Septir 761. ald The elamours against the peace juftified.

tions, and terminated the most expensive and hazardous war we were ever engaged in, with dignity and with glory. 1 47 fam, &c. men den as the fandi adı

ANY opinion of the citizens and inhabitants of London being averfe to a peace, must be built upon misinformation given to perfons in high ftations, and indeed is a fuggeftion that in its very nature is abfurd. The restraints, impediments, expences, delays, and dangers, < that attend a state of war, are ever hurtful to traffick, both of a foreign and domeftic nature; and therefore it is just as e unnatural for traders to wifh for a state of war, by which they are cramped and ~hurt, as it would be for military and marine officers, stockjobbers and contractors, who have their fortunes to make, to wifh for a state of peace. The traders then in the alley, or the dealers with public offices, may be perfons fufpected of a difpofition to clamour against any peace. But their number must be fmall, in comparison with thofe of genuine traders, who are naturally interested on the fide of pacification. Real traders therefore, of any kind, will never clamour at a fafe peace: nor is there fuch a want of good fenfe in general among them, as to render their judgments liable to deception from the artful and felf-interested.

Buty my Lord, that good fenfe muft enable them, and all others who cultivate understanding, to form true judgments of the terms on which nations treat of peace. The right they have to judge of Tuchn matters, I need not either explain or aflert's our confiitution points it out, and the common practice of proceedings. E very body of people, and indeed all individuals in thefe kingdoins, hare ever judged of thefe matters: and I will venture to fay, in general, their judgments have been found right. The public's opinion of the treaty of Utrecht ftill ftands unimpeached and happy would it have been for this nation had it timely been regarded. The fame may be likewife faid of the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle.

But it now feems to be infimuated, that public judgment is built on wrong grounds. Imoft heartily with it may be fo; and that the terms which have been fo con

457

fidently talked of [449] may not be
thofe by which the negotiations are to be.
actually conducted. Should that be the
cafe, my
be
to affure your Lordship, that the inhabi
for I will take upon myfelf
tants of London, and indeed of the whole
fafe and honourable peace.
kingdom, will moft readily approve of a

regard, public clamour need not

If the conditions of treating thrown out are not genuine, I must lament, as a misfortune, that they have not been contradicted by authority: for had that been done, I must think the public would have immediately ceafed murmuring. But undenied, as they continue to stand, they will make their comments on them; and I cannot think that I act as an enemy to the miniftry in difcovering their real fentiments.

If by the ceffion of Canada, our nor thern colonies on the continent of Ameri ca are not made fecure from French inroads and incroachments, and from their intrigues among the favage tribes, the fcene of fuch tranfactions is only like to be transferred fouthward; for the banks of the Millifippi will not henceforward be likely to bound their operations both of incroachment and intrigue; and therefore, after much vexation and moleftation, the feeds of contention fown in that quarter will, as the public apprehend, make the peace talked of not a fafe one.

Since the negotiations of last summer, the grounds of treating are much altered, We have taken Martinico, and got en tire poffeffion of all the islands in its neighbourhood. The French appear likewife likely to be driven out of Helle, which country in the last ftipulations was fet against Guadalupe, Say the people then, For what equivalents are we now to re nounce thole conquefts, and along with them the best of the neutral islands, which is St Lucia Ought a part of Canada to be confidered as an equivalent, when an other year's war will put the whole of it into our hands? Or can we confider New foundland, which it is impotlible for them to keep, an equivalent for thole islands which it is as impotlible for them to retake? To give up the islands, therefore, without their entirely abandoning the continent, is, in public opinion, making abfoluely fure of nothing: and this, my Lord, is the principal ground of the great, clamour which has ariten.

The Newfoundland fillery is another very tender point; injts nature too in terefting

The WANDSWORTH EPISTLE verified. [455]
HE city, I'm told, Sir, exclaims at a peacej

Tunniker (peaks the word, and the clarice

terefting not to incite great public attention: and it will always be difgufting to the people of these kingdoms, to have any thing left for fettlement by national com miflaries, especially while the effects of fuch ftipulations, even in our laft treaty, But that may be right which the goofe-caps think I prefume not to queftion their freedom of torgu are fo notorious. The affairs therefore of Afia, it is thought, fhould be finally

concluded with the rest.

The giving up of the Havannah like. wife, if we thould be fo fortunate as to take it, without even fo poor an equivalent fet against it as that of Spanish Florida,' is another conceffion which the public do not approve of; more efpecially as the Spaniards have fo wantonly forced us into a war, and have made it fo expensive to us as they have done on the fide of Portugal: and fhould the difputes about logwood-cutting remain alfo undecided, it will be a matter, I muft fay, of very warrantable difguft.

I have thus, my Lord, with a tender hand, sketched the outlines of complaint, carefully avoiding to touch upon any thing that could feem to border on excefs, Your Lordthip will, I am confident, im partially confider them: and judge if they appear the pleas of either faction or defign.

