Those, who are thus adorned with the gifts of nature, are apt to shew their parts with too much ostentation: I would therefore advise all the professors of this art never to tell stories, but as they seem to grow out of the subject-matter of the conversation, or as they serve to illustrate or enliven it. Stories, that are very common, are generally irksome; but may be aptly introduced, provided they be only hinted at, and mentioned by way of allusion. Those that are altogether new, should never be ushered in, without a short and pertinent character of the chief persons concerned; because, by that means, you make the company acquainted with them; and it is a certain rule, that slight and trivial accounts of those who are familiar to us, administer more mirth than the brightest points of wit in unknown characters. A little circumstance, in the complexion or dress of the man you are talking of, sets his image before the hearer, if it be chosen aptly for the story. Thus, I remember Tom Lizard, after having made his sisters merry with an account of a formal old man's way of complimenting, owned very frankly, that his story would not have been worth one farthing if he had made the hat of him whom he represented one inch narrower. Besides the marking distinct characters, and selecting pertinent circumstances, it is likewise necessary to leave off in time, and end smartly. So that there is a kind of drama in the forming of a story, and the manner of conducting and pointing it is the same as in an epigram. It is a miserable thing, after one hath raised the expectation of the company by humorous characters, and a pretty conceit, to pursue the matter too far. There is no retreating, and how poor is it for a story-teller to end his relation by saying, "that's all!"

As the choosing of pertinent circumstances is the life of a story, and that wherein humour principally consists; so the collectors of impertinent particulars are the very bane and opiates of conversation. Old men are great transgressors this way. Poor Ned Poppy,-he's gonewas a very honest man, but was so excessively tedious over his pipe, that he was not to be endured. He knew so exactly what they had for dinner, when such a thing happened in what ditch his bay stone-horse had his sprain at that time, and how his man John,-no! it was

William, started a hare in the common field; that he never got to the end of his tale. Then he was extremely particular in marriages and intermarriages, and cousins twice or thrice removed; and whether such a thing happened at the latter end of July, or the beginning of August. He had a marvellous tendency likewise to digressions; insomuch that if a considerable person was mentioned in his story, he would straightway launch out into an episode of him; and again, if in that person's story he had occasion to remember a third man, he broke off, and gave us his history, and so on. He always put me in mind of what Sir William Temple informs us of the taletellers in the north of Ireland, who are hired to tell stories of giants and enchanters to lull people asleep. These historians are obliged, by their bargain, to go on without stopping; so that after the patient hath, by this benefit, enjoyed a long nap, he is sure to find the operator proceeding in his work. Ned procured the like effect in me the last time I was with him. As he was in the third hour of his story, and very thankful that his memory did not fail him, I fairly nodded in the elbow-chair. He was much affronted at this, till I told him, "Old friend, you have your infirmity, and I have mine.'

66

But of all evils in story-telling, the humour of telling tales one after another, in great numbers, is the least supportable. Sir Harry Pandolf and his son gave my Lady Lizard great offence in this particular. Sir Harry hath what they call a string of stories, which he tells over every Christmas. When our family visits there, we are constantly, after supper, entertained with the Glastonbury Thorn. When we have wondered at that a little, Ay, but father," saith the son, "let us have the spirit in the wood." After that hath been laughed at, "Ay, but father," cries the booby again, "tell us how you served the robber." "Alack-a-day," saith Sir Harry, with a smile, and rubbing his forehead, "I have almost forgot that: but it is a pleasant conceit to be sure." Accordingly he tells that and twenty more in the same independent order; and without the least variation, at this day, as he hath done, to my knowledge, ever since the revolution. I must not forget a very odd compliment that Sir Harry always makes my Lady when he dines here. After

dinner he strokes his belly, and says with a feigned concern in his countenance, " Madam, I have lost by you to-day!" "How so, Sir Harry?" replies my Lady. 66 Madam," says he, "I have lost an excellent stomach." At this, his son and heir laughs immoderately, and winks upon Mrs. Annabella. This is the thirty-third time that Sir Harry hath been thus arch, and I can bear it no longer.

As the telling of stories is a great help and life to conversation, I always encourage them, if they are pertinent and innocent; in opposition to those gloomy mortals, who disdain every thing but matter of fact. Those grave fellows are my aversion, who sift every thing with the utmost nicety, and find the malignity of a lie in a piece of humour, pushed a little beyond exact truth. I likewise have a poor opinion of those, who have got a trick of keeping a steady countenance, that cock their hats, and look glum when a pleasant thing is said, and ask, "Well! and what then?" Men of wit and parts should treat one another with benevolence: and I will lay it down as a maxim, that if you seem to have a good opinion of another man's wit, he will allow you to have judgment.*

I

N° 43. THURSDAY, APRIL 30, 1713.

