man, or a common thief? I have often heard that the devil used to say,-where, or to whom, I know not, that it was better to reign in hell, than to be a valet-de-chambre in Heaven, and perhaps he was in the right; but sure if he had had the choice of reigning in either, he would have chosen better. The truth, therefore, is, that by low conversation we contract a greater awe for high things than they deserve. We decline great pursuits, not from contempt, but despair. The man who prefers the high road to a more reputable way of making his fortune, doth it because he imagines the one easier than the other; but you yourself have asserted, and with undoubted truth, that the same abilities qualify you for undertaking, and the same means will bring you to your end in both journeys; as in music, it is the same tune, whether you play it in a higher or a lower key. To instance in some particulars: Is it not the same qualification which enables this man to hire himself as a servant, and to get into the confidence and secrets of his master, in order to rob him, and that to undertake trusts of the highest nature with a design to break and betray them? Is it less difficult by false tokens to deceive a shopkeeper into the delivery of his goods, which you afterwards run away with, than to impose upon him by outward splendour, and the appearance of fortune, into a credit by which you gain, and he loses, twenty times as much? Doth it not require more dexterity in the fingers to draw out a man's purse from his pocket, or to take a lady's watch from her side, without being perceived of any, (an excellence in which, without flattery, I am persuaded you have no superior,) than to cog a die, or to shuffle a pack of cards? Is not as much art, as many excellent qualities, required to make a pimping porter at a common bawdy-house, as would enable a man to prostitute his own or his friend's wife or child? Doth it not ask as good a memory, as nimble an invention, as steady a countenance, to forswear yourself in Westminster-hall, as would furnish out a complete tool of state, or perhaps a statesman himself? It is needless to particularize every instance; in all we shall find, that there is a nearer connection between high and low life than is generally imagined, and that a highwayman is entitled to more favour with the great than he usually meets with. If, therefore, as I think I have proved, the same parts which qualify a man for eminence in a low sphere, qualify him likewise for eminence in a higher, sure it can be no doubt in which he would chuse to exert them. Ambition, without which no one can be a great man, will immediately instruct him, in your own phrase, to prefer a hill in paradise to a dunghill; nay, even fear, a passion the most repugnant to greatness,

will shew him how much more safely he may indulge himself in the full and free exertion of his mighty abilities in the higher than in the lower rank; since experience teaches him, that there is a crowd oftener in one year at Tyburn, than on Tower-hill in a century."

Mr Wild, with much solemnity, rejoined, "That the same capacity which qualifies a millken,* a bridle-cull,† or a buttock and file, to arrive at any degree of eminence in his profession, would likewise raise a man in what the world esteem a more honourable calling, I do not deny; nay, in many of your instances it is evident, that more ingenuity, more art, are necessary to the lower, than the higher proficients. If, therefore, you had only contended, that every prig might be a statesman if he pleased, I had readily agreed to it; but when you conclude, that it is his interest to be so, that ambition would bid him take that alternative, in a word, that a statesman is greater or happier than a prig, I must deny my assent. But, in comparing these two together, we must carefully avoid being misled by the vulgar erroneous estimation of things; for mankind err in disquisitions of this nature, as physicians do, who, in considering the operations of a disease, have not a due regard to the age and complexion of the patient. The same degree of heat, which is common in this constitution, may be a fever in that; in the same manner, that which may be riches or honour to me, may be poverty or disgrace to another; for all these things are to be estimated by relation to the person who possesses them. A booty of ten pounds looks as great in the eye of a bridle-cull, and gives as much real happiness to his fancy, as that of as many thousands to the statesman; and doth not the former lay out his acquisitions in whores and fiddles, with much greater joy and mirth, than the latter in palaces and pictures? What are the flattery, the false compliments of his gang, to the statesman, when he himself must condemn his own blunders, and is obliged against his will to give fortune the whole honour of his success? What is the pride resulting from such sham applause, compared to the secret satisfaction which a prig enjoys in his mind in reflecting on a well-contrived and well-executed scheme? Perhaps, indeed, the greater danger is on the prig's side; but then you must remember, that the greater honour is so too. When I mention honour, I mean that which is paid them by their gang; for that weak part of the world, which is vulgarly called THE WISE, see both in a disadvantageous and disgraceful light; and as the prig enjoys, and merits too, the greater degree of honour from his gang, so doth he suffer the less disgrace from the world, who think his misdeeds, as they call them, sufficiently at last