The public has by no means forgotten the original caufes of the war, nor the, first defign in undertaking it. Security was then, and is now, their greatest object. But if in the profecution of this dangerous and expenfive war, it has pleafed the Almighty to crown us with fuch conquefts as have put both fecurity and indemnification into our hands, the public fees no reason why we fhould not make fure of both; especially with fo much experience of treachery and evil defign in our adverfaries, and with the lure knowledge that we all have, of its being the first maxim of their policy to ruin and annihilate us. Safety, therefore, as well as profperity, are the precious objects of our regard for if the peace thould not prove a fecure one, we all know, as well as the letter-writer whom I am now aufwering, that we are in great danger of being undone. We feel the weight of public debts; we are fenfible how greatly tazes affect commerce; and therefore know how abfolutely neceflary it is, to make fure of a peace that will be both lafting and advantageous.Lord, your Lordflip's most obedient, bumble fervant,

I am, my

An Inhabitant of London.

fhall ceafe,

wrong;

For patience they're fam'd, fo 1 dare fay they

hear

The man whofe fhrewd fenfe makes their Blande

POETICAL ESSAYS.

That France at this day, tho' united with Spain,
Paffing by that advantage with noble difdain,
Makes offers, in fome respects, better by far,
Than when fingly expos'd to the brunt of the

Of honeft true-blizs, a flaunch, firm, chofen band,
Who wish better times for their dear native land;
In beginning of troubles their voices are drown'd,
The multitude's clamour all reafon confound;
This voice tho' grows louder, and, at the long-run,
The patriots prevail, or the state is undone."

My country mens candor and sense are so strong, They'll foon fure be right, altho' now they are wrong;

The people of England, that mafs of confufion,
Who are led by the nose by the flightest delufion,
In spite of the poifon of mischievous elves,
Will open their eyes, Sir, and judge for themselves.
O then what bright glory will beam on our
caufe!

What loud acclamations! what bursts of applause!
How future hiftoriaus with rapture will fmile,
Recording the praife of the Lord of the Ifle!
What thanks for a peace, on fuch brilliant con-
ditions!

A peace which fecur's fuch immense acquisitions!
And concluded with dignity, honour, and glory,
The most damnable war ever heard of in story.

The OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE, on the
opening of the Theatre-Royal in Covent-Garden,
Written and spoken by Mr SMITH.

WE

Elcome, once more, kind friends, to this
our inn;

But, ere with our collation we begin,
I'm sent to make each gentle guest acquainted,
This house is newly furnish'd, gilt, and painted.
And, for the mind's repaft as well as fbow,
Fresh stock of wit laid in by Beard and Co.
Provifions, of each fort, attend your call;
Such as, we humbly hope, will please you all.
We know you differ fomething in your palate,
But all love English beef, tho' few-French fallad.
Look thro' our larder, you fhall find no flaw,
We would give game.-but that's against the law.
Then while within for fupper they prepare,
Permit me to prefent a bill of fare.

To friends above, those honest, laughing folks,
We'll give rich humour, and high-season'd jokes:
To you who occupy the middle station,
Long train'd proceffions, and a coronation :
To you, nice critics, in the learned pit,
Keen fatire, folid fenfe, and lively wit.
And fince to please throughout our wish and
trade is,

With a distressful tale we'll gain the ladies:
Nay, for their fakes, each other charm we'll try,
And treat with love and sweet variety.
Bur, jest apart we'll vary ev'ry scene
To chafe your vapours, and divert your spleen:
If Shakespear's rapid fire, or Otway's wo,
Or the smooth music of harmonious Rowe,
Can warm your fency, or your heart engage,
To melt with love, or glow with generous rage,
We'll flrain each faculty, exert each power,
And cull the sweets from ev'ry poet's flower.
This our chief labour, and our only plan,
To gain your smiles and favours -- if we can.

To an OLD CLERGYMAN,

Upon his birthday.

Who has lived in love and affection with his wife
near fixty years: during the greatest part of which
time he has been strictly refident upon bis parif.
IN fait Hibernia's, noinden

Well peopled with industrious swaine;
Whofe flaxen labours, well I ween,
Could beauty add to beauty's queen;
Near Villa Guarea's verdant feat,
For contemplation sweet retreat,
Two fhady pines afpiring grow;
Nor can Hibernia's forets fhow
Two Ratelier trees, which farce appear
The marks of fourfcore years to bear;
Indentures on the rind below,
Juft feen, denote the annual blow
Of Saturn's fcythe, that proftrate lays
The lofty oaks, and humble bays.

When last this god, with fwift career,
Travell'd the circle of the year,

With furrow'd face, and pendant beard,
That filver'd o'er with age appear'd;
A wreathed snake his hair did bind,
In emblematic curl behind;
His motly drefs was black and white,
Denoting change of day and night;
The figure of the fun he wore,
In rich embroidery, before;
Behind, on his black robe, the moon
In all her various phases thone;
And ftars, in juftest order plac'd,
His back (a beauteous night-piece!) grac';
Around his waift a girdle twines,
Adorn'd with all the zodiak-ligns:}
Bright Venus in his fide appear'd,
Twinkling as if the Sun fhe fear'd:
A watch and dangling feals below,
As from the fob of modern beau;
The feals Egyptian artists gray'd,
And fearce from eating time were fav'd;
Th' infcriptions worn, yet sculptures fair,
Time's meas'ring-glass and cock appear;
His feythe employed both his hands,
That fcythe which quite difpeoples lands.

