. Mead, 50 
 
 anatomical, on an invalid, 73 
 
 on Captain James, 94 
 
 on a traveller, 124 
 
 on a marshal of the King's- 
 
 bench, 13:; 
 
 • nominal, by D»*. Walker 
 
 ■ on mar. of'Anglesea'sleg,679 
 
 on Dr. Franklin, 696 
 
 ■ on judge Emit, 676 
 
 on a physician," 97 
 
 on a postilion, 1(36 
 
 on a parish priest, 167 
 
 on a locksmith, 171 
 
 on capt. Thomas Stone, 173 
 
 — — on Foote the comedian, 182 
 
 on a watchmaker, 226 
 
 on Dr. Johnson, 227 
 
 on an ale drinker, 230 
 
 on a Mr. Moore, 230 
 
 on Matthew Trior, 241 
 
 on an Irish miser, 268 
 
 on a talkative old maid, 292 
 
 on Charles II. 301 
 
 ■ on a lawyer, by Moore, 355 
 
 on a scold, 360 
 
 on a woodman 362 
 
 on a barren woman, 369 
 
 on a landlady, 397 
 
 on an infant, 405 
 
 intended for Dryden, 188 
 
 on a tailor, 196 
 
 on an undertaker, 198 
 
 on a waggoner, 199 
 
 on Mr. Speid, 213 
 
 on a contented fellow, 222 
 
 — on a troublesome tailor, 224 
 
 — on Cooke the comediau, 413 
 
 en a cowardly olhcer, 421 
 
 ■ on Wilson, sailor, 427 
 
 on Mrs. Death, 4^^ 
 
 or. three infants, 455 
 
 on a wife, 4SI, 517 
 
 on Dolly's chains, 489 
 
 — on a tailor and barber, 516 
 
 family, 518 
 
 on fat and lean, 527 
 
 on a sporting physician, 552 
 
 bn Frank Row, a parish- 
 clerk, 582 
 
 *- una country innkeeper, 5S7 
 
 on Thomas Kemp for sheep- 
 stealing, 662 
 
 on a Hampshire grenadier, 
 
 ■662 
 
 2 K 3 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Epitaph on a Spitalfielda weaver, 662 
 
 on two twin sisters, 670 
 
 Epitaphs, locomotive, 369 
 Epithets, discriminative, 57 
 Equitable adjustment, 31 
 Equivocation, or priestly taste, 120 
 Equivoque, fair, 33 
 
 , practical, Go 
 
 Erasmus and sir Thomas More, 477 
 
 Errata effectual correction of, 2115 
 
 Erratum corrected, 85 
 
 Error irj grain, 292 
 
 Erskine and Jekyil, 145 
 
 Erskine and witness Lincoln, 38S 
 
 Esquire, English, definition of, 63d 
 
 Etiquette, juridic 
 
 Ettrick shepherd, E lian ode 
 
 to, 171 
 Etymological punning,rei reations in, 
 
 210 
 Etymology and law, 342 
 Eugene's, prince, tie wig 674 
 Evasions, ingenious, at Bow- street, 
 
 45 
 Eve, curiosity of, 85 
 Even-handed justice, 366 
 Everlasting club described, 507 
 Every-day pedants, character of, 694 
 Evidence, Norfolk, 40 
 Evil, one letter than two, G2 
 Evils, choice of, 155 
 Evils, less of two, 137 
 Examination and cross-examination, 
 
 179 
 
 of an apothecary, 500 
 
 Exchange, advantageous, 324 
 
 no robbery, 42>) 
 
 Exciseman, antidote to, 362 
 
 and supervisor, 86 
 
 in hell, 187 
 
 Facilis descensus Averni, 171. 
 
 Fair bargain, the, 131, 5G4 
 
 frolic, 16 
 
 offer, 90 
 
 play, equality of, 574 
 
 . in duelling, 401 
 
 Faithful miniature, 575 
 
 Falstaff's catechism, ib. 
 
 sir John, character of, 552 
 
 , and dame Quick- 
 ly, 281 
 
 Fame, emptiness and folly of, 595 
 
 preservation of, 360 
 
 Familiarity and reserve, extrem»3 
 of, 575 
 
 753 
 
 Family affairs, Irish, 139 
 
 attainments, 13 
 
 Family epitaph, 245 
 
 feeling of a tailor, 661 
 
 furniture, 300 
 
 jars, advertisement ot. -4^6 
 
 piety, beauties of 539 
 
 wit, 304 
 
 Farewell, the patient's, 112 
 Farinelli, Knighthood of, 233 
 Farmer and counsellor, 464 " 
 
 's lawsuit, or bull and boat, 
 
 572 
 Farren's, Miss, ugly dispute, 351 
 Fashionable bottle packing, 447 
 resorts, luxury and en- 
 nui of, 528 
 
 revenge, system of, 643 
 
 routs, 351 
 
 Fashion's sake, 45 
 
 Fast enough and slow enough, 431 
 
 Fasting, various kinds of, 68 
 
 Fat folks, extraordinary, 425 
 
 Faulkner and dean Swift, 48G 
 
 Fault, choice of, 293 
 
 Faustus, Johm, his adventures with 
 
 the devii, 185 . 
 Fear, clerical, at sea, 52 
 Feasts, corporation, 49 
 Fellow-feeling, 32 
 Felony, literary, 154 
 Female apparel, transparent, 26-1 
 
 intellectual club, 506 
 
 microcosm, 206 
 
 vanity, 320 
 
 virtues, Swift's enumeration 
 
 Of, 518 
 
 frailty ■, distinctions in, 674 
 
 Fever and thirst, cui-es for, -133 
 Fiddler, address to a bad one, '£9 
 
 's duel, or music and arms, 207 
 
 Fiddling, paradox on, 68 
 
 Fidelity, conjugal, reparation of, loi 
 
 Field preaching, 33 
 
 the player, equivoque of, G80 
 
 Fig, the other, 91 
 
 Figaro, marriage of, 153 
 
 Fighting and painting, 178 
 
 Filial affection and family pride, 412 
 
 --- good wishes, 277 
 
 Fine arts, judgment of, 433 
 Fire-arms, tiseiessness of, 235 
 Fire and water, 421 
 
 irons, or family disputes, tii6 
 
 Fireworks, manufactory of, 96 
 First come first served, 4S6 
 
?'54 
 
 First-floor lodger, letter from, 311 
 
 Fish and flesh, 303 
 
 aiajd'sa-kce, 42 
 
 Fisherman, the holy, 00 
 
 Fishing for a dinner, 90 
 
 Flat refusal, 549 
 
 Flatterer, despicable character of, COO 
 
 advocated, 092 
 
 Flattery, paaninrv, 72 I 
 
 Flesh a' d rone, 504 
 
 ■ bloc!, and bones, privileges 
 
 of, 419 
 
 Fie tcher, bishop of Nismis, and the 
 proud duke, 593 
 
 F'int soui?, receipt for, 35 
 
 feting credit, 324 
 
 F!oggiu;r, unaccommodating, 410 
 
 Fly and flying, 232 
 
 Flying colour*, beauty and advan- 
 tage of, 509 
 
 from church, 303 
 
 Folly, the Inst, '204 
 
 Follies and foibles, English, 213 
 
 Fon.tenelle-, hint of, on death, 350 
 
 Fooi, deselection of and his moraliz- 
 ing, 55^ 
 
 Fools, establishment of, 301 
 
 Fool, impossible to screen, 139 
 
 • s, majority of, in the world, 222 
 
 Foot and toe, rivalry of, 282 
 ■ captain and Miss Patten, mar- 
 riage of, 452 
 Fooie's account of a duke's hospita- 
 
 -^— — and tbe coolc at Dover, 140 
 
 ana Falkner, 73 
 
 ■ and Gaivick, 73 
 
 and the Quaker, 333 
 
 ■ 's early perfora.ances, 60 
 
 epitaph, 40 
 
 satire on, 432 
 
 's timely feai-j 200 
 
 68i 
 
 Footr 
 FoolY 
 
 »t of his hrpochon- 
 
 ;;n and lottery prize, 33:? 
 Fop, Hotspur's description of a, 573 
 F -ppcry, gradations of, 427 
 Forbearance, polite, 289 
 Force of friendship illustrated, 212 
 Forestalling a stable, 404 
 Forgetfumess and self-respect, 234 
 Fortune, dangers of, 304 
 Forty-five, age of, 673 
 •Fort} -shilling voters in Ireland, 654 
 
 INDEX-. 
 
 Foul breath, 87 
 
 Four crosses, sign of, 190 
 
 evils of life;, 396 
 
 in hand club described, 508 
 
 Fowls and fools, 319 
 
 Fox and Westminster elector, 304 
 
 and hare hunting, 80 
 
 — — Charles, and jack Robinson, 424 
 Franking and making free, 670 
 Franklin's grace, 301 
 
 way to wealth, 408 
 
 ■ on the stamp act, 084 
 
 -'s remedy for idleness, OSS 
 
 own epitaph, 000 
 
 Fraternal love, 235 
 
 Fraud, charitable, 37 
 
 Frederick the Great's conscience, 64 
 
 ; & French soldier, 
 
 iTott and Cb 
 •rick's avarh 
 • and Qi 
 
 - and hi 
 
 a; 
 
 G< 
 
 nbens, 37 
 , 335 
 
 !!, 79 
 
 lawyer, -194 
 r.pet sho\vn>: 
 irrre 11. 179 
 
 & rich Jew, 392 
 
 II- and organist, 300 
 
 the Great and Zaremba, 
 
 412 
 Freedom in America, 44S 
 French English, humours of, 199 
 French hunger and English civility, 
 21S 
 
 variety, 295 
 
 Frenchman and Dover barber, 304 
 
 in London, 024 
 
 and pigs, 427 
 
 Frenchman's hungry dispute, 300 
 Friars of Dijon, 108 
 Friend in need, 02 
 of humanity and knife grind- 
 er, dialogue between, 438 
 Friendly wish, 97 
 Frolicsome duke, or tinker's good 
 
 fortune, 462 , 
 Fruit basket of a family, 427 
 Funeral, decent comforts of, 622 
 Fun-lover, physiognomy cf, 480 
 Future prospects, 433 
 
