Of this latter sort was Sir Hans. Though I had sent him up a letter, which lay before him, he asked me what I wanted! If I had bad eyes he said he would brush them up for charity; but as they happened to be tolerably good, I excused myself by telling him I had brought him that letter; and indeed I was quick-sighted enough to find out that his honour (as the beggar-woman called him) was a conceited, ridiculous, imperious old fool. He then considered my letter over, and finding by the contents Dr. Meade had recommended me to him, said, "Poor creature! I suppose you want charity. There is half-a-crown for you." I could hardly resist a strong inclination I had to quoit it, as Falstaff says, into his face like a threepenny shovel-groat; and was only constrained by the consideration that I had never a shilling in my pocket, and that, little as it was, I could eat for it. I have here done with the great Sir Hans Sloane. However, as I was obliged to live by my wits, which indeed were almost at an end, I formed a scheme to write a panegyric on P--p Lord H-k, then newly created Lord High-chancellor of England. I did not address him in the manner I had done a great many of the nobility, that is with my own poem, which I sent all round, like the bishop's pastoral letter; it was as Swift says In another reign Change but the name 'twill do again. I wrote a fine new one for himself, which was really paying him a higher compliment than he deserved, as my readers may perceive hereafter. I had completed the poem, and sent it to him; he desired me to come to him on Sunday, that being his only leisure time. Accordingly, I waited on him at eight o'clock on Sunday morning; the house had rather the appearance of desolation and poverty than that of the lord-chancellor of Britain. He had complaisance enough to send his macebearer to keep me company till such time as a pair of folding doors flew open, and my lord appeared in his robes ready to go to church; he bowed down to the ground to me, and asked me if I would drink a dish of chocolate with him? which you may not doubt I accepted of; and was surprised to find myself, though sunk in the most abject poverty, sitting with so great a man. which I now return with the utmost humility to his lordship again.1 EXPOSTULATION. O God, since all thy ways are just, So sore afflict the wretched dust Thou speak'st the word, the senseless clay Through every scene of life distressed, To thee past, present, and to come 'Twas thou gav'st passion to my soul, And reason also gave: Why didst thou not make reason rule, And passion be its slave? O pardon me, thou Pow'r Divine, At thy correction to repine, Lord, give me penitence sincere For ev'ry error past, And though my trials are severe, O give me peace at last! CONTENTMENT. I envy not the proud their wealth, I in this sweet retirement find 1 The word chocolate was used by Mr. Foote, the So, for my labour I got a dish of chocolate, comedian, for satire. [John Boyle, Earl of Cork and Orrery, was the only son of Charles Boyle, Earl of Orrery, and was born on the 2d of January, 1707. At the age of seven he was placed in the charge of Fenton the poet, with whom he remained until he was thirteen years of age. Then he was sent to Westminster School, after passing through which he entered Christ Church, Ox-success, no doubt, caused him to hurry the ford. At the age of twenty-one he married Lady Harriet Hamilton, a daughter of the Earl of Orkney. Soon afterwards the two earls fell out, and Boyle, siding with his wife's father, exasperated his own parent so much, that he made a will in which he bequeathed his valuable library to the university. A reconciliation, however, took place later on, and the old earl was about to alter his will when he was stopped by death. | 8vo, and in 1742 his State Letters. In 1746 he went to reside with his father-in-law at Caledon in Ireland, and there passed four happy years. In 1751 appeared his translation of Pliny's Letters, with observations on each letter, and an essay on Pliny's life. This ran through several editions in a few years. Its preparation of his Remarks on the Life and Writings of Swift, which was also very successful. In December, 1753, he succeeded to the title of Earl of Cork, and in September, 1754, he and his family entered upon a tour to Italy. In Florence he resided nearly a year, during which he busied himself in collecting materials for a history of Tuscany. This he intended to write in the form of a series of letters, but he lived to write only twelve, which appeared after his death. In 1758 he lost his second wife, and in 1759 his eldest son. These events affected him deeply and hurried him towards his end, which happened on the 16th November, 1762, in the fifty-sixth year of his age. In 1732 Boyle took his seat in the House of Peers, where he distinguished himself by his opposition to Walpole. In the same year he went to live in Ireland, and there became acquainted with Swift. There also his wife died, and in 1733 he returned to England and took up his abode at an old family seat In addition to the works