business.' We all stood up in an instant, and sir Ilarry filed off from the left, very discreetly, countermarching behind the chairs towards the door. After him, sir Giles in the same manner. The simple squire made a sudden start to follow : but the justice of the quorum whipped between upon the stand of the stairs. A maid, going up with coals, made us halt, and put us into such confusion, that we stood all in a heap, without any visible possibility of recovering our order; for the young jackanapes seemed to make a jest of this matter, and had so contrived, by pressing amongst us, under pretence of making way, that his grandfather was got into the middle, and he knew nobody was of quality to stir a step, until sir Harry moved first. We were fixed in this perplexity for some time, until we heard a very loud noise in the street; and sir Harry asking what it was, I, to make them move, said, it was fire.' Upon this, all ran down as fast as they could, without order or ceremony, until we got into the street, where we drew up in very good order, and filed off down Sheer-lane; the impertinent templar driving us before him, as in a string, and pointing to his acquaintance who passed by.

that the place was too public for business; but he would call upon me again to morrow morning at my own lodgings, and bring some friends with him.'

Will's Coffee-house, October 26.

Though this place is frequented by a more mixed company than it used to be formerly; yet you meet very often some whom one cannot leave without being the better for their conversation. A gentleman this evening, in a dictating manner, talked, I thought, very pleas. ingly in praise of modesty, in the midst of ten or twelve libertines, upon whom it seemed to have had a good effect. He represented it as the certain indication of a great and noble spirit. Modesty,' said he, 'is the virtue which makes men prefer the public to their private interest, the guide of every honest undertaking, and the great guardian of innocence. It makes men amiable to their friends, and respected by their very enemies. In all places, and on all occasions, it attracts benevolence, and demands approbation.'

One might give instances, out of antiquity, of the irresistible force of this quality in great minds; Cicereius, and Cncius Scipio, the son of the great Africanus, were competitors for the office of prætor. The crowd followed Cicereius, and left Scipio unattended. Cicereius saw this with much concern; and desiring an audience of the people, he descended from the place where the candidates were to sit, in the eye of the multitude; pleaded for his adversary; and, with an ingenuous modesty, which it is impossible to feign, represented to them, 'how much it was to their dishonour, that a virtuous son of Afri canus should not be preferred to him, or any other man whatsoever.' This immediately gained the election for Scipio; but all the compliinents and congratulations upon it were made to Cicereius. It is easier in this case to say who had the office, than the honour. There is no occurrence in life where this quality is not more ornamental than any other. After the battle of Pharsalia, Pompey marching towards Larissus, the whole people of that place camo out in procession to do him honour. He thanked the magistrates for their respect to him; but desired them to perform these ceremonies to the conqueror.' This gallant submission to his fortune, and disdain of making any appearance but like Pompey, was owing to his modesty, which would not permit him to be so disingenuous, as to give himself the air of prosperity, when he was in the contrary condition.

I must confess, I love to use people according to their own sense of good breeding, and therefore whipped in between the justice and the simple squire. He could not properly take this ill; but I overheard him whisper the steward, that he thought it hard, that a common conjurer should take place of him, though an elder squire. In this order we marched down Sheerlane, at the upper end of which I lodge. When we came to Temple-bar, sir Harry and sir Giles got over; but a run of the coaches kept the rest of us on this side of the street; however, we all at last landed, and drew up in very good order before Ben Tooke's shop, who favoured our rallying with great humanity; from whence we proceeded again, until we came to Dick's coffee-house, where I designed to carry them. Here we were at our old difficulty, and took up the street upon the same ceremony. We proceeded through the entry, and were so necessarily kept in order by the situation, that we were now got into the coffee-house itself, where, as soon as we arrived, we repeated our civilities to each other; after which we marched up to the high table, which has an ascent to it inclosed in the middle of the room.. The whole house was alarmed at this entry, made up of persons of so much state and rusticity. Sir Harry called for a mug of ale and Dyer's Letter. The boy brought the ale in an instant; but said, 'they did not take in the Letter.' 'No,' says sir Harry, then take back your mug; we are This I say of modesty, as it is the virtue like indeed to have good liquor at this house!' which preserves a decorum in the general Here the templar tipped me a second wink, course of our life; but, considering it also as it and, if I had not looked very grave upon him, regards our mere bodies, it is the certain chaI found he was disposed to be very familiar racter of a great mind. It is memorable of the with me. In short, I observed, after a long pause, mighty Cresar, that when he was murdered in that the gentlemen did not care to enter upon the capitol, at the very moment in which he business until after their morning draught, for expired he gathered his robe about him, that which reason I called for a bottle of mum; and he might fall in a decent posture. In this finding that had no effect upon them, I ordered manner, says my author, he went off, not like a second, and a third, after which sir Harry a man that departed out of life, but a deity that reached over to me, and told me in a low voice, returned to his abode.