 Gaffer Gray, by Holcroft, 390 
 
 Gain and glory, 391 
 
 Galla's line hair, 54 
 
 Gallant mourning, 205 
 
 Gallantries of Talleyrand, 97 
 
 Gallantry, aged, 299 
 
 Gambling, true spirit of, 45 
 
 Game of life, 044 
 
 Gaming and fighting extremes, 39S 
 
 : remarkable cure for, 534 
 
 Gammer Gurton's needle, 100 
 Gardner's harmony of nature, 511 
 
 Ga 
 
 parsimony, tl 
 
 satire, 04 _ 
 
 Mr. and witness, 
 
 87, 130 
 
 Can 
 Gar, 
 
 - judge, and the female wit- 
 230 
 
 ty of women, 3-19 
 . i)v. and the duchess of Marl- 
 borough, 84 
 
 sir Samuel and Irishman, 452 
 
 Gazetted and in the Gazette, 270 
 Genealogy of Sir W. W. Wynne, 27 
 Genius, definition of, 490 
 
 whitewashing, 53 
 
 universal fate of, 4S0 
 
 Genteel economy, 309 
 
 Gentle giantess of Oxford, adventures 
 
 of, 107 
 Gentle hint, 397 
 Gentlemen of the cloth, 32 
 Genuine miracle, 3i»3 
 Geo film, Madam, 107 
 George II. at Dettingen, 443 
 
 and his mistresses, 253 
 
 George III. description of, 74 
 and Mr. Day; 05— at Wey- 
 mouth, 112 
 
 father of, 234 
 
 and his card-maker, 290 
 
 — ana hia librarian, 350 
 
 — — at Salisbury cathedral, 455 
 
 George's club described, 507 
 German clown and bishop, 104 
 (Jetting into debt, 335 
 Ghost story explained, 2(5 
 
 of a scrag of mutton, 225 
 
 or the question solved, 41S 
 
 Giant angling, 105 
 
 Gibbets, advantages of, 72 
 
 Gibbon and duke of Cumberland, 277 
 
 Giblets, stylish family cf, 250 
 
 Gift horse, the, 78 
 
 Gill, alderman, and his wife, 112 
 
 Gilpin, John, history of, 120 
 
 Gimlet eye, 079 
 
 Gimcrack, Nicholas, the virtuoso, 
 
 will of, 417 
 Gin and chemistry, TO 3 
 Gloves and arms, value of, 463 
 Gloves «uid lining, 330 
 
j Gloves and spectacles, utility of, 633 
 
 Glutton, epitaph on, 42 
 
 Goid and greatness, 556 
 
 i v. Gould, 71 
 
 j Golden goose, 300 
 i harvest, 111 
 
 Goldsmith's advice to a poor gentle- 
 man, 277 
 
 ■ beau Tibbs, 324 
 
 description of the Boar's- 
 
 head tavern, in Eastcheap, 2S0 
 
 credulity, 35 
 
 ■ history of London clubs 
 
 in 1700, 307 
 
 old soldier, 329 
 
 rules for behaviour, 278 
 
 rules for raising the devil, 
 
 Good effect, 119 
 
 Gooden ugh, Dr. epigram on, 188 
 Good eyes, advantage of, 310 
 Good fellow, character of, 569 
 
 — definition of, 426 
 
 Good Friday, 84 
 Good sort of man, 685 
 Good living, test of, 397 
 Good man and very good man, quali- 
 fications of, 563 
 Goodness, various kinds of, 567 
 Good wishes, benefit of, 209 
 
 mutuality of, 639 
 
 Goody Grim versus Lapstone, 603 
 Goose's reason, 298 
 Gossiping about town, 596 
 
 ■ women, a match for the 
 
 devil, 184 
 Gourmand, glory of, 545 
 Gout and rheumatism, 68 
 
 cause of, discovered, 199 
 
 Gouty hands, benefit of, 634 
 Grace mal apropos, 466 
 Grafton, duke of, and qualcer, 298 
 Grammatical and clerical parody, 601 
 
 learning, 22 
 
 Grammont's, count, age, 421 
 Gratitude, eccentric, 300 
 
 parliamentary, 53 
 
 Grattan, and Egan the odd fish, 575 
 Grave-digger's bill, 43 
 Grave reproof, 30'0 
 Gravity affected, 564 
 Great book a great evil, 277 
 Greece, misfortunes of, cxplaincd,354 
 Greek alphabet, 235 
 Greenwich and Dulwich, 159 
 
 fair, humours of, 152 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Greenwich pensioner's equivoque, 
 
 112 
 Grimaldi, 37 
 
 lament on his retirement 
 
 from the stage, 280 
 Grose, judge, 71 
 
 Grumbling man, miseries of, 598 
 Guinea note, 677 
 
 Guise, duke of.- his parsimony, 95 
 Gull's hcrnbocit, extract from, 606 
 Gunpowder miracles, 538 
 Guzzler, how to defeat, 97 
 
 H, on the letter, 338 
 Habit, procreative force of, 26 
 Hackney-coachman's adjustment, 31 
 Halfpenny, the witness, and Mr. Cur- 
 ran, 429 
 Half-way and back, 161 
 Hamlet, ghost of, and tub of spirits,447 
 instructions to the players, 
 
 755 
 
 Hectic fever, 171 
 
 Hell and purgatory, 137 
 
 resemblance and population of, 
 
 661 
 
 microcosm of, 571 
 
 Henry V. q animations of, 108 
 Henry VIII. amours of, 156 
 
 and the abbot of Glaa- 
 
 and sauce, 
 method of 
 
 576 
 
 onYorick's scull, 533 
 
 Handel and the opera singer, 365 
 Handling a foot, 196 
 Hanging in chains, benefit of, 209 
 — inconveniences of, 583 
 varieties of, 294 
 
 Happiness, portraiture of, 447 
 
 naval definition of, 25 
 
 Harborough, lord, his idiotcy, 67 
 Hard at the bottom, 07 
 Hardinge and his booksellers, 449 
 Hardwick, Bess, countess of, 116 
 
 lady, and her bailiff, 414 
 
 Hard master, the, 102 
 Harmonical society described, 308 
 Hat and wig, loss of, 135 
 Haunted chamber, the,. 367 
 Havard, Billy, and Garrick, 686 
 Hayman, Frank, and marquis ofj 
 
 Granby, 178 
 
 ■ and tipsy porter, 345 
 
 Hayward, Sir J. and lord Bacon, 154 
 HazLtc and Gilford, prose and poetry 
 
 of, 288 
 Head, Steevens's definition of, 443 
 Health, preservatives of, 177 
 Hear both sides, or candid sketches, 
 
 430 
 Heard, Sir Isaac, and George III. 72 
 Heart and toes, tenderness of, 356 
 Heaven and hell, chances for, 660 
 — — blacksmith's stratagem for 
 
 reaching, 502 
 the road to, 57 
 
 tonbur 
 
 Herald, character and calling of, 186 
 Hero, the conscientious, 64 
 Herod and Rothschild, 217 
 Heroism, timely, 33 
 Hervey's meditations 
 
 288 
 Hifferman's, Dr. Paul 
 1 keeping a secret, 467 
 High play, 298 
 High-street tragedy, 631 
 High wind described, 77 
 Highwayman, generosity of, 392 
 
 off bis guard, 31 
 
 Hill, SivJohn, and the junto, 15C 
 Himself a host, 632 
 Hint, courtly, 65 
 
 the Irish footman's, 121 
 
 seasonable, 67, 485 
 
 untimely, 177 
 
 valuable gift of, 156 
 
 to travellers, 252 
 
 Hissing at theatres, on the custom 
 
 of, 617 
 Hoax extraordinary, 402 
 Hobson's choice, 98 
 Hoc and hujus, 63 
 
 Hock and soda-water, luxury of, 589 
 Hodge and the doctor, 65 
 
 and his landlord, 290 
 
 Hngg, James, address to, 171 
 Hogs in the parson's cellar, 110 
 Holcrofi's, captain, whiskers, 536 
 Holiday maker, miseries of, 681 
 Hoikind. description of, 108 
 Holt, chief justice, and the prophet,54 
 Holt's, lord chief justice, cure for 
 
 witchcraft, 353 
 
 and the 
 
 Sussex attorney, 39d 
 Home argument, 292 
 
 truths, 151 
 
 Honesty, and its relation, 49 
 
 — - shades of, 169 
 
 shining, 295 
 
 and truth, rarity of, 399 
 
 Honey and harvest moons, 111 
 Hopes and fears, 60 
 
756 
 
 Hop-growing and fanning;, vicissi- 
 tudes of, 307 
 , Hoppergollop's ghost or the water- 
 liends, 351 
 Borne Tooke on the law, 78 
 
 and commissioners - , 132 
 
 and Wilkes, 264 
 
 Horns, variety of, 4!9 
 
 Horse and ass, distinction of, 34S 
 
 — black and white, lawsuit of, 509 
 
 and no horse, 159 
 
 — stealing:, 39 
 
 j warrantable honesty of, 268 
 
 Hot and cold, a fable, 187 
 
 I birth, 146 
 
 Hotspur's description of a fop, 5Z3 
 House and hospitality, parallel be- 
 tween, 548 
 Household srrvants in 1566, 566 
 House on fire, 427 
 How to break i 1 news, 271 
 
 to make a man a lunatic, 598 
 
 to please vour friends, 266 
 
 v. Much, 188 
 
 lord, popularity of, -118 
 
 HughPeteis's explanatory preaching. 
 461 
 
 Human frailty; 288 
 
 life, miseries of, 573 . 
 
 r- negro's epitome of, 437 
 
 Humane juryman, 494 
 
 Humanity, cautious. S3 
 
 Humbugs" on and off the staee, 330 
 
 Humdrum club described, 507 
 
 Humour, composition of, and substi- 
 tute for, 664 
 
 Humorous man, eccentricities of, 540 
 
 Humours of a \iliage fair, 320 
 
 Huntington's degree, 263 
 
 • ; & Priestley's dispute ,267 
 
 leather breeches, 271 
 
 Husband, a doatiag one, 48 
 
 the hen-pecked, 42 
 purchase of one, 47 
 the silent, 107 
 
 Kutcbintou, iieeiy and Marq. Towns- j 
 
 hend, 63 
 Hypochondriacs, cure for, 655 
 Hyp ociion una, ludicrouo lit of, 255 
 
 I, petition of, bv Dr. Hill to Garrick, 
 
 4S2 
 idiot, tragedy of, 177 
 Tdiousm, 120 
 •■Illicit ier» a goiilsle repentance, Sf>8 
 
 INDEX, 
 
 Imperium in imperio, 192 
 
 Imprisonment lor debt, 210. 
 
 Impromptu on an empty theatre, 235 
 
 Improvements in newspaper no- 
 menclature, 553 
 
 Improvement, aipalateable, 14 
 
 Impudence in court, 87 
 j Inadvertence, eccentricities of, 156 
 I Inch and ell, 56 
 
 Income, how to outrun, 302 
 
 tax, Home Tooke on, 96 
 
 j Incurious bencher, 75 
 
 Indolent maa, journal of, 416 
 
 Infant love, 394 
 I Ingenious charge and defence, 677 
 
 Ingratitude of Cumberland, the dra- 
 matist, 454. 
 
 Inner Temple gate, inscription for, 
 331 
 
 Innocence, vindication of, 636. 
 
 Innovation, eifeets of, 406. 
 
 Inns for all classes, 683 
 
 Inn window rhymes 684 
 
 Innumerabilia, 61 
 
 Ins and outs of life, 554 
 
 insanity, proof of, 96. 
 
 Inscription on inscriptions, 429 
 
 Inside and outside, 565. 
 