Effutire leves indigna Tragoedia versus,

Ut festis Matrona moveri jussa diebus.-HOR. Ars Poet. ver. 231.

-Tragedy should blush as much to stoop

To the low mimic follies of a farce,

As a grave matron would to dance with girls.-RosCOMMON.

HAD for some days observed something in agitation, which was carried on by smiles and whispers, between my Lady Lizard and her daughters, with a professed declaration that Mr. Ironside should not be in the secret. I

*The Bishop of Bangor was at a whig-feast, where John Sly, of facetious memory, being mellow, came into the room on his knees, with a frothing quart tankard in his hand, which he drank off "to the immortal memory," and retired in like manner. Hoadly was observing this with great gravity, when the author of this paper, No. 42, who sat next his Lordship, whispered him in the ear," laugh my good Lord, it is humanity to laugh."

This anecdote of Steele is given on the written authority of the bishop's son, Dr. John Hoadly.

N 43, would not trespass upon the integrity of the Sparkler so much as to solicit her to break her word even in a trifle; but I take it for an instance of her kindness to me, that as soon as she was at liberty, she was impatient to let me know it, and this morning sent me the following billet :

"My brother Tom waited upon us all last night to Cato; we sat in the first seats in the box of the eighteenpenny gallery. You must come hither this morning, for we shall be full of debates about the characters. I was for Marcia last night, but find that partiality was owing to the awe I was under in her father's presence; but this morning Lucia is my woman. You will tell me whether I am right or no when I see you; but I think it is a more difficult virtue to forbear going into a family, though she was in love with the heir of it, for no other reason but because her happiness was inconsistent with the tranquillity of the whole house to which she should be allied. I say, I think it a more generous virtue in Lucia to conquer her love from this motive, than in Marcia to suspend hers in the present circumstances of her father and her country; pray be here to settle these matters. I am, "Your most obliged,

but

and obedient humble servant,
"MARY LIZARD."

I made all the haste imaginable to the family, where I found Tom with the play in his hand, and the whole company with a sublime cheerfulness in their countenance, all ready to speak to me at once; and before I could draw my chair, my lady herself repeated:

'Tis not a set of features, or complexion,
The tincture of a skin that I admire;
Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover,
Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense.
The virtuous Marcia towers above her sex;
True, she is fair; (oh, how divinely fair!)
But still the lovely maid improves her charms
With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom,
And sanctity of manners.

"Whole" ought to have been left out here, and the reason sure

is a very strong one. A.

I was going to speak, when Mrs. Cornelia stood up, and with the most gentle accent and sweetest tone of voice succeeded her mother:

So the pure limpid stream, when foul with stains
Of rushing torrents and descending rains,
Works itself clear, and as it runs refines,
Till by degrees the floating mirror shines,
Reflects each flower that on the border grows, or
And a new heaven in its fair bosom shews.

I thought now they would have given me time to draw a chair; but the Sparkler took hold of me, and I heard her with the utmost delight pursue her admiration of Lucia in the words of Portius:

Athwart the terrors that thy vow

Has planted round thee, thou appear'st more fair,
More amiable, and risest in thy charms,
Loveliest of women! Heaven is in thy soul,
Beauty and virtue shine for ever round thee,
Bright'ning each other: thou art all divine!

When the ladies had done speaking, I took the liberty to take my place; while Tom, who, like a just courtier, thinks the interest of his prince and country the same, dwelt upon these lines:

Remember, O my friends, the laws, the rights,
The generous plan of power deliver'd down
From age to age, by your renown'd forefathers
(So dearly bought, the price of so much blood).
Ò let it never perish in your hands!

But piously transmit it to your children.

Though I would not take notice of it at that time, it went to my heart that Annabella, for whom I have long had some apprehensions, said nothing on this occasion, but indulged herself in the sneer of a little mind, to see the rest so much affected. Mrs. Betty also, who knows forsooth more than us all, overlooked the whole drama, but acknowledged the dresses of Syphax and Juba were prettily imagined. The love of virtue, which has been so warmly roused by this admirable piece in all parts of the theatre, is an unanswerable instance of how great force the stage might be towards the improvement of the world, were it regarded and encouraged as much as it ought. There is no medium in this case, for the advantage of action, and the representation of vice and virtue in an agreeable or odious manner before our eyes,