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the lump. He is studying the passions themselves when he should be inquiring into the debates among men which arise from them. He knows the irgument of each of the orations of Demosthenes and Tully, but not one case in the reports of our own courts. No one ever took him for a fool; but none, except his intimate friends, know he has a great deal of wit. This turn makes him stance both disinterested and agreeable. As few of his thoughts are drawn from business, they are most of them fit for conversation. His taste of books is a little too just for the age he lives in ; he his read all, but approves of very few. His fami. lunty with the customs, manners, actions, and writings of the ancients, makes him a very delicate thierver of what occurs to him in the present world. He is an excellent critic, and the time of the play its hour of business; exactly at five he passes through New Inn,crosses through Russel-court, and okes a turn at Will's till the play begins; he has his shoes rubbed and his periwig powdered at the barber's as you go into the Rose.” It is for the food of the audience when he is at a play, for the actorshave an ambition to please him. The person of next consideration is Sir Andrew Freeport,f a merchant of great eminence in the city of London: a person of indefatigable industry, song reason, and great experience. His notions of role are noble and generous, and (as every rthmanhasusually some sly way of jesting, which would make no great figure were he not a rich on) he calls the sea the British Common. He is orinted with commerce in all its parts, and will to you that it is a stupid and barbarous way to trend dominion by arms; for true power is to be to by arts and industry. He will often argue, tiltifthis part of our trade were well cultivated, *should gain from one nation; and if another, sammother. I have heard him prove, that dili. of makes more lasting acquisitions than valour, “that sloth has ruined more nations than the onl He abounds in several frugal maxims, *ot which the greatest favourite is, “A penny ared is a penny got’. A general trader, of good * is pleasanter company than a general scho* and Sir Andrew having a natural unaffected tolence the perspicuity of his discourse gives the *Pleasure that wit would in another man. He *male his fortune himself; and says, that Eng* may be richer than other kingdoms, by as *n methods as he himself is richer than other *m; though at the same time 1 can say this of *htthere is not a point in the compass, but *home a ship in which he is an owner. Next to Sir Andrew in the club-room, sits Cap* Sentry; agentleman of great courage, good oderstanding, but invincible modesty. He is one "those that deserve very well, but are very awk"odal putting their talents within the observation owth is should take notice of them. He was * years a captain, and behaved himself with *gallantry in several engagements, and sevenoges; but having a small estate of his own, *being next heir to Sir Roger, he has quitted a

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way of life in which no man can rise suitably to his merit, who is not something of a courtier, as well as a soldier. I have heard kim often lament,

conspicuous a view, impudence should get the

purpose, I never heard him make a sour expression, but frankly confess that he left the world, because he was not fit for it. regular behaviour, are in themselves obstacies to him that must press through crowds, who endeavour, at the same end with himself, the favour of a commander. He will, however, in his way of talk, excuse generals for not disposing according to men's desert, or inquiring into it; for, says he, that great man who has a mind to help me, has as many to break through to come at me, as I have to come at him; therefore he will conclude, that the man who would make a figure, especially in a military way, must get over all false modesty, and assist his patron against the importunity of other pretenders, by a proper assurance in his own vindication. He says it is a civil cowardice to be backward in asserting what you ought to expect, as it is a military fear to be slow in attacking when it is your duty. With this candour does the floo." speak of himself and others. The same rankness runs through all his conversation. The military part of his life has furnished him with many adventures, in the relation of which he is very agreeable to the company; for he is never overbearing, though accustomed to command men in the utmost degree below him ; nor ever too obsequious, from an habit of obeying men highly above him.

But that our society may not appear a set of humorists, unacquainted with the gallantries and pleasures of the age, we have among us the gallant Will Honeycomb, a gentleman who, according to his years, should be in the decline of his life: but having ever been very careful of his person, and always had a very easy fortune, time has made but very little impression, either by wrinkles on his forehead, or traces in his brain. His person is well turned, and of a good height. He is very ready at that sort of discourse with which men usually entertain women. He has all his life dressed very well, and remembers habits as others do men. He can smile when one speaks to him, and laughs easily. He knows the history of every mode, and can inform you from which of the French king's wenches our wives and daughters had this manner of curling their hair, that way of placing their hoods; whose frailty was covered by such a sort of petticoat, and whose vanity to show her foot made that part of the dress so short in such a year. In a word, all his conversation and knowledge has been in the female world. As other men of his age will take notice to you what such a minister said upon such and such an occasion, he will tell you, when the Duke of Monmouth danced at court, such a woman was then smitten, another was taken with him at the head of his troops in the Park. In all these important relations, he has ever about the same time received a kind glance, or a blow of a fan, from some celebrated beauty, mother of the present Lord Such-a-one. If you speak of a young commoner that said a lively thing in the house, he starts up, “He has good blood in his veins, Tom Mirabel begot him, the rogue cheated me in that affair, that young fellow’s mother used