Thus clad, the god purfu'd his way,
And nothing could refift his fway;
'Till thefe two aged pines he found,
That made his blunted ficel rebound;
Enrag'd, he gave a second stroke,
Then paus'd a while, and thus he spake:

"In feythes and ftones you coll me mat
Than all my labours heretofore:
In vain I give your wounds this year,
The next, the marks will fearce appear:
The vital fap fill finds its way,
Drawn by the genial warmth of day:
To this you owe your verdant head,
Even when Nature's works feem dead:
Shall 1 thus annual visits make,
For mock'ry, and my tools to break!
Live on, for me :-by Styx, I fwear,
I'll wifely pass you by, next year."

•Warring ficrn.

期

Sept. 1762.

Thompfon's rules for bad horfemen.

Rules for bad horsemen, concluded. [400.] Let your feat determine the length of your firrups, rather than the stirrups your feat. If more precision is requifite, let your ftirrups (in the hunting fadule) be of fuch a length, as that when you stand in them, there may be the breadth of four fingers between your feat and the faddle. It would greatly aflift a learner, if he 4 would practife riding in a large circle, without stirrups, keeping his face looking on the outward part of the circle, fo as hardly to fee the horse's head; and his fhoulder which is towards the 'centre of the circle, very forward. By this means, you learn to balance your body, and keep a true feat, independent of your ftirrups: you may probably likewise escape a fall, fhould you at any time lofe them, by be ing accidentally fhaken from your feat.

As the feat in fome meafure depends on the faddle, it may not be amifs to obferve, that because a faddle with a high pommel is thought dangerous, the other extreme prevails, and the pommel is fcarce allowed to be higher than the middle of the faddle. The faddle fhould lie as near the backbone as can be, without hurting the horse; for the nearer you fit to his back, the better feat you have. If it does fo, it is plain the pommel must rife enough to fecure the withers from preffure: there. *fore a horse whofe withers are higher than common, requires a higher pommel. If, to avoid this, you make the faddle of a more ftraight line, the inconvenience spoken of follows: you fit too much above the horfe's back; nor can the faddle form a proper feat. There thould be no ridge from the button at the fide of the pommel, to the back part of the faddle. That line alfo fhould be a little concave, for your thighs to lie at eafe. In fhort, a fad. dle ought to be, as nearly as poffible, as if cut out of the horse.

4

When you want your horfe to move forward, raife his head a little, and touch him gently with your whip; or elfe prefs the calves of your legs against his fides. If he does not move fast enough, prefs them with more force, and fo, till the spur just touches him. By this practice, he will (if he has any fpirit) move upon the leaft preffure of the leg. Never fpur him by a kick; but if it be neceffary to fpur him brifkly, keep your heels clofe to his fides, and flacken their force as he becomes obe

atient.

When your horse attempts to be vicious,
VOL. XXIV,

J.

461

and advancing your arms forward, hold take each rein feparate, one in each hand. him very thort. In this cafe, it is common for the rider to pull him hard, with his arms low; but the horse by this means having his head low too, has it more in his power to throw out his heels: whereas, if his head be raifed very high, and his nofe thrown out a little, which is confequent, he can neither rife before nor behind; because he can give himfelt neither of thofe motions without having his head at liberty. A plank placed in æquilibrio cannot rife at one end, unless it finks at the other.

If your horfe is head ftrong, pull not with one continued pull, but ftop, and back him often, juft fhaking the reins, and making little repeated pulls till he obeys. Horfes are fo accustomed to bear on the bit when they go forward, that they are difcouraged if the rider will not let them do fo.

If a horfe is loofe-necked, he will throw up his head at a continued pull; in which fituation the rider seeing the front of his face, can have no power over him. When your horfe does thus, drop your hand, and give the bridle play, and he will of course drop his head again into its proper place: while it is coming down, make a fecond gentle pull, and you will find his mouth. With a little practice, this is done almost inftantaneously; and this method will ftop, in the diftance of a few yards, a horfe, which will run away with those who pull at him with all their might. Almost every one must have obferved, that when a horfe feels himself pulled with the bridle, even when he is going gently, he often mistakes what was defigned to ftop him, as a direction to bear on the bit, and to go faster.

Ba

Keep your horfe's head high, that he may raife his neck, and creft; play a little with the rein, and move the bit in his mouth, that he may not prefs on it, in one conftant and continued manner. not afraid of raifing his head too high; he will naturally be too ready to bring it down, and tire your arms with its weight, on the leaft abatement of his mettle. When you feel him heavy, ftop him, and make him go back a few paces: thus you break by degrees his propensity to prefs on his bridle,

You ought not to be pleafed (though many are) with a round neck, and a head drawn in towards his breaft: let your horfe carry his head bridling in, provided he 3 P

carries