tions, as have by this admirable person been shewn

to, and raised in,

SIR,

Your most humble servant,'

'MR. SPECTATOR,

I AM a country gentleman, of a good plentiful estate, and live as the rest of my neighbours with great hospitality. I have been ever reckoned among the ladies the best company in the world, and have access as a sort of favourite. I never came in public but I saluted them, though in great assemblies, all around; where it was seen how genteelly I avoided hampering my spurs in their petticoats, whilst I moved amongst them; and on the other side how prettily they curtsied and received me, standing in proper rows, and advancing as fast as they saw their elders, or their betters, dispatched by me. But so it is, Mr. Spectator, that all our good breeding is of late lost by the unhappy arrival of a courtier, or town gentleman, who came lately among

us.

This person whenever he came into a room made a profound bow, and fell back, then recovered with a soft air, and made a bow to the next, and so to one or two more, and then took the gross of the room, by passing them in a continued how until he arrived at the person he thought proper particularly to entertain. This he did with so good a grace and assurance, that it is taken for the present fashion; and there is no young gentlewoman within several miles of this place has been kissed ever since his first appearance among us. We country gentlemen cannot begin again and learn these fine and reserved airs; and our conversation is at a stand, until we have your judgment for or against kissing by way of civility or salutation; which is impa

tiently expected by your friends of both sexes, but

by none so much as

Your humble servant,

RUSTIC SPRIGHTLY.'

MR. SPECTATOR,

December 3, 1711.

I was the other night at Philaster, where I expected to hear your famous trunk-maker, but was unhappily disappointed of his company, and saw another person who had the like ambition to distinguish himself in a noisy manner, partly by vociferation or talking loud, and partly by his bodily agility. This was a very lusty fellow, but withal a sort of beau, who getting into one of the side-boxes on the stage before the curtain drew, was disposed to shew the whole audience his activity by leaping over the spikes: he passed from thence to one of the entering doors, where he took snuff with a tolerable good grace, displayed his fine clothes, made two or three feint passes at the curtain with his cane, then faced about and appeared at t'other door. Here he affected to survey the whole house, bowed and smiled at random, and then shewed his teeth, which were some of them indeed very white. After this he retired behind the curtain, and obliged us with several views of his person from every opening.

During the time of acting he appeared frequently in the prince's apartment, made one at the hunting-match, and was very forward in the rebellion *. If there were no injunctions to the contrary, yet this practice must be confessed to diminish the pleasure of the audience, and for that reason to

* Different scenes in the play of Philaster.

be presumptuous and unwarrantable: but since her majesty's late command has made it criminal *, you have authority to take notice of it.

SIR,

Your humble servant,

T.

CHARLES EASY."

N° 241. THURSDAY, DECEMBER 6, 1711.

Semperque relinqui

Sola sibi, semper longam incomitata videtur

Ire viam

VIRG. Æn. iv. 466.

All sad she seems, forsaken, and alone;
And left to wander wide thro' paths unknown.

P.

. MR. SPECTATOR,

ནོ

THOUGH you have considered virtuous love in most of its distresses, I do not remember that you have given us any dissertation upon the absence of lovers, or laid down any methods how they should support themselves under those long separations which they are sometimes forced to undergo. I am at present in this unhappy circumstance, having parted with the best of husbands, who is abroad in the service of his country, and may not possibly return for some years. His warm and generous affection while we were together, with the tenderness which he expressed to me at parting, make his absence almost insupportable. I think of him every

In the play-bills about this time there was this clause, By her majesty's command no person to be admitted behind the

scenes.

moment of the day, and meet him every night in my dreams. Every thing I see puts me in mind of him. I apply myself with more than ordinary diligence to the care of his family and his estate; but this instead of relieving me, gives me but so many occasions of wishing for his return. I frequent the rooms where I used to converse with him, and not meeting him there, sit down in his chair and fall a weeping. I love to read the books he delighted in, and to converse with the persons whom he esteemed. I visit his picture a hundred times a day, and place myself over-against it whole hours together. I pass a great part of my time in the walks where I used to lean upon his arm, and recollect in my mind the discourses which have there passed between us: I I look over the several prospects and points of view which we used to survey together, fix my eye upon the objects which he has made me take notice of, and call to mind a thousand agreeable remarks which he has made on those occasions. I write to him by every conveyance, and contrary to other people, am always in good-humour when an east-wind blows, because it seldom fails of bringing me a letter from him. Let me intreat you, sir, to give your advice upon this occasion, and to let me know how I may relieve myself in this my widowhood.

I am, SIR,

Your most humble servant,
ASTERIA.'

Absence is what the poets call death in love, and has given occasion to abundance of beautiful complaints in those authors who have treated of this passion in verse. Ovid's Epistles are full of them. Otway's Monimia talks very tenderly upon this subject:

VOL. IX.

letter which that of his correspondent pointed at. By this means they talked together across a whole continent, and conveyed their thoughts to one another in an instant over cities or mountains, seas or deserts.

If Monsieur Scudery, or any other writer of romance, had introduced a necromancer, who is generally in the train of a knight-errant, making a present to two lovers of a couple of these abovementioned needles, the reader would not have been a little pleased to have seen them corresponding with one another when they were guarded by spies and watches, or separated by castles and ad

ventures.

In the mean while, if ever this invention should be revived or put in practice, I would propose that upon the lover's dial-plate there should be written not only the four-and-twenty letters, but several intire words which have always a place in passionate epistles, as flames, darts, die, language, absence, Cupid, heart, eyes, hang, drown, and the like. This would very much abridge the lover's pains in this way of writing a letter, as it would enable him to express the most useful and significant words with a single touch of the needle. C.