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waiter to him and bid him carry the remainder love to the forty last years of his life; but this to the waterman that had but one leg. I per only proved a lightning before his death. He ceived the fellow stared upon him at the odd. has bequeathed to this lady, as a token of his Dess of the message, and was going to be sancy; love, a great pearl necklace, and a couple of upon which I ratified the knight's commands silver bracelets set with jewels, which belonged with a peremptory look
to my good old lady his mother. He has As we were going out of the garden, my old bequeathed the fine white gelding that he used friend thinking himself obliged, as a member of to ride a-hunting upon to his chaplain, because the quorum, to animadvert upon the morals of he thought he would be kind to him; and the place, told the mistress of the house, who has left you all his books. He has moreover sat at the bar, that he should be a better bequeathed to the chaplain a very pretty tenecustomer to her garden if there were more ment, with good lands about it. It being a very nightingales and fewer bad characters.
cold day when he made his will, he left for
mourning, to every man in the parish, a great DEATH OF SIR ROGER,
frieze coat, and to every woman a black ridingWe last night received a piece of ill news at hood. It was a moving sight to see him take our club, which very sensibly afflicted every one leave of his poor servants, commending us all of us. I question not but my readers them for our fidelity, whilst we were not able to speak selves will be troubled at the hearing of it. To a word for weeping. As we most of us are grown keep them no longer in suspense, Sir Roger de greyheaded in our dear master's service, he has Coverley is dead. He departed this life at his left us pensions and legacies, which we may live house in the country, after a few weeks' sick very comfortably upon the remaining part of ness. Sir Andrew Freeport has a letter from our days. He has bequeathed a great deal more one of his correspondents in those parts, that in charity, which is not yet come to my knowinforms him the old man caught a cold at the | ledge; and it is peremptorily said in the parish county sessions, as he was very warmly pro | that he has left money to build a steeple to the moting an address of his own penning, in which church; for he was heard to say some time ago, he succeeded according to his wishes. But this that if he lived two years longer, Coverley church particular comes from a Whig justice of peace, should have a steeple to it. The chaplain tells who was always Sir Roger's enemy and antago- everybody he made a very good end, and never nist. I have letters both from the chaplain and speaks of him without tears. He was buried, Captain Sentry, which mention nothing of it, according to his own directions, among the but are filled with many particulars to the family of the Coverleys, on the left hand of his honour of the good old man. I have likewise a father, Sir Arthur. The coffin was carried by letter from the butler, who took so much care of six of his tenants, and the pall held up by six of me last summer when I was at the knight's the quorum. The whole parish followed the house. As my friend the butler mentions, incorpse with heavy hearts, and in their mourning the simplicity of his heart, several circumstances suits; the men in frieze, and the women in the others have passed over in silence, I shall riding-hoods. Captain Sentry, my master's give my reader a copy of his letter, without any nephew, has taken possession of the Hall-house alteration or diminution.
and the whole estate. When my old master
saw him a little before his death, he shook him "HONOURED SIR,–Knowing that you was my by the hand, and wished him joy of the estate old master's good friend, I could not forbear which was falling to him, desiring him only to sending you the melancholy news of his death, make a good use of it, and to pay the several which has afflicted the whole country as well as legacies and the gifts of charity, which he told his poor servants, who loved him, I may say, him he had left as quit-rents upon the estate. better than we did our lives. I am afraid he The captain truly seems a courteous man, though caught his death at the last county sessions, he says but little. He makes much of those where he would go to see justice done to a poor whom my master loved, and shows great kindwidow woman and her fatherless children that ness to the old house-dog that you know my had been wronged by a neighbouring gentle- poor master was so fond of. It would have man; for you know my good master was always gone to your heart to have heard the moans the the poor man's friend. Upon his coming home, dumb creature made on the day of my master's the first complaint he made was, that he had lost death. He has never joyed himself since; no his roast-beef stomach, not being able to touch more has any of us. It was the melancholiest a sirloin which was served up according to day for the poor people that ever happened in custom; and you know he used to take great Worcestershire. This is all from, honoured sir, delight in it. From that time forward he grew your most sorrowful servant, worse and worse, but still kept a good heart to
“EDWARD BISCUIT. the last Indeed, we were once in great hope of his recovery, upon a kind message that was sent “P.S.-My master desired, some weeks before him from the widow lady whom he had made he died, that a book, which comes up to you by the carrier, should be given to Sir Andrew Free-Upon his coming up to me, I was going to in. port in his name.”
