too incoherently to be rightly understood. By what I can gather from him, it seems that within three miles of this side Wickham, the party was set upon by highwaymen. Mr. Purville was supercargo to the great hamper in which were the following goods. The chains of Jaffier and Pierre; the crowns and sceptres of the posterity of Banquo; the bull, bear, and horse of Captain Otter; bones, skulls, pickaxes, a bottle of brandy, and five muskets; fourscore pieces of stock-gold, and thirty pieces of tin-silver hid in a green purse within a skull. These the robbers, by being put up safe, supposed to be true, and rid off with, not forgetting to take Mr. Purville's own current coin. They broke the armour of Jacomo, which was cased up in the same hamper, and one of them put on the said Jacomo's mask to escape. They also did several extravagances with no other purpose but to do mischief; they broke a mace for the Lord Mayor of London. They also destroyed the world, the sun and moon, which lay loose in the waggon. Mrs. Bartlett is frighted out of her wits, for Purville says he has her servant's receipt for the world, and expects she shall make it good. Purville is resolved to take no lodgings in town, but makes behind the scenes a bed-chamber of the hamper. His bed is that on which Desdemona is to die, and he uses the sheet in which Mr. Johnson is tied up in a comedy, for his own bed of nights. It is to be hoped the great ones will consider Mr. Purville's loss. One of the robbers has sent, by a country fellow, the stock-gold, and had the impudence to write the following letter to Mr. Purville.

SIR,

"If you had been an honest man, you would not have put bad money upon men who venture their lives for it. But we shall see you when you come back. PHILIP SCOWRER."

There are many things in this matter which employ the ablest men here, as, whether an action will lie for the world among people who make the most of words? or whether it be advisable to call that round ball the world, and if we do not call it so, whether we can have any remedy? The ablest lawyer here says there is no help; for if you call it the world, it will be answered, how could the world be in one shire, to wit, that of Buckingham; for the county must be named, and if you do not name it, we shall certainly be nonsuited. I do not know whether I make myself understood; but you understand me right when you believe I am

Your most humble servant, and faithful corespondent, THE PROMPTER.'

'HONOURED SIR,

'Your character of Guardian makes it not only necessary, but becoming, to have several employed under you. And being myself ambitious of your service, I am now your humble petitioner to be admitted into a place I do not find yet disposed of—I mean that of your lion-catcher. It was, Sir, for want of such commission from your honour, that very many lions have lately escaped. However, I made bold to distinguish a couple. One I found in a coffee-house -He was of the larger sort, looked fierce, and roared loud. I considered wherein he was dangerous; and accordingly expressed my displeasure against him, in such a manner upon his chaps, that now he is not able to shew his teeth. The other was a small lion, who was slipping by me as I stood at the corner of an alley - I smelt the creature presently, and catched at him, but he got off with the loss of a lock of hair only, which proved of a dark colour. This and the teeth above-mentioned I have by me, and design them both for a present to Button's coffee-house.

Besides this way of dealing with them, I have invented many curious traps, snares, and artificial baits, which, it is humbly conceived, cannot fail of clearing the kingdom of the whole species in a short time.

This is humbly submitted to your honour's consideration; and I am ready to appear before your honour, to answer to such questions as you, in your great wisdom, shall think meet to ask, whenever you please to command,

Your honour's most obedient, humble servant, HERCULES CRABTREE.'

Midsummer-day.

SIR,

'N. B. I have an excellent nose.'

Tom's Coffee-house, in Cornhill, June 19, 1713.

Reading in your yesterday's paper a letter from Daniel Button, in recommendation of his coffeehouse for polite conversation and freedom from the argument by the Button, I make bold to send you this to assure you, that at this place there is as yet kept up as good a decorum in the debates of politics, trade, stocks, &c. as at Will's, or at any other coffeehouse at your end of the town. In order therefore to preserve this house from the arbitrary way of forcing an assent, by seizing on the collar, neckcloth, or any other part of the body or dress, it would be of signal service if you would be pleased to intimate, that we, who frequent this place after Exchangetime, shall have the honour of seeing you here sometimes; for that would be a sufficient guard to us from all such petty practices, and also be a means of enabling the honest man, who keeps the house, to continue to serve us with the best bohea and green tea, and coffee, and will in a particular manner oblige,

Sir, your humble servant, JAMES DIAPER. 'P. S. The room above stairs is the handsomest

in this part of the town, furnished with large pierglasses for persons to view themselves in, who have no business with any body else, and every way fit for the reception of fine gentlemen.'

'SIR,

'I am a very great scholar, wear a fair wig, and have an immense number of books curiously bound and gilt. I excel in a singularity of diction and manners, and visit persons of the first quality. In fine, I have by me a great quantity of cockle-shells, which, however, does not defend me from the insults of another learned man, who neglects me in a most insupportable manner: for I have it from persons of undoubted veracity, that he presumed once to pass by my door without waiting upon me. Whether this be consistent with the respect which we learned men ought to have for each other, I leave to your judgment, and am, Sir, your affectionate friend,

'FRIEND NESTOR,

PHILAUTUS.'

Oxford, June 18, 1713.

'I had always a great value for thee, and have so still: but I must tell thee, that thou strangely affectest to be sage and solid: now pr'ythee let me observe to thee, that though it be common enough for people as they grow older to grow graver, yet it is not so common to become wiser. Verily, to me thou seemest to keep strange company, and with a positive sufficiency incident to old age, to follow too much thine own inventions. Thou dependest too much likewise upon thy correspondence here, and art apt to take people's words without consideration. But my present business with thee is to expostulate with thee about a late paper, occasioned, as thou sayest, by Jack Lizard's information (my very good friend), that we are to have a Public Act.

Now, I say, in that paper, there is nothing contended for which any man of common sense will deny; all that is there said, is, that no man or woman's reputation ought to be blasted, i. e. nobody ought to have an ill character, who does not deserve it. Very true; but here's this false consequence insinuated, that therefore nobody ought to hear of their faults; or in other words, let any body do as much ill as he pleases, he ought not to be told of it. Art thou a patriot, Mr. Ironside, and wilt thou affirm, that arbitrary proceedings and oppressions ought to be concealed, or justified? Art thou a gentleman, and wouldst thou have base, sordid, ignoble tricks connived at, or tolerated? Art thou a scholar, and wouldst thou have learning and good-manners discouraged? Wouldst thou have cringing servility, parasitical shuffling, fawning, and dishonest compliances, made the road to success? Art thou a Christian, and wouldst thou have all villanies within the law practised with impunity? Should they not be told of it? It is certain, there are many things which though there are no laws against them, yet ought not to be done; and in such cases there is no argument so likely to hinder their being done, as the fear of public shame for doing them. The two great reasons against an Act are always, the saving of money, and hiding of roguery.

[Here many things are omitted, which will be in the speech of the Terræ-filius.]

'And now, dear Old Iron, I am glad to hear that at these years thou hast gallantry enough left to have thoughts of setting up for a knight-errant, a tamer of monsters, and a defender of distressed damsels.

'Adieu, old fellow, and let me give thee this advice at parting; E'en get thyself case-hardened*; * A conceit on Steele's name; case-hardening of iron is a superficial conversion of that metal into steel.