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which people meet in public places, in order to prevent the unseasonable declamations which we meet with there. I remember, in my youth, it was an humour at the university, when a fellow pretended to be more eloquent than ordinary, and had formed to himself a plot to gain all our admiration, or triumph over us with an argument, to either of which he had no manner of call; I lay, in either of these cases, it was the humour to shut one eye. This whimsical way of taking notice to him of his absurdity, has prevented many a man from being a coxcomb. If amongst us, on such an occasion, each man offered a voluntary rhetorician some snuff, it would probably produce the same effect. As the matter now Stands, whether a man will or no, he is obliged to be informed in whatever another pleases to entertain him with; though the preceptor makes these advances out of vanity, and not to instruct, but insult him.
There is no man will allow him who wants courage to be called a soldier ; but men, who want good sense, are very frequently not only allowed to be scholars, but esteemed for being fuch. At the same time it must be granted, that as courage is the natural parts of a soldier, fo is a good understanding of a scholar. Such little minds as these, whose productions are collected in the volume to which I have the honour to be patron, are the instruments for artful men to work with, and become popular with the unthinking part of mankind. In courts, they make transparent flatterers; in camps, oftentatious bullies; in colleges, unintelligible pedants; and their faculties are used accordingly by those who lead them.
When a man who wants judgment is admitted into the conversation of reasonable men, he shall remember such improper circumstances, and draw such groundless conclufions from their discourse, and that with such colour of sense, as would divide the best set of company that can be got together. It is just thus with a fool who has a familiarity with books; he shall quote and recite one author against another, in such a manner as shall puzzle the best understanding to refute him; though the most ordinary capacity may observe, that it is only
ignorance that makes the intricaey, All the true use of
No. 198, SATURDAY, JUNE 15, 1710.
Quale fit id quod amas celeri circumfpice mently
Ovid. Ars Amor. lib. 1. ver. 8
From my own Apartment, July 1 4.
The History of CÆLIA. It is not neceffary to look back into the first years of this young lady, whose story is of consequence only as her life has lately met with passages very uncommon She is now in the twentieth year of her age, and owes a ftrict, but cheerful education, to the care of an aunt; to whom she was recommended by her dying father, whose decease was hastened by an inconsolable amiction for the loss of her mother. As Cælia is the offspring of the most generous passion that has been known in our age,
the is adorned with as much beauty and grace as the most celebrated' of her fex poffefs; but her domestic
tife, moderate fortune, and religious education, gave her but little opportunity, and less inclination, to be admired in public aisemblies. Her abode has been, for fome years, at a convenient distance from the cathedral of St. Paul's where her aunt and the chofe to reside for the advantage of that rapturous way of devotion which gives ecftasy to the pleasures of innocence, and, in some measure, is the immediate poffeffion of those heavenly enjoyments for which they are addressed.
As you may trace the usual thoughts of men in their countenances, there appeared in the face of Cælia a cheerfulness, the constant companion of unaffected virtue, and a gladness, which is as inseparable from true piety. Her every look and motion spoke the peaceful, mild, resigning, humble inhabitant, that animated her beauteous body. , Her air discovered her body a mere machine of ber mind, and not that her thoughts were employed in ftudying graces and attractions for her perfon. Such was Cælia, when she was firft seen by Palamede at her usual place of worship. Palamede is a young man of two-and-twenty, well-falhioned, learned, gentęel, and discreet; the fun and heir of a gentleman of a very great eftate, and himself pofleffed of a plentiful one by the gift of an uncle, He became enamoured with Cælia ; and, after having learned her habitation, had address enough to communicate his passion and circumStances with such an air of good-fense and integrity, as soon obtained permission to visit and profefs bis inclinations towards her. Palamede's present fortune, and future expectations, were no way prejudiciel to his addresses; but, after the lovers had patred some time in the agreeable entertainments of a successful courtship, Cælia one day took occafion to interrupt Palamede, in the midst of a very pleafing discourse of the happiness he promised bimfell in lo accomplished a companion; and, affumingin serious air, told him, there was another heart to be won before he gained her's, which was that of his father. Palamede ser med much difturbed at the overture ; and lámented to her, that his father was one of thofe too pros vident parents, who only place their thoughts upon bringing
riches into their families by marriages, and are wholly insensible of all other confiderations. But the strictness of Cælia's rules of life made her infift upon this demand; and the fon, at a proper hour, communicated to his father the circumstances of his love, and the merit of the object. The next day the father made her a visit. The beauty of her person, the fame of her virtue, and a certain irrefiftible charm in her whole behaviour, on fo tender and delicate an occasion, wrought so much upon hiin, in spite of all prepoffeffions, that he haftened the marriage with an impatience equal to that of his fon,
Their nuptials were celebrated with a privacy suitable to the character and modefty of Calia; and from that day, until a fatal one lift week, they lived together with all the joy and happiness which attend minds entirely united.
It should have been intimated, that Palamede is a stu. dent of the Temple, and usually setired thither early in the morning, Cælia still neeping.
It happened, a few days lince, that the followed him thither to communicate to him sometbing she had omitted, in her redundant fondness, to speak of the evening before. When she came to his apartment, the servant there told her, she was coming with a letter to her. While Cælia, in an inner room, was reading an apology from her husband, That he had been suddenly taken by some of his acquaintance to dine at Brentford, but that he fhould return in the evening, a country girl, decently clad, asked, if these were not the chambers of Mr. Palamede ? She was answered, they were ; but that he was not in town. The stranger asked, when he was expected at home? The servant replied, the would go in and ask his wife. The young woman repeated the word wife, and fainted, This accident raised no less curiosity than amazement in Cælia, who caused her to be removed into the inner room. Upon proper applications to revive her, the unhappy young creature returned to hertelf; and faid to Cælia, wiin an earnest and beseeching tone, Are you really Mr. Palamede's wife? Cælia replies, I hope I do not look as if I were any other in the condition you fee me. The stranger answered, No, Madam, he is my husbandi
At the same instant the threw a bundle of letters into Cælia's Map, which confirmed the truth of what the aflerted. Their mutual innocence and forrow made them look at each other as partners in distress, rather than rivals in love. The superiority of Cælia's understanding and genius gave her an authority to examine into this adventure, as if the had been offended against, and the other the delinquent. The stranger spoke in the following manner:
• Madam, if it shall please you, Mr. Palamede, having an uncle of a good estate near Winchester, was bred at the school there, to gain the more his good-will by being in his fight. His uncle died, and left him the estate which my husband now has. When he was a mere youth, he set his affections on me; but when he could not gain his ends, he married me; making me and my mother, who is a farmer's widow, swear we would never tell it upon any account whatsoever; for that it would not look well for him to marry such a one as me; besides, that his father would cut him off of the estate. I was glad to have him in an honest way; and he now and then came and stayed a night and away at our house. But very lately, he came down to see us with a fine young gentleman, his friend, who stayed behind there with us, pretending to like the place for the fummer : but ever since matter Palamede went, he has attempted to abuse me; and I ran hither to acquaint him with it, and avoid the wicked intentions of his false friend.'
Cælia had no more room for doubt; but left her rival in the same agonies she felt herself. Palamede returns in the evening; and, finding his wife at his chambers, learned all that had passed, and hastened to Cælia's lodgings.
It is much easier to imagine, than express, the sentiments of either the criminal, or the injured, at this encounter,
As soon as Palamede had found way for speech, he confessed his marriage, and his placing his companion on purpose to vitiate his wife, that he might break through a marriage made in his nonage, and devote his riper