quire into his present circumstances, but was
prevented by his asking me, with a whisper, This letter, notwithstanding the poor butler's
whether the last letters brought any accounts manner of writing it, gave us such an idea of
that one might rely upon from Bender. I told our good old friend, that upon the reading of it | him, none that I had heard of: and asked him there was not a dry eye in the club. Sir Andrew whether he had yet married his eldest daughter. opening the book, found it to be a collection of He told me no: “But pray," says he, “tell me Acts of Parliament. There was in particular sincerely, what are your thoughts of the king of the Act of Uniformity, with some passages in it Sweden ?" for though his wife and children were marked by Sir Roger's own hand. Sir Andrew | starving. I found hi
| starving, I found his chief concern at present found that they related to two or three points
was for this great monarch. I told him that I which he had disputed with Sir Roger the last looked upon him as one of the first heroes of the time he appeared at the club. Sir Andrew, who age. “But pray," says he, “do you think there would have been merry at such an incident on is anything in the story of his wound ?" And another occasion, at the sight of the old man's finding me surprised at the question, “Nay,” writing burst into tears, and put the book in his says he, “I only propose it to you.” I answered pocket. Captain Sentry informs me that the
that I thought there was no reason to doubt of it. knight has left rings and mourning for every one “But why in the heel,” says he, “more than in the club.
in any other part of the body?” “Because,”
said I, “the bullet chanced to light there." THE POLITICAL UPHOLSTERER.*
This extraordinary dialogue was no sooner There lived some years since, within my neigh-ended, but he began to launch out into a long bourhood, a very grave person, an upholsterer,
dissertation upon the affairs of the north; and who seemed a man of more than ordinary appli | after having spent some time on them, he told cation to business. He was a very early riser, me he was in a great perplexity how to recon. and was often abroad two or three hours before
cile the Supplement with the English Post, and any of his neighbours. He had a particular had been just now examining what the other carefulness in the knitting of his brows, and a papers say upon the same subject. “The Daily kind of impatience in all his motions, that Courant,” says he, “has these words: We have plainly discovered he was always intent on advices from very good hands, that a certain matters of importance. Upon my inquiry into princo has some matters of great importance his life and conversation, I found him to be the
under consideration. This is very mysterious ; greatest newsmonger in our quarter; that he
but the Postboy leaves us more in the dark, for rose before day to read the Postman; and that
he tells us that there are private intimations of he would take two or three turns to the other
measures taken by a certain prince, which time end of the town before his neighbours were up,
will bring to light. Now the Postman,” says to see if there were any Dutch mails come in.
he, “who used to be very clear, refers to the He had a wife and several children; but was
same news in these words: The late conduct of much more inanisitive to know what passed a certain prince affords great matter of specula. in Poland than in his own family, and was in tion. This certain prince," says the upholsterer, greater pain and anxiety of mind for King
“whom they are all so cautious of naming, I Augustus's welfare than that of his nearest re-take to be
" Upon which, though lations. He looked extremely thin in a dearth there was nobody near us, he whispered someof news, and never enjoyed himself in a westerly | thing in my ear, which I did not hear, or think wind. This indefatigable kind of life was the worthy my while to make him repeat. * ruin of his shop; for about the time that his We were now got to the upper end of the favourite prince left the crown of Poland, he
| Mall, where were three or four very odd fellows broke and disappeared.
sitting together upon the bench. These I found This man and his affairs had been long out of were all of them politicians, who used to sun my mind, till about three days ago, as I was themselves in that place every day abont dinner. walking in St James's Park, I heard somebody time. Observing them to be curiosities in this at a distance hemming after me; and who should kind, and my friend's acquaintance, I sat down it be but my old neighbour the upholsterer? I among them. saw he was reduced to extreme poverty, by cer. The chief politician of the bench was a great tain shabby superfluities in his dress; for, not- asserter of paradoxes. He told us, with a seemwithstanding that it was a very sultry day for ing concern, that by some news he had lately the time of the year, he wore a loose greatcoat read from Muscovy, it appeared to him that and a muff, with a long campaign wig out of | there was a storm gathering in the Black Sea. curl; to which he had added the ornament of a which might in time do hurt to the naval forces pair of black garters buckled under the knee.