No. 87.]

Saturday, October 29, 1709.

Will's Coffee-house, October 28.

THERE is nothing which I contemplate with greater pleasure than the dignity of human nature, which often shows itself in all conditions of life. For, notwithstanding the degeneracy and meanness that is crept into it, there are a thousand occasions in which it breaks through its original corruption, and shows what it once was, and what it will be hereafter. I consider the soul of man as the ruin of a glorious pile of building; where, amidst great heaps of rubbish, you meet with noble fragments of sculpture, broken pillars and obelisks, and a magnificence in confusion. Virtue and wisdom are continually employed in clearing the ruins, removing these disorderly heaps, recovering the noble pieces that lie buried under them, and adjusting them as well as possible according to their ancient symmetry and beauty. A happy educa. tion, conversation with the finest spirits, looking abroad into the works of nature, and observations upon mankind, are the great assistances to this necessary and glorious work. But even among those who have never had the hap. piness of any of these advantages, there are sometimes such exertions of the greatness that is natural to the mind of man, as show capaci. ties and abilities, which only want these accidental helps to fetch them out, and show them in a proper light. A plebeian soul is still the ruin of this glorious edifice, though encumbered with all its rubbish. This reflection rose in me from a letter which my servant dropped as he was dressing me, and which he told me was communicated to him, as he is an acquaintance of some of the persons mentioned in it. The epistle is from one serjeant Hall of the footguards. It is directed; To serjeant Cabe, in the Coldstream regiment of foot-guards, at the Red-lettice, in the Butcher-row, near Templebar.'

I was so pleased with several touches in it, that I could not forbear showing it to a cluster of critics, who, instead of considering it in the light I have done, examined it by the rules of epistolary writing. For as these gentlemen are seldom men of any great genius, they work altogether by mechanical rules, and are able to discover no beauties that are not pointed out by Bouhours and Rapin. The letter is as follows:

Arthur is very well; but I can give you no account of Elms; he was in the hospital before I came into the field. I will not pretend to give you an account of the battle, knowing you have a better in the prints. Pray give my service to Mrs. Cook and her daughter, to Mr. Stoffet and his wife, and to Mr. Lyver, and Thomas Hogsdon, and to Mr. Ragdell, and to all my friends and acquaintance in general who do ask after me. My love to Mrs. Stevenson. I am sorry for the sending such ill news. Her husband was gathering a little money together to send to his wife, and put it into my hands. I have seven shillings and three pence, which I shall take care to send her. Wishing your wife a safe delivery, and both of you all happiness, rest your assured friend and comrade,

JOHN HALL.

'We had but an indifferent breakfast; but the mounseers never had such a dinner in all their lives.

My kind love to my comrade Hinton, and Mrs. Morgan, and to John Brown and his wife. I sent two shillings, and Stevenson sixpence, to drink with you at Mr. Cook's; but I have heard nothing from him. It was by Mr. Edgar.

Corporal Hartwell desires to be remembered to you, and desires you to inquire of Edgar, what is become of his wife Pegg; and when you write, to send word in your letter what trade she drives.

We have here very bad weather, which I doubt will be a hindrance to the siege; but I am in hopes we shall be masters of the town in a little time, and then, I believe, we shall go to garrison.'