A Shoplifter. Terms used in the Cant Dictionary.

punished with a halter, which at once puts an end to his pain and infamy; whereas the other is not only hated in power, but detested and contemned at the scaffold; and future ages vent their malice on his fame, while the other sleeps quiet and forgotten. Besides, let us a little consider the secret quiet of their consciences. How easy is the reflection of having taken a few shillings or pounds from a stranger, without any breach of confidence, or perhaps any great harm to the person who loses it, compared to that of having betrayed a public trust, and ruined the fortunes of thousands, perhaps of a great nation? How much braver is an attack on the high-way, than at a gaming-table; and how much more innocent the character of a -y-house than a c- -t pimp?" He was eagerly proceeding, when casting his eyes on the Count, he perceived him to be fast asleep; wherefore, having first picked his pocket of three shillings, then gently jogged him, in order to take his leave, and promised to return to him the next morning to breakfast, they separated. The Count retired to rest, and Mr Wild to a night-cellar.

b

CHAP. VI.

Further conferences between the Count and Mr Wild, with other matters of the GREAT kind.

THE Count missed his money the next morning, and very well knew who had it; but, as he knew likewise how fruitless would be any complaint, he chose to pass it by without mentioning it. Indeed it may appear strange to some readers, that these gentlemen, who knew each other to be thieves, should never once give the least hint of this knowledge in all their discourse together; but, on the contrary, should have the words honesty, honour, and friendship, as often in their mouths as any other men. This, I say, may appear strange to some; but those who have lived long in cities, courts, gaols, or such places, will perhaps be able to solve the seeming absurdity.

When our two friends met the next morning, the Count (who, though he did not agree with the whole of his friend's doctrine, was, however, highly pleased with his argument) began to bewail the misfortune of his captivity, and the backwardness of friends to assist each other in their necessities; but what vexed him, he said, most, was the cruelty of the fair: for he entrusted Wild with the secret of his having had an intrigue with Miss Theodosia, the elder of the Miss Snaps, ever since his confinement, though he could not prevail with her to set him at liberty. Wild answered, with a smile, “It was no wonder a woman should wish to confine her lover, where she might be sure of having him entirely to herself;" but added, "he be

lieved he could tell him a method of certainly procuring his escape." The Count eagerly besought him to acquaint him with it. Wild told him, bribery was the surest means, and advised him to apply to the maid. The Count thanked him, but returned, "That he had not a farthing left besides one guinea, which he had then given her to change.' To which Wild said, “ He must make it up with promises, which he supposed he was courtier enough to know how to put off." The Count greatly applauded the advice, and said, he hoped he should be able in time to persuade him to condescend to be a great man, for which he was so perfectly well qualified.

This method being concluded on, the two friends sat down to cards, a circumstance which I should not have mentioned, but for the sake of observing the prodigious force of habit; for, though the Count knew, if he won ever so much of Mr Wild, he should not receive a shilling, yet could he not refrain from packing the cards; nor could Wild keep his hands out of his friend's pockets, though he knew there was nothing in them.

When the maid came home, the Count began to put it to her; offered her all he had, and promised mountains in futuro; but all in vain, the maid's honesty was impregnable. She said, "She would not break her trust for the whole world; no, not if she could gain a hundred pound by it."-Upon which Wild stepping up, told her, "She need not fear losing her place, for it would never be found out; that they could throw a pair of sheets into the street, by which it might appear he got out at a window; that he himself would swear he saw him descending; that the money would be so much gains in her pocket; that, besides his promises, which she might depend on being performed, she would receive from him twenty shillings and ninepence in ready money, (for she had only laid out threepence in plain Spanish ;) and lastly, that besides his honour, the Count should leave a pair of gold buttons, (which afterwards turned out to be brass) of great value, in her hands, as a further pawn."

