eyes

of the populace, which, however, as already stated, to the great mortification of their vanity, they never have acquired.

I consider any attempts, therefore, of this kind, as doomed to be unsuccessful; but, as somewhat seems to be expected by my correspondent, I shall relate a Project of which I adopted during the whole of the rainy season, and which I have found effectual in my own case, and that of a few friends whom I prevailed upon to follow my example.

My rule, then, is simply this: I determine to enjoy all out-door amusements, during a rainy season, by proxy, and to see all sights by the eyes of other people. This may appear a little paradoxical; but I can assure my readers that it is one of the most simple prescriptions that can be taken, and at the same time one of the most efficacious in preventing all the inconveniences of curiosity. The medium through which I view all public spectacles is that common machine called a Newspaper; and from repeated experiments, as well as the information of my friends, I can aver without hazard of contradiction that sights seen through this medium are far more "sublime, delightful, enchanting, enrapturing, captivating, and

unspeakable," &c. than by the naked eye. By indulging my curiosity, therefore, the morning after a spectacle of any kind has been presented, I not only obtain a more full view than my own eyes would have furnished, but I am confidently assured I see somewhat more than the reality, and at the same time enjoy the picturesque fancy, and copious inventive powers of the relater. Nor will this method of frequenting public amusements appear so very new as some may suppose, when it is recol. lected that we are in this only following the example of those great travellers who explore every part of the globe in books, and endure the fatigues and enjoy the pleasures of sea and land, mountain and valley, without stirring out of their libraries.

Such is my scheme; and if the simplicity of it does not offend, for perhaps something more mysterious was expected, I can now very confidently add that it is attended with some considerable advantages, which will shew it to be both œconomical and salutary. A very great saving is hereby made in the article of time, which I have always looked upon to be of great value, because no man knows how soon

it may become scarce. It is not many weeks

ago that, in the course of the short hour

allowed to breakfast, I beheld all the glories of a review at Wimbledon, an election at Brentford, and a trial at a country assize, which, to those who will neither delegate nor postpone their curiosity, must have cost at least a whole day. Another great advantage of my scheme is, that it enables me to see sights in safety; I am not liable to be squeezed in a crowd; no ditch is behind, into which the mob may precipitate me; I run no risk from the prancing of the horses; I am in no fear of scaffolds breaking down; I am not particularly anxious to secure a coach, or to claim the protection of a pent-house; and my refreshments are at hand, and may be taken without impediment.

If these advantages can be proved to result from my plan, it is certainly worthy of a trial; but, as popular prejudice may run high against it, I wish to remove that obstruction of all improvement, by recommending to my readers a few reflections on the use of seeing sights. I would have them inquire of those, who during their lives have been constant gazers, how far human happiness is actually concerned in the matter; whether most of the duties of life may not be performed, without allowing our our eyes to get the better of the rest of our senses; and

whether all the purposes of social enjoyment might not be answered, were men to assemble together in lesser parties than what constitute a mob. And to such as are apt to feel with peculiar acuteness the disappointments of a holiday, I would suggest, that in the course of human life there are greater privations to be endured than absence from a balloon, or a sailing-match; that there are misfortunes to be surmounted which may last longer than wind or rain; and that those spectacles only can apologize for voluntary fatigue and danger, which have some tendency to enlarge our virtue, or improve our understanding.

tive

AMONG the many contrivances of this invenage, there are few which seem more happily calculated to please the reigning taste than that change of names which has been lately

introduced.

Whatever is tasteful, elegant, commodious, or fashionable, must be decorated by a name borrowed from the French, and incorporated by slow degrees into our own language; I say by slow degrees, for, if the incorporation were perfect and familiar, I should not have occasion to rank this scheme among the novelties of the present day, nor to regret that men who lived twenty or thirty years ago must go to school, or consult their French dictionaries, before they can name an article of the most common kind, particularly in household furniture.

I was led into these reflections some time ago, when, in compliance with the request of a few female friends, I accompanied them to the stately mansion of a right honourable lady who had just paid the debt of nature, and whose costly and magnificent furniture was exposed to view previous to a sale which, it was supposed, would be frequented by all the world. To be omitted from any invitation that promises to bring together all the world, is not very agreeable even to an obscure man, who does not belong to that world; and I did not think fit to let slip an opportunity of seeing what, it was confidently asserted, might never be seen again, namely the very perfection of