I AM considering how most of the great phenomena or appearances in nature, have been imitated by the art of man. Thunder is grown a common drug among the chymists. Lightning may be bought by the pound. If a man has occasion for a lambent flame, you have whole sheets of it in a handful of phosphor.. Showers of rain are to be met with in every water work; and we are informed, that some years ago the virtuosos of France covered a little vault with artificial snow, which they made to fall above an hour together for the entertainment of his present majesty. I am led into this train of thinking by the noble fire-work that was exhibited last night upon the Thames. You might there see a little sky filled with innumerable blazing stars and meteors. Nothing could be more astonishing than the pillars of flame, clouds of smoke, and multitudes of stars mingled together in such an agreeable confusion. Every rocket ended in a constellation, and strowed the air with such a shower of silver spangles, as opened and enlightened the whole scene from time to time. It put me in mind of the lines in Edipus, "Why from the bleeding womb of monstrous night Burst forth such myriads of abortive stars?' In short, the artist did his part to admiration, and was so encompassed with fire and smoke that one would have thought nothing but a salamander could have been safe in such a situation. I am and employ all the tricks of art to terrify and surprise the spectator. We were well enough pleased with this start of thought, but fancied there was something in it too serious, and perhaps too horrid, to be put in execution. Upon this a friend of mine gave us an account of a fire-work described, if I am not mistaken, by Strada. A prince of Italy it seems entertained his mistress with it upon a great lake. In the midst of this lake was a huge floating mountain made by art. The mountain represented Ætna, being bored through the top with a monstrous orifice. Upon a signal given the eruption began. Fire and smoke, mixed with several unusual prodigies and figures, made their appearance for some time. On a sudden there was heard a most dreadful rumbling noise within the entrails of the machine. After which the mountain burst, and discovered a vast cavity in that side which faced the prince and his court. Within this hollow was Vulcan's shop, full of fire and clock-work. A column of blue flame issued out incessantly from the forge. Vulcan was employed in hammering out thunderbolts, that every now and then flew the anvil with dreadful cracks and flashes. Venus stood by him in a figure of the brightest fire, with numberless cupids on all sides of her, that shot out volleys of burning arrows. Before her was an altar with hearts of fire flaming on it. I have forgot several other particulars no less curious, and have only mentioned these to show that there may be a sort of fable or design in a fire-work which may give an additional beauty to those surprising objects.' I was in company with two or three fanciful friends during this whole show. One of them being a critic, that is a man who on all occasions is more attentive to what is wanting than what is present, began to exert his talent upon the several objects we had before us. mightily pleased,' says he, 'with that burning cypher. There is no matter in the world so proper to write with as wild-fire, as no charac-I ters can be more legible than those which are read by their own light. But as for your cardinal virtues, I do not care for seeing them in such combustible figures. Who can imagine Chastity with a body of fire, or Temperance in a flame? Justice indeed may b be furnished out of this element as far as her sword goes, and Courage may be all over one continued blaze, if the artist pleases.' Our companion observing that we laughed at this unseasonable severity, let drop the critic, and proposed a subject for a fire-work, which he thought would be very amusing, if executed by so able an artist as he who was at that time entertaining us. The plan he mentioned was a scene in Milton. He would have a large piece of machinery represent the Pandemonium, where, from the arched roof This might be finely represented by several il- up from I seldom see any thing that raises wonder in me which does not give my thoughts a turn that makes my heart the better for it. As I was lying in my bed, and ruminating on what had seen, I could not forbear reflecting on the insignificancy of human art, when set in comparison with the designs of Providence. In the pursuit of this thought I considered a comet, or, in the language of the vulgar, a blazing. star, as a sky-rocket discharged by a hand that is Almighty. Many of my readers saw that in the year 1680, and if they are not mathematicians, will be amazed to hear that it travelled in a much greater degree of swiftness than a cannon-ball, and drew after it a tail of fire that was fourscore millions of miles in length. What an amazing thought it is to consider this stupendous body traversing the immensity of the creation with such a rapidity, and at the same time, wheeling about in that line which the Almighty has prescribed for it! that it should move in such inconceivable fury and combustion, and at the same time with such an exact regularity! How spacious must the universe be that gives such bodies as these their full play, without suffering the least disorder or confusion by it! What a glorious show are those beings entertained with that can look into this great theatre of nature, and see myriads of such tremendous objects wandering through those immeasurable depths of æther, and running their appointed courses! Our eyes may hereafter be strong enough to command this magnificent prospect, and our understandings able to find out the several uses of these