In a

attention for these two are eternally industrious in endeavouring to counterfeit each other. In this deceit, the poor man is more heartily in earnest to deceive you than the rich; who, amidst all the emblems of poverty which he puts on, still permits some mark of his wealth to strike the eye. Thus, while his apparel is not worth a groat, his finger wears a ring of value, or his pocket a gold watch. word, he seems rather to affect poverty to insult than impose on you. Now the poor man, on the contrary, is very sincere in his desire of passing for rich; but the eagerness of this desire hurries him to overact his part, and he betrays himself, as one who is drunk by his overacted sobriety. Thus, instead of being attended by one servant well mounted, he will have two; and not being able to purchase or maintain a second horse of value, one of his servants at least is mounted on a hired rascallion. He is not contented to go plain and neat in his clothes; he therefore claps on some tawdry ornament, and what he adds to the fineness of his vestment he detracts from the fineness of his linen. Without descending into more minute particulars, I believe I may assert it as an axiom of indubitable truth, that whoever shows you he is, either in himself, or his equipage, as gaudy as he can, convinces you he is more so than he can afford. Now, whenever a man's expense exceeds his income, he is indifferent in the degree; we had therefore nothing more to do with such than to flatter them with their wealth and splendour, and were always certain of success.

"There is, indeed, one kind of rich man, who is commonly more liberal, namely, where riches surprise him, as it were, in the midst of poverty and distress, the consequence of which is, I own, sometimes excessive avarice; but oftener extreme prodigality. I remember one of these who, having received a pretty large sum of money, gave me, when I begged an obolus, a whole talent; on which his friend having reproved him, he answered with an oath, Why not? Have I not fifty left?

"The life of a beggar, if men estimated things by their rcal essence, and not by their outward false appearance,

would be, perhaps, a more desirable situation than any of those, which ambition persuades us with such difficulty, danger, and often villainy to aspire to The wants of a beggar are commonly as chimerical as the abundance of a nobleman; for besides vanity, which a judicious beggar will always apply to with wonderful efficacy, there are in reality very few natures so hardened, as not to compassionate poverty and distress, when the predominancy of some other passion doth not prevent them.

I

"There is one happiness which attends money got with ease, namely, that it is never hoarded; otherwise, as we have frequent opportunities of growing rich, that canker care might prey upon our quiet, as it doth on others: but our money stock we spend as fast as we acquire it; usually at least, for I speak not without exception; thus it gives us mirth only, and no trouble. Indeed, the luxury of our lives might introduce diseases, did not our daily exercise prevent them. This gives us an appetite and relish for our dainties, and at the same time an antidote against the evil effects, which sloth, united with luxury, induces on the habit of a human body. Our women we enjoy with ecstasies, at least equal to what the greatest men feel in their embraces. can, I am assured, say of myself, that no mortal could reap more perfect happiness from the tender passion than my fortune had decreed me. I married a charming young woman for love; she was the daughter of a neighbouring beggar, who, with an improvidence too often seen, spent a very large income which he procured by his profession, so that he was able to give her no fortune down; however, at his death, he left her a very well accustomed begging-hut, situated on the side of a steep hill, where travellers could not immediately escape from us, and a garden adjoining, being the twenty-eighth part of an acre, well planted. She made the best of wives, bore me nineteen children, and never failed, unless on her lying-in, which generally lasted three days, to get my supper ready, against my return home in an evening; this being my favourite meal, and at which I as well as my whole family, greatly enjoyed ourselves; the 3 K

VOL. IV.

principal subject of our discourse being generally the boons we had that day obtained, on which occasions laughing at the folly of the donors made no inconsiderable part of the entertainment; for, whatever might be their motive for giving, we constantly imputed our success to our having flattered their vanity, or overreached their understanding.

"But perhaps I have dwelt too long on this character; I shall conclude therefore with telling you, that after a life of 102 years' continuance, during all which I had never known any sickness or infirmity, but that which old age necessarily induced, I at last, without the least pain, went out like the snuff of a candle.