I saw the critics prepared to nibble at my letter; therefore examined it myself, partly in their way, and partly my own. This is, said I, truly a letter, and an honest representation of that cheerful heart which accompanies the poor soldier in his warfare. Is not there in this all the topic of submitting to our destiny as well discussed as if a greater man had been placed, like Brutus, in his tent at midnight, reflecting on all the occurrences of past life, and saying fine things on Being itself? What serjeant Hall knows of the matter is, that he wishes there had not been so many killed; and he had himself a very bad shot in the head, and should recover if it pleased God. But be that as it will, he takes care, like a man of honour, as he certainly is, to let the widow Stevenson know, that he had seven From the camp before Mons, September 26. and threepence for her, and that, if he lives, he 'COMRADE,-I received yours, and am glad is sure he shall go into garrison at last. I doubt yourself and your wife are in good health, with not but all the good company at the Red-lettice all the rest of my friends. Our battalion suffer- drank his health with as much real esteem as ed more than I could wish in the action. But we do of any of our friends. All that I am conwho can withstand fate? Poor Richard Steven-cerned for is, that Mrs. Peggy Hartwell may be son had his fate with a great many more. He offended at showing this letter, because her conwas killed dead before we entered the trenches. duct in Mr. Hartwell's absence is a little inWe had above two hundred of our battalion kill-quired into. But I could not sink that circumed and wounded. We lost ten serjeants, six are stance, because you critics would have lost one as followeth: Jennings, Castles, Roach, Sher- of the parts which I doubt not but you have much ring, Meyrick, and my son Smith. The rest to say upon, whether the familiar way is well are not your acquaintance. I have received a hit in this style or not? As for myself, I take very bad shot in my head myself, but am in a very particular satisfaction in seeing any lethopes, and please God, I shall recover. I conti- ter that is fit only for those to read who are connue in the field, and lie at my colonel's quarters.cerned in it, but especially on such a subject.

If we consider the heap of an army, utterly out of all prospect of rising and preferment, as they certainly are, and such great things executed by them, it is hard to account for the motive of their gallantry. But to me, who was a cadet at the battle of Coldstream in Scotland, when Monk charged at the head of the regiment, now called Coldstream, from the victory of that day; I remember it as well as if it were yesterday, I stood on the left of old West, who I believe is now at Chelsea; I say, to me, who know very well this part of mankind, I take the gallantry of private soldiers to proceed from the same, if not from a nobler impulse than that of gentlemen and officers. They have the same taste of being acceptable to their friends, and go through the difficulties of that profession by the same irresistible charm of fellowship, and the communication of joys and sorrows, which quickens the relish of pleasure, and abates the anguish of pain. Add to this, that they have the same regard to fame, though they do not expect so great a share as men above them hope for; but I will engage serjeant Hall would die ten thousand deaths, rather than a word should be spoken at the Red-lettice, or any part of the Butcher-row, in prejudice to his courage or honesty. If you will have my opinion, then, of the serjeant's letter, I pronounce the style to be mixed, but truly epistolary ; the sentiment relating to his own wound is in the sublime; the postscript of Pegg Hartwell, in the gay; and the whole, the picture of the bravest sort of men, that is to say, a man of great courage and small hopes.

I HAVE lately received a letter from a friend in the country, wherein he acquaints me, that two or three men of the town are got among them, and have brought down particular words and phrases, which were never before in those parts.' He mentions in particular the words Gunner and Gunster, which my correspondent observes, they make use of, when any thing has been related that is strange and surprising; and, therefore, desires I would explain those terms, as I have many others, for the information of such as live at a distance from this town and

court, which he calls the great mints of language. His letter is dated from York: and, if he tells me truth, a word in its ordinary circulation does not reach that city within the space of five years after it is first stamped. I cannot say how long these words have been current in town, but I shall now take care to send them down by the next post.