• A colonel Clelandi, thought to have been alluded to undé. this clugu actor,

that in a profession where merit is placed in so

better of modesty. When he has talked to this

A strict honesty and an even .

.

me more like a dog than any woman I ever made
advances to.” This way of talking of his very
much enlivens the conversation among us of a more
sedate turn: and I find there is not one of the
company, but myself, who rarely speak at all, but
speaks of him as of that sort of man, who is usu-
ally called a well-bred fine gentleman. To con-
clude his character, where women are not con-
cerned, he is an honest worthy man.
I cannot tell whether I am to account him, whom
I am next to speak of, as one of our company :
for he visits us but seldom, but when he does, it
adds to every man else a new enjoyment of himself.
He is a clergyman, a very philosophic man, of
general learning, great sanctity of life, and the
most exact good breeding. He has the misfortune
to be of a very weak constitution, and consequently
cannot accept of such cares and business as pre-
ferments in his function would oblige him to : he
is therefore among divines, what a chamber-coun-
sellor is among lawyers. The probity of his mind,
and the integrity of his life, create him followers,
as being eloquent or loud advances others. He
seldom introduces the subject he speaks upon; but
we are so far gone in years, that he observes when
he is among us, an earnestness to have him fall on
some divine topic, which he always treats with
much authority, as one who has no interests in this
World, as one who is hastening to the object of all
his wishes, and conceives hope from his decays and
infirmities. These are my ordinary companions.

stEELE." R.
=e
N° 3. SATURDAY, MARCH 3, 1710-11.
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IN one of my late rambles, or rather speculations,
I looked into the great hall where the Bank is
kept, and was not a little pleased to see the di-
rectors, secretaries, and clerks, with all the other
members of that wealthy corporation, ranged in
their several stations, according to the parts they
act in that just and regular economy. This revived
in my memory the many discourses which I had
both read and heard, concerning the decay of
public credit, with the methods of restoring it, and
which, in my opinion, have always been defective,
because they have always been made with an eye
to separate interests, and party principles.
The thoughts of the day gave my mind employ.
ment for the whole night, so that I fell insensibly
into a kind of methodical dream, which disposed
all my contemplations into a vision or allegory, or
what else the reader shall please to call it.
Methought I returned to the great hall, where I
had been the morning before, but to my surprise,
instead of the company that I left there, I saw,
towards the upper end of the hall, a beautiful
virgin, seated on a throne of gold. Her name (as
they told me) was Public Credit. The walls, in-
stead of being adorned with pictures and maps,

