title of compassionate. She cannot bear those vile people who drive oxen through the streets of London, and cut the poor creters about the legs till they look enough to make one sick. But compassion, which consists only in words, does not content her. She gives in charity to a poor boy every week a penny, contriving within the seven days to send him at least on fourteen errands. My aunt contents herself with the idea that no one can say she is uncharitable. I have somewhere heard of an ingenious philosopher, who turned his shirt, and observed with the same spirit of contentment and satisfaction, “ What a comfort there is in clean linen !”

• Mrs. Hatchpenny was so kind as to take me with her, on Saturday last, to a tea-drinking party, at Brompton, to which my uncle Solomon was invited; but the wind being in the east, and stocks low, he fancied he had a cold, and stayed at home. As we went by appointment early, we had discussed some weighty points before the tea entered. We had already learnt, that Miss Primrose gave fifteen shillings a yard for her apron, and that she bought it from the shop at the corner of Juniper-street. Captain Makeweight had bruised his side by a fall in the Artillery-ground, his sword getting between his legs, and thereby laying him sprawling. Mr. Titus Oats, a country cousin, had lost his turnips by the flyMiss Tallboy had sprained her ancle, by climbing an apple-tree-Miss Posset had been at the Hackney assembly; and to be sure Miss Cardamum was the belle of the place, till she began dancing, and then she moved for all the world like a raw militiaman to the quick march; or, said the lady of the house, with a good-humoured smile, “ like an elephant upon hot bricks”—“ Or (added my aunt) like St. Paul's upon four wheels.” The tea now arrived; and between the rattling of the cups, we had only

time to fling in an observation or two like the chorus of a Greek play, when the persons of the dialogue are taking breath. We passed a few strictures upon the widow Scramble's fourth marriage; and after the removal of the tea-table, and a short review of our absent neighbour's conduct, a general conversation took place, each addressing the person who sat upon the nearest chair. My aunt, in the mean time, could not help glancing first at the apron which had created a former conversation, and then at her own, being conscious that she had given two-and-twenty shillings a yard for every inch of her's. Unfortunately, no one asked the price of it, and she found herself under the disagreeable necessity of informing the company, unsolicited, that she bought it at the same time when Mr. Hatchpenny fined for sheriff;-which is now seven years, come next Lord Mayor. My aunt then took occasion to descant upon the convenient situation of their shop in the Borough; to do the business of which, she observed with some emphasis, "they were obliged to keep four journeymen, peck and perch all the year round, one day with another."-Happily I was at hand to explain to the company, which I did with great pleasure, that the words peck and perch (a favourite metaphor with my aunt) were an allusion to the inhabitant of a bird-cage, and meant nothing more than board and lodging.

"How do you like your neighbours the Hatchpennys?" said Miss Primrose, in a whisper to the lady of the house." They are monstrously entertaining," said the other. A dialogue of a curious nature then commenced, in which it was remarkable, that the one regularly began a sentence, and the other as regularly finished it. "As for him (said the first) he's a churlish old fool, with all the qualities of a bear"-" except his dancing," returned the

other. “She's a great economist, I hear." _“Yes, in every thing but her speech.”—“ She's the envy of her neighbourhood, for her great prudence,” “ and her green pickles.”—“ Her reputation and her gown are ever without spot;"-—" The one because she's so unreasonably ugly, and the other because she takes such excellent care of it.”—“ She's very nimble at cards"_"and, never having been detected in cheating, may be said to have had a perpetual run of good luck.”—How far this dialogue. proceeded, I know not, for our candle and lantern now called us to the peaceful abode of my uncle, whomr, upon our return, we found, contrary to all the rules of domestic felicity, sitting with one foot upon the hearth, and a bottle by his side, which I strongly suspect to have contained some of the right Herefordshire. Upon our entrance, the position of the foot was quickly altered, and the bottle placed in the cupboard. My aunt withdrew, in order to divest herself of her splendour before the supper came; remarking, pointedly enough, that the wear and tear of clothes in carving was amazing and prodigious. The incidents of the next two hours were few, and may be easily told--Stocks had, from the accounts of that evening, risen one and a half, and

my

uncle's cold was better. At length, after a short dissertation upon the folly of mankind, and the extravagant demands of the Chelsea bun-makers, we recollected that it was Saturday night, pulled off our shoes, and retired to rest.

I am, &c. MONRO.

SOCRATES IN EMBRYO.'

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N° 36. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1787.

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Cum Græciam universam itinere rapido peragraverit, nihil fore de Græcià, nihil vere Atticum, aut quovis modo memorabile, domum reportabit; cum scilicet satis habuerit

, peregrinantium plurimorum ritu, locorum nomina forsan et situs in transcursu notâsse; interea vero civium mores et instituta, præclara et virtutum et ingenji monimenta, oculo diligenti et curioso neutiquam exploraverit.-BURTONI in Tertanylav Dedicatio. The various advantages which a traveller may derive from an acquaintance with the modern languages, are too obvious to require a minute detail. There is one, however, which deserves particnlarly to be pointed out; for, inconsiderable as it may appear

in the estimation of young men of fortune, it will have no small weight with their parents and guardians. I. allude to the considerable expense which may be prevented by those who are able to converse with the natives of other countries in their own language. He who is a tolerable linguist may be supposed to understand manners and customs; and few

however knavish, will attempt to cheat him who seems. as wise as themselves. Ready and plausible conversation will disconcert the attacks of imposition, and elude the stratagems of chicane, The French imagine that England produces as much gold as the coast of Africa; and that Monsieur John Bull leaves his native country merely to scatter his money with thoughtless profusion about the continent. In consequence of this extravagant opinion, he rarely escapes without paying five times the real value for every commodity. His pocket is supposed to be a rich bank, upon which every rapacious Frenchman may draw at pleasure; and, of course, demands are made upon it with incessant avidity, and unrelenting ex-.

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tortion. These remarks are indebted for no small degree of confirmation to the following authentic anecdote. An officer of the regiment d'Artois, who was on a journey from London to Paris, spent the night at the Hotel d'Angleterre, at Calais. amining his bill the next morning, he found that he was charged a guinea for his supper, which had consisted only of cold meat and a bottle of vin de pais. Enraged at so gross an imposition, he summoned the master of the inn, and insisted upon an abatement, • Milord,' said the landlord, 'I cannot disgrace an Englishman of your rank by charging him a less price.'-Sirrah,' replied the officer, I am not a man of quality, but a poor lieutenant in the service of the Grand Monarque.'- Morbleu !' rejoined the landlord, 'I confess I have made an egregious blunder.“I hope your honour will forgive me if I reduce my demand to half-a-crown.'

-' It is not less necessary for a traveller to set out with these qualifications, which will enable him to repel the encroachments of imposition, than it is desirable for him to have stored his mind with domestic information. The author of the Tableau de Paris remarks, with great justness, that we are not best acquainted with those things which every day affords us an opportunity of seeing. Curiosity is a languid principle where access is easy,

and gratification is immediate : remoteness and difficulty are powerful incentives to its vigorous and lasting operations. By many who live within the sound of Bow bell, the internal wonders of St. Paul's or the Tower may not be thought in the least degree interesting. Yet, how justly would such persons be classed with the incurious of Æsop, if, on visiting their country friends, it should

appear that they had never been in the whispering gallery, or seen the lions! Equally ridiculous is that Englishman who roams in search of curiosi