already mentioned near Marston in Somersetshire. Here he Boyle wrote Letters from Italy, which were amused himself in building, gardening, plant-published in 1774, and Memoirs of Robert Cary, ing, and getting into shape his edition of the dramatic works of his grandfather Roger Boyle, and collecting and arranging his State Letters. In 1738 he went to live in a house in Duke Street, Westminster, and in June of the same year he married Margaret Hamilton, an Irish lady, "in whom the loss of his former countess was repaired." In 1739 he produced his edition of Roger Boyle's dramatic works in two vols. Earl of Monmouth, 1759. He also contributed several papers to The World and Connoisseur. The work by which he is best known, Remarks on the Life of Swift, is his worst from a literary point of view. It is weak, loose, and blundering in point of style, full of errors of taste and of fact, and marked all through by proofs that the author was "willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike." His translation of Pliny is not without merit, and his history of Tuscany, THE PRIDE OF BIRTH.1 had he lived to finish it as begun, would have | behold his lordshipamidst the sharpers,thieves, given him legitimate claims to a fair position pickpockets, and all the canaille of hell, started among successful historians. His contribu- and cried out in a tone of admiration, 'Is it tions to The World and The Connoisseur are possible that I see my late master among read by those who still cling to that class of Lucifer's tribe of beggars, rogues, and pilferers! literature, and some of them are not without How much am I astonished to find your lordhumour of a kind which no doubt was ap- ship in this place! Your lordship! whose proved of in their time.] generosity was so great; whose affluent housekeeping drew such crowds of nobility, gentry, and friends to your table and within your gates, and whose fine taste employed such numbers of poor in your gardens by building temples and obelisks, and by forming lakes of water that seemed to vie with the largest oceans of the creation! Pray, my lord, if I may be so bold, what crime has brought your lordship into this cursed assembly?'-'Ah ! Thomas,' replied his lordship with his usual condescension, 'I have been sent hither for having defrauded my royal master, and cheating the widows and fatherless, solely to enrich and purchase titles, honours, and estates for that ungrateful rascal my only son. But, prithee, Thomas, tell me, as thou didst always seem to be an honest, careful, sober servant, what brought thee hither?' 'Alas! my noble lord,' replied Thomas, 'I was sent hither for begetting that son."" I have sometimes doubted whether nobility and high rank are of that real advantage which they are generally esteemed to be; and I am almost inclined to think that they answer no desirable end, but as far as they indulge our vanity and ostentation. A long roll of ennobled ancestors makes, I confess, a very alluring appearance. To see coronet after coronet passing before our view in an uninterrupted succession is the most soothing prospect that perhaps can present itself to the eye of human pride; the exaltation that we feel upon such a review takes rise in a visionary and secret piece of flattery, that as glorious and as long, or even a longer line of future coronets, may spring from ourselves as have descended from our ancestors. We read in Virgil that Anchises, to inspire his son with the properest incitement to virtue, shows him a long race of kings, emperors, and heroes, to whom Eneas is foredoomed to give their origin; and the misery of Macbeth is made by Shakspere to proceed less from the consciousness of guilt than from the disappointed pride that none of his own race shall succeed him in the throne. The pride of ancestry and the desire of continuing our lineage, when they tend to an incitement of virtuous and noble actions, are undoubtedly laudable; and I should perhaps have indulged myself in the pleasing reflection, had not a particular story in a French novel which I lately met with put a stop to all vain glories that can possibly be deduced from a long race of progenitors. "A nobleman of an ancient house of very high rank and great fortune," says the novelist, "died suddenly, and without being permitted to stop at purgatory, was sent down immediately into hell. He had not been long there before he met with his coachman Thomas, who, like his noble master, was gnashing his teeth among the damned. Thomas, surprised to 1 From The Connoisseur, January 8, 1756. MRS. MUZZY ON DUELLING.2 Dim-sighted as I am, my spectacles have assisted me sufficiently to read your papers. Permit me, as a recompense for the pleasure I have received from them, to send you an anecdote in my family which, till now, has never appeared in print. I am the widow of Mr. Solomon Muzzy; I am the daughter of Ralph Pumpkin, Esq.; and I am the granddaughter of Sir Josiah Pumpkin, of Pumpkin Hall, in South Wales. I was educated with my two elder sisters under the care and tuition of my honoured grandfather and