ing, and those who have mourning will not wear a miferable face?

IT is ufual for the book fellers here, when a book has given univerfal pleasure upon one fubject, to bring out feveral more upon the fame plan; which are fure to have purchasers and readers from that defire which all men have to view a pleafing object on every fide. The firft performance ferves rather to awaken than fatisfy attention: and when that is once moved, the flighteft effort ferves to continue its progreffion; the merit of the first diffuses a light fufficient to illuminate the fucceeding efforts; and no other fubject can be relifhed, till that is exhaufted. A ftupid work coming thus immediately in the train of an applauded performance, weans the mind from the object of its pleasure; and refembles the sponge thrust into the mouth of a difcharged culverin, in order to adapt it for a new explofion.

This manner, however, of drawing off a fubject, or a peculiar mode of writing to the dregs, effectually precludes a revival of that fubject or manner for fome time for the future; the fated reader turns from it with a kind of literary naufea; and though the titles of books are the part of them most read, yet he has fcarcely perfeverance enough to wade through the title page.

Of this number I own myfelf one; I am now

grown

grown callous to feveral fubjects, and different kinds of compofition; whether fuch originally pleafed I will not take upon me to determine; but at prefent I fpurn a new book merely upon feeing its name in an advertisement; nor have the smallest curiofity to look beyond the firft leaf, even though in the fecond the author promifes his own face neatly engraved on copper.

I am become a perfect epicure in reading; plain beef or folid mutton will never do. I am for a Chinese difh of bear's claws and bird's nefts. I am for fauce ftrong with afafoetida, or fuming with garlic. For this reafon there are a hundred very wife, learned, virtuous, well-intended productions that have no charms for me. Thus, for the foul of me, I could never find courage nor grace enough to wade above two pages deep into Thoughts upon God and Nature, or Thoughts upon Providence, or Thoughts upon Free Grace, or indeed into Thoughts upon any thing at all. I can no longer meditate with Meditations for every day in the year; Effays upon divers fubjects cannot allure me, though never fo interefting; and as for Funeral Sermons, or even Thanksgiving Sermons, I can neither weep with the one, nor rejoice with the other.

But it is chiefly in gentle poetry, where I feldom look farther than the title. The truth is, I take up books to be told fomething new; but here, as it is now managed, the reader is told nothing. He opens the book and there finds very good words truly, and much exactness of rhyme, but no information. A parcel of gaudy images pafs on before his imagination like the figures in a dream; but curiofity, induction, reason, and the whole train of affections are faft afleep. The jucunda et idonea vita; thofe fallies which. mend the heart while they

amufe

amufe the fancy, are quite forgotten: fo that a reader who would take up fome modern applauded performances of this kind, muft, in order to be pleased, first leave his good sense behind him, take for his recompence and guide bloated and compound epithet, and dwell on paintings, juft indeed, because laboured with minute exactness.

If we examine, however, our internal fenfations, we fhall find ourselves but little pleafed with fuch laboured vanities; we fhall find that our applaufe rather proceeds from a kind of contagion caught up from others, and which we contribute to dif fufe, than from what we privately feel. There are fome fubjects of which almoft all the world perceive the futility; yet all combine in impofing upon each other, as worthy of praife. But chiefly this impofition obtains in literature, where men publickly contemn what they relifh with rapture in private, and approve abroad what has given them difguft at home. The truth is, we deliver thofe criticisms in public which are fuppofed to be beft calculated not to do juftice to the author, but to imprefs others with an opinion of our fuperior dif

cernment.

But let works of this kind, which have already come off with fuch applaufe, enjoy it all. It is neither my wish to diminish, as I was never confiderable enough to add to their fame. But for the future I fear there are many poems, of which I fhall find fpirits to read but the title. In the first place, all odes upon winter, or fummer, or autumn; in fhort all odes, epodes, and monodies whatsoever fhall hereafter be deemed too polite, claffical, obfcure, and refined to be read, and entirely above human comprehenfion. Paftorals are pretty enough - for those that like them but to me Thyrfis is one of the most infipid fellows I ever converfed with;

and

and as for Corydon, I do not choose his company. Elegies and epiftles are very fine to thofe to whom they are addreffed; and as for epic poems, I am generally able to difcover the whole plan in reading the two first pages.

Tragedies, however, as they are now made, are good inftructive moral fermons enough; and it would be a fault not to be pleased with good things. There I learn feveral great truths; as, that it is impoffible to see into the ways of futurity; that punishment always attends the villain, that love is the fond foother of the human breaft, that we should not refift heaven's will, for in refifting heaven's will heaven's will is refifted; with feveral other fentiments equally new, delicate and ftriking. Every new tragedy therefore I fhall go to fee; for reflec tions of this nature make a tolerable harmony, when mixed up with a proper quantity of drum, trumpet, thunder, lightning, or the scene fhifter's whiftle. Adieu.

From Lien Chi Altangi, to Fum Hoam, first Prefident of the Ceremonial Academy at Pekin, in China. I HAD fome intentions lately of going to vifit Bedlam, the place where thofe who go mad are confined. I went to wait upon the man in black to be my conductor, but I found him preparing to go to Weftminfter-hall, where the English hold their courts of juftice. It gave me fome furprize to find my friend engaged in a law-fuit, but more fo when

when he informed me that it had been depending for feveral years. How is it poffible, cried I, for a man who knows the world to go to law; I am well acquainted with the courts of juftice in China, they refemble rat-traps every one of them, nothing more eafy than to get in, but to get out again is attended with fome difficulty, and more cunning than rats are generally found to poffefs!

t

Faith, replied my friend, I fhould not have gone to law, but that I was affured of fuccefs before I began; things were prefented to me in fo alluring a light, that I thought by barely declaring myfelf a candidate for the prize, I had nothing more to do than to enjoy the fruits of the victory. Thus have I been upon the eve of an imaginary triumph every term these ten years, have travelled forward with victory ever in my view, but ever out of reach; however, at prefent I fancy we have hampered our antagonist in such a manner, that without fome unforefeen demur, we fhall this day lay him fairly on his back.

If things be fo fituated, faid I, I do not care if I attend you to the courts, and partake in the pleasure of your fuccefs. But prithee, continued I, as we fet forward, what reafons have you to think an affair at laft concluded, which has given fo many former difappointments? My lawyer tells me, returned he, that I have Salkeld and Ventris ftrong in my favour, and that there are no less than fifteen cafes in point. I understand, faid I, thofe are two of your judges who have already declared their opinions. Pardon me, replied my friend, Salkeld and Ventris are lawyers who fome hundred years ago gave their opinions on cafes fimilar to mine; thefe opinions which make for me my lawyer is to cite, and thofe opinions which look another way are cited by the lawyer employed by my antagonist; as I obferved, I have

Salkeld