The maid still remained inflexible, till Wild offered to lend his friend a guinea more, and to deposit it immediately in her hands. This reinforcement bore down the poor girl's resolution, and she faithfully promised to open the door to the Count that evening.

Thus did our young hero not only lend his rhetoric, which few people care to do without a fee, but his money too, a sum which many a good man would have made fifty excuses before he would have parted with, to his friend, and procured him his liberty.

But it would be highly derogatory from the GREAT character of Wild, should the reader imagine he lent such a sum to a friend without the least view of serving himself. As, therefore,

the reader may easily account for it in a manner more advantageous to our hero's reputation, by coneluding that he had some interested view in the Count's enlargement; we hope he will judge with charity, especially as the sequel makes it not only reasonable, but necessary, to suppose he had some such view.

A long intimacy and friendship subsisted between the Count and Mr Wild, who being, by the advice of the Count, dressed in good clothes, was by him introduced into the best company. They constantly frequented the assemblies, auctions, gaming-tables, and playhouses; at which last they saw two acts every night, and then retired without paying, this being, it seems, an immemorial privilege which the beaus of the town prescribe for to themselves. This, however, did not suit Wild's temper, who called it a cheat, and objected against it, as requiring no dexterity but what every blockhead might put in execution. He said it was a custom very much savouring of the sneaking-budge,* but neither so honourable nor so ingenious.

Wild now made a considerable figure, and passed for a gentleman of great fortune in the funds. Women of quality treated him with great familiarity, young ladies began to spread their charms for him, when an accident happened that put a stop to his continuance in a way of life too insipid and inactive to afford employment for those great talents, which were designed to make a much more considerable figure in the world, than attends the character of a beau or a pretty gentleman.

CHAP. VII.

Mr Wild sets out on his travels, and returns home again. A very short chapter, containing infinitely more time, and less matter, than any other in the whole story.

WE are sorry we cannot indulge our reader's curiosity with a full and perfect account of this accident; but as there are such various accounts, one of which only can be true, and possibly, and indeed probably, none; instead of following the general method of historians, who in such cases set down the various reports, and leave to your own conjecture which you will chuse, we shall pass them all over.

Certain it is, that whatever this accident was, it determined our hero's father to send his son immediately abroad, for seven years; and, which may seem somewhat remarkable, to his majesty's plantations in America; that part of the world being, as he said, freer from vices than the courts and cities of Europe, and consequently less dangerous to corrupt a young man's morals. And

as for the advantages, the old gentleman thought they were equal there with those attained in the politer climates; for travelling, he said, was travelling in one part of the world as well as another: it consisted in being such a time from home, and in traversing so many leagues; and appealed to experience, whether most of our travellers in France and Italy did not prove at their return, that they might have been sent as profitably to Norway and Greenland?

According to these resolutions of his father, the young gentleman went aboard a ship, and with a great deal of good company set out for the American hemisphere. The exact time of his stay is somewhat uncertain; most probably longer than was intended: but howsoever long his abode there was, it must be a blank in this history; as the whole story contains not one adventure worthy the reader's notice; being, indeed, a continued scene of whoring, drinking, and removing from one place to another.

To confess a truth, we are so ashamed of the shortness of this chapter, that we would have done a violence to our history, and have inserted an adventure or two of some other traveller ; to which purpose we borrowed the journals of several young gentlemen who have lately made the tour of Europe; but to our great sorrow could not extract a single incident strong enough to justify the theft to our conscience.

When we consider the ridiculous figure this chapter must make, being the history of no less than eight years, our only comfort is, that the histories of some mens lives, and perhaps of some men who have made a noise in the world, are in reality as absolute blanks as the travels of our hero. As, therefore, we shall make sufficient amends in the sequel for this inanity, we shall hasten on to matters of true importance, and immense greatness. At present we content ourselves with setting down our hero where we took him up, after acquainting our reader that he went abroad, staid seven years, and then came home again.

CHAP. VIII.

An adventure where Wild, in the division of the booty, exhibits an astonishing instance of

GREATNESS.