grandmother at the hallhouse of our ancestors. It was the constant custom of my grandfather, when he was tolerably free from the gout, to summon his three granddaughters to his bedside, and amuse us with the most important transactions of his life. I took particular delight in hearing the good old man illustrate his own character, which he did, perhaps, not without some degree of vanity, but always with a strict adherence 2 From Number 47 of The World, November 22, 1753 to truth. He told us he hoped we would have children, to whom some of his adventures might prove useful and important. the Bedlamites into the great gallery. The keepers had already unlocked the cells, and were bringing forth their mad folks, when the porter of Bedlam, Owen MacDuffy, standing at the iron gate, and beholding such a number of armed men in the midst of the fields, immediately roared out, "Fire, murder, swords, daggers, bloodshed!" Owen's voice was always remarkably loud, but his fears had rendered it still louder and more tremendous. His words struck a panic into the keepers, they lost all presence of mind, they forgot their prisoners, and hastened most precipitately down stairs to the scene of action. At the sight of naked swords their fears increased, and at once they stood open-mouthed and motionless. Not so the lunatics; freedom to madmen and light to the blind are equally rapturous. Ralph Rogers the tinker began the alarm. His brains had been turned with joy at the Restoration, and the poor wretch imagined that this glorious set of combatants were Roundheads and Fanatics, and accordingly he cried out, "Liberty and property, my boys! down with the Rump! Cromwell and Ireton are come from hell to destroy us. Come, my Cavalier lads, follow me, and let us knock out their brains." Sir Josiah was scarce nineteen years old when he was introduced at the court of Charles the Second, by his uncle Sir Simon Sparrowgrass, who was at that time Lancaster herald at arms, and in great favour at Whitehall. As soon as he had kissed the king's hand he was presented to the Duke of York, and immediately afterwards to the ministers and the mistresses. His fortune, which was considerable, and his manners, which were extremely elegant, made him so very acceptable in all companies, that he had the honour to be plunged at once into every polite party of wit, pleasure, and expense that the courtiers could possibly display. He danced with the ladies, he drank with the gentlemen, he sung loyal catches, and broke bottles and glasses in every tavern throughout London. But still he was by no means a perfect fine gentleman. He had not fought a duel. He was so extremely unfortunate as never to have had even the happiness of a rencounter. The want of opportunity, not of courage, had occasioned this inglorious chasm in his character. He appeared not only to the whole court, but even in his own eye, an unworthy and degenerate Pumpkin, till he had shown himself as expert in opening a vein with a sword as any surgeon in England could be with a lancet. Things remained in this unhappy situation till he was nearly two-and-twenty years of age. At length his better stars prevailed, and he received a most egregious affront from Mr. Cucumber, one of the gentlemen - ushers of the privy chamber. Cucumber, who was in waiting at court, spit inadvertently into the chimney, and as he stood next to Sir Josiah Pumpkin, part of the spittle rested upon Sir Josiah's shoe. It was then that the true Pumpkin honour rose in blushes upon his cheeks. He turned upon his heel, went home immediately, and sent Mr. Cucumber a challenge. Captain Daisy, a friend to each party, not only carried the challenge, but adjusted the preliminaries. The heroes were to fight in Moorfields, and to bring fifteen seconds on a side. Punctuality is a strong instance of valour upon these oc- The madmen were not only superior in casions. The clock of St. Paul's struck seven strength but in numbers. Sir Josiah Pumpjust when the combatants were marking out kin and Mr. Cucumber stood their ground as their ground, and each of the two-and-thirty long as possible, and they both endeavoured gentlemen was adjusting himself into a posture to make the lunatics the sole objects of their of defence against his adversary. It happened mutual revenge; but the two friends were to be the hour for breakfast in the hospital soon overpowered, and no person daring to of Bedlam. A small bell had rung to summon come to their assistance, each of them made as The Bedlamites immediately obeyed, and, with the tinker at their head, leaped over the balusters of the staircase, and ran wildly into the fields. In their way they picked up some staves and cudgels which the porters and the keepers had inadvertently left behind, and rushing forward with amazing fury they forced themselves outrageously into the midst of the combatants, and in one unlucky moment destroyed all the decency and order with which this most illustrious duel had begun. It seemed, according to my grandfather's observation, a very untoward fate, that twoand-thirty gentlemen of