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Mr. Spectator. " THE aversion I for some years have had to clubs in general, gave me a perfect relish for your specu<lation on that subject; but I have since been ex• tremely mortified, by the malicious world's ranking

me amongst the supporters of such impertinent as( semblies. I beg leave to state my case fairly; and + that done, I shall expect redress from your judicious open.

i I am, Sir, a bachelor of some standing, and a • traveller ; my business, to consult my own humour,

which I gratify without controlling other people's; "I have a room and a whole bed to myself; and I

have a dog, a fiddle, and a gun; they please me, and injure no creature alive. My chief meal is ' a supper, which I always make at a tavern. I am ( constant to an hour, and not ill-humoured; for which I reasons, though I invite nobody, I have no sooner 6 supped, than I have a crowd about me of that sort of

good company that know not whither else to go. It o is true, every man pays his share; yet, as they are 6 intruders, I have an undoubted right to be the only í speaker, or at least the loudest; which I maintain, 6 and that to the great emolument of my audience. I

sometimes tell them their own in pretty free lan(guage; and sometimes divert them with merry ( tales, according as I am in humour. I ain one of ( those who live in taverns to a great age, by a sort

of regular intemperance; I never go to bed drunk, 6 but always flustered; I wear away very gently, am " apt to be peevish, but never angry. Mr. Spectator, - if you have kept various company, you know there " is in every tavern in town some old humourist or

other, who is master of the house as much as he 6 that keeps it. The drawers are all in awe of him; know but I may be such a fellow as this myself: but " I appeal to you, whether this is to be called a club, « because so many impertinents will break in upon o me, and come without appointment ? Clinch of Bar".net has a nightly meeting, and shows to every one « that will come in and pay: but then he is the only o actor. Why should people miscall things? If his is " allowed to be a concert, why may not mine be a lec“ ture? However, Sir, I submit it to you, and am,

and all the customers who frequent his company, yield him a sort of comical obedience. I do not

. Your most obedient, &c.

"Tho. KIMBOW.'

. Good Sir,

YOU and I were pressed against each other last o winter in a crowd, in which uneasy posture we suf

fered together for almost half an hour. I thank you « for all your civilities ever since, in being of my ac( quaintance wherever you meet me. But the other 6 day you pulled off your hat to me in the Park, when o I was walking with my mistress: she did not like ( your air, and said, she wondered what strange fel

lows I was acquainted with. Dear Sir, consider it (is as much as my life is worth, if she should think

we were intimate; therefore I earnestly intreat you < for the future to take no manner of notice of,

"Your obliged humble servant,


A like impertinence is also very troublesome to the superior and more intelligent part of the fair sex. It is, it seems, a great inconvenience, that those of the meanest capacities will pretend to inake visits, though indeed they are qualified rather to add to the furniture of the house, by filling an empty chair, than to the conversation they come into when they visit. A friend

of mine hopes for redress in this case by the publication of her letter in my paper, which she thinks those she would be rid of will take to themselves. It seems to be written with an eye to one of those pert giddy unthinking girls, who upon the recommendation only of an agreeable person and a fashionable air, take themselves to be upon a level with women of the greatest merit.

• Madam, IITAKE this way to acquaint you with what common rules and forms would never perinit me to tell o you otherwise ; to wit, that you and I, though equals ( in quality and fortune, are by no means suitable com"panions. You are, it is true, very pretty, can dance, • and make a very good figure in a public assembly;

but alas, Madam, you must go no further; distance "and silence are your best recommendations; there"fore let me beg of you never to make me any more I visits. You come in a literal sense to see one, for

you have nothing to say. I do not say this, that I I would by any means lose your acquaintance; but I I would keep it up with the strictest forms of good

breeding. Let us pay visits, but never see one 5 another. If you will be so good as to deny yourself

always to me, I shall return the obligation by giving (the same orders to my servants. When accident ( makes us meet at a third place, we may mutually "lament the misfortune of never finding one another

at home, go in the same party to a benefit-play, and smile at each other, and put down glasses as we

pass in our coaches. Thus we may enjoy as much • of each other's friendship as we are capable; for ( there are some people who are to be known only 6 by sight, with which sort of friendship I hope you I will always honour,

"Madam, Your most obedient humble servant,


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• P.S. I subscribe myself by the name of the day • I keep, that my supernumerary friends may know ( who I am.'

ADVERTISEMENT. " TO prevent all mistakes that may happen among 6 gentlemen at the other end of the town, who come “ but once a week to St. James's coffee-house, either “ by miscalling the servants or requiring such things “ from them as are not properly within their re“ spective provinces, this is to give notice, that “ Kidney, keeper of the book-debts of the outlying " customers, and observer of those who go off withrout paying, having resigned that employment, is a succeded by John Sowton; to whose place of en“ terer of messages and first coffee grinder, William “ Bird is promoted; and Samuel Burdock comes as 66 shoe-cleaner in the room of the said Bird.” R.

No. XXV. THURSDAY, MARCH 29. ............... Ægrescitque medendo.

VIRG. And sickens by the very means of health. THE following letter will explain itself, and needs no apology.

6 SIR,

I AM one of that sickly tribe who are commonoly known by the name of Valetudinarians; and do o confess to you, that I first contracted this ill habit • of body or rather of mind, by the study of physic. "I no sooner began to peruse books of this nature, " but I found my pulse was irregular; and scarce I ever read the account of any disease that I did not • fancy myself afflicted with. Doctor Sydenham's learned Treatise of Fevers threw me into a linger

ing hectic, which hung upon me all the while I was * reading that excellent piece. I then applied myself " to the study of several authors who have written ' upon phthisical distempers, and by that means fell ' into a consumption; till at length, growing very ' fat, I was in a manner shamed out of that imagina« tion. Not long after this, I found in myself all the • symptoms of the gout, except pain ; but was cured ' of it by a Treatise upon the Gravel, written by a • very ingenious author, who (as it is usual for physi

cians to convert one distemper into another) eased 'me of the gout by giving me the stone. I at length " studied myself into a complication of distempers;

but accidentally taking into my hand that ingenious + discourse written by Sanctorius, I was resolved to • direct myself by a scheme of rules, which I had

collected from his observations. The learned world are very well acquainted with that gentleman's inI vention; who, for the better carrying on of his ex'periments, contrived a certain mathematical chair, ' which was so artificially hung upon springs, that it I would weigh any thing as well as a pair of scales. • By this means he discovered how many ounces of

his food pass'd by perspiration, what quantity of it I was turned into nourishment, and how much wentaway by the otherchannels and distributions of nature. • Having provided myself with this chair, I used to study, eat, drink, and sleep in it ; insomuch that I may be said, for these three last years, to have lived

in a pair of scales. I compute myself, when I am ' in full health, to be precisely two hundred weight,

falling short of it about a pound after a day's fast, • and exceeding it as much after a very full meal; so

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