* The prince here alluded to so mysterionsly was * Tatler, No. 155.
the son of James II,
of this nation. To this he added, that for his to beat them out of Norway and Greenland, propart he could not wish to see the Turk driven vided the northern crowns held together, and out of Europe, which he believed could not but the Czar of Muscovy stand nenter. be prejudicial to our woollen manufacture. He He further told us for our comfort that there then told us that he looked upon the extra- were vast tracts of land about the Pole, inordinary revolutions which had lately happened habited neither by Protestants nor Papists, and in those parts of the world to have risen chiefly of greater extent than all the Roman Catholic from two persons who were not much talked of; dominions in Europe. and those," says he, “are Prince Menzikoff and When we had fully discussed this point, my the Duchess of Mirandola." He backed his asser-friend the upholsterer began to exert himself tions with so many broken hints, and such a upon the present negotiations of peace, in which show of depth and wisdom, that we gave our. | he deposed princes, settled the bounds of kingselves up to his opinions.
doms, and balanced the power of Europe, with The discourse at length fell upon a point great justice and impartiality. which seldom escapes a knot of true-born Eng. I at length took my leave of the company, lishmen: Whether, in case of a religious war, and was going away, but had not gone thirty the Protestants would not be too strong for the yards before the upholsterer hemmed again after Papists? This we unanimously determined on me. Upon his advancing towards me, with a the Protestant side. One who sat on my right | whisper, I expected to hear some secret piece of hand, and, as I found by his discourse, had been news which he had not thought fit to communi. in the West Indies, assured us that it would be cate to the bench, but instead of that, he desired a very easy matter for the Protestants to beat me in my ear to lend him half-a-crown. In comthe Pope at sea; and added, that whenever such | passion to so needy a statesman, and to dissipate a war does break out, it must turn to the good the confusion I found he was in, I told him, if of the Leeward Islands. Upon this, one who he pleased, I would give him five shillings, to sat at the end of the bench, and, as I afterwards receive five pounds of him when the great Turk, found, was the geographer of the company, said, was driven out of Constantinople, which he very that in case the Papists should drive the Pro- readily accepted, but not before he had laid testants from these parts of Europe, when the down to me the impossibility of such an event worst came to the worst, it would be ini possible | as the affairs of Europe now stand.
SIR RICHARD STEELE.* BORN 1671: DIED 1729.
(From the Tatler, Spectator, etc.)
SCENE OF DOMESTIC FELICITY. *His cares are eased with intervals of bliss;
His little children, climbing for a kiss,
THERE are several persons who have many pleasures and entertainments in their possession, which they do not enjoy. It is, therefore, a kind and good office to acquaint them with their own happiness, and turn their attention to such instances of their good fortune as they are apt
• "A humorist of the first order, the most pathetic friendship in our history, Steele was its projector, of story-tellers, the kindest of wits and critics, and, of
founder, editor, and he was writer of that part of it all the fathers of the English Essay, the most natural which took the widest grasp upon the hearts of men. and the most inventive." —John Forster.
His sympathies were with all England. Defoe and "Steele's hearty interest in men and women gave life he, with eyes upon the future, were the truest leaders to his essays. He approached even literature on the
of their time. It was the firm band of his friend Steele side of human fellowship; talked of plays with strong that helped Addison up to the place in literature which personal regard for the players; and had, like Addison, became him. It was Steele who caused the nice critical depths of religious earnestness that gave a high aim to taste which Addison might have spent only in accordhis work. He sought to turn the current of opinion | ance with the fleeting fashions of his time, to be inagainst duelling. Some of his lightest papers were in spired with all Addison's religious earnestness, and to accordance with his constant endeavour to correct the be enlivened with the free play of that sportive humour, false tone of society. that made it fashionable to speak
delicately whimsical and gaily wise, which made bis with contempt of marriage. No man laboured more conversation the delight of the few men with whom seriously to establish the true influence of woman in he sat at ease. It was Steele who drew his friend tosociety. ... The Spectator, Steele and Addison's wards the days to come, and made his gifts the wealth Spectator, is & monument befitting the most memorable of a whole people.”—Professor Morley.
to overlook, Persons in the married state often forced to employ your cousin Will, who made want such a monitor; and pine away their days, his sister get acquainted with her for you. You by looking on the same condition in anguish cannot expect her to be for ever fifteen." and murmur, which carries with it in the opinion “Fifteen !” replied my good friend : “Ah! you of others a complication of all the pleasures of little understand, you that have lived a bachelor, life, and a retreat from its inquietudes.