courage, honour, fortune, and quality should meet together in hopes of killing each other, with all that resolution and politeness which belonged to their stations, and should at once be routed, dispersed, and even wounded by a set of madmen, without sword, pistol, or any more honourable weapon than a cudgel. proper a retreat as the place and circumstances | half before the Revolution, much discontented would admit. Many of the other gentlemen were knocked down and trampled under foot. Some of them, whom my grandfather's generosity would never name, betook themselves to flight in a very inglorious manner. An earl's son was spied clinging submissively round the feet of mad Pocklington the tailor. A young baronet, although naturally intrepid, was obliged to conceal himself at the bottom of Pippin Kate's apple-stall. A Shropshire squire of three thousand pounds a year was discovered chin deep and almost stifled in Fleet-ditch. Even Captain Daisy himself was found in a milkcellar, with visible marks of fear and consternation. Thus ended this inauspicious day. But the madmen continued their outrages many days after. It was near a week before they were all retaken and chained down in their cells. During that interval of liberty they committed many offensive pranks throughout the cities of London and Westminster; and my grandfather himself had the misfortune to see mad Rogers come into the queen's drawingroom and spit in a duchess's face. Such unforeseen disasters occasioned some prudent regulations in the laws of honour. It was enacted that from that time six combatants, three on a side, might be allowed and acknowledged to contain such a quantity of blood in their veins as should be sufficient to satisfy the highest affront that could be offered. Afterwards, upon the maturest deliberation, as my grandfather assured me, the number six was reduced to four, two principals and two seconds; each second was to be the truest and best-beloved friend that his principal had in the world, and these seconds were to fight, provided they declared upon oath that they had no manner of quarrel to each other; for the canons of honour ordained, that in case the two seconds had the least heat or animosity one against the other, they must naturally become principals, and therefore ought to seek out for seconds to themselves. As my grandfather, Sir Josiah Pumpkin, had made a considerable figure in King Charles's court, his only son Ralph, my honoured father, was no less conspicious for his valour towards the latter end of King William's reign. Although the race of kings was changed, the laws of honour still remained the same. But my grandfather had retired with his family to Pumpkin Hall about a year and a ... with the times, and often wishing that Judge Somebody, I forget his name, had been a militia colonel, that he might have run him through the body, or have cut off one of his cheeks with a broadsword. In the same strain he often wished Father Peters a Lifeguard-man, that he might have caned him before the court-gate of Whitehall. . . . My grandmother, Lady Pumpkin, was a prudent woman, and, not without some difficulty, persuaded Sir Josiah to content himself with drinking constant bumpers to "prosperity to the church and state," without fighting duels or breaking heads in defence of the British constitution. Indeed, he might well be content with the glory he had obtained, having been once shot through the leg, and carrying the marks of seven-and-twenty wounds in different parts of his body, all boldly acquired by single combats, in defence of nominal liberty and real loyalty during King Charles the Second's reign. My father was returned for a borough in Wales in the second parliament of King William. This drew him every winter to London, and he never took his leave of Sir Josiah without receiving a strict command to do some brave act becoming a man of honour and a Pumpkin. As he was remarkably an obedient son, and indeed as we were all, not only as Pumpkins, but as old Britons, very choleric and fiery, my father scarce ever returned home without some glorious achievement, the heroism of which generally reached Pumpkin Hall before the hero. Of his several exploits give me leave only to mention three; not so much in regard to his honour, as that they carry in them some particular and remarkable circumstances. There was an intimacy between my father and Major John Davis of the Foot-guards. Their first acquaintance and friendship had begun when the major was quartered at a market-town near Pumpkin Hall. Their regards had continued towards each other with the greatest strictness for several years; when one day at dinner with a large company at a tavern my father jocularly in discourse said, "Ah, Major! Major! you still love to ride the fore-horse," alluding to his desire of being foremost in all parties of pleasure. Major Davis immediately changed colour, and took the earliest opportunity of calling Mr. Pumpkin aside and demanding satisfaction. My father asked for what? The major made no reply but by drawing his sword. They fought, and the |