I must, in the first place, observe, that the words Gunner and Gunster* are not to be used promiscuously; for a Gunner, properly speaking, is not a Gunster; nor is a Gunster, vice versa, a Gunner. They both, indeed, are derived from the word gun, and so far they agree. But as a gun is remarkable for its destroying at a distance, or for the report it makes, which is apt to startle all its hearers, those who recount strange accidents and circumstances, which have no manner of foundation in truth, when they design to do mischief, are comprehended, From my own Apartment, October 28. under the appellation of Gunners; but when they endeavour only to surprise and entertain, When I came home this evening, I found, they are distinguished by the name of Gunafter many attempts to vary my thoughts, that sters. Gunners, therefore, are the pest of somy head still ran upon the subject of the dis-ciety, but the Gunsters often the diversion. The course to-night at Will's. I fell, therefore, into the amusement of proportioning the glory of a battle among the whole army, and dividing it into shares, according to the method of the million lottery. In this bank of fame, by an exact calculation, and the rules of political arithmetic, I have allotted ten hundred thousand shares; five hundred thousand of which is the due of the general, two hundred thousand I assign to the general officers, and two hundred thousand more to all the commissioned officers, from colonels to ensigns; the remaining hundred thou sand must be distributed among the non-commissioned officers and private men: according to which computation, I find serjeant Hall is to

have one share and a fraction of two-fifths.
When I was a boy at Oxford, there was, among
the antiquities near the theatre, a great stone,
on which were engraven the names of all who
fell in the battle of Marathon. The generous
and knowing people of Athens understood the
force of the desire of glory, and would not let
the meanest soldier perish in oblivion. Were
the natural impulse of the British nation ani.
mated with such monuments, what man would
be so mean, as not to hazard his life for his ten
hundred thousandth part of the honour in such
a day as that of Blenheim or Blaregnies?

Gunner is destructive, and hated; the Gunster innocent, and laughed at. The first is prejudicial to others, the other only to himself.

This being premised, I must, in the next place, subdivide the Gunner into several branches: all, or the chief of which are, I think, as follows:

First, the Bombadier.
Secondly, the Miner.
Thirdly, the Squib.
Fourthly, the Serpent.

And, First, of the first. The Bombadier tosses his balls sometimes into the midst of a

city, with a design to fill all around him with known to drop a bomb in a senate-house, and to is at several eminent stations, which he looks scatter a panic over a nation. But his chief aim upon as the fairest marks, and uses all his skill to do execution upon those who possess them. Every man so situated, let his merit be never so great, is sure to undergo a bombardment. It is further observed, that the only way to be out of

terror and combustion. He has been sometimes

A writer in the Examiner, having, about three years after this, used the expression of Gunsters, adds the following marginal note,

'A whiggish cant word for liars.'

t

danger from the bursting of a bomb, is to lie, you a thousand adventures that happened when prostrate on the ground; a posture too abject for you were with them, which you know nothing generous spirits.

Secondly, the Miner.

As the bombadier levels his mischief at nations and cities, the Miner busies himself in ruining and overturning private houses and particular persons. He often acts as a spy, in discovering the secret avenues and unguarded accesses of families, where, after he has made his proper discoveries and dispositions, he sets sudden fire to his train, that blows up families, scatters friends, separates lovers, disperses kindred, and shakes a whole neighbourhood.

It is to be noted, that several females are great proficients in this way of engineering. The marks by which they are to be known, are, a wonderful solicitude for the reputation of their friends, and a more than ordinary concern for the good of their neighbours. There is also in them something so very like religion, as may deceive the vulgar; but if you look upon it more nearly, you see on it such a cast of censoriousness, as discovers it to be nothing but hypocrisy. Cleomilla is a great instance of a female Miner; but, as my design is to expose only the incorrigible, let her be silent for the future, and I shall be so too.

Thirdly, the Squib.

of. They have a quality of having been present at every thing they hear related; and never heard a man commended, who was not their intimate acquaintance, if not their kinsman.

I hope these notes may serve as a rough draught for a new establishment of engineers, which I shall hereafter fill up with proper persons, according to my own observations on their conduct, having already had one recommended to me for the general of my artillery. But that, and all the other posts, I intend to keep open until I can inform myself of the candidates; having resolved in this case to depend no more upon their friends' word, than I would upon their own.

From my own Apartment, October 31.