were hung with many acts of parliament written in golden letters. At the upper end of the hall was the magna charta, with the act of uniformity on the right hand, and the act of toleration on the left. At the lower end of the hall was the act of settlement, which was placed full in the eye of the virgin that sat upon the throne. Both the sides of the hall were covered with such acts of parliament as had been made for the establishment of public funds. The lady seemed to set an unspeakable value upon these several pieces of furniture, insomuch that she often refreshed her eye with them, and often smiled with a secret pleasure, as she looked upon them; but, at the same time, showed a very particular uneasiness, if she saw anything approaching that might hurt them. She appeared, indeed, infinitely timorous in all her behaviour; and whether it was from the delicacy of her constitution, or that she was troubled with the vapours, as I was afterwards told by one, who I found was none of her well-wishers, she changed colour, and startled at every thing she heard. She was likewise (as I afterwards found) a greater valetudinarian than any I had ever met with, even in her own sex, and subject to such momentary consump: tions, that, in the twinkling of an eye, she would fall away from the most florid complexion, and most healthful state of body, and wither into a skeleton. Her recoveries were often as sudden as her decays, insomuch that she would revive in a moment out of a wasting distemper, into a habit of the highest health and vigour. I had very soon an opportunity of observing these quick turns and changes in her constitution. There sat at her feet a couple of secretaries, who received every hour letters from all parts of the world, which the one or the other of them was perpetually reading to her; and according to the news she heard, to which she was exceedingly attentive, she changed colour, and discovered many symptoms of health or sickness. Behind the throne was a prodigious heap of bags of money, which were piled upon one another so high that they touched the ceiling. The floor on her right hand, and on her left, was covered with vast sums of gold that rose up in pyramids on either side of her. But this I did not so much wonder at, when I heard, upon inquiry, that she had the same virtue in her touch, which the poets tell us a Lydian king was formerly possessed of: and that she could convert whatever she pleased into that precious metal. After a little dizziness, and confused hurry of thought, which a man often meets with in a dream, methought the hall was alarmed, the doors flew open, and there entered half a dozen of the most hideous phantoms that I had ever seen (even in a dream) before that time. They came in two by two, though matched in the most dissociable manner, and mingled together in a kind of dance. It would be tedious to describe their habits and persons; for which reason I shall only inform my reader, that the first couple were Tyranny and Anarchy; the second were Bigotry and Atheism, the third the Genius of a commonwealth, and a young man of about twenty-two years of age, whose name I could not learn. He had a sword

in his right hand, which in the dance he often brandished at the act of settlement; and a citizen, who stood by me, whispered in my ear, that he saw * spunge in his left hand. The dance of so many

ed either with an R,

* His papers in the Spectator are si -
thus interpreted :

an I. or a T.; which distinctions have

R (the initial of his christian name) is thought to mark the
per as of his own writing, L, perhaps, composed from o

dropped into the letterbox; and T, his editorial mark, signify.
ing Transcribed from Aaonymous tommunications,

Pomo

jarring natures put me in mind of the sun, moon,

* James Stuart, the pretended Prince of Wales,

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*I indearth, in the Rehearsal, that danced together his for no other end but to eclipse one another. mol. Thereader will easily suppose by what has been *I beforesaid, that the lady on the throne would have +d been almost frighted to distraction, had she seen *I hit any one of these spectres; what then must II hire been her condition when she saw them all in abody? She sainted and died away at the sight.

- “Etnoue jam colorest minto candore rubori; ot For tiger, a vires, et quae modo visa placebant; Morarpuromanel—.’ OWID, Met. iii.491. i Her spirits faint, Herblooming cheeks assume a pallidteint, And scaree her form remains.' There was as greata change in the hill of money*ind the heaps of money, the former shrinking mifiling into so many empty bags, that I now smd not above a tenth part # them had been filed with money. Therest that took up the same space, and made flesme figure, as the bags that were ready filled with money, had been blown up with air, and tilled into my memory the bags full of wind, which Homer tells us his hero received as a present from a £olus. The heaps of gold on either side the throne, appearéoto be only heaps of paper, or illepiles of notched sticks, bound up together in bundles, like Bath faggots. Whilst I was lamenting this sudden desolation that had been made before me, the whole scene unished. In the room of the frightful spectres there now entered a second dance of apparitions very greeably matched together, and made up of wiy imiable phantoms. The first pair was Liher, with Monarchy at her right hand. The second was Moderation leading in Religion; and the third, person whom I had never seen," with the Genius of Great Britain. the lady revived, the bags swelled to their former bulk, the pile of o: and heaps of paper dunged into pyramids of guineas; and for my * own part, I was so transported with joy, that I *ked, though, I must confess, I would fain have flemasleep again to have closed my vision, if I told have done it. o

incapacity of others. These are mortals who have a certain curiosity without power of reflection, and perused my papers like spectators rather than readers. But there is so little pleasure in inquiries that so nearly concern ourselves (it being the worst way in the world to fame, to be too anxious about it), that upon the whole I resolved for the future, to go on in my ordinary way; and without too much fear or hope about the business of reputation, to be very careful of the design of my actions, but very negligent of the consequences of them. * - *

any other rule, than the care of satisfying our own minds in what we do. One would think a silent man, who concerned himself with no one breathing, should be very little liable to misinterpretations; and yet I remember I was once taken up for a jesuit, for no other reason but my profound taciturnity. It is from this misfortune that, to be out of harm's way, I have ever since affected crowds. He who comes into assemblies only to gratify his curiosity, and not to make a figure, enjoys the pleasures of retirement in a more exquisite degree, than he possibly could in his closet; the lover, the ambitious, and the miser, are followed thither by a worse crowd than any they can withdraw from. To be exempt from the passions with which others are tormented, is the only pleasing solitude, I can very justly say with the ancient sage, “I am never less alone than when alone.”

