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our counsel, but that we fear in their very pleadings they would betray our cause : besides, we have 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 JUST REMONSTRANCE OF AFFRONTED Tilat. “Though I deny not the petition of Messrs. who

and wiricii, yet you should not suffer them to be

rude, and to call honest people names: for that bears very hard on some of those rules of decency which you are justly famous for establishing. They imay find fault, and correct speeches in the senate, and at the bar, but let them try to get themselves to often and with so much eloquence repeated in a sentence, as a great orator doth frequently introduce 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 questionary petitioners try to do this with their Whos and their Whiches. “Włoat great advantage was I of to Mr. Dryden in his indian Emperor, “You force me still to answer you in That,’ to furnish out a rhyme to Morato and what a poor ogure would Mr. Bayes have made without his * Egad and all That ' How can a judicious man alistinguish one thing from another, without saying, “This here,” or “That there 2' 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 entertaining 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 seasons for the introduction of other words besides

That; but I scorn as much to o: 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, but pay a due :
For praise, that's duc, 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.

tormients of TANTAlization.

Virgil, who has cast the whole system of Platos: philosophy, so far as it relates to the soul of mao, into beautiful allegories, in the sixth book of his AEneid gives the following punishment of a volustuary after death : Lucent genialibus altis Aurea fulcratoris, epulaque ante ora parata Regisico luxu : furiarum maxima juxta Accubat, et manibus prohibet contingere mensas Exurgit'lue facem attollens, atque intonatore. * ...Ea. 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 in cat ; Which, if they touch, her hissing snakes she rears, Tossing her torch, and thund'ring in their ears. Droßes The following story cohibits a lively representstion 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 coquetry, 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 ine. They immediately 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 wrappers one over another, that I looked like an AEqyptian mummy. As I stood bolt upright upon one cnd in this antique figure, one of the ladies burst out a laughing. “And now, Pontigman,” 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. Finding 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, 1 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 as it was time for me to rise. Accordingly about nine o'clock in the morning an old woman came to unswathe me. I bore all this very patiently, being resolved to take my revenge of my tormentors, and to keep no measures with them as soon as I 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.” SPECTAT or.

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A man who has been brought up among books, and is able to talk of nothing else, is a very indifferent companion, and what we call a pedant. But 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 2 Bar him the play-houses, a catalogue of the reigning beauties, and an account of a few fashionable distempers that have befallen him, and you strike him dumb. How many a pretty gentleman's knowledge lies all within the verge of 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 accomplishments, his parts are drained, and he is disabled from any farther conversation. What are these but rank pedants 2 and yet these are the men who value themselves most on their excmption 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 Westminster hall, wrangling with you upon the most indifferent circumstances of life, and not to be convinced of the distance of a place, or of the most trivial point in conversation, but by dint of argument. 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 is 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 read a great number of books without taste or distinction. 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 pondyard, for a place of privacy when he was called upon to despatch any urgent business. And being asked, why he built that house there 2 his lordship answered, “That since he could not carry the water to his house, he would carry his house to the water.” SUPER FICIAL KNOW LEDGE. 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. BUT LeR. MARRiaGe Coxi Mission. A merchant, originally from Paris, having acquired 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 correspondent 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, considering 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 subscribe 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; and after many inquiries, he judged he had found a lady fit for his purpose, in a young person of reputable 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 but from a cross old aunt, who gave her a great deal of uneasiness, 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 included 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 conditioned 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 constitution 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 woulan, of such an age, character, 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 foremost on the pier, at the lady's landing, was charmed to see a handsome person, who having heard him called by his name, told him, “Sir, I have a bill 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 '" 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,” replica 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 erfect 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 Carlow Assizes.

I)ramatis Persona –Lord Norbury, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas; Mr. Cassan, a barrister; Dr. Jacob, a physician. Time, immediately after scntence 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, he is a young man of high professional talent—of great reputation. Doctor Jacob—I thank you, my lord. Mr. Cassan (still loud and with &reat emphasis)My lord, I shall occupy the attention of the cour: but a short time—

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