a few of them. Here, Sir, here they are, diamonds of the first water, I assure you. Imprimis, a translation of several medical precepts for the use of such physicians as do not understand Latin. Item, the young clergymans art of placing patches regularly, with a dissertation on the different manners of smiling without distorting the face. Item, the whole art of love made perfectly easy, by a broker of 'Change Alley. Item, the proper manner of cutting black-lead pencils, and making crayons; by the right hon. the earl of ***. Item, the muster-master general, or the review of reviews—” Sir, cried I, interrupting him, my curiosity with regard to title-pages is satisfied, I should be glad to see some longer manuscript, a history or an epic poem. "Bless me," cries the man of industry, "now you speak of an epic poem, you shall see an excellent farce. Here it is; dip into it where you will, it will be found replete with true modern humour. Strokes, Sir; it is filled with strokes of wit and satire in every line." Do you call these dashes of the pen strokes, replied I, for I must confess I can see no other? "And pray, Sir," returned he "what do you call them? Do you see any thing good now-a-days that is not filled with strokes. -and dashes?Sir, a well placed dash makes half the wit of our writers of modern humour."(1) I bought last season a piece that had no other merit upon earth than nine hundred and ninety-five breaks, seventy-two ha ha's, three good things, and a garter. And yet it played off, and bounced, and cracked, and made more sport than a firework." I fancy then, Sir, you were a considerable gainer? "It must be owned the piece did pay: but, upon the whole, I cannot much boast of last winter's success; I gained by two murders, but then I lost by an ill-timed charity sermon.

(1) [A prologue, interdash'd with many a stroke-
An art contriv'd to advertise a joke,

So that the jest is clearly to be seen,

Not in the words-but in the gap between."-Cowper.]

I was a considerable sufferer by my Direct Road to an Estate, but the Infernal Guide brought me up again. Ah, Sir, that was a piece touched off by the hand of a master, filled with good things from one end to the other. The author had nothing but the jest in view; no dull moral lurking beneath, nor ill-natured satire to sour the reader's good-humour; he wisely considered, that moral and humour at the same time were quite overdoing the business." To what purpose was the book then published? cried I. "Sir, the book was published in order to be sold; and no book sold better, except the criticisms upon it, which came out soon after of all kinds of writings that goes off best at present; and I generally fasten a criticism upon every selling book that is published.

"I once had an author who never left the least opening for the critics: close was the word, always very right, and very dull, ever on the safe side of an argument; yet, with all his qualifications, incapable of coming into favour. I soon perceived that his bent was for criticism; and, as he was good for nothing else, supplied him with pens and paper, and planted him at the beginning of every month as a censor on the works of others. In short, I found him a treasure; no merit could escape him: but what is most remarkable of all, he ever wrote best and bitterest when drunk." But are there not some works, interrupted I, that from the very manner of their composition must be exempt from criticism; particularly such as profess to disregard its laws? "There is no work whatsoever but he can criticise," replied the bookseller; "even though you wrote in Chinese he would have a pluck at you. Suppose you should take it into your head to publish a book, let it be a volume of Chinese letters, for instance; write how you will, he shall shew the world you could have written better. Should you, with the most local exactness, stick to the manners and customs

of the country from whence you come; should you confine yourself to the narrow limits of eastern knowledge, and be perfectly simple, and perfectly natural, he has then the strongest reason to exclaim.

He may with a sneer send you

back to China for readers. He may observe, that after the first or second letter, the iteration of the same simplicity is insupportably tedious; but the worst of all is, the public in such a case will anticipate his censures, and leave you with all your instructive simplicity to be mauled at discretion."

Yes, cried I, but in order to avoid his indignation, and what I should fear more, that of the public, I would, in such a case, write with all the knowledge I was master of. As I am not possessed of much learning, at least I would not suppress what little I had; nor would I appear more stupid than nature made me. "Here then," cries the bookseller, "we should have you entirely in our power; unnatural, uneastern, quite out of character, erroneously sensible, would be the whole cry; Sir, we should then hunt you down like a rat."(1) Head of my father! said I, sure there are but two ways; the door must either be shut, or it must be open. I must either be natural or unnatural. "Be what you will, we shall criticise you," returned the bookseller, "and prove you a dunce in spite of your teeth. But, Sir, it is time that I should come to business. I have just now in the press a history of China; and if you will but put your name to it as the author, I shall repay the obligation with gratitude." What, Sir, replied I, put my name to a work which I have not written! Never, while I retain a proper respect for the public and myself.—The bluntness of my reply quite abated

(1) [This was obviously introduced as an indirect mode of reply to occasional objectors to these Letters in the newspapers, when in course of publication, that the assumed character of a Chinese was not sufficiently preserved that the letter-writer was too observant, or too well-informed upon English matters, for his country.]

the ardour of the bookseller's conversation; and, after about half an hour's disagreeable reserve, he, with some ceremony, took his leave and withdrew. Adieu.

LETTER LII.

THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF DISTINGUISHING MEN IN ENGLAND

BY THEIR DRESS. TWO INSTANCES OF THIS.

To the Same.

In all other countries, my dear Fum Hoam, the rich are distinguished by their dress. In Persia, China, and most parts of Europe, those who are possessed of much gold or silver, put some of it upon their clothes; but in England, those who carry much upon their clothes, are remarked for having but little in their pockets. A tawdry outside is regarded as a badge of poverty; and those who can sit at home, and gloat over their thousands in silent satisfaction, are generally found to do it in plain clothes.

This diversity of thinking from the rest of the world which prevails here, I was first at a loss to account for; but am since informed, that it was introduced by an intercourse between them and their neighbours the French; who, whenever they came in order to pay these islanders a visit, were generally very well dressed, and very poor, daubed with lace, but all the gilding on the outside. By this means laced clothes have been brought so much into contempt, that at present even their mandarines are ashamed of finery.

I must own myself a convert to English simplicity. I am no more for ostentation of wealth than of learning: the person who in company should pretend to be wiser than others, I am apt to regard as illiterate and ill-bred; the person whose clothes are extremely fine, I am too apt to consider

as not being possessed of any superiority of fortune, but resembling those Indians who are found to wear all the gold they have in the world, in a bob at the nose.

I was lately introduced into a company of the bestdressed men I have seen since my arrival. Upon entering the room, I was struck with awe at the grandeur of the different dresses. That personage, thought I, in blue and gold, must be some emperor's son; that in green and silver a prince of the blood; he in embroidered scarlet a prime minister all first-rate noblemen, I suppose, and welllooking noblemen too. I sat for some time with that uneasiness which conscious inferiority produces in the ingenuous mind, all attention to their discourse. However, I found their conversation more vulgar than I could have expected from personages of such distinction: if these, thought I to myself, be princes, they are the most stupid princes I have ever conversed with: yet still I continued to venerate their dress; for dress has a kind of mechanical influence on the mind.

My friend in black, indeed, did not behave with the same deference, but contradicted the finest of them all in the most peremptory tones of contempt. But I had scarcely time to wonder at the imprudence of his conduct, when I found occasion to be equally surprised at the absurdity of theirs; for upon the entry of a middle-aged man, dressed in a cap, dirty shirt, and boots, the whole circle seemed diminished of their former importance, and contended who should be first to pay their obeisance to the stranger. They somewhat resembled a circle of Kalmucs offering incense to a bear.

Eager to know the cause of so much seeming contradiction, I whispered my friend out of the room, and found that the august company consisted of no other than a dancing-master, two fiddlers, and a third-rate actor, all assem