As I am insignificant to the company in public places, and as it is visible I do not come thither, as most do, to show myself, I gratify the vanity of all who pretend to make an appearance, and have often as kind looks from well-dressed gentlemen and ladies, as a poet would bestow upon one of his audience. There are so many gratifications attend

At the first entrance this public sort of obscurity, that some little dis

tastes I daily receive have lost their anguish ; and I did the other day, without the least displeasure, overhear one say of me, that strange fellow; and anotheranswer, I have known the fellow’s face these twelve years, and so must you; but I believe you are the first ever asked who he was. There are, I must confess, many to whom my person is as well known

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As, author when he first appears in the world, overy apt to believe it has nothing to think of but *Performances. With a good share of this va. *y in my heart, I made it my business these three *** listen after my own fame; and as I have *imes met with circumstances which did not *Please me, I have been encountered by others, *gwe me much mortification. Itis incredible to think how empty I have in this time observed * Part of the species to be, what mere blanks ** when they first come abroad in the morn. *how utterly they are at a stand, until they are *: by some paragraph in a newspaper.

*: ğ. are very acceptable to a young to : or they desire no more in any thing but tion now, to be agreeable. ** such, I was as much disquieted by

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If I found consola:

as that of their nearest relations, who give them. selves no further trouble about calling me by my name or quality, but speak of me very currently by the appellation of Mr. What d'ye call him. To make up for these trivial disadvantages, I have the high satisfaction of beholding all nature with an unprejudiced eye; and having nothing to do with men's passions or interests, I can, with the reater sagacity, consider their talents, manners, failings, and merits. It is remarkable, that those who want any one sense, possess the others with greater force and vivacity. Thus my want of, or rather resignation of speech, gives me all the advantages of a dumb man. I have, methinks, a more than ordinary pe. netration in seeing ; and flatter myself that I have looked into the highest and lowest of mankind; and make shrewd guesses, without being admitted to their conversation, at the inmost thoughts and reflections of all whom I behold. It is from hence that good or ill fortune has no manner of force towards affecting my judgment. I see men flou. rishing in courts, and languishing in jails, without being prejudiced, from their circumstances, to their favour or disadvantage; but, from their inward nner of bearing their condition, often pity the

erous, and admire the unhappy. *::::: who converse with the dumb, know from

It is an endless and frivolous pursuit to act by

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the turn of their eyes, and the changes of their

countenance, their sentiments of the objects before them. I have indulged my silence to such an extravagance, that the few who are intimate with me, answer my smiles with concurrent sentences, and argue to the very point I shaked my head at, without my speaking. Will Honeycomb was very entertaining the other night at a play, to a gentleman who sat on his right hand, while I was at his left. The gentleman believing Will was talking to himself, when upon my looking with great approbation at a young thing in a box before us, he said, ‘I am quite of another opinion. She has, I will allow, a very pleasing aspect, but, methinks, that simplicity in her countenance is rather childish than innocent.” When I observed her a second time, he said, ‘I grant her dress is very becoming, but perhaps the merit of that choice is owing to her mother; for though,” continued he, “I allow a beauty to be as much to be commended for the elegance of her dress, as a wit for that of his language; yet if she has stolen the colour of her ri

treat on matters which relate to females, as they are concerned to approach or fly from the other sex, or as they are tied to them by blood, interest, or affection. Upon this occasion I think it but reasonable to declare, that whatever skill I may have in speculation, I shall never betray what the eyes of lovers say to each other in my presence. At the same time I shall not think myself obliged by this promise to conceal any false protestations which I observe made by glances in public assemblies; but endeavour to make both sexes appear in their conduct what they are in their hearts. By this means, love, during the time of my speculations, shall be carried on with the same sincerity as any other affair of less consideration. As this is the greatest concern, men shall be from henceforth liable to the greatest reproach for misbehaviour in it. Falsehood in love shall hereafter bear a blacker aspect than infidelity in friendship, or villany in business. For this great and good end, all breaches against that noble passion, the cement of society, shall be severely examined. But this and all other