 Insolvency, questionable, 57 
 
 Instructions to servants, by Dean 
 Swift, 578 
 
 Intermarriage, singular relationships 
 Of, 484 
 
 Interpretation and application, 630 
 
 Intoxication classified by Nash, 522 
 
 Invisible hair, treasure of, 640 
 
 Invitation declined, 527 
 
 eccentric, 305 
 
 Irish acquaintance, difficulty of re- 
 cognising, 200 
 
 bill for a pair of shoes, 260 
 
 courage, "297 
 
 dreaming, 94 
 
 eating-house, bill of, 223 
 
 evidence, specimens of, 662 
 
 excise petition, 209 
 
 hand bill, 306 
 
 — — honours, 30 
 
 '■ humour and English sang 
 
 froid, 411. 
 — — - r iim window, lines on, 271 
 kicking, security from, 661 
 
 learning & ingeniousness, 242 
 
 measurement, 399 
 
 priestcraft, 681 
 
 sailor's blanket, 40-> 
 
 Irish sensibility, 401 
 
 sorrow, 120 
 
 whist-players, 593 
 
 wakes, conviviality of, 667 
 
 Ironical advice, 334 
 
 Irving, Washington's, account of th« 
 
 Boar's head tavern, 57 
 Islington worthies, catalogue of,4e5 
 Italian play and barber surgeon. 5iU 
 
 James I. and his horse, 47 
 and loyal Welshman, 337 
 
 and Dr. Buchanan, 411 
 
 and Shrewsbury address, 
 
 439 
 Jealousy, good preventive of, 482 
 Jeiferies, jculce, on beards and con- 
 sciences, 42u 
 
 speech to the mayor 
 
 and aldermen of Bristol, 117 
 
 lord, and the witness, 59 
 
 Jerry White and O. Cromwell, 426 
 Jervais and Kneller, 56 
 
 Jesters of the court, 527 
 
 death-bed, 176 
 
 Jew and Christian, 392 
 
 beginning the worid again. 350 
 
 's expostulation, 538 
 
 journal of a we«*k, 478 
 
 Job's comforter, 227 
 J ockeying and preaching, 438 
 John the Baptist's head, 639 
 John Bull, national character of, 441 
 Johnson, Dr., on the luxuries of pud- 
 ding, 670 
 
 on music, 289 
 
 and the wit, 97 
 
 and the Scotch, 14 
 
 Johnsonian compliment, 123 
 
 maxims. 489 
 
 Jonah's soliloquy from the whale's 
 
 belly, 227 
 
 the priestly, 107 
 
 Jonas, the Jew conjuror, feats of, 493 
 Jonathans, family of, 674 
 Journey downhill, 59 
 to Tartarus, by an excise- 
 
 man, 1S7 
 Judge, a hanging one, 66 
 
 buried in his own cellar, 2>5 
 
 the be.ter, 61 
 
 Judgment day, 666 
 Judicial inadvertence, 696 
 Justice, accurate worth of, 639 
 
 summary, 81 
 
 Justification, a forhmate one, 44 
 
Justifying bail, 335 
 
 Steeping a promise, 293 
 
 a place, 427 
 
 Kelly, lord, and Foote, 675 
 
 Kemble, John, and his footman, 35 
 
 's. John, only pun 423 
 
 Stephen, 82 
 
 and Jew, 330 
 
 Keuuet's, Alderman, early recollec- 
 tions, 159 
 
 Kentish glutton, exploits of, 436 
 
 Kenyou, lord, on pronunciation, 516 
 
 Ketch, Jack, 42 
 
 Key, extempore on, 146 
 
 Kill and cure, 294 
 
 Killigrew and Charles II., on ship 
 building, 332 
 
 , Rochester, and Charles 
 
 II., 59 
 
 and Charles II., 77 
 
 and tlie royal thieves, 292 
 
 Killing lady, snares of, 659 
 
 no murder, 573 — 659 
 
 Killing time, 97 
 
 Kings, apology for, 455 
 
 and eggs, 95 
 
 and miller of Mansfield, 491 
 
 and caliphs, gratitude of, 231 
 
 evidence, roguery of, 293 
 
 bench practice illustrated, 335 
 
 King, qualifications of a good one, 567 
 Kingly government, trade and mys- 
 tery of, 419 
 
 Kingston, duchess of, her valuables, 
 
 124 
 Kinsman, qualifications for, 67 
 Kirk, general, and James II. 52 
 Kiss, comedy of, 51. 
 Kissing and biting hands, 432 
 Kit-cat club, origin of, 506 
 Kitchen draweT, articles found in, 285 
 Knavery on both sides, 130 
 Kneller, sir Godfrey, and Jervais the 
 
 painter, 56 
 Knights of the screw, an installation 
 
 ode, 482 
 Knighthood of admiral Campbell, 155 
 Knots, Gordian, and Tyburn, 684 
 Knowing a man, true sense of, 277 
 
 La Fontaine's absence of mind, 447 
 
 case of mouth v. eyes, 
 
 681 
 
 Laconic charge to a jury, 364 
 -■ - ■ grace, 389 
 
 i>TDEX. 
 
 . Laconi.s, by Dean Swift, 385 
 I Ladder of matrimony, 659 
 
 Ladies of title, 38 
 
 Lady of fashion, the, 112 
 
 Lameness, advantages of, 232 
 | Lament of Grimaldi, addressed to his 
 son, 280 
 
 Lamentations of an old shoe, 4S4 
 [ Landlady's nose, charms of my, 349 
 i Landscape painting, studies for, 639 
 j Lantern, saving light of, 231 
 i Lapstone, Grim, and the Jew, trial 
 of, 603 
 
 Last debt but one, 426 
 
 Last journey, 646 
 
 Laud, archbishop, and Charles 1. 389 
 
 Laughing and crying, comparison of, 
 280 
 
 prohibited, a merry rhyme, 
 
 221 
 
 story teller, physiognomv 
 
 of, 480 
 
 Laundress, Porson's epigram on, 19 
 
 Law and farming, 38 
 
 and liberty, blessings of, 51 
 
 and love, vagaries of, 327 
 
 characteristics of, 448 
 
 comprehensive definition of, 494 
 
 the delay of, 268 
 
 Irish sketch of, 176, 54 
 
 nice distinction of, 146 
 
 privileges of, 78 
 
 profits of, 51 
 
 reports, poetical, 687 
 
 suit, simple decision of, 199 
 
 Lawyer and chimney sweep, 512 
 
 — death-bed honesty of, 26 
 
 and client, 360 
 
 qualifications of a good one, 
 
 568 
 
 fee, 366 
 
 the ingenious, 53 
 
 and Jew, 31 
 
 Leap, how to guard against, 234 
 
 Learning, clerical, 106 
 
 magisterial, 56 
 
 Leather breeches, how to obtain a 
 pair of, 272 
 
 Lecture on England, by a French- 
 man, 653 
 
 Lee, the mad poet, 29 
 
 Lee's rhapsody, written on the walls 
 of Bedlam, 472 
 
 Left-handed excuse*, 29 
 
 witness, 209 
 
 Legacy to a wife, VJ 
 
 Legal advice and reckoning, 366 
 
 difficulty, 280 
 
 pearl divers, 575 
 
 Legitimacy and republicanism, 396 
 
 annual afflictions cf, 434 
 
 Lending, objections to, 31 
 Leo X. and his buffoon, 242 
 Letter from a first-floor lodger, 311 
 Letter writing, neglect of, accounted 
 
 for, 35 
 Lettsom, Dr. his signature, 66 
 Let well alone, proverb of, 19 
 Lex Talionis, quotation from, 630 
 Liars, rivalry of, 521 
 Liberality, exemplary, 94 
 plausible, 67 
 
 Liberty 6f the press, privileges of, 233 
 Libraries of wood and leather, 508 
 Licence, poetical, 125 
 
 and parliamentary,185 
 
 Life, epitome of, 362 
 
 insurance, extraordinary, 404 
 
 similes of, 644 
 
 Light and dark beauty, 659 
 
 and shade, 153 
 
 guinea, the, 123 
 
 heart, addressed to Phillis, 362 
 
 like mother like child, 475 
 Likeness, unfavourable, 459 
 Lilly, the astrologer, wife of, 100 
 Limb of the law, 364 
 Lincolnshire confession, 485 
 Literary controversy, 264 
 Little mouths, a London fable, 669 
 Living in style, 250 
 
 too long, 302 
 
 the, and dead, 154 
 
 high, 303 
 
 Llandaff, bishopric of, 232 
 Lodgings for single men, 236 
 
 miseries of, 311 
 
 London clubs, in 1769, 306 
 
 described by a Frenchman 
 
 624 
 
 heroics, 671 
 
 in summer, 118 
 
 microscopic view of, 495 
 
 described by Johnson, 444 
 
 newspapers, epitome of, 611 
 
 ■ thieves, 33 
 
 Longing, mutual, 100 
 
 Long stories, nuisance of, 069 
 
 task of distribution, -2S5 
 
 Lonsdale, lord, and John Kemble, 4?* 
 
 politic;d ninepins, 4PS 
 
 Loose readings, research for, £39 
 
Locsc thoughts, 293 
 
 Loquacious man, character of, 544 
 
 Loquacity, dangers of, 489 
 
 repulsive benefits of, 649 
 
 Lord Ligonier, 113 
 Losing a chance, ib. 
 a place, 592 
 
 a wife, consolation for, 629 
 
 Loss of memory, 28 
 
 the lucky one, 47 
 
 convenient, 56 
 
 Lost key, 399 
 
 leg, the, 291 
 
 Lothario, character of, 435 
 Lottery of wedlock, 86 
 Love and cookery. 364 
 among the law books, 326 
 
 and laudanum, horrors of, 628 
 
 and marriage, difference of, 594 
 
 and pride, remedies for, 215 
 
 conceited and aspiring, 82 
 
 consolation for rejected, 533 
 
 dialogue, 131 
 
 felony, 179 
 
 fits, Irish receipt to cure, 670 
 
 ■ innocent character of, 394 
 
 — — oath, ceremony of, 2S0 
 
 rise and progress of, 658 
 
 two sorts of, 159 
 
 verdict on a suicide, 2S6 
 
 's bath, 264 
 
 Lovers, advice to, 104 
 
 Lovesick lady and her Abigail, 623 
 
 ■ swain, 674 
 
 Louis VI II. death of, 87 
 
 XIV. and courtier, 65 
 
 ■ : and mayor of Beaune, 230 
 
 Loungers, theatrical, 103 
 Lounging inEdinburgh,luxuries of,195 
 Louse, adventures of, 608 
 Low prices, advantages of, 360 
 Lowe and Jonathan Tyers, 688 
 Loyal pair, the, 131 
 
 welcome to William III. 511 
 
 Lucky frolic, 355 
 
 ■ prophecy, 432 
 
 Ludicrous man, the, 69 
 
 Lumps and bumps, craniological, 646 
 
 Lunacy, how to obtain a commission 
 
 of, 598 
 Luther on Catholics, 145, 173 
 Lux: ries of poverty, 392 
 Lying, excellence in, 333 
 
 varieties of, 337 
 
 — : dangerous extremes of, 452 
 
 Lyttleton, lord, and Garrick, 64 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Macauley,Miss, & her loose thoughts, 
 