great parts of the | not tell you after this, with what joy and suruniverse. In the mean time they are very pro- prise the story ends. King Edward, who knew per objects for our imaginations to contemplate, all the particulars of it, as a mark of his esteem, that we may form more exalted notions of infi- gave to each of them, by the king of France's nite wisdom and power, and learn to think consent, the following coat of arms, which I humbly of ourselves, and of all the little works will send you in the original language, not beof human invention. IF ing herald enough to blazon it in English. ON Tuesday last I published two letters written by a gentleman in his travels. As they were applauded by my best readers, I shall this day publish two more from the same hand. The first of them contains a matter of fact which is very curious, and may deserve the attention of those who are versed in our British antiquities. 'Blois, May 15, N. S. 'SIR,-Because I am at present out of the road of news, I shall send you a story that was lately given me by a gentleman of this country, who is descended from one of the persons concerned in the relation, and very inquisitive to know if there be any of the family now in England. 'I shall only premise to it, that this story is preserved with great care among the writings of this gentleman's family, and that it has been given to two or three of our English nobility, when they were in these parts, who could not return any satisfactory answer to the gentleman, whether there be any of that family now remaining in Great Britain. In the reign of king John there lived a nobleman called John de Sigonia, lord of that place in Touraine; his brothers were Philip and Briant. Briant, when very young, was made one of the French king's pages, and served him in that quality when he was taken prisoner by the English. The king of England chanced to see the youth, and being much pleased with his person and behaviour, begged him of the king his prisoner. It happened, some years after this, that John, the other brother, who, in the course of the war had raised himself to a considerable post in the French army, was taken prisoner by Briant, who at that time was an officer in the king of England's guards. Briant knew nothing of his brother, and being naturally of a haughty temper, treated him very insolently, and more like a criminal than a prisoner of war. This John resented so highly, that he challenged him to a single combat. The challenge was accepted, and time and place assigned them by the king's appointment. Both appeared on the day prefixed, and entered the lists completely armed, amidst a great multitude of spectators. Their first encounters were very furious, and the suc cess equal on both sides; until after some toil and bloodshed they were parted by their seconds to fetch breath, and prepare themselves afresh for the combat. Briant, in the mean time, had cast his eye upon his brother's escutcheon, which he saw agree in all points with his own. I need "Le Roi d'Angleterre par permission du Roi de France, pour perpetuelle memoire de leurs grands faits d'armes et fidelité envers leurs Rois, leur donna par ampliation à leurs armes en une croix d'argen cantonée de quatre coquilles d'or en champ de sable, qu'ils avoient auparavant, une endenteleuse faite en façons de croix de gueulle inserée au dedans de la ditte croix d'argent et par le milieu d'icelle que est participation des deux croix que portent les dits Rois en la guerre." 'I am afraid by this time you begin to wonder that I should send you for news a tale of three or four hundred years old; and I dare say never thought, when you desired me to write to you, that I should trouble you with a story of king John, especially at a time when there is a monarch on the French throne that furnishes discourse for all Europe. But I confess I am the more fond of the relation, because it brings to mind the noble exploits of our own countrymen: though at the same time I must own it is not so much the vanity of an Englishman which puts me upon writing it, as that I have of taking an occasion to subscribe myself, sir, yours, &c.' 'Blois, May 20, N. S. last kind letter, which was the only English that 'SIR,-I am extremely obliged to you for your had been spoken to me in some months together, for I am at present forced to think the absence of my countrymen my good fortune: Votum in amante novum! vellum quod amatur abès- 'This is an advantage that I could not have hoped for, had I stayed near the French court, though I must confess I would not but have seen it, because I believe it showed me some of the finest places, and of the greatest persons, in the world. One cannot hear a name mentioned in it that does not bring to mind a piece of a gazette, nor see a man that has not signalised himself in a battle. One would fancy one's self to be in the enchanted palaces of a romance; one meets so many heroes, and finds something so like scenes of magic in the gardens, statues, and water-works. I am ashamed that I am not able to make a quicker progress through the French tongue, because I believe it is impossible for a learner of a language to find in any nation such advantages as in this, where every body is so very courteous, and so very talkative. They always take care to make a noise as long as they are in company, and are as loud any hour in the morning, as our own countrymen at midnight. By what I have seen, there is more mirth in the French conversation, and more wit in the English. You abound more in jests, but they in laughter. Their language is, indeed, extremely proper to tattle in, it is made up of so much repetition and compliment. One | ver it out of its present degeneracy and depramay know a foreigner by his answering only vation of