.. from another, or had advice about her trimmings, I shall not allow her the praise of dress, any more than I would call a plagiary an author.” When I threw my eye towards the next woman to her, Will spoke what I looked, according to his romantic imagination, in the following manner: “Behold, you who dare, that charming virgin; behold the beauty of her person chastised by the innocence of her thoughts. Chastity, good-nature, and affability, are the graces that play in her countenance: she knows she is handsome, but she knows she is good. Conscious beauty adorned with conscious virtue.' What a spirit is there in those eyes! What a bloom in that person How is the whole woman expressed in her appearance Her air has the beauty of motion, and her look the force of language.” It was prudence to turn away my eyes from this object, and therefore I turned them to the thoughtless creatures who make up the lump of that sex, and move a knowing eye no more than the portraiture of insignificant people by ordinary painters, which are but pictures of pictures. Thus the working of ny own mind is the general entertainment of my life : I never enter into the commerce of discourse with any but my particular friends, and not in public even with them. Such an habit has perhaps raised in me uncommon reflections; but this effect I cannot communicate but by my writings. As my pleasures are almost wholly confined to those of the sight, I take it for a peculiar happiness, that I have always had an easy and familiar admittance to the fair sex. If I never praised or flattered, I never belied or contradicted them. As these compose half the world, and are, by the just complaisance and gallantry of our nation, the more powerful part of our people, I shall dedicate a considerable share of these my speculations to their service, and shall lead the young through all the becoming duties of virginity, marriage, and widowhood. When it is a woman's day, in my works, I shall endeavour at a style and air suitable to their understanding. When I say this, I must be understood to mean, that I shall not lower but exalt the subjects I treat upon. Dis. course for their entertainment, is not to be debased, but refined. A man may appear learned without talking sentences, as in his ordinary gesture he discovers he can dance, though he does not cut capers, In a word, I shall take it §. the greatest glory of

matters loosely hinted at now, and in my former papers, shall have their proper place in my following discourses. The present writing is only to admonish the world, that they shall not find me an idle, but a busy Spectator.

stEELE. R.

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dows and realities ought not to be mixed together
in the same piece; and that the scenes which are
designed as the representations of nature should be
filled with resemblances, and not with the things
themselves.
paign country filled with herds and flocks, it would
be ridiculous to draw the country only upon the
scenes, and to crowd several parts of the stage
with sheep and oxen. This is joining together in-

If one would represent a wide cham

consistencies, and making the decoration partly real, and partly imaginary. I would recommend what I have here said to the directors, as well as to the admirers, of our modern opera.

As I was walking in the streets about a fortnight ago, I saw an ordinary fellow carrying a cage full of little birds upon his shoulder; and, as I was wondering with myself what use he would put them to, he was met very luckily by an acquaintance, who had the same curiosity. Upon his asking him what he had upon his shoulder, he told him that he

my work, if among reasonable women this paper may furnish tea-table talk. In order to it, I shall!

had been buying sparrows for the opera, Sparrows for the opera, says his friend, licking his lips,