THE Count was one night very successful at the hazard-table, where Wild, who was just returned from his travels, was then present; as was likewise a young gentleman whose name was Bob Bagshot, an acquaintance of Mr Wild's, and of whom he entertained a great opinion: taking therefore Mr Bagshot aside, he advised him to provide himself (if he had them not

about him) with a case of pistols, and to attack the Count in his way home, promising to plant himself near with the same arms, as a corps de reserve, and to come up on occasion. This was accordingly executed, and the Count obliged to surrender to savage force what he had in so genteel and civil a manner taken at play.

And as it is a wise and philosophical observation, that one misfortune never comes alone, the Count had hardly passed the examination of Mr Bagshot, when he fell into the hands of Mr Snap, who, in company with Mr Wild the elder, and one or two more gentlemen, being it seems thereto well warranted, laid hold of the unfortunate Count, and conveyed him back to the same house from which by the assistance of his good friend he had formerly escaped.

Mr Wild and Mr Bagshot went together to the tavern, where Mr Bagshot (generously as he thought) offered to share the booty, and having divided the money into two unequal heaps, and added a golden snuff-box to the lesser heap, he desired Mr Wild to take his choice.

Mr Wild immediately conveyed the larger share of the ready into his pocket, according to an excellent maxim of his," First secure what share you can, before you wrangle for the rest;" and then, turning to his companion, he asked him, with a stern countenance, whether he intended to keep all that sum to himself? Mr Bagshot answered, with some surprise, that he thought Mr Wild had no reason to complain: for it was surely fair, at least on his part, to content himself with an equal share of the booty, who had taken the whole. "I grant you took it," replies Wild, "but pray, who proposed or counselled the taking it? Can you say that you have done more than executed my scheme? and might not I, if I had pleased, have employed another, since you well know there was not a gentleman in the room but would have taken the money, if he had known how conveniently and safely to do it?"-" That is very true," returned Bagshot, "but did not I execute the scheme, did not I run the whole risk? Should not I have suffered the whole punishment if I had been taken? and is not the labourer worthy of his hire?" "Doubtless," says Jonathan, "he is so, and your hire I shall not refuse you, which is all that the labourer is entitled to, or ever enjoys. I remember when I was at school to have heard some verses, which, for the excellence of their doctrine, made an impression on me, purporting that the birds of the air, and the beasts of the field, work not for themselves. It is true, the farmer allows fodder to his oxen, and pasture to his sheep; but it is for his own service, not theirs. In the same manner the ploughman, the shepherd, the weaver, the builder, and the soldier, work not for themselves, but others; they are

contented with a poor pittance, (the labourer's hire,) and permit us, the GREAT, to enjoy the fruits of their labours. Aristotle, as my master told us, hath plainly proved, in the First Book of his Politics, that the low, mean, useful part of mankind, are born slaves to the wills of their superiors, and are indeed as much their property as the cattle. It is well said of us, the higher order of mortals, that we are born only to devour the fruits of the earth; and it may be as well said of the lower class, that they are born only to produce them for us. Is not the battle gained by the sweat and danger of the common soldier? are not the honour and fruits of the victory the general's who laid the scheme? Is not the house built by the labour of the carpenter and the bricklayer? is it not built for the profit only of the architect, and for the use of the inhabitant, who could not easily have placed one brick upon another? Is not the cloth, or the silk, wrought into its form, and variegated with all the beauty of colours, by those who are forced to content themselves with the coarsest and vilest part of their work, while the profit and enjoyment of their labours fall to the share of others? Cast your eye abroad, and see who is it lives in the most magnificent buildings, feasts his palate with the most luxurious dainties, his eyes with the most beautiful sculptures and delicate paintings, and clothes himself in the finest and richest apparel; and tell me if all these do not fall to his lot, who had not any the least share in producing all these conveniences, nor the least ability so to do? Why then should the state of a prig* differ from all others? or why should you, who are the labourer only, the executor of my scheme, expect a share in the profit? Be advised, therefore, deliver the whole booty to me, and trust to my bounty for your reward." Mr Bagshot was some time silent, and looked like a man thunder-struck; but at last, recovering himself from his surprise, he thus began:-" If you think, Mr Wild, by the force of your arguments, to get the money out of my pocket, you are greatly mistaken. What is all this stuff to me? D-n me, I am a man of honour, and though I can't talk as well as you, by G-d, you shall not make a fool of me; and if you take me for one, I must tell you you are a rascal." At which words, he laid his hand to his pistol. Wild, perceiving the little success the great strength of his arguments had met with, and the hasty temper of his friend, gave over his design for the present, and told Bagshot he was only in jest. But this coolness with which he treated the other's flame, had rather the effect of oil than water. Bagshot replied, in a rage,— "D-n me, I don't like such jests; I see you are a pitiful rascal, and a scoundrel." Wild, with a philosophy worthy of great admiration, return