manners. It seems to promise us an No or Yes to a question, which a Frenchman honest and virtuous posterity. There will be generally makes a sentence of. They have a few in the next generation who will not at least set of ceremonious phrases that run through all be able to write and read, and have not had an ranks and degrees among them. Nothing is early tincture of religion. It is therefore to be more common than to hear a shop-keeper desir- hoped that the several persons of wealth and ing his neighbour to have the goodness to tell quality, who made their procession through the him what it is o'clock, or a couple of cobblers, members of these new-erected seminaries, will that are extremely glad of the honour of seeing not regard them only as an empty spectacle, or one another. the materials of a fine show, but contribute to their maintenance and increase. For my part, I can scarce forbear looking on the astonishing victories our arms have been crowned with, to be in some measure the blessings returned upon that national charity which has been so conspicuous of late; and that the great successes of the last war, for which we lately offered up our thanks, were in some measure occasioned by the several objects which then stood before us. The face of the whole country where I now am, is at this season pleasant beyond imagination. I cannot but fancy the birds of this place, as well as the men, a great deal merrier than those of our own nation. I am sure the French year has got the start of ours more in the works of nature, than in the new style. I have past one March in my life without being ruffled with the winds, and one April without being washed with rains. I am, sir, yours.' IF No. 105.] Saturday, July 11, 1713. Quod neque in Armeniis tigres fecere latebris: At teneræ faciunt, sed non impune, puellæ ; Ovid. Amor. Lib. 2. Eleg. xiv. 35. The tigresses, that haunt th' Armenian wood, Since I am upon this subject, I shall mention a piece of charity which has not been yet exerted among us, and which deserves our attention the more, because it is practised by most of the nations about us. I mean a provision for foundlings, or for those children who, through want of such a provision, are exposed to the barbarity of cruel and unnatural parents. One does not know how to speak on such a subject without horror: but what multitudes of infants have been made away by those who brought them into the world, and were afterwards either ashamed, or unable to provide for them! There is scarce an assizes where some unhappy wretch is not executed for the murder of a child. And how many more of these monsters of inhumanity may we suppose to be wholly unTHERE was no part of the show on the thanks- discovered, or cleared for want of legal evidence! giving day that so much pleased and affected Not to mention those, who, by unnatural pracme as the little boys and girls who were ranged tices, do in some measure defeat the intentions with so much order and decency in that part of of Providence, and destroy their conceptions the Strand which reaches from the May-pole to even before they see the light. In all these, the Exeter-change. Such a numerous and innocent guilt is equal, though the punishment is not so. multitude, clothed in the charity of their bene-But to pass by the greatness of the crime (which factors, was a spectacle pleasing both to God is not to be expressed by words) if we only conand man, and a more beautiful expression of joy sider it as it robs the commonwealth of its full and thanksgiving than could have been exhi- number of citizens, it certainly deserves the utbited by all the pomps of a Roman triumph.- most application and wisdom of a people to preNever did a more full and unspotted chorus of vent it. human creatures join together in a hymn of devotion. The care and tenderness which appeared in the looks of their several instructors, who were disposed among this little helpless people, could not forbear touching every heart that had any sentiments of humanity. I am very sorry that her majesty did not see this assembly of objects, so proper to excite that charity and compassion which she bears to all who stand in need of it, though, at the same time, I question not but her royal bounty will extend itself to them. A charity bestowed on the education of so many of her young subjects, has more merit in it than a thousand pensions to those of a higher fortune who are in greater stations in life. It is certain, that which generally betrays these profligate women into it, and overcomes the tenderness which is natural to them on other occasions, is the fear of shame, or their inability to support those whom they give life to. I shall therefore show how this evil is prevented in other countries, as I have learned from those who have been conversant in the several great cities of Europe. There are at Paris, Madrid, Lisbon, Rome, and many other large towns, great hospitals built like our colleges. In the walls of these hospitals are placed machines, in the shape of large lanthorns, with a little door in the side of them turned towards the street, and a bell hanging by them. The child is deposited in this I have always looked on this institution of lanthorn, which is immediately turned about charity schools, which of late years has so uni- into the inside of the hospital. The person who versally prevailed through the whole nation, as conveys the child, rings the bell, and leaves it the glory of the age we live in, and the most there, upon which the proper officer comes and proper means that can be made use of to reco-receives it without making further inquiries. The parent, or her friend, who lays the child | her good graces, or if not, who is the happy there, generally leaves a note with it, declaring person. whether it be yet christened, the name it should be called by, the particular marks upon it, and the like. 