 293 
 Macklin's lectures, 144 
 
 reproof, 68 
 
 Mackouil the pickpocket, 126 
 Mad dog, sagacity of, 231 
 
 wedding, picture of, 589 
 
 Madeira wine, cause of gout, 489 
 Madam, my wife, 140 
 Madrigal from Quevedo, 209 
 Magistrate, qualifications of a good 
 
 one, 568 
 
 no sailor, 50 
 
 Magpie and stuttering boy, 34 
 Maiden speech, 119 
 
 dream, 342 
 
 's bloody garland, 630 
 
 Majesty dissected, 293 
 
 Major Longbow, a Munchausen 
 
 sketch, 552 
 Mail-coach adventures, 203 
 Maiden, Bright, the fat grocer of, 154 
 Malherbe and bishop of Rouen, 660 
 
 ■ on the wickedness of man, 63 
 
 Mallet, the poet, and his roguish ser- 
 vant, 202 
 Malone, Thaddy, and Silvia Pratt, 155 
 Malt, sermon on, by Dr. Dodd, 291 
 Man about town, character of, 456 
 
 killing club described, 505 
 
 and wife, 28 
 
 his inherited wickedness, 63 
 
 in love, vagaries of, 483 
 
 sermon on, 330 
 
 Managers, consolation for, 508 
 Mansfield's, lord, wig, 456 
 
 miller of, and king, 401 
 
 lord, and coachman, 95 
 
 Mapp, Mrs. the bone setter, 674 
 Margaret of Austria, the maiden 
 
 wife, 421 
 Margate donkies, 342 
 Margery, old, and her bottle, 146 
 Market-day in the country, 587 
 Marlborough, great duke of, 32 
 
 Sarah, duchess of, 90 
 
 Sarah, duchess of, ana 
 
 duke of Somerset, 301 
 Marriage benefits, enumerations of, 
 270 
 
 bliss, anticipations of, 295 
 
 commission, 695 
 
 definition of, 98 
 
 of handsome Tracy, 93 
 
 hasty, 63 
 
 and murder, 620 
 
 Marriages in Heaven, 97 
 Marvellous story-telling illustrated, 
 
 669 
 Mask, the permanent, 293 
 Masquerade disguise, 446 
 Match-making, requisites for, 553 
 Match for the devil, 184 
 Matrimony, fatigues of, 304 
 
 ■ ; nine lives of, 184 
 
 ■ miseries cf, 498, 594 
 
 and divorce, Indian law 
 
 objections to, by Dean 
 
 of, 520 
 
 Swift, 516 
 Matrimonial foibles and disputes, 495 
 
 ■ dispute adjusted, 616 
 
 ■ felicity and conjugal 
 
 affection, 214, 660 
 
 ■ regulations, 47 
 
 — oversight, 445, 446 
 
 happiness, 432, 504, 577 
 
 signs and tokens, 340 
 
 creed, 339 
 
 Mayor, politeness of, 86 
 Measurement, accurate, 489 
 Meddling, unreasonableness of, 204 
 Medical examinations, effect of, 360 
 
 finesse, 548 
 
 nomenclature, 24 
 
 Meeting, unseasonable, 53 
 
 Melancholy of tailors described, 188 
 
 Member j the snoring, 126 
 
 Memory, count Grammont's, 446 
 
 Mendicity, dignity of, 232 
 
 Mercantile indigestions, prescrip- 
 tions for, 547 
 
 Merchant tailors, motto of, 393 
 
 Merry man described, 481 
 
 Methodist sermon extraordinary, 403 
 
 Meuiice's hotel, a day at, 650 
 
 Mice, extraordinary and gigantic, 232 
 
 Midas, second mistake of, 229 
 
 Mighty good kind of fellow, charac- 
 ter of, 140 
 
 Military memoranda of a Serjeant, 41« 
 
 Millar, the bookseller, and Dr. John- 
 son, 310 
 
 Miller, the comedian, vanity of, 418 
 
 Mdton on tongues, 66 
 
 Mimicry, power of, 73 
 
 Ministers, requisites for, 114 . 
 
 Ministerial conscience, 75 
 
 Ministries, new, 683 
 
 Miracle enhanced, 95 
 
 policy of magnifying, 448 
 
 Miracles of transubstantiation, 258 
 
Mh-aLcaus, resemblance of, 638 
 Miraculous leaves, 341 
 Mirth and felly, 86 
 
 costly and royal, 364 
 
 and madness, vagaries of, 553 
 
 Miser and beggar, or plain truth, 30 
 
 and spendthrift, on, 52 
 
 and his loss, 50 
 
 punishment and defeat of, 25 
 
 on his death bed, 277 
 
 and mouse, 310 
 
 's mansion, the, 130 
 
 Miss-fit, theatrical, 407 
 Missionary labours, nice calculation 
 of, 5.85 
 
 purity, 83 
 
 Mistake, mutual, I5S 
 
 a dull one, 159 
 
 theatrical, 175 
 
 Mistresses, identity of, 231 
 Modern tourists, whims of, 645 
 
 travellers' bcokmaking, 663 
 
 criticism, 30-1 
 
 sermons, character of, 6S8 
 
 Modesty, retiring. 153 
 
 for money, 405 
 
 an Irishwoman's, 67 
 
 Moliere's grave, 412 
 Monk outwitted, 366 
 
 and Jew, 339 
 
 and the devil, 167 
 
 Monsey, Dr. and his banknotes, 80 
 
 Monsieur Tonson, 342 
 
 Montague, lady Mary, at Stow, 300 
 
 M. P. canine, 119 
 
 More, Sir T. and pair of gloves, 336 
 
 and executioner, 682 
 
 Morris's, capt. ode to his old buff 
 
 waistcoat, 577 
 ode to town and coun- 
 
 try, 222 
 Mortal diseases, 235 
 Mortality, three stages of, 328 
 Mortifications of an author, 111 
 Mottoes, commercial, 296 
 Mountebank and the devil, 301 
 Mouth v. Eyes, by La Fontaine, 680 
 Mouthful of sense, .535 
 Muly Moloch, conundrum by, 421 
 Munchausen outwitted, 356 
 Munden's standing joke, 32 
 Mungo and Chester showman, 194 5 
 Munificent saint and devout lady, 202 
 Murder, theatrical, claims to, 416 
 
 : dramatic, 425 
 
 Murray and the bishop, 336 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Mushroom gentry, rise of, 520 
 Musical puffs and blows, 26 
 Musician, swindling, 106 
 Mutual accommodation, 31, 406 
 
 pity, 62 
 
 Muzzy club, description of, 307 
 
 Nakedness, apology for, 607 
 Names, punning on, 155 
 Nap, convenient, 54 
 Napoleon and Fouche, 230 
 at Waterloo, 389 
 
 im 
 
 Narrow escape, 356 
 
 Nash, Dr. and Mr. and Mrs. Foote, 
 
 633 
 National antipathy, force of, 484 
 
 valour, 18 
 
 complaints, 556 
 
 Native simplicity, 337 
 Nature and art, 24 
 
 true admiration of, 233 
 
 Natural actin g. beauties of, 418 
 Nautical equivoque, 28, 120, 293 
 . sermon, 341 
 
 Naval notions of happiness. 484 
 Neapolitan play, plot of, 434 
 Necessity a dull barrister, G-Io 
 Negro candour, 131 
 
 sermon, in Jamaica, 497 
 
 wit, 303 
 
 Nell Gwynne, anti-catholic prin- 
 ciples of, 438 
 
 as an actress, 497 
 
 Nelson, lord, vanity of, 536 
 Nethersole, Mr. Serjeant, and his 
 
 loves, 327 
 New churches, mania for, 527 
 Newcastle apothecary, the, 347 
 
 , duke of, and George II. 
 
 52 
 
 : his promises, 291 
 
 Newspapers, London, humours, 613 
 
 innovations, 553 
 
 = puffing burlesqued, 400 
 
 readers described, 39 
 
 small talk, 659 
 
 News, definition of 167 
 Newton and Dr. Stukely, 439 
 New way to pay old debts, 85 
 
 York assembly, humours of, 
 
 236 
 Nicholas Wood, the Kentish glutton, 
 
 435 f 
 Nicknames, eccentric, 207 
 Night, poetical adventures of, 486 
 Nightingale club, humours of, 397 
 
 Nine pine, political, 495 
 No alternative, 490 
 Nobody, his universality, 44 
 No grumbling, a tale, 484 
 Nomenclature, medical, 24 
 
 — American, 205 
 
 No nose club desci-ibed, 505 
 Nonsense v. sense, 14 
 Norbury, lord, and counsel, 696 
 Norfolk, duke of, and Foote, 54 
 North, lord, and canine M. P. 119 
 and lady, 83 
 
 No sooner .said than done, 426 
 
 Nose and chin, 356 
 
 and eyes, adjudged case of, 328 
 
 , the fiery, and musquito, 303 
 
 Not at homo, or the general refusal, 
 231 
 
 Notoriety in lying, 334 
 
 Novel deserter, 24 
 
 wager 14 
 
 Nugent, lord, and duchess of King- 
 ston, 310 
 
 Numbers on street-doors, advantages 
 of, 317 
 
 Oath cf Dunmow, OS 
 
 of love, 281) 
 
 Oaths, English ami Scotch, 156 
 
 Obstacle, lucky occurrence of, 233 
 
 Obstinacy in grain, 513 
 
 Oceans of punch, 515 
 
 Oculists and politicians, 235 
 
 Odd-fellows' club desribed, (J52 
 
 Ode on the sun by '. arioas hands, 
 
 196 
 Office, in raid out of, '234 
 O'Flaherty. major, murder of, 425 
 Old age, how to attain, 283 
 
 , unpalateable, 43 ' 
 
 and young, 87 
 
 , alter Chaucer, 144 ' 
 
 debts, new way to pay, 551 
 
 soldier, character cf, 329 
 
 whig poet to his old buff waist- 
 
 coat, 577 
 
 wig, ode to, 339 
 
 Olden time, hospitalities of, £83 
 Oliver Cromwell, by Butler, 6S5 
 Opera, charms of the, ££3 
 Optical defi;iency explained, 217 
 Orange, prince of, and Dryden, 59 
 Orator Henley's eccentricities, 289 
 Oratory, universal and accommodat- 
 ing, 221 
 . , unpleasant 76 
 
■760 
 
 Orrery, lord, and his dog Caesar, 37 
 Orthodox divinity of Bishop Parker, 
 
 646 
 Orthographical mistake, 334 
 Orthography and punctuation, 366 
 
 ■ distinctions in, 21 
 
 Otaheitan conversion, 107 
 
 Otway and Dry den, chalking rhyme 
 
 between, 200 
 Oven, the family, 178 
 Out of debt, 162 
 
 place, 474 
 
 spirits, 393 
 
 Outside passenger's advantages, 418 
 Oxford ale, humouis of, 399 
 Oxonian, a crasy tale, 33S 
 Oxy-gin and hydro-gin, 163 
 