"Minos, having heard my history, bid me compute, if I could, how many lies I had told in my life. As we are here, by a certain fated necessity, obliged to confine ourselves to the truth, I answered, I believed about 50,000,000. He then replied with a frown, Can such a wretch conceive any hopes of entering Elysium? I immediately turned about, and, upon the whole, was rejoiced at his not calling me back."

CHAPTER XX.

JULIAN PERFORMS THE PART OF A STATESMAN.

"IT was now my fortune to be born of a German Princess; but a man-midwife pulling my head off, in delivering my mother, put a speedy end to my princely life.

"Spirits, who end their lives before they are at the age of five years, are immediately ordered into other bodies; and it was now my fortune to perform several infancies before I could again entitle myself to an examination of Minos.

"At length I was destined once more to play a considerable part on the stage. I was born in England, in the reign of Etheldred II, My father's name was Ulnoth, He was

Earl or Thane of Sussex: I was afterwards known by the name of Earl Godwin, and began to make a considerable figure in the world, in the time of Harold Harefoot, whom I procured to be made King of Wessex, or the West Saxons, in prejudice of Hardicanute, whose mother Emma endeavoured afterwards to set another of her sons on the throne but I circumvented her, and communicating her design to the king, at the same time acquainted him with a project which I had formed for the murder of these two young princes. Emma had sent for these her sons from Normandy, with the king's leave, whom she had deceived by her religious behaviour, and pretended neglect of all worldly affairs; but I prevailed with Harold to invite these princes to his court, and put them to death. The prudent mother sent only Alfred, retaining Edward to herself, as she suspected my ill designs, and thought I should not venture to execute them on one of her sons, while she secured the other; but she was deceived, for I had no sooner Alfred in my possession, than I caused him to be conducted to Ely, where I ordered his eyes to be put out, and afterwards to be confined in a monastery.

"This was one of those cruel expedients which great men satisfy themselves well in executing, by concluding them to be necessary to the service of their prince, who is the support of their ambition.

"Edward, the other son of Emma, escaped again to Normandy; whence, after the death of Harold and Hardicanute, he made no scruple of applying to my protection and favour, though he had before prosecuted me, with all the vengeance he was able, for the murder of his brother: but in all great affairs private relation must yield to public interest. Having therefore concluded very advantageous terms for myself with him, I made no scruple of patronising his cause, and soon placed him on the throne. Nor did I conceive the least apprehension from his resentment, as I knew my power was too great for him to encounter. "Among other stipulated conditions, one was to marry my daughter Editha. This Edward consented to with great

reluctance, and I had afterwards no reason to be pleased with it; for it raised her, who had been my favourite child, to such an opinion of greatness, that, instead of paying me the usual respect, she frequently threw in my teeth (as often at least as I gave her any admonition), that she was now a queen, and that the character and title of father merged in that of subject. This behaviour, however, did not cure me of my affection towards her, nor lessen the uneasiness which I afterwards bore on Edward's dismissing her from his bed.

"One thing, which principally induced me to labour the promotion of Edward, was the simplicity or weakness of that prince, under whom I promised myself absolute dominion, under another name. Nor did this opinion deceive me: for during his whole reign my administration was in the highest degree despotic: I had every thing of royalty but the outward ensigns: no man ever applying for a place, or any kind of preferment, but to me only. A circumstance, which as it greatly enriched my coffers, so it no less pampered my ambition, and satisfied my vanity with a numerous attendance; and I had the pleasure of seeing those, who only bowed to the king, prostrating themselves before me.

"Edward the Confessor, or St. Edward, as some have called him in derision, I suppose being a very silly fellow, had all the faults incident, and almost inseparable to fools. He married my daughter Editha, from his fear of disobliging me; and afterwards, out of hatred to me, refused even to consummate his marriage, though she was one of the most beautiful women of her age. He was likewise guilty of the basest ingratitude to his mother (a vice to which fools are chiefly, if not only liable), and in return for her endeavours to procure him a throne in his youth, confined her in a loathsome prison in her old age. This, it is true, he did by my advice but as to her walking over nine ploughshares red-hot, and giving nine manors, when she had not one in her possession, there is not a syllable of veracity in it.

"The first great perplexity I fell into, was on the account of my son Swane, who had deflowered the Abbess of Leon, since called Leominster in Herefordshire. After this fact, he