'I fell asleep in this agreeable reverie, when on a sudden methought Aurelia lay by my side. I was placed by her in the posture of Milton's Adam, and "with looks of cordial love hung over her enamour'd." As I cast my eye upon her bosom, it appeared to be all of crystal, and so wonderfully transparent that I saw every thought in her heart. The first images I dis. covered in it were fans, silk, ribands, laces, and many other gewgaws, which lay so thick together, that the whole heart was nothing else but a toy-shop. These all faded away and va It often happens that the parent leaves a note for the maintenance and education of the child, or takes it out after it has been some years in the hospital. Nay, it has been known that the father has afterwards owned the young foundling for his son, or left his estate to him. This is certain, that many are by this means preserved and do signal services to their country, who, without such a provision, might have perished as abortives, or have come to an un-nished, when immediately I discerned a long timely end, and perhaps have brought upon their guilty parents the like destruction. This I think is a subject that deserves our most serious consideration, for which reason I hope I shall not be thought impertinent in laying it before my readers. No. 106.] Monday, July 13, 1713. Quod latet arcanâ, non enarrabile, fibrâ. Pers. Sat. v. 29. The deep recesses of the human breast. As I was making up my Monday's provision for the public, I received the following letter, which being a better entertainment than any I can furnish out myself, I shall set it before the reader, and desire him to fall on without farther ceremony. SIR,-Your two kinsmen and predecessors of immortal memory, were very famous for their dreams and vions, and, contrary to all other authors, never pleased their readers more than when they were nodding. Now it is observed, that the second sight generally runs in the blood; and, sir, we are in hopes that you yourself, like the rest of your family, may at length prove a dreamer of dreams, and a seer of visions. In the mean while, I beg leave to make you a present of a dream, which may serve to lull your readers until such time as you yourself shall think fit to gratify the public with any of your nocturnal discoveries. 'You must understand, sir, I had yesterday been reading and ruminating upon that passage where Momus is said to have found fault with the make of a man, because he had not a window in his breast. The moral of this story is very obvious, and means no more than that the heart of man is so full of wiles and artifices, treachery and deceit, that there is no guessing at what he is, from his speeches, and outward appearances. I was immediately reflecting how happy each of the sexes would be, if there was a window in the breast of every one that makes or receives love. What protestations and perjuries would be saved on the one side, what hypocrisy and dissimulation on the other! I am myself very far gone in this passion for Aurelia, a woman of an unsearchable heart. I would give the world to know the secrets of it, and particularly whether I am really in train of coaches and six, equipages, and liveries, that ran through the heart one after another in a very great hurry for above half an hour together. After this, looking very attentively, I observed the whole space to be filled with a hand of cards, in which I could see distinctly three mattadors. There then followed a quick succession of different scenes. A playhouse, a church, a court, a puppet-show, rose up one after another, until at last they all of them gave place to a pair of new shoes, which kept footing in the heart for a whole hour. These were driven off at last by a lap-dog, who was succeeded by a guinea-pig, a squirrel and a monkey. I myself, to my no small joy, brought up the rear of these worthy favourites. I was ravished at being so happily posted, and in full possession of the heart but as I saw the little figure of myself simpering and mightily pleased with its situation, on a sudden the heart methought gave a sigh, in which, as I found afterwards, my little representative vanished; for, upon applying my eye, I found my place taken up by an ill-bred, awkward puppy, with a money-bag under each arm. This gentleman, however, did not keep his station long, before he yielded it up to a wight as disagreeable as himself, with a white stick in his hand. These three last figures represented to me, in a lively manner, the conflicts in Aurelia's heart, between love, avarice, and ambition, for we justled one another out by turns, and disputed the post for a great while. But at last, to my unspeakable satisfaction, I saw myself entirely settled in it. I was so transported with my success, that I could not forbear hugging my dear piece of crystal, when, to my unspeakable mortification, I awaked, and found my mistress metamorphosed into a pillow. This is not the first time I have been thus disappointed. 