 Packet, delights of, 648 
 Pains of pleas u'ring, 647 / 
 Paint and plaster rouge, 83 
 Painter's remedy for bJunders, 2l0 
 
 of Florence, 215 
 
 pots, and all, 303 
 
 Painting, concealment of, 320 
 
 misfortune of, 648 
 
 and sculpture, anachron- 
 isms in, 413 
 
 Pair of shoes, impromptu on, 341 
 Palais de Justice at Paris, 577 
 Papal jurisdiction, limits of, 421 
 Parable travestie, 341 
 Parentage, pride of, 174 
 Paris, delights and luxuries of, 644 
 
 humorous description of, 183 
 
 Parish-clerk, address to, 95 
 feasting illustrated, 468 
 
 feeling, 29 
 
 repairs, 310 
 
 Parisian English, 199 
 
 hotel, picture of, 651 
 
 Parliament, fragile laws of, 154 
 Parliamentary management, 425 
 
 qualifications, 61 
 
 sleepers, 68 
 
 Parma, princess of, and Ken. VIII. 156 
 Parrot, the single speech, 94 
 •Parson's bridle, the, 145 
 
 covetous, 101 
 
 outwitted, 2C. 
 
 happy life of, in the coun- 
 try, 204 
 
 and squire, fracas of, 511 
 
 squire, and spaniel, 453 
 
 II yberdine's sermon to a 
 
 gang of thieves, 6ilfi 
 
 Partnership account, feeling balance 
 
 of, 533 
 barn, 57 
 
 Party-spirit, enthusiasm of, 403 
 
 Passion, fits of, 294 
 
 Passion-week and Lent, 96 
 
 Past cure, 129 
 
 Pat and the cook maid, 364 
 
 Doolan's pig, story of, 682 
 
 Paternal solicitude of Corneille, 636 
 
 Patience, two-fold virtue of, 499 
 
 — and intellect, 182 
 
 test of, 110 
 
 Paton, Miss, and stage-manager, 677 
 
 Patriot's qualifications, 567 
 
 Patriotism, true, 39 
 
 Patronage and Dr. Johnson, 138 
 
 Pause, the longest on record, 73 
 
 Paying in perspective, 292 
 
 Payment at bight, 111 
 
 Pedant, inadvertent confession of, 687 
 
 Peer and pedlar, 289 
 
 Pell, Mr. Serj. and How v. Much, 188 
 
 Pembroke, lady, 570 
 
 Penlake, Pdch. and St. Michael, 205 
 
 Pen-mending, 160 
 
 Pennant's tour through Chester, 182 
 
 Perfection, musical, 289 
 
 universality of, 448 
 
 Perryn, baron, and Foote, 145 
 
 Persecution prevented, 303 
 
 Persia, king of, and sir H. Jones, 214 j 
 
 Personalities, 79 
 
 Pestilent neighbour, character of, 675 
 
 Peterborough, lord, and drayman, 299 | 
 
 Petition, accommodating, 288 
 
 Petitions of who and which, 691 
 
 Petre, father, and the duke of Buck- 
 ingham, 299 
 
 Petty larcetry, dangers of, 230 
 
 Pharaoh in the Red Sea. iii 
 
 Philip the Good, duke of Burgundy, 
 frolic of, 462 
 
 Philosopher's club, rules of, 309 
 
 outwitted, 63 
 
 whims of, 144 
 
 Physiognomy, deceitful, 531 
 Pic-nic party, pleasures of 1S9 
 Pickpocket, novel, &c. 322 
 
 ■ escape of, 448 
 
 Picture of slander, S3 
 
 dabbling dialogue, 206 
 
 Pies, Swift's variety of, 63 
 Piety and pleasure, 182 
 
 — staunch, 52 
 
 involuntary, 473 
 
 Pig, domestic services of, 206 
 
 in a poke, 599 
 
 Pilgrim and the peas, 345 
 Pindar, Peter, and his bookseller, 37 
 Pious shaving, 336 
 ! ; e, ode to, 160 
 
 Pifon, the poet, and the thistles, 231 
 Gallet and Colle, 
 
 Philosophy and patience, 61 
 
 =->- of laugh ier, 221 
 
 true, 111 
 
 Physic and pots, 96 
 
 farce of, 177 
 
 Physician par excellence, 637 
 
 consultation of, 433 
 
 practice, 361 
 
 qualifications of, 568 
 
 ■ squabble of, 153 
 
 frolics of, 487 
 Pitcairn, Dr. and parson, 36 
 Pitt and Dr. Paley, 412 
 
 ~ and duchess of Gordon, 71, 488 
 
 's ministry, 120 
 
 Pizarro, st:..nzas on the play of, 24 
 Place-hunting, 31 
 
 of the dasfined, 403 
 
 Plain reasons for losing a battle, 455 
 
 truth, 30 
 
 Plan, Foote's old one, 65 
 Play-bill, attractive, 177 
 
 original, 689 
 
 Players, Hamlet's instructions to, 579 
 Pleasure and pain, impromptu on, 
 
 401 
 
 discrimination in, 639 
 
 Plebeian humour, 556 
 Plot and underplot, 522 
 Phn.gb.boy-, simplicity of, 25 
 Plucking for orders at Cambridge, 277 
 Plut alities of priestcraft, 233 
 Poet's address to his cat, 341 
 
 expectations froiu oritics, 591 
 
 Poetical balancing, art of, 462 
 
 — franking, 185 
 
 landlord at Seven Oaks: 554 
 
 Poetry and painting, analogy of, 557 
 choice specimens of, 354 
 
 Polite recollections, 
 
 ! — robbery, correspondence, 210 
 
 Politeness and precedence, 299 
 
 real, 43 
 
 universal test of, 449 
 
 Political, legacies, 556 
 Politics musical, 182 
 
 ■ universal interest of, 25 
 
 Poljy S-j<.;-::>-', a r roetid on, W 
 
rontignaus, Mons. love and "adven- 
 tures, 693 
 Poor Richard's maxims, 408 
 
 Robin's prophecy, 5-19 
 
 ■ scholars, sympathy for, 388 
 
 Pope, Alexander, voracity of, 52 
 his universal maxim, 39 
 
 last illness of, -133 
 
 's Wife of Bath, 246 
 
 Miss, the actress, retort of, 3(52 
 
 Popular numeral, 140 
 Popularity, requisites for, 418 
 Porsou, professor, his scull, 29 
 
 's catechism for Hampshire 
 
 men, 19 
 
 — medical nomenclature, 24 
 
 Portrait painting, secret of, 654 
 Posthumous grief, by Philips, 413 
 Potatoes, ode in praise of, 454 
 Pot valour, 81 
 
 Poverty and poetry, evils of, 691 
 and plausibility, 277 
 
 a virtue, 322 
 
 desirable, 391 
 
 ■ premeditated, 51 
 
 Power of music over stones, 443 
 Praise, origin and definition of, 21 
 Prayers for the navy, 55 
 
 the sailor's, 43 
 
 Praying and working, 9t 
 Preaching and brewing, 294 
 
 varieties cf, 671 
 
 forcibly illustrated, 461 
 
 and spelling, 539 
 
 Preadamite royalty, 635 
 Precaution, untimely, 664 
 Precedence, right of, at Tyburn, 439 
 Prejudice, English and Dutch, 26 
 Premature fruit, 619 
 Preparation for death, 28 
 Presbyterianism, blushes of, 401 
 Presents, appropriate, 102 
 acceptable, 296 
 
 Priest, only blessing of, 26 
 Printer's devils and devil's printers,25 
 
 : rebuked by Swift, 486 
 
 Printing-office, scene from, 328 
 
 stanzas in praise of, 255 
 
 Priestcraft, conviviality of, 208 
 
 outwitted, 125 
 
 s Irish, illustrated, 682 
 
 Priestly and Huntington's dispute,267 
 Prior, Mat. and Frenchman, 295 
 
 on the fair sex. 407 
 
 Prison, the world, 113 
 Prisoner's tbarge to a judge, 67< 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Private publicity, privilege* of, 195 
 Privileges, equal, 85 
 Prize poem, military, 156 
 Professional duties, auctioneer's, 461 
 Professor Porson's description of the 
 
 devil's ramble upon the earth, 474 
 Profit and loss, estimate of, 365 
 Profligacy, precocity of, 235 
 Prologue for a company of comedians 
 
 at Winchester, 350 
 
 upon prologues to the Deuce 
 
 is in him, 602 
 
 of a new actor, 522 
 
 to Barbarossa, 543 
 
 to the Busy Body 516 
 
 to Bon Ton, 606 
 
 the strollers, 592 
 
 to the Inconstant, 499 
 
 to the Rivals, 612 
 
 to the School for Scandal, 265 
 
 to the School for Rakes, 605 
 
 to the Trip to Paris, 597 
 
 to Winter's Tale and Cathe- 
 
 rine and Petruchio, 566 
 
 nautieal, 676 
 
 Proof of brains, 73 
 Prophetic anticipation, 404 
 Prose v. Poetry, 288 
 Proverb, an old one, 56 
 travestied, 414 
 
 Providence, blessings of, 318 
 Prudent portrait, 413 
 
 resolve, 414 
 
 theatrical wife, 419 
 
 Public worship, zeal for, 298 
 Publican, Wilkes, and Middlesex 
 
 justices, 416 
 Pudding, meditation on, 670 
 Pudicity, royal, 87 
 Pugilistic romance, 518 
 Pulpit call, 412 
 
 and stage, parallel of, 548 
 
 hint, 401 
 
 Pun, cracking of, 154 
 
 legal and tolerable, 617 
 
 naval, 50 
 
 by D. Purcell, 54 
 
 Punch, inspiration of, 539 
 
 on a bowl of, 67, 68 
 
 seas of, 515 
 
 Punchinello, stanzas to, 531 
 Punctilio of the Japanese, 173 
 Punning on names, 155 
 
 run mad, 402 
 
 Pttppy, similitude of. 51 
 Puppyism progress of 427 
 
 761 
 
 Purcell, Daniel, his puns, 54 
 Purgatory, dispute on, 137 
 Puritanical cm-ses, 387 
 
 punctilio defeated, 412 
 
 Purity, missionary, 83 
 Purses, relationship of, 637 
 Pye, and G. Steevens, 27 
 Pyramid of drink, 263 
 
 Quackery, advantage of, 361 
 Quaker answered, 480 
 
 and sailor on miracles, 341 
 
 's answer to excise commis 
 
 sioner, 130 
 
 and parson, 29, 32 
 
 and his barn, 467 
 
 Qualifications, matrimonial; 178 
 Qualities of humour, 664 
 Qualms of conscience, 512 
 Quarrelsome rhyme, 200 
 Quarter-sessions, picture of, 86 
 Quarto, heads for writing, 647 
 Queen Bess and her enemies, 36 
 
