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wink, and the servant brought me a brim mer of Oftober. Some time after dinner I ordered my cousin's man, who came with me, to get ready the horses; but it was resolved I should not stir that night; and when Í fèemed pretty much bent upon going, they ordered the stable door to be locked, and the children hid my cloak and boots. The next question was, What would I have for lupper? I said, I never' eat any thing at night: but was at last, in my own defence, obliged to name the first thing that came into my
head. After three hours spent chiefly in apologies for my entertainment, insinuating to me,
" That this was the worst time of “ the year for provisions; that they were at
a great distance from any market; that
they were afraid I fhould be starved ; and “ that they knew they kept me to my loss;" the lady went, and left me to her husband; for they took special care I should never be alone. As soon as her back was turned, the. little misses i'an backwards and forwards every moment, and constantly as they came in, or went out, made a courtesy directly at me, which, in good manners, I was forced to return with a bow and Your humble servant, pretty miss. Exactly at eight the mother came up, and discovered, by the redness of her face, that fupper was not far off. It was twice as large as the dinner, and my perfecution doubled in proportion. I defired at my usual hour, to go to my pose, and was
conducted to my chamber by the gentleman, his lady, and the whole train of children, They importuned me to drink something before I went to bed ; and, upon my refusing, at last left a bottle of flingo, as they called it, for fear I should wake and be thirsty in the night. I was forced in the morning to rise and dress myself in the dark, because they would not suffer my kinsman's servant to disturb me at the hour I desired to be called. I was now resolved to break through all measures to get away; and, after fitting down to a monstrous breakfast of cold beef, mutton, neats tongues, venison party,' and ftale beer, took leave of the family. But the gentleman would needs see me part of the way, and carry me a Mort cut through his own ground, which he told me would save half a mile's riding. This last piece of civility had like to have cost me dear, being once or twice in danger of my neck by leaping over his ditches, and at last forced to alight in the dirt, when my horse, having Nipped his bridle, ran away, and took us up more than an hour to recover him again.
It is evident, that none of the absurdities I met with in this visit proceeded from an ill" intention, but from a wrong judgment of complaisance, and a misapplication in the rules of it. I cannot so easily excuse the more refined criticks upon behaviour, who, having profeffed no other study, are yet infinitely defective in the most material parts of it. Ned Fabion hath been bred' all his life.
about court, and understands to a tittle all the punctilios of a drawing-room. He visits most of the fine women near St. James's, and, upon every occasion, says the civilett and softest things to them of any man breathing. To Mr. Ifaac [k], he owes an easy fide in his bow, and a graceful manner of coming into a room : but, in some other cafes, he is very far frem being a well-bred person. He laughs at men of far superior understanding to his own for not being as well dressed as himself; despiseth all his acquaintance who are not of quality, and in publick places hath on that account often avoided taking notice of some among the best speakers of the house of commons. He raileth strenuously at both universities before the members of either; and is never heard to swear an oath, or break in upon religion and morality, except in the company of divines. On the other hand, a man of right sense hath all the essentials of good breeding, although he may be wanting in the forms of it. Horatio hath spent most of his time at Oxford: he hath a great deal of learning, an agreeable wit, and as much modesty as may serve to adorn, without concealing, his other good qualities. In that retired way of living he seemeth to have formed a notion of human nature, as he hath found it described in the writings of the greatest men, not as he is likely to meet with it in the common [x] A famous dancing master in those days.
course of life. Hence it is that he giveth no offence, but converseth with great deference, candor, and humanity. His bow, I must confefs, is somewhat aukward ; but then he hath an extensive, universal, and unaffected knowledge, which may, perhaps, a little excuse him. He would make no extraordinary figure at a ball; but I can assure the ladies, in his behalf, and for their own confolation, that he has writ better verses on the sex than any man now living, and is preparing such a poem for the press as will transmit their praises and his own to many generations,
NU M B E R 230.
Thursday, September 28, 1710.
From my own apartment, September 27. T
HE following letter hath laid before me
many great and manifest evils in the world of letters, which I had overlooked; but it opens to me a very busy fcene, and it will re
[m] The letter to the Lord High Treasurer upon the same subject with this Tatler is printed in the third of these volumes. It is said, that the author writ some other Tatlers'and several Spectators, and furnished hints for many more ; particularly The Tables of Fame, The Life and Adventures of a shilling, The account of England by an Indian king, and some others : but, as we are inform:d, he would never tell his best friends the particular papers. Dublin ed.
quire no small care and application to amend errors, which are become lo universal. The affectation of politeness is exposed in this epiItle with a great deal of wit and discernment; so that, whatever discourses I may fall into hereafter upon the subject the writer treats of, I fall at present lay the matter before the world without the least alteration from the words of my correspondent.
TO ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Efi.
is properly your province ; although, as 66 far as I have been converfant in your papers,
you have not yet confidered them. These are, the deplorable ignorance that for some years hath reigned among our English wri
ters, the great depravity of our taste, and " the continual corruption of our style. I
say nothing here of those who handle parti“cular sciences, divinity, law, phyfick, and “ the like; I mean the traders in history, “ and politicks, and the Belles lettres, to
gether with those by whom books are not tranflated, but (as the common expressions are) done out of French, Latin,
or other languages, and made English. I "s cannot but observe to you, that, until of " late years, a Grub.street book was always bound in sheep-skin with suitable print and