that, are they to be roasted' No, no, says the her, they are to enter towards the end of the first act, and to fly about the stage. This strange dialogue awakened my curiosity so so, hit immediately bought the opera, by which ords perceived the sparrows were to act the an of singing birds in a delightful grove: though, on a nearer inquiry, I found the sparrows put the same trick upon the audience, that Sir Martin Mirill' practised upon his mistress; for though to flew in sight, the music proceeded from a concerto flagelets and bird-calls, which were planted bound the scenes. At the same time I made this discovery, I found, by the discourse of the actors, to there were great designs on foot for the imFor ment of the opera; that it had been proposed ofelk down a part of the wall, and to surprise the audience with a party of an hundred horse, in that there was actually a project of bringing the New River into the house, to be employed in geausand water-works. This project, as I have ove heard, is postponed till the summer season; when it isthought the coolness that proceeds from ontains and cascades will be more acceptable Jördleshing to people of quality. In the mean fat, to find out a more agreeable entertainment * he winter season, the opera of Rinaldo is tled withthunder and lightning, illuminations and reworks; which the audience may look upon * "out catching cold, and indeed without much to get of being burnt; for there are several enoks filled with water, and ready to play at a oute's warning, in case any such accident should opens However, as I have a very great friend. ofor the owner of this theatre, I hope that he to been wise enough to insure his house before it would let this opera be acted in it. Its no wonder, that those scenes should be very orsing, which were contrived by two poets of otent nations, and raised by two magicians of oncent sexes. Armida (as we are told in the aronent) was an Amazonian enchantress, and poor *For Cassani (as we learn from the persons re*ented) a Christian conjurer (J1ago Christiano); '*'s confess I am very much puzzled to find * an Amazon should be versed in the black art, ***good Christian, for such is the part of the ocian, should deal with the devil. 10 consider the poet after the conjurers, I shall *You a taste of the Italian from the first lines *Preface; ‘Eccoti, benigno lettore, un parto di **, these ben natodi not te, none pero aborto *, nia si farā canoscere figlio d'Apollo con ** suggio di Parnasso.” "Behold, gentle or, the birth of a few evenings, which, though to the offspring of the night, is not the abortive ones, but will make itself known to be the Apollo, with a certain ray of Parnassus.” orwards proceeds to call Mynheer Handel "Pheus of our age, and to acquaint us, in the * sublimity of style, that he composed this *inafortnight. Such are the wits to whose ** 30 ambitiously conform ourselves. The *itis, the finest writers among the modern **Press themselves in such a florid form of **nd such tedious circumlocutions, as are

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used by none but pedants in our own country; and at the same time fill their writings with such poor imaginations and conceits, as our youths are ashamed of, before they have been two years at the university. Some may be apt to think that it is the difference of genius which produces this difference in the works of the two nations; but to show that there is nothing in this, if we look into the writings of the old Italians, such as Cicero and Virgil, we shall find that the English writers, in their way of thinking and expressing themselves, resemble those authors much more than the modern Italians pretend to do. And as for the poet himself, from whom the dreams of this opera” are taken, I must entirely agree with Monsieur Boilean, that one verse in Virgil is worth all the clinquant or tinsel of Tasso. ..) But to return to the sparrows; there have been so many o of them let loose in this opera, that it is feared the house will never get rid of them;

trance in very wrong and improper scenes, so as to be seen flying in a lady's bed-chamber, or perch

niencies which the heads of the audience may sometimes suffer from them. I am credibly informed, that there was once a design of casting into an opera, the story of Whittington and his Cat,f and that in order to it, there had been got together a great quantity of mice; but Mr. Rich, the proprietor of the playhouse, very prudently considered that it would be impossible for the cat to kill them all, and that consequently the princes of the stage might be as much infested with mice, as the prince of the island was before the cat’s arrival upon it; for which reason he would not permit it to be acted in his house. And indeed I cannot blame him; for, as he said very well upon that occasion, I do not hear that any of the performers in our opera pretend to equal the famous pied piper, f who made all the mice of a great town in Germany follow his music, and by that means cleared the place of those little noxious animals. Before I dismiss this paper, I must inform my reader, that I hear there is a treaty on foot be. tween London and Wise $ (who will be appointed gardeners of the playhouse) to furnish the opera of Itinaldo and Armida with an orange-grove; and that the next time it is acted, the singing birds will be personated by tom-tits ; the undertakers being resolved to spare neither pains nor money, for the gratification of the audience. ADD150N. C.

# The records of Hamelen, an ancient city on the banks of the Weser, give an account of a strange accident which befei them, on the 26th of June, 1284. * Being at that time much pestered with rats, which they could by no means destroy, a stranger, at last undertook if, on the promise of reward; and immediately taking a tabre; and pipe, the rats followed his music to the river, where they were all drowned ; but, being denied his reward, he left the town in a rage, and threatened revenge: accordingly h. returned next year, and by the same music enticed most of the children of the town after him to the mouth of a great cave on the top of a neighbouring hill called Koppelberg, where he and they entered, but were never more heard of: In remembrance of this sad accident, the citizens, for many years after, dated all their public writings from the day they lost their children, as appears by many old deeds, and records. They still call the street through which the children passed, Tabret Street; and at the mouth of the cave there is a monument of stone, with an inscription, in barbarous Latin verse, giving an account of this tragical story, by which the citizens lost 130 vs.”

* Rinaldo, an opern, by Aaron Hill. + See No. 14; and Tat. No. 78.

* The queen's gardeners.

and that in other plays they may make their en

ing upon a king’s throne ; besides the inconve- .

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