 Mab, vagaries of, 587 
 
 Elizabeth at Coventry, 15 
 
 Querno, buri'oon of Leo Xi 242 
 Queries by Wilkes, 680 
 
 Query for the ladies, 188 
 Question and answer, 233 
 
 art of answering, 420 
 
 the critical, 144 
 
 untoward, 625 
 
 Quickly's, dame, history of the Boar'» 
 
 head tavern, 284 
 Quicksilver reply, 293 
 Quid pro quo, 333 
 
 or quakcr's love, 573 
 
 Quin and Footers shirt, 15 
 
 and the beau, 44 
 
 's bait fcr venison, 65 
 
 epicurism and coarse manners 
 
 of, 478 
 
 on turtle eating, 37 
 
 's opinion of the Scotch, 136 
 
 soliloquy over the embalmed 
 
 body of duke Humphrey, 395 
 
 Quinsey, RadclifF's remedy for, 387 
 
 Rabelais' preparation for death, 28 
 Radclift', Dr. and the pavior, 387 
 Radical reform, champion of, 213 
 Rain, prayer for, 302 
 
 varieties of, 25 
 
 Ramsgate and Margate, 49 
 Rape of the Lock, new, 51 
 Razor- seller and countryman, 34* 
 
762 ., 
 
 Readers, three class '.s of, 670 
 Reading, .Hibernian, 151 
 Ready-mOiiey Jack and village poli- 
 tician, 243 
 Reasoning, Irish, 71 
 Reasons tor want of pi _ inc;ple, 20 
 Reckoning, the Irishman's, 158 
 Recognition, unfortunate, 639 
 Recollection, seasonable, 49 
 
 s of early life, 159 
 
 ■ and gratitude, 14 
 
 Recommendation, eccentric, 554 
 Recorder Silvester, or Black Jack, 
 
 222 
 Reflections written on the cross of St. 
 
 Paul's, 495 
 Reform, parliamentary, 41 
 Refusal humorous, or objections 
 
 against going to sea, 180 
 Regent's punch, recipe for, 037 
 Regimen, a novel one, 123 
 Register of a bachelor, 142 
 Regulation, royal, 52 
 Regulations, matrimonial, 47 
 Regulator coach, 103 
 Reid, Dr. 86 
 
 Rejected love, consolation for, 533 
 Relations, interference of, 151 
 Relationship of the dead, 294 
 
 ■ uncertainty of, 416 
 
 Relics, holy, Walpole's accounfof, 72 
 Relief by perspiration, 300 
 Religion and trade, 144 
 
 • effect of, on mankind, 569 
 
 ■ given over, 57 
 
 of a sea chaplain, 171 
 
 Religious professors, intolerance of, 
 
 151 
 Remedy, double, 71 
 Remedies, non-medical, 177 
 Reply, a feeling one, 60 
 Reproof, delicate, OS 
 Republicanism, specimen of, 87 
 Repulse, the pleasing, 684 
 Reputation, literary, .53 
 Resemblance, flattering, 55 
 
 perfect, 037 
 
 Residence, how to conceal, 467 
 Respect misapplied, 301 
 Restless government, 421 
 Resuscitation, unfortunate, 41 
 Retaliation and confession, 406 
 and rejection, 232 
 
 unfortunate, 77 
 
 Retort, fashionable, 47 
 
 locomotive, 637 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 philosophical, 398 
 
 simple, 85 
 
 Retreat, the coward's, 33 
 Revenge, medical, 293 
 Rhapsody, selfish, 297 
 Rheumatism and gout, OS 
 Rich and poor, 120 
 
 Rich's compliment to Garrick, 62 
 
 Richardson and female critic, 048 
 
 Richelieu, Cardinal, 35 
 
 — ambitious character of, 421 
 
 Riddle addressed to the ladies, 43 
 
 s bundle of humorous, 414 
 
 Rival loves of Dr. Toe and his foot- 
 man, 288 
 
 Rivarol and JSh-abeau, 230 
 
 Road, uncertainty of, 481 
 
 Robbers, defeat of, 59 
 
 Rochdale vicars, or fish, flesh, and 
 fowl, 478 
 
 Rochester, Killigrew, and Charles II. 
 59 
 
 lord, embarrassment of,605 
 
 and IsaacBarrow, 299 
 
 's footman, 696 
 
 Rockingham, lord, impromptu on, 72 
 
 Rogues, royal and plebeian, 295 
 
 Roguish trinity, or Strange, More, 
 and Wright, 30 
 
 Romance of a stage-coach, 147 
 
 Romeo Coates, 82 
 
 Rooke, Sir G. and Essex curate, 425 
 
 Root and branch, 90 
 
 Rope, decisive character of, 203 
 
 Rouge, effects of, 83 
 
 privilege of using, 633 
 
 Rough roads, 159 
 
 Royal learning, specimen of, 214 
 
 questions, 388 
 
 Royalty, whims and caprices of, 490 
 Rubbish, how to dispose of, 399 
 Rubro, or the drunken captain, 642 
 Ruin, irremediable, 512 
 Rules, parliamentary, 139 
 Rump-steaks and beef-steaks, 232 
 
 Sabbath, violation of, 1C7. 
 Sackville, vise, and porter, 412 
 Safe side, 37 
 
 Sagacious dog at Woburn, 418 
 Sailor bey at prayers, 473 
 
 and Irish lawyer, 54 
 
 and admiralty judge, 689 
 
 Saint and no saint, 637 
 
 and the devil, picture of, 452 
 
 Saint Michael's chair, 235 
 
 ■ Patrick, ode to, written while 
 
 half tipsy, 394 
 
 Peter and the blacksmith, 502 
 
 Sally Holly, woes of, 030 
 
 Salvation prevented, 005 
 
 Salvini the Spaniard, death of, 519 
 
 Sampson, the modern, 118 
 
 Sang froid, English, 173 -| 
 
 Satire, various effects of, 151 
 
 general and special, 674 
 
 Saving clause, 395 
 
 extraordinary, 137 
 
 Scala's, marqu.s della, porter and 
 
 fisherman, 533 
 Scandal, genius of, 287 
 
 of the tea table, 257 
 
 Scarce articles in a republic, 95 
 
 articles, catalogue o*, 23 
 
 Scarron and his sister, 85 
 Scepticism, danger of, 202 
 Scholar's mistake, 235 
 Scholar, poverty of, 56 
 Schoolboy life, pride of, 6C6 
 Scolding wives, remedy for, 341 
 Scot, true and false, 57 
 
 Scotch nationality illustrated, 238 
 
 nobility, 130 
 
 shot<, 290 
 
 woman, adventures of a. 595 
 
 Scotsmen, intellectual character of,302 
 Scotticisms, 044 
 Scottish wives, S3 
 Scrapers a^»d Mdlers, 365 
 Scribblerus club, history of, .. 32. 
 Sculls, drinking, 37 
 Sculptor and cobbler, dispute of, 438 
 Scum, sycophantic, 54 
 Sea-horse and the jockey, 53 
 Seamstress, amatory address to, 185 
 Secrecy, mode of ensuring, 504 
 Secret, impossibility of a woman's 
 
 keeping a, 473 
 — — — the last and only one, 293 
 Securing a place, 31 
 Sedley, sir Charles, and Charles II. 77 
 Seldeii and salt-fish, 243 
 Self-astonishment, fc'32 
 Selwyn, G. and French hangmen, 432 
 Senator, eiiipty head of, 33 
 September the first, - or cockney 
 
 sportsman, 590 
 — -— - . sportsmen, diary 
 
 of, 400 
 Sermon on thievery : 6*6 
 on malt, 
 
Sermon on mortality, 328 
 s, stealing, 41 
 
 unlucky exchange of, 40 
 
 s, soporific effect of, 633 
 
 Servants, remuneration of, 67 
 
 Swift's general rules for, 578 
 
 Settle, character of, by Dryden, 433 
 Settlement, legal, 33 
 Seven, No., Swift's respect for, 641 
 Severe retort, 638 
 Sex, extinction of, 629 
 ! Shabby coat, impromptu on, J5G 
 | Shades and varieties of life, 209 
 Sbakspeare, annotations on, 484 
 
 's cookery, 51 
 
 commentators imitat- 
 
 ed, 615 
 
 ages of man, 520 
 
 Shaving a conscience, 420 
 
 and voting, 356 
 
 and religion, 336 
 
 Sheep-shearing, clerical, 93 
 
 stealing, 78 
 
 Shenstone'.? description of News- 
 paper readers, 39 
 1 Shepherd, the holy, 137 
 | Sheppy, isie of, religion in, 298 
 Sheridan and Shakspeare, 68 
 
 's ancestors, 530 
 
 sporting character of, 269 
 
 's ode to scandal, 287 
 
 sporting party, 418 
 
 Shifts, how to make, 58 
 
 Shipbuilding, royal, 332 
 
 Shipmasters' wonder, 356 
 
 Shirt and no shirt, 15 
 
 Shoe?, professional expenses of, 2S5 
 
 Shoemaker'.; wife, the, 104 
 
 Shop commissions, variety of, 521 
 
 Short commons at Westminster, 446 
 
 life and a merry one, 484 
 
 — reckoning, 452 
 
 right and long nose, 635 
 
 Shovel's, sir Cloudesly expedition, 56 
 Shrew and scold, death of, 84 
 Shropshire surgeon, the, 70 
 Sfeutcr Liie comedian, 51 
 ■ — : and the high- 
 
 pavman, 395 
 
 Sic vita, or similes of life, 570 
 Sick lady and the almanack, 407 
 
 man and the friar, 401 
 
 Siii'lnii.:, Mrs. her first appearance in 
 
 Dublin described, 403 
 Sides, two, of a question, 55 
 | »ig*nng club de-scribed, -var 
 
 JUDEX. 
 
 Sight and speech, loss of, 362 
 
 Sig>u and tokens, 340 
 
 Similes, song of,- 69 — 99 
 
 Simple reply, 338 
 
 Simplicity and gratitude of a found 
 
 ling, 455 
 Sin, nice distinction in, 333 
 Sincerity versus manners, 304 
 Singing and .jumping, 3fio 
 
 excellence in, 355 
 
 varieties of, 183 
 
 ■ wager, decision cf, 399 
 
 Singular distinction in Bin, 333 
 
 Sinking and swearing, 444 
 
 Sinner;., Mahommed's condemnation 
 
 of, 146 
 Sir Uoger de Coverley, 141 
 Sir Simon and Hodge, 689 
 Sisters, the two, 30 
 Sixes and sevens, 317 
 Six-foot suckling, by Churchill, 142 
 Six o'clock club described, 506 
 Skies, variety of in painting, 048 
 Skin and grief, 96 
 Slander, picture of, 83 
 
 and self-poisoning, 366 
 
 Sleeping at church, 34 
 Sleepy chancellor of Cambridge, 354 
 Sloth the cause of ennui, 96 
 Smoking, .pleasures of, 160 
 
 wager, 677 
 
 Smithfield chub described, 508 
 Soldier's epistle to his comrade, 41G 
 Solecism, novel one, 33 
 Soliloquy, self-condemning, 27 
 Somerviile's busy indolent, 440 
 Somnambulism, fascinating, 307 
 Soitow, conjugal, 106 
 
 genuine cause of, 453 
 
 seasonable delay of, 214 
 
 Sots, a club of, 107 
 Soul of wit, 212 
 South, Dr. 37 
 
 — and Charles II. 34 
 unlucky grace, 563 
 
 Sow's revenge, or tithe in kind, 105 
 Spanish pride, reproval of, 619 
 Spartan shield device, 232 
 Speaking in time, 350 
 Special juries, exposure of, 3S6 
 Spectacles,, pair of, 57 
 Speech, first and las& 138 
 ready mad", 2*21 
 
