Let us confider, too, were this fyftem generally adopted, what a dull, infipid fcene muft fociety become! No diftinction, no natural expreffion, of character; no confidence in profeffions of any kind; no affurance of fincerity; no fecret sympathy, nor delightful correfpondence of feeling. All the fallies of wit, all the graces of polite manners, would but ill supply the want of these pleasures, the pureft and moft elegant which human life affords.

EUGENIUS.

To the AUTHOR of the MIRROR.

SIR,

AS you treat much of politeness, I wish you

would take notice of a particular fort of incivility, from which one fuffers, without being thought intitled to complain. I mean that of never contradi&ing one at all.

I have come lately from my father's in the country, where I was reckoned a girl of tolerable parts, to refide for fome time at my aunt's in town. Here is a vifitor, Mr. Dapperwit,

a good-looking young man, with white teeth, a fine

8

a fine complexion, his cheeks dimpled, and rather a little full and large at bottom; in fhort, the civilest, most complying fort of face you can imagine. As I had often taken notice of his behaviour, I was refolved to minute down his difcourfe the other evening at tea. The conversation began about the weather, my aunt obferving, that the feasons were wonderfully altered in her memory.

66

"Certain

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amaz

ly, my lady," said Mr. Dapperwit, ingly altered indeed."" Now I have "heard my father fay (faid I), that is a vul

66

gar error; for that it appears from registers "kept for the purpose, that the state of the "weather, though it may be different in cer"tain feasons, months, or weeks, preferves "a wonderful equilibrium in general.""Why, to be fure, Mifs, I believe, in gene❝ral, as you fay ;-but, talking of the wea"ther, I hope your Ladyfhip caught no cold "at the play t'other night; we were fo auk"wardly fituated in getting out."-" Not in "the leaft, Sir; I was greatly obliged to your "fervices there."-" You were well entertain. "ed, I hope, my Lady?"-" Very well in"deed; I laughed exceedingly; there is a

66

great deal of wit in Shakespeare's comedies;

'tis pity there is fo much of low life in "them."-"Your Ladyfhip's criticism is ex"tremely juft; every body must be ftruck "with it."" Why now, I think (faid I

again), that what you call low life, is nature,

"which I would not lofe for all the reft of "the play."" Oh! doubtless, Miss; for na"ture Shakespeare is inimitable; every body

muft allow that."-" What do you think, "Sir (faid my coufin Betsy, who is a piece "of a poetefs herfelf), of that monody you

''

were fo kind as to fend us yesterday ?""I never deliver my opinion, Ma'am, before "fo able a judge, till I am first informed of "hers.". "I think it the most beautiful

66

poem, Sir, I have read of a great while.""Your opinion, Ma'am, flatters me extreme66 ly, as it agrees exactly with my own; they 66 are, I think, inconteftably the sweetest "lines" Sweet they may be (here I broke

:

in) I allow them merit in the versification; "but that is only one, and, with me, by no "means the chief, requifite in a poem; they "want force altogether."-" Nay, as to the "matter of force, indeed, it must be owned-" "Yes, Sir, and unity, and propriety, and a "thoufand other things; but, if my coufin

❝ will

"will be kind enough to fetch the poem from "her dreffing-room, we will be judged by you, "Mr. Dapperwit."" Pardon me, ladies, 66 you would not have me be fo rude.

Who fhall decide when doctors difagree?"

And, with that, he made one of the finest bows in the world.

If all this, Sir, proceed from fillinefs, we muft pity the man, and there's an end on't; if it arife from an idea of fillinefs in us, let fuch gentlemen as Mr. Dapperwit know, that they are very much mistaken. But if it be the effect of pure civility,-pray inform them, Mr. MIRROR, that it is the most provoking piece of rudeness they can poffibly commit.

Yours, &c.

BRIDGET NETTLEWIT.

No 36.

SATURDAY, May 29, 1779.

Some mute inglorious Milton here may reft.

GRAY.

OTHING has a greater tendency to elevate

NOTH

and affect the heart than the reflection upon those perfonages who have performed a diftinguished part on the theatre of life, whofe actions were attended with important confequences to the world around them, or whofe writings have animated or inftructed mankind. The thought that they are now no more, that their afhes are mingled with those of the meaneft and most worthlefs, affords a fubject of contemplation, which, however melancholy, the mind, in a moment of penfiveness, may feel a fecret fort of delight to indulge. Tell her,' fays Hamlet," that he may paint an inch " thick; yet to this the must come at last.”

When Xerxes, at the head of his numerous army, faw all his troops ranged in order before him, he burst into tears at the thought, that,

in