*I was this morning awakened by a sudden shake of the house; and as soon as I had got a little out of my consternation, I felt another, which was followed by two or three repetitions of the same convulsion. I got up as fast as possible, girt on my rapier, and snatched up my hat, when my landlady came up to me, and told me, 'that the gentlewoman of the next house begged me to step thither, for that a lodger she had taken in was run mad; and she desired my ad

The Squibs are those who, in the common phrase of the word, are called libellers, lampoon-vice,' as indeed every body in the whole lane ers, and pamphleteers. Their fire-works are made up in paper; and it is observed, that they mix abundance of charcoal in their powder, that they may be sure to blacken where they cannot singe. These are observed to give a consternation and disturbance only to weak minds; which, according to the proverb, are always more afraid than hurt.'

Fourthly, Serpents.

The serpents are a petty kind of Gunners, more pernicious than any of the rest. They make use of a sort of white powder, that goes off without any violent crack, but gives a gentle sound much like that of a whisper; and is more destructive in all parts of life, than any of the materials made use of by any of the fraternity. Come we now to the Gunsters.

does upon important occasions. I am not, like some artists, saucy because I can be beneficial, but went immediately. Our neighbour told us, 'she had the day before let her second floor to a very genteel youngish man, who told her he kept extraordinary good hours, and was generally at home most part of the morning and evening at study; but that this morning he had for an hour together made this extravagant noise which we then heard.' I went up stairs with my hand upon the hilt of my rapier, and ap proached this new lodger's door. I looked in at the key-hole, and there I saw a well-made man look with great attention on a book, and, on a sudden, jump into the air so high, that his head almost touched the ceiling. He came down safe on his right foot, and again flew up, alighting on his left; then looked again at his book, and, holding out his right leg, put it into such a qui

This race of engineers deals altogether in wind-guns, which, by recoiling, often knock down those who discharge them, without hurt-vering motion, that I thought he would have ing any body else; and, according to the various compressions of the air, make such strange squeaks, cracks, pops, and bounces, as it is impossible to hear without laughing. It is observable, however, that there is a disposition in a Gunster to become a Gunner; and though their proper instruments are only loaded with wind, they often, out of wantonness, fire a bomb, or spring a mine, out of their natural inclination to engineering; by which means they do mischief when they do not design it, and have their bones broken when they do not deserve it.

This sort of engineers are the most unaccountable race of men in the world. Some of them have received above a hundred wounds, and yet have not a scar in their bodies; some have debauched multitudes of women, who have died maids. You may be with them from morning until night, and the next day they shall tell

shaken it off. He used the left after the same manner, when, on a sudden, to my great surprise, he stooped himself incredibly low, and turned gently on his toes. After this circular motion, he continued bent in that humble posture for some time, looking on his book. After this he recovered himself with a sudden spring, and flew round the room in all the violence and disorder imaginable, until he made a full pause for want of breath. In this interim my woman asked, what I thought.' I whispered, 'that I thought this learned person an enthusiast, who possibly had his first education in the Peripatetic way, which was a sect of philosophers who always studied when walking.' But, observing him much out of breath, I thought it the best time to master him if he were disordered, and knock

*The remainder of this paper was written by Addison.

ed at his door. I was surprised to find him opening than one from Tom's, Will's, White's, or St.
it, and say with great civility and good mien, James's. I promise, therefore, to be frequent
that he hoped he had not disturbed us.' I be for the future in my rural dates to you. But,
lieved him in a lucid interval, and desired he for fear you should, from what I have said, be
would please to let me see his book.' He did so, induced to believe I shun the commerce of men,
smiling. I could not make any thing of it, and, I must inform you, that there is a fresh topic of
therefore, asked in what language it was writ.' discourse lately arisen amongst the ingenious in
He said, it was one he studied with great ap- our part of the world, and is become the more
plication; but it was his profession to teach it, fashionable for the ladies giving into it. This
and could not communicate his knowledge with. we owe to Isaac Bickerstaff, who is very much
out a consideration.' I answered that I hoped censured by some, and as much justified by
he would hereafter keep his thoughts to himself, others. Soine criticise his style, his humour,
for his meditation this morning had cost me and his matter; others admire the whole man.
three coffee-dishes, and a clean pipe.' He seemed Some pretend, from the informations of their
concerned at that, and told me he was a dancing. friends in town, to decypher the author; and
master, and had been reading a dance or two others confess they are lost in their guesses.
before he went out, which had been written by For my part I must own myself a professed ad-
one who taught at an academy in France.'* He mirer of the paper, and desire you to send me a
observed me at a stand, and went on to inform complete set, together with your thoughts of the
me, that now articulate motions, as well as squire and his lucubrations."
sounds, were expressed by proper characters;
and that there is nothing so common, as to com-
municate a dance by a letter.' I besought him
hereafter to meditate in a ground-room, for that
otherwise it would be impossible for an artist of
any other kind to live near him; and that I
was sure several of his thoughts, this morning,
would have shaken my spectacles off my nose,
had I been myself at study.