 Spendthrift, -recovery of, 400 
 Spenser's feiry qneen, 363 
 Spinning and reeling, 33 
 
 rt>3 
 
 Spirit, female, 70 
 Splendid entertainment, 412 
 Split-farthing club described, 506 
 Sponging for a dinner, 341 
 Sporting intelligence from the cea 
 
 side, 240 
 Spretai injuria forma?, 040 
 S. S. degi-ee of Huntington, 265 
 Stage coach, the, 915 
 
 — farce, 418 
 
 r.i-series, American, 459 
 
 dialect, 512 
 
 Staines, sir W. and Wilkes, 2& 
 Stair, lord, and Louis XIV. 43 
 Stammering, benefit of, 175 
 Standard merit, 198 
 
 rule, 122 
 
 Stars, the sailer's favourite, 64 
 Starvation, theatrical, 295 
 State affairs, indifference on, 57 
 Stealing a buckle and ear, 429 
 
 match, 115 
 
 Steam-boat company, 562 
 Steele, sir Richard, 76 
 
 and Addison's friendship, 51 
 
 on Irifh blunders, 64 
 
 Steeple-climbing, prerogative of, 439 
 Stella and her doctor, 341 
 Sterne and Hobson's choice, 96 
 
 's maid-servant,disappointjnent 
 
 of, 433 
 
 wife, 574 
 
 Stocks, rate of, 355 
 
 jobbers described by Swift, 1C9 
 
 punishment of, 16 
 
 Story-telling, art and mystery of, £69 
 Stout gentleman, the, 147 
 Straddle, the Birmingham man, 232 
 Stradling versus Stiles, 509 
 Strand tragedy, or the dream, 518 
 Strange, More, and Wright, 30 
 Street dispute adjusted, 199 
 Strength, Sampson's, surpassed, 55 
 Striking a bargain, 336 
 Strolling manager, miseries cf, 625 
 Strong beer, novel brewing of. 534 
 Stroud, Rochester, and Chatham, ir- 
 
 1790, 430 
 Stuttering boy and magpie, 344 
 Suburban rusticity, pleasures cf, ISO 
 S access, negative, 63 
 
 to trade, 333 
 
 Suckling's, sir John, army, 583 
 Suicide, delights of, 557 
 
 extraordinary, 17 
 
 Suiting th« ease in point. Oil 
 
764 
 
 Suitor, undisguised, 102 
 Suits, old and new, 31 
 Sully, duke of, and Henry IV. 171 
 Summer in London, 118 ' 
 Superficial knowledge, 695 
 Superstition's supper, 225 
 Surgeon outwitted, 209 
 Surly club described, 505 
 
 grumbler, character of, 508 
 
 Surnames, eccentric humours of, 415 
 
 whims of changing, 208 
 
 Swearing, consolai on of, 63? 
 Sweep's mistake, 190 
 
 political argument of, 25 
 
 Swift's assize sermon, 310 
 
 compliment to a beautiful wo- 
 man, 532 
 
 and the barber, 62 
 
 upon Burnet, 254 
 
 ■ and the cross landlady, 196 
 
 curate and lawyer, 6i, 90 
 
 — and the drunken woman, 433 
 
 deafness, 333 
 
 ■ definition of a critic, 430 
 
 and the holy tailor, 353 
 
 inventory of his household 
 
 goods, 426 
 
 miscellaneous thoughts on life 
 
 and manners, 385 
 
 ■ postponement of eclipse 165 
 
 set-down for a wit, 459 
 
 and his landlord, dialogue be- 
 tween, 673 
 
 and the eggs, 675 
 
 1 — puns, 676 
 
 classification of readers, 676 
 
 wonderful wonder of wonders, 
 
 maggots, 681 
 and Roger Cox, 683 
 similes, 684 
 housekeeping, 686 
 query upon churches, 686 
 day of judgment, 688 
 
 Swindling musician, 10S 
 Swinish hobby exposed, 414 
 Swiss justice and host, 366 
 Symptoms of danger, 57 
 
 Table wit, 86 
 Tables turned, 494 
 Tactics, a friar's, 35 
 
 and nrivileges, 85 
 
 Tailor's dream, 486 
 
 expostulation to an unfortu- 
 
 aiate, 446 
 
 INDEX; 
 
 Tailor, the- holy, and Dean Swift, 35S 
 
 melancholy habits of, ISO 
 
 reasonable explanation of, CS't 
 
 retired, 139 
 
 Talcing at a word, 302 
 Tale, a familiar one, 72 
 Tall men, intellect of, 302 
 Tallard and Marlborough, 86 
 Talleyrand and Buon :parte, 159 
 
 confessions of, 98 
 
 Tarn O'Shanter, a tale, 449 
 Tamworth, the tanner of, and Ed- 
 ward IV. 88 
 Tandem driving, definition of, 216 
 Tantalization, torments of, 192 
 Tapping and drinking, 63 
 Tart reply, 203 
 Tartarus, voyage to, 571 
 picture of, 16 
 
 Tasso, translation and murder of, 14 
 
 Taste, classic, 68 
 
 of royalty, 253 
 
 Tax gatherer's motto, 345 
 
 Taylor, John, and the duke of Rich- 
 mond, 49 
 
 Tea-table chat, 252, 257 
 
 Telescope, auricular, 290 
 
 Temple, crest of the, 690 
 
 Tender wish, 356 
 
 Termagant, the, 292 
 
 Text answered, 32 
 
 appropriate, 50 
 
 female, 350 
 
 Tbaddy, Malone, and Silvia Pratt, 155 
 
 Theatrical acqnaintance, 71 
 
 hissing, varieties of, 618 
 
 Theft, clerical, 154 
 
 Thelwall and Erskine, 45 
 
 Theophrastus's character of an absent 
 man, 594 
 
 of an unsea- 
 
 sonable man, 596 
 Thief, the female, 82 
 Thin lepjs, extempore on, 369 
 Thornhill, Sir J. escape of, 633 
 Thornton, col. on stammering, 175 
 Thought, the, or song of similes, 99 
 Three black crows, or the Strand dia- 
 logue, 368 
 Thriving tradesmen, 151 
 Thurlow, lord, religion of, 96 
 
 and Pitt, 124 
 
 Thynne, Tom, his hospitality, 56 
 | Tibbs, beau, by Goldsmith, 32-1 
 I Time at royal 'discretion, 632 
 i Tinker and barrister's dialogue, 1P6 
 
 Tinker and glazier, frolics of, 231 " 
 
 Tippling blacksmith, 87 " A, 
 Tipsy member of parliament, 676 U 
 Tit for tat, 300 ji] 
 Titled prayers, 124 a 
 Titles, new, estimate of, 593 U 
 Toad-eating, Irish, S7 k 
 Toasts, classic, 35 }J 
 dry, 49 -)3 
 
 national, 43 •] 
 
 i;nkingly, 292 ; 
 
 Today and to-morrow, 361 i] 
 
 Tom-a-bedlam song, 5-55 
 
 King's cure for gaming, 534 
 
 Longfellow's inn.475 
 
 Moor of Fleet-street, 475 * 
 
 Tom Ashe, equivrque of, 22 
 To-morrow, definition of, 71 
 Tombstone piety equivocal, 629 j 
 
 Tompion the watchmaker, 80 
 Tonson, Mons. adventures of, 342 ' 
 
 and Dryden, 122 
 
 Tooke, Home, on parliamentary re-; 
 
 form, 41 
 Toper, the brainless, 294 
 
 and flies, 143 
 
 's glee, 633 
 
 logic, 130 
 
 Toping, advantages of, 175 
 Topography, minuteness of, 234 
 Tory, female, address to, 4fi8 
 Touchstone for the times, 141 
 
 for knave and fool, 298 
 
 Town and country, pleasures of, 222 
 
 talk, 59 
 
 rake, eloquence of, 650 
 
 Townshend, marq. and drummer, 28 
 
 lord, and Wilkes, 73 
 
 lady, her vanity, 113 
 
 Tracy, handsome, roaTriage of, GS 
 Trade of kingly government, 419 
 Tragedy and comedy, Rousseau's dis-„ 
 
 tinction of,'' 503 
 Translation blunders, 336 
 
 disadvantages of, 476 
 
 and retranslation, 232 
 
 Transubstantiation, facetious argu- 
 ment on, 477 
 
 : by a Spanish poet, 108 
 
 mirr.cles, 2£ 
 
 Traveller and highwayman, 31 
 Travelling expenses, 122 
 
 and painting, 643 
 
 Treason, absolution for. Cos 
 
 among the c?.v«.: -!2 
 
 conditional, prosperity i 
 
I Treble birth, 117 
 
 marriage, 365 
 
 i Trespassers, no joke for, 37 
 
 j Trifling difference, 408 
 
 j Trip to Paris,' humours of, 183 
 
 j Triumph, legal and unprofitable, 51 
 
 I Trotters and gallopers, 33 
 
 ' True sportsman, 269 
 
 | Truisms, or incontrovertible facts, 526 
 
 1 Trump cards, 290 
 
 i Trust and credit, bad characters, 252 
 
 Truth once spoken, 646 
 
 Tureen, ludicrous substitute for, 404 
 
 Turkish havam, policy of, 587 
 
 sultan and his court, 474 
 
 Tura-coat, apology of, 472 
 
 Turtle-eating, Quin on, 3f 
 
 Twelve Jewish tribes, account of, 392 
 
 Twins, royal, 35 
 
 Twist, recreation on the verb, 262 
 
 Two of a trade, 481 
 
 strings to your bow, 296 
 
 thousand pounds, how to save, 
 
 137 
 
 Tyburn tragedy, the, 6tt0 
 
 Tythe arguments, 32 
 
 by instalments, 112 
 
 in kind, 105 
 
 gospel, 179 
 
 heart, the, 304 
 
 Vagaries of love, 82 
 
 Valour, English, Irish, & Scotch, 18 
 
 Valuables, a lady's, 124 
 
 Van Troiap and Frenchman, 337 
 
 Vat you please, 218 
 
 Vauxhall weather, 038 
 
 Venison-eating, 65, 478 
 
 haunch of, and Irish stew, 226 
 
 Venetians at Versailles, 631 
 Ventilators, theatrical, 51J 
 Venus and Praxitiles, 292 
 Vicar of Bray, 495 
 
 of Bray's creed, 361 
 
 in his cups, 670 
 
 and Moses, 554 
 
 and the devil, 93 
 
 Vices, operatic, 153 
 
 Village apothecary, miseries of, 5S2 
 
 fair, humours of, 320 
 
 politician, by Washington Ir- 
 ving, 243 
 
 worthies, charactei-s of, 212 
 
 Villars, marshal, and the duke de 
 VeniSome, 94 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 VilKers, duke of Buckingham, 64 
 Villiam Vicks and his vife, excursion 
 
