No. 33. THURSDAY, AUGUST 16, 1753.

IT has lain upon my conscience for some time, that I have taken no notice of those of my correspondents, whose letters to me, for reasons of state, have been withheld from the public. Several of these gentlemen have favoured me with their assistance from the kindest motives. They have discovered that I am growing dull, and have therefore very generously sent me some of their own wit, to restore me to reputation. But as I am not sure of a constant supply of these brilliant epistles, I have been cautious of inserting them: knowing that when once a bottle of claret is set upon the table, people are apt to make faces at plain port.

There are other gentlemen to whom I am no less obliged. These have taken it for granted, that as I declared in my first paper against meddling with religion, I must certainly be an infidel: upon which supposition they have been pleased to shower in upon me what they call their free thoughts: but these thoughts, as I have hitherto given no assurances of my infidelity, are rather too free for this paper. And besides, as I have always endeavoured to be new, I cannot consent to publish any thing so common as abuse upon religion.

But the majority of these my private correspondents are politicians. They approve, they tell me, of my neutrality at first; but matters have been so managed lately by those in power, that it is the part of every honest man to become an opposer. The compliments which these gentleman are pleased to pay my abilities are the highest satisfaction to me. Their letters do me the honour to assure me, that if I will but exert myself, the ministry must do exactly as I

would have them; and that the next general election will certainly take whatever turn I have a mind to give it.

I am very far from denying that I have all this power; but I have ever been of opinion that it is greater to save than destroy: for which reason I am willing to continue the present administration a little longer; though at the same time I must take the liberty of declaring, that if I find the popular clamours against a late act of parliament to be true, namely, that it will defeat all the prophecies relating to the dispersion of the Jews; or that the new Testament is to be thrown out of our Bibles and Commonprayer books; or that a general circumcision is certainly to take place soon after the meeting of the new parliament; I say, when these things are so, I shall most assuredly exert myself as becomes a trueborn Englishman.

I confess very freely that I had conceived some dislike to the marriage bill; having been assured by the maid-servant where I lodge, that after the 25th day of next March, no young woman could be married without taking her bible oath that she was worth fifty pounds. But as I have read the bill since, and have found no such clause in it, I am tolerably well satisfied.

To those of my correspondents who are angry with me for not having endeavoured to inculcate some serious moral in every one of these papers, I shall just take notice, that I am writing essays, and not sermons. But though I do not avowedly once a week attack envy, malice, and uncharitableness, I hope that a paper now and then written with pleasantry and good humour, though it should have no direct moral in view, may so amuse and temper the mind, as to guard it against the approaches of those tormenting passions. There is nothing truer than

that bad spirits and ill-humour are the parents of misery and mischief; he, therefore, who can lead the imagination from gloom and vapours to objects of cheerfulness and mirth is a useful member of society.

Having now discharged my conscience of its burthen, I shall close this paper with a letter which I received yesterday by the penny-post. I insert it here to show, that a late very serious essay of mine, calculated for the support and delight of ladies in years, has done real harm; while others of a gayer nature, and without a moral, have been perfectly inoffensive.

TO MR. FITZ-ADAM.

SIR,

That you have been the occasion of misery to an innocent woman is as true, as that I hope I may acquit you of any evil intention: you have indeed misled me, but it is another who has wronged me. Yet if I had not used my utmost endeavours, and practised every honest art to get redress from this unjust person, I should neither desire nor deserve a place in your paper.

But, alas! sir, while I am prefacing my sad story, through a too modest reluctance to begin it, I am fearful that you will mistake me for some credulous young creature, who has yielded up her honour to betraying man. Indeed, Mr. Fitz-Adam, I am no such person, being at present in my fifty-sixth year, and having always entertained such an aversion to impurity, as to be ready to die with shame even of my very dreams, when they have sometimes happened to tend that way. But how has my virtue been rewarded!- -I will conceal nothing from you, sir, though my cheeks are glowing with shame as

well as indignation.I am wronged, barbarously wronged, and will complain.

The hand that is now penning this letter was three tedious weeks ago given at the altar to the most unworthy of men -Forgive me, sir, a moment's pause- -I cannot think of what I am, without exclaiming in the bitterness of my heart, how cruelly I am disappointed! I will be particular in my relation.

My father was a country gentleman of a good estate, which by his death, that happened near two months ago, devolved to me as his only child. It was matter of wonder to our neighbours, that a person so agreeable as I was thought to be, and who had been marriageable a good while (for as I mentioned before, I am in my fifty-sixth year) should be suffered to live single to so ripe an age. To say the truth, I could never account for this wonder, any otherwise than from that excess of delicacy which I always observed in my conversation with the men, and which in all probability prevented them from declaring themselves.

As soon as I had performed the last duties to my father, I came up to town, and took lodgings in Bury-street-Would it had been in Pall-mall, or a street still wider! for then I might have escaped the observation of a tall well-made gentleman from Ireland, who, unfortunately for my peace, lodged directly over the way.

I will not trouble you with the methods he took from his window to engage my attention, or with what passed between us on his being permitted to visit me. All I shall say is, that whatever ground he had gained in my heart, it might have proved a difficult task for him to have carried me without a settlement, if the World of July the 12th, upon the love of elderly women, had not fallen into my

hands. Before the reading of that fatal paper, I had suspicions that my person might possibly be less desirable than my fortune; but now I believed, and my wishes assisted my belief, that he languished to possess me. I read the story of Ninon l'Enclos above a dozen times over; and I rejoiced to find myself of the exact age of that lady, when her charms had such an ascendancy over the unfortunate de Villiers.

My lover found me with the paper in my hand. I read it to him; and he confirmed me in my opinion, by wishing himself the Abbé Gedoyn, and his angel, as he called me, eighty years old, that he might be as happy as the Frenchman. In short, being now. thoroughly convinced that the only object of a sincere, fervent, and lasting passion in a young man was a woman in years, I made no secret to him of my inclinations; and the very next morning we were publicly married.

Alas! sir, were you in jest or earnest when you wrote that paper? I have a melancholy reason for believing you were in jest. And is a woman of fiftyfive then so undesirable an object? Is she not to be endured? Or are all men deceivers? No; that is impossible; it is I only that am deceived. I dare not say more, unless it be to tell you, that a fortune of thirty thousand pounds is rather too much to be given in exchange for a mere name, when, if you knew the whole truth, I have no real right to any name but my maiden one. I am, by no name at all,

Sir,

Your most humble servant.

VOL. I.

R