how great, how exquisite a pleasure there is in I am led into this thought by a visit I made an | being really beloved! It is impossible that the old friend, who was formerly my schoolfellow. most beauteous face in nature should raise in me He came to town last week with his fanıily for such pleasing ideas as when I look upon that the winter, and yesterday morning sent me word excellent woman. That fading in her countenhis wife expected me to dinner. I am, as it were, ance is chiefly caused by her watching with me at home at that house, and every member of it in my fever. This was followed by a fit of sickknows me for their well-wisher. I cannot indeed ness, which had like to have carried her off last express the pleasure it is to be met by the child winter. I tell you sincerely, I have so many ren with so much joy as I am when I go thither. obligations to her that I cannot, with any sort The boys and girls strive who shall come first, of moderation, think of her present state of when they think it is I that am knocking at the health. But as to what you say of fifteen, she door; and that child which loses the race to me gives me every day pleasures beyond what I ever runs back again to tell the father it is Mr Bicker. knew in the possession of her beauty, when I was staff. This day I was led in by a pretty girl that in the vigour of youth. Every moment of her we all thought must have forgot me; for the life brings me fresh instances of her complacency family has been out of town these two years. to my inclinations, and her prudence in regard Her knowing me again was a mighty subject with to my fortune. Her face is to me much more us, and took up our discourse at the first en beautiful than when I first saw it; there is no trance. After which, they began to rally upon decay in any feature which I cannot trace, from a thousand little stories they heard in the the very instant it was occasioned by some country about my marriage to one of my neigh anxious concern for my welfare and interests. bour's daughters. Upon which the gentleman, Thus, at the same time, methinks the love I con. my friend, said, “Nay, if Mr Bickerstaff marriesceived towards her for what she was is heightened a child of any of his old companions, I hope mine by my gratitude for what she is. The love of a shall have the preference; there is Mrs Mary is wife is as much above the idle passion commonly now sixteen, and would make him as fine a called by that name as the loud laughter of buf. widow as the best of them. But I know him too foons is inferior to the elegant mirth of gentle. well; he is so enamoured with the very memory men. Oh! she is an inestimable jewel. In her of those who flourished in our youth, that he will examination of her household affairs she shows not so much as look upon the modern beauties. | a certain fearfulness to find a fault, which makes I remember, old gentleman, how often you went her servants obey her like children; and the home in a day to refresh your countenance and meanest we have has an ingenious shame for an dress when Teraminta reigned in your heart. As offence, not always to be seen in children in other we came up in the coach, I repeated to my wife families. I speak freely to you, my old friend; some of your verses on her." With such reflec- ever since her sickness, things that gave me the tions on little passages which happened long ago, quickest joy before, turn now to a certain we passed our time, during a cheerful and elegant anxiety. As the children play in the next room, meal. After dinner his lady left the room, as I know the poor things by their steps, and am did also the children. As soon as we were alone, considering what they must do, should they lose he took me by the hand; “Well, my good their mother in their tender years. The pleasfriend,” says he, “I am heartily glad to see thee; ure I used to take in telling my boy stories of I was afraid you would never have seen all the battles, and asking my girl questions about the company that dined with you to-day again. Do disposal of her baby, and the gossiping of it, is not you think the good woman of the house a turned into inward reflection and melancholy." little altered since you followed her from the He would have gone on in this tender way, play-house, to find out who she was for me?" when the good lady entered, and with an inex. I perceived a tear fall down his cheek as he spoke, pressible sweetness in her countenance told us, which moved me not a little. But to turn the “she had been searching her closet for something discourse, I said, "She is not indeed quite that very good, to treat such an old friend as I was.” creature she was, when she returned me the Her husband's eyes sparkled with pleasure at letter I carried from you; and told me, she the cheerfulness of her countenance; and I saw hoped, as I was a gentleman, I would be em- | all his fears vanish in an instant. The lady ployed no more to trouble her, who had never observing something in our looks which showed offended me; but would be so much the gentle. we had been more serious thau ordinary, and man's friend, as to dissuade him from a pursuit seeing her husband receive her with great conwhich he could never succeed in.' You may re-cern under a forced cheerfulness, immediately member I thought her in earnest; and you were guessed at what we had been talking of; and