 of, 510 
 Vincent, adm. and Spanish fleet, 47 
 Virginia, religion and tobacco of, 141 
 Virgins and widows, 84 
 Virtue in women, 160 
 
 defalcation of, 625 
 
 Virtues, royal, 112 
 Virtuosos' club described, 
 will of, 417 
 
 505 
 
 Visits, routine of fashionable, 536 
 Visitor, accommodation of, 145 
 Vite's, Mr. and Mrs., journey to Val- 
 
 ham-green, 477 
 Voltaire and Chesterfield, 293 
 
 and his bookseller, 369 
 
 and du Resnel, blunders, 336 
 
 and the duke of Orleans, 81 
 
 on ennui, 96 
 
 's translation of Shakspeare, 
 
 336 
 Volunteer field-day and sham fight, 
 
 6fl 
 Vulgar natures, 178 
 
 Ubiquity, clerical, 104 
 Ugliness, advantages of, 234 
 Ugly faces , club of, described, 305 
 
 family, 83 
 
 woman, address to, 52 
 
 U. I. and T., 540 
 
 Ultra loyalty, 520 
 
 Undertaker's bill and services, 289 
 
 character and calling of, 
 
 629 
 Unfortunate confession, 448 
 Universality of English taste, 270 
 University degree, popular 'mode of 
 
 obtaining, 275 
 Universities, poverty of, 96 
 Unlettered gratitude, 217 
 Unlucky confession, 360 
 
 friendship, 392 
 
 Unseasonable man, character of, 506 
 Untimely demand, 412 
 Uprightness, danger of, 87 
 Ups and downs, 146 
 Upstart, character of an, 529 
 
 exposure of an, 635 
 
 Usher, archbishop, and eleventh 
 
 commandment, 202 
 Usury, doctrines of, 60 
 
 Wag, a stuttering, one, 41 
 Wager and suicide, 87 
 
 7Ci5 
 
 Wager, trivial, 53 
 Wakes of Ireland described, 667 
 Waking a traveller, 402 
 Waldgrave, lord, 115 
 Wall, giving and taking, 154 
 Wallace, lady, and her mother, 304 
 Waller's poetical license, 125 
 Walpole, Horace, and Wm. Cole, 360 
 and his times, 213 
 
 sir Robert, & his valet, 445 
 
 Walters, Peter, on poverty, 38 
 Waltzing, jealousy of, 154 
 WarLurton, bish. and Bentley, 294 
 and Quin, 113 
 
 Warm compliment, 661 
 Warming-pans, inscription for, 182 
 Washing, lodging, ana mangling, 405 
 Watch, on the loss of a, 539 
 Watchman, mistake of, rectified, 420 
 
 the sleeping, 130 
 
 Water-drinkers, error of, 292 
 
 drinking, 427 
 
 — fiends, the, by Colman, 351 
 
 gruel and roast beef, 184 
 
 Way to live happy 7 , 417 
 
 to wealth, or poor Richard's 
 
 maxims, 408 
 
 Weaver, reasons for hanging, 168 
 Wedding, picture of a mad one, 58$ 
 Wedlock, fruits of, 182 
 
 and its chances, 86 
 
 Welshman and his host, 53 
 Welsh gentility, 337 
 
 pride, 55 
 
 traveller, 298 
 
 Westminster abbey, nabob's monu- 
 ment in, 52 
 
 elector's heir-loom, 432 
 
 Weston the actor, 129 
 
 Wharton's grace before meat, 401 
 
 Where's the poker? 137 
 
 Which is the lady? 231 
 
 Whigs and George III. Ill 
 
 and tories, 56 
 
 Whims, matrimonial, 173 
 
 of philosophers, 144 
 
 Whist, Irish rubber of, 592 
 
 Whistling prayers, 680 
 
 Whitely the comedian's death, 453 
 
 Whitfield, Geo. and drummer, 145 
 
 nautical sermon, 341 
 
 Wholesale hospital practice, 384 
 
 Widow, a printer's, 72 
 
 Wife's affection at the loss of her h*a« 
 band, 250 
 
 ©f Bath, %m 
 
766 
 
 Wife, character and death sf an 
 obstinate., 313 
 
 choice of, by cheese, 123 
 
 a dear one, 204 
 
 - — delight, composed by her hus- 
 band, 175 
 
 legaey to, 100 
 
 perennial, 207 
 
 qualities of a good one, 535 
 
 sorrow, 106 
 
 . well matched, 200 
 
 complaint, 686 
 
 Wig-blocks, varieties of, 318 
 
 ■ cane, and hat. loss of, o'j-l 
 
 Wigs, eccentricities of, 173 
 
 - — forensic, varieties of, 304 
 
 ; — saving benefit of, 4SS 
 
 ■ and waggery of barristers, 218 
 
 Wili.es, personal attractions, of, 103 
 
 Joan, and No. 45, 143 
 
 ■ at Dolly's chop-hou^e, 81 
 
 and Home Tooke, ~-Ji 
 
 • sir William Staines, 23 
 
 the nightcap, 14 
 
 queries, answered, CS9 
 
 Will of a convivialist, C25 
 
 of an earl of Pembroke, 570 
 
 last and only one, 3S 
 
 William Burns ai.d the Jew, 392 
 Wiltshire curate's journal, 407 
 Winchester, bishop of, and bookseller, 
 
 330 
 Window tax, 85 
 
 anathema on, 661 
 
 ■ light pun on, 644 
 
 Wine-bibbing, epicurism of, 231 
 
 clerical economy in, 485 
 
 composition of, 103 
 
 controversial opinions of, -494 
 
 ■ disquisitions on, by a club of con- 
 
 vivialists, 424 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Wine and physic, 387 
 and walnuts, 23 
 
 and wit, union of, 575 
 
 and worsted, 391 
 
 Wisdom and sorrow, analogy of, 535 
 clerical, 59 
 
 Y.ishes of a moderate man, 447 
 Wit, definition of, 324, 566 
 
 elegance of, 292 
 
 and honesty, 235 
 
 prudent reserve of, 235 
 
 taste for, 297 
 
 various tests of, 257 
 
 — — disadvantages of, 893 
 
 princely partiality to, 213 
 
 without knowledge. 24 
 
 walks of, 6S3 
 
 qualities of, C3<" 
 
 princely partiality to, 23 
 
 without knowledge, 24 
 
 Witchcraft and confession, <338 
 cure for, 355 
 
 Witlings, shallowness cf, 576 
 Witness, how to examine, 1^9 
 
 well informed, 130 
 
 Wits, travelling by, 122 
 
 Wives, of three benefits distinct, 433 
 
 the best of, 664 
 
 obedience of, 98 . 
 
 Woman's wisdom, 330 I 
 
 four ages of, 21 ?% 
 
 Johnson's admiration cf/262 
 
 • why beardless, 106 
 
 Womanhood, imitated from Chancer, 
 
 471 
 Wonder solved, 654 
 
 for wonder, 538 
 
 s of the ancients, 470 
 
 Wonderful jar, demolition of, 403 
 
 — wonder of wonders, 6V7 
 
 Wood, scarcity of, 206 
 
 Woods, benefit of drinking, 469 
 
 Wooden heads, variety of, 5QS 
 
 — sword and the deserter, 393 
 
 World, the club, in Pull Mall, 053 
 
 discovery of a new, 186 
 
 end of, described, 2^3 
 
 the, a printing-house, 29 
 
 a bock. 30 
 
 real character of, 250 
 
 Worse and worse, 444 
 
 Yi'orsh pful quibbling, saving clauser 
 
 of, -l-li) 
 
 society, picture of, 5J 
 
 on trial, 83 
 
 Wolsey Cardinal, on Lent, 303 
 
 's twins, 455 
 
 Woman, advice to, by Horace Wal- 
 pole, 428 
 
 killed with kindness, 494 
 
 -'s learning, sum of, 362 
 
 love, philosophy of, C40 
 
 resolution, example of, 217" 
 
 only secret, 294 
 
 tongue, 98 
 
 — — tongue, artillery of, 596 - 
 
 Worsted and silk,' od 
 Wounds of a coward, 57 
 
 Vv rinkletcn i'iuget on lodging-houses, 
 
 311 
 Wycherly's plain dealing, 504 
 
 Years, reduction of, 133 
 Yorkshire Humphrey, 33 
 
 specimen of, 31 
 
 Yorick's scull, reflections on, 533 
 Young, Dr. at Welwyn, 46 
 
 logicians, exercise for, 277 
 
 men's amusements, 197 
 
 Your worship, compliment of, 415 
 Youth of promise, qualifications of, 
 245 
 
DRAMATIC WIT. 
 
 7S7 
 
 ' Affectionate courtship . . Hypocrite >, . - - - 
 I Author and publisher, in- 
 terview of The Autlior . . . 
 
 I| Baffled cunning .... Man of tlie World . 
 i Bankruptcy, advantageous 
 
 , scheme of The Bankrupt . . 
 
 I Bath fashionables . . . Man of the World . 
 
 Beauty dependent on a 
 - lo-«er's fancy Way of the World . 
 
 Blue stockings' idea of love Double Dealer . 
 
 Capt. Beaugard and Caleb 
 
 Quotem Review .... 
 
 Circuitous journey . . . She stoops to Conquer 
 
 Debating society . . . The Orators . 
 I Devil, appearance of . . Devil on Two Sticks 
 Drillin g a country establish- 
 ment She stoops to Conquer 
 
 Education of a mimic . . The Minor . . . 
 
 Female influence . . . Way of the World . 
 Female qualifications . . She stoops to Conquer 
 Free and easy visitors . . The same .... 
 Friendly support of charac- 
 ter Way of the World . 
 
 Friends in need . . . . Twin Rivals ; - . . 
 
 Hypocrite's attempt to se- 
 duce his friend's wife . Hypocrite . . . . 
 
 706 
 
 732 
 
 718 
 
 737 
 713 
 
 724 
 726 
 
 732 
 743 
 
 723 
 701 
 
 705 
 
 Illiterate fanaticism . . Hypocrite .... 70S 
 King of low company , . She stoops to Conquer . 697 
 
 Legal inducements . . . Twin Rivals .... 730- 
 
 Legal tergiversation ex- 
 plained Man of the World - . 716 
 
 Low ambition and honour- 
 able feeling .... The same 70S 
 
 Maskw ell's soliloquy on cre- 
 dulity Double Dealer . 
 
 Men of wit and pleasure 
 about town Old Play 
 
 Newspaper editorship 
 Over-righteous lady 
 
 . 727 
 . 746 
 
 . Bankrupt ..... 740 
 . Double Dealer . . .727 
 
 Parliamentary eloquence . Tlie Orator .... 732: 
 Prison scene .... ,Pride shall have a Fall 725 
 
 Right honourable dignity . Double Dealer . - . 726 
 Right honourable folly and 
 base flattery .... Man of the World . . 711 
 
 Scotch booing illustrated . The same 714 
 
 Sycophancy and independ- 
 ence contrasted . . . The same . -. . 721 
 
 Vice and fanaticism, union 
 of ....... 7'he Minor 
 
 . 73* 
 
London. : Printed by A. Applegath, Stamford-street. 
 
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