'O venerable Nestor, if you have any skill in dreams, let me know whether I have the same place in the real heart, that I had in the visionary one. To tell you truly, I am perplexed to death between hope and fear. I was very sanguine until eleven o'clock this morning, when I overheard an unlucky old woman telling her neighbour that dreams always went by contraries. I did not, indeed, before much like the crystal heart, remembering that confounded simile in Valentinian, of a maid "as cold as crystal never to be thawed." Besides, I verily believe if I had slept a little longer, that awk ward whelp with his money-bags, would cer tainly have made his second entrance. If you can tell the fair one's mind, it will be no small | he plants me by his side in the pit, I will call proof of your art, for I dare say it is more than she herself can do. Every sentence she speaks is a riddle; all that I can be certain of is, that I am her and your humble servant, No. 107.] PETER PUZZLE.' Tuesday, July 14, 1713. -tendanda via estI'll try the experiment. over to him, in the same manner, the whole circle of beauties that are disposed among the boxes, and at the same time point out to him the persons who ogle them from their respective stations. I need not tell you that I may be of the same use in any other public assembly. Nor do I only profess the teaching of names, but of things. Upon the sight of a reigning beauty, I shall mention her admirers, and discover her gallantries, if they are of public notoriety. I shall likewise mark out every toast, I HAVE lately entertained my reader with the club in which she was elected, and the numtwo or three letters from a traveller, and may ber of votes that were on her side. Not a possibly, in some of my future papers, oblige woman shall be unexplained that makes a figure him with more from the same hand. The fol- either as a maid, a wife, or a widow. The men lowing one comes from a projector, which is a too shall be set out in their distinguishing chasort of correspondent as diverting as a travel-racters, and declared whose properties they are. ler; his subject having the same grace of novel. Their wit, wealth, or good-humour, their per ty to recommend it, and being equally adapted sons, stations, and titles, shall be described at to the curiosity of the reader. For my own large. part, I have always had a particular fondness for a project, and may say without vanity, that I have a pretty tolerable genius that way myself. I could mention some which I have brought to maturity, others which have miscarried, and many more which I have yet by me, and are to take their fate in the world when I see a proper juncture: I had a hand in the land-bank, and was consulted with upon the reformation of manners. I have had several designs upon the Thames and the New-river, not to mention my refinements upon lotteries and insurances, and that never-to-be-forgotten project, which, if it had succeeded to my wishes, would have made gold as plentiful in this nation as tin or copper. If my countrymen have not reaped any advantages from these my designs, it was not for want of any good-will towards them. They are obliged to me for my kind intentions as much as if they had taken effect. Projects are of a two-fold nature: the first arising from public-spirited persons, in which number I declare myself: the other proceeding from a regard to our private interest, of which nature is that in the following letter: 'SIR, A man of your reading knows very well that there were a set of men in old Rome, called by the name of Nomenclators, that is, in English, men who call every one by his name. When a great man stood for any public office, as that of a tribune, a consul, or a censor, he had always one of these nomenclators at his elbow, who whispered in his ear the name of every one he met with, and by that means enabled him to salute every Roman citizen by his name when he asked him for his vote. To come to my purpose: I have with much pains and assiduity qualified myself for a nomenclator to this great city, and shall gladly enter upon my office as soon as I meet with suitable encouragement. I will let myself out by the week to any curious country gentleman or fo reigner. If he takes me with him in a coach to the Ring, I will undertake to teach him, in two or three evenings, the names of the most celebrated persons who frequent that place. If *The Ring in Hyde-park, at this time a fashionable place of resort. I have a wife who is a nomenclatress, and will be ready, on any occasion, to attend the ladies. She is of a much more communicative nature than myself, and is acquainted with all the private history of London and Westminster, and ten miles round. She has fifty private amours which nobody yet knows any thing of but herself, and thirty clandestine marriages, that have not been touched by the tip of a tongue. She will wait upon any lady at her own lodgings, and talk by the clock after the rate of three guineas an hour. 'N. B. She is a near kinswoman of the author of the New Atalantis. 'I need not recommend to a man of your sagacity, the usefulness of this project, and do therefore beg your encouragement of it, which will lay a very great obligation upon your humble servant.' After this letter from my whimsical correspondent, I shall publish one of a more serious nature, which deserves the utmost attention of the public, and in particular of such who are lovers of mankind. It is on no less a subject than that of discovering the longitude, and deserves a much higher name than that of a project, if our language afforded any such term. But all I can say on this subject will be superfluous when the reader sees the names of those persons by whom this letter is subscribed, and who have done me the honour to send it I must only take notice, that the first of these gentlemen is the same person who has lately obliged the world with that noble plan, entitled A Scheme of the Solar System, with the orbits of the planets and comets belonging_thereto, described from Dr. Halley's accurate Table of Comets, Philosoph. Trans. No. 297, founded on sir Isaac Newton's wonderful discoveries, by William Whiston, M. A. me. 'To Nestor Ironside, Esq. 'At Button's Coffee-house, near Covent-Garden. London, July 11, 1713. 'SIR,-Having a discovery of considerable importance to communicate to the public, and finding that you are pleased to concern your self in any thing that tends to the common bo |