applying herself to me, said, with a smile, “Mr fairies and sprites; and sometimes in a winter Bickerstaff, do not believe a word of what he night will terrify the maids with her accounts, tells you, I shall still live to have you for my until they are afraid to go up to bed." second, as I have often promised you, unless he I sat with them until it was very late, sometakes more care of himself than he has done times in merry, sometimes in serious discourse, since his coming to town. You must know, he with this particular pleasure, which gives the tells me that he finds London is a much more only true relish to all conversation, a sense that healthy place than the country; for he sees every one of us liked each other. I went home, several of his old acquaintance and school-fellows considering the different conditions of a married are here young fellows with fair full-bottomed life and that of a bachelor; and I must confess periwigs. I could scarce keep him this morning it struck me with a secret concern, to reflect, from going out open-breasted.” My friend, who that whenever I go off I shall leave no traces beis always extremely delighted with her agreeable | hind me. In this pensive mood I return to my humour, made her sit down with us. She did family; that is to say, to my maid, my dog, and it with that easiness which is peculiar to women my cat, who only can be the better or worse for of sense; and to keep up the good-humour she what happens to me. had brought in with her, turned her raillery upon me. “Mr Bickerstaff, you remember you followed me one night from the play-house;
DEATH-BED SCENE.* suppose you should carry me thither to-morrow "As in a man's life, so in his studies, I think it the might and lead me into the front box." This most beautiful and humane thing in the world so to put us into a long field of discourse about the
mingle gravity with pleasantry, that the one may not beauties who were mothers to the present, and
sink into melancholy, nor the other rise up into wan
tonness."-Plin. Epist. shined in the boxes twenty years ago. I told her, “I was glad she had transferred so many of I was walking about my chamber this morn. her charms, and I did not question but her ing in a very gay humour, when I saw a coach eldest daughter was within half a year of being stop at my door, and a youth about fifteen a toast."
alighting out of it, whom I perceived to be the We were pleasing ourselves with this fantastical eldest son of my bosom friend, that I gave some preferment of the young lady, when on a sudden account of in my paper of the 17th of the last we were alarmed with the noise of a drum, and month. I felt a sensible pleasure rising in me immediately entered my little godson to give me at the sight of him, my acquaintance having a point of war. His mother, between laughing begun with his father when he was just such a and chiding, would have put him out of the stripling, and about that very age. When he room; but I would not part with him so. I came up to me, he took me by the hand, and found upon conversation with him, though he burst out in tears. I was extremely moved, and was a little noisy in his mirth, that the child immediately said, “Child, how does your father had excellent parts, and was a great master of all do ?" He began to reply, “My mother ." the learning on the other side eight years old. | but could not go on for weeping. I went down I perceived him a very great historian in Æsop's with him into the coach, and gathered out of Fables: but he frankly declared to me his mind, him, “that his mother was then dying; and “that he did not delight in that learning, be-| that, while the holy man was doing the last cause he did not believe they were true;" for offices to her, he had taken that time to come which reason I found he had very much turned and call me to his father, who, he said, would his studies, for about a twelvemonth past, into certainly break his heart, if I did not go and comthe lives and adventures of Don Bellianis of fort him.” The child's discretion in coming to me Greece, Guy of Warwick, the Seven Champions, l of his own head, and the tenderness he showed and other historians of that age. I could not for his parents, would have quite overpowered but observe the satisfaction the father took in the me, had I not resolved to fortify myself for the forwardness of his son; and that these diversions seasonable performance of those duties which I might turn to some profit, I found the boy hadowed to my friend. As we were going, I could made remarks, which might be of service to him not but reflect upon the character of that exduring the course of his whole life. He would cellent woman, and the greatness of his grief for tell you the mismanagements of John Hickathrift, find fault with the passionate temper in * The.“ Death-bed Scene" and the "Scene of Do. Bevis of Southampton, and loved Saint George | mestic Felicity," Nos. 95, 114 of the Tatler, naturally for being the champion of England; and by this
go together in forming one complete picture. Speaking
of Steele's power in this department, John Forster, in means had his thoughts insensibly moulded into
his “ Biographical Essays," says, “All these tales the notions of discretion, virtue, and honour. I
have an artless, unpretending simplicity, and a charm was extolling his accomplishments, when the
quite unpremeditated, but which is yet combined with mother told me, “that the little girl who led me
a reality and intensity of pathos, affecting to a degree in this morning was in her way a better scholar that the equally brief narratives of any other writers than he. Betty,” says she, “deals chiefly in have never, in our judgment, equalled."