I then took my leave of this virtuoso, and turned to my chamber, meditating on the various occupations of rational creatures.

No. 89.]

Thursday, November 3, 1709.

Rura mihi placcant, riguique in vallibus amnes,
Flumina amem sylvasque inglorius--

There is no pleasure like that of receiving praise from the praise-worthy; and I own it a very solid happiness, that these my lucubrations are approved of by a person of so fine a taste as the author of this letter, who is capable of enjoying the world in the simplicity of its natural beauties. This pastoral letter, if I may so call it, must be written by a man who carries his entertainment wherever he goes, and is, unre-doubtedly, one of those happy men who appear far otherwise to the vulgar. I dare say he is not envied by the vicious, the vain, the frolic, and the loud; but is continually blessed with that strong and serious delight, which flows from a well-taught and liberal mind. With great respect to country sports, I may say, this gentleman could pass his time agreeably, if there were not a hare or a fox in his county. That calm and elegant satisfaction which the vulgar call melancholy, is the true and proper delight of men of knowledge and virtue. What we take for diversion, which is a kind of forgetting ourselves, is but a mean way of entertainment, in comparison of that which is considering, knowing, and enjoying ourselves. The un-pleasures of ordinary people are in their passions; but the seat of this delight is in the reason and understanding. Such a frame of mind raises that sweet enthusiasm, which warms the imagination at the sight of every work of nalandscape. I shall be ever proud of advices from ture, and turns all round you into picture and the learned, as well as the busy world. this gentleman; for I profess writing news from

Virg. Georg. ii. 485.

My next desire is, void of care and strife,
To lead a soft, secure, inglorious life:
A country cottage near a crystal flood,
A winding valley, and a lofty wood.

Dryden.

Grecian Coffee-house, November 2.

I HAVE received this short epistle from an known hand.

'SIR,-I have no more to trouble you with, than to desire you would in your next help me to some answer to the enclosed concerning yourself. In the mean time I congratulate you upon the increase of your fame, which you see has extended itself beyond the bills of mortality.

'SIR, That the country is barren of news has been the excuse, time out of mind, for dropping a correspondence with our friends in London; as if it were impossible, out of a coffee-house, to write an agreeable letter. I am too ingenuous to endeavour at the covering of my negligence with so common an excuse. Doubtless, amongst friends, bred, as we have been, to the knowledge of books as well as men, a letter dated from a garden, a grotto, a fountain, a wood, a meadow, or the banks of a river, may be more entertain

*Thoinet Arbeau, a dancing-master Paris, is here justly celebrated, as the real inventor of the art of writ ing dances in characters, termed orchesography, from two Greek words, px, a dance, and y pap, I write.

As for my labours, which he is pleased to inquire after, if they can but wear one imper tinence out of human life, destroy a single vice, or give a morning's cheerfulness to an honest mind; in short, if the world can be but one virtue the better, or in any degree less vicious, or receive from them the smallest addition to their innocent diversions, I shall not think my pains, or indeed my life, to have been spent in vain.

Thus far as to, my studies. It will be ex. pected I should, in the next place, give some account of my life. I shall, therefore, for the satisfaction of the present age, and the benefit of posterity, present the world with the follow. ing abridgment of it.