ed," As for your abuse, I have no regard to it; but to convince you I am not afraid of you, let us lay the whole booty on the table, and let the conqueror take it all." And having so said, he drew out his shining hanger, whose glittering so dazzled the eyes of Bagshot, that, in a tone entirely altered, he said, "No! he was contented with what he had already; that it was mighty ridiculous in them to quarrel among themselves; that they had common enemies enough abroad, against whom they should unite their common force; that if he had mistaken Wild, he was sorry for it; and as for a jest, he could take a jest as well as another." Wild, who had a wonderful knack of discovering and applying to the pas sions of men, beginning now to have a little insight into his friend, and to conceive what argument would make the quickest impression on him, cried out, in a loud voice, "That he had bullied him into drawing his hanger, and since it was out, he would not put it up without satisfaction.""What satisfaction would you have?" answered the other." Your money, or your blood," said Wild.-" Why, lookye, Mr Wild," said Bagshot," if you want to borrow a little of my part, since I know you to be a man of honour, I don't care if I lend you: For, though I am not afraid of any man living, yet rather than break with a friend, and as it may be necessary for your occasions"- -Wild, who often declared that he looked upon borrowing to be as good a way of taking as any, and, as he called it, the genteelest kind of sneaking-budge, putting up his hanger, and shaking his friend by the hand, told him, He had hit the nail on the head; it was really his present necessity only that prevailed with him against his will; for that his honour was concerned to pay a considerable sum the next morning. Upon which, contenting himself with one-half of Bagshot's share, so that he had three parts in four of the whole, he took leave of his companion, and retired to rest.

CHAP. IX.

Wild pays a visit to Miss Lætitia Snap. A description of that lovely young creature, and the successless issue of Mr Wild's addresses.

THE next morning when our hero waked, he began to think of paying a visit to Miss Tishy Snap, a woman of great merit, and of as great generosity; yet Mr Wild found a present was ever most welcome to her, as being a token of respect in her lover. He therefore went directly to a toy-shop, and there purchased a genteel snuffbox, with which he waited upon his mistress, whom he found in the most beautiful undress. Her lovely hair hung wantonly over her forehead, being neither white with, nor yet free from powder; a neat double clout, which seem

ed to have been worn a few weeks only, was pinned under her chin; some remains of that art with which ladies improve nature, shone on her cheeks: Her body was loosely attired, without stays or jimps; so that her breasts had uncontrolled liberty to display their beauteous orbs, which they did as low as her girdle; a thin covering of a rumpled muslin handkerchief almost hid them from the eyes, save in a few parts, where a good-natured hole gave opportunity to the naked breast to appear. Her gown was a sattin of a whitish colour, with about a dozen little silver spots upon it, so artificially interwoven at great distance, that they looked as if they had fallen there by chance. This flying open, discovered a fine yellow petticoat, beautifully edged round the bottom with a narrow piece of half gold-lace, which was now almost become fringe; beneath this appeared another petticoat stiffened with whalebone, vulgarly called a hoop, which hung six inches at least below the other; and under this again appeared an under garment of that colour which Övid intends when he says,

-Qui color albus erat, nunc est contrarius albo. She likewise displayed two pretty feet covered with silk, and adorned with lace, and tied, the right with a handsome piece of blue ribband, the left, as more unworthy, with a piece of yellow stuff, which seemed to have been a strip of her upper petticoat. Such was the lovely creature whom Mr Wild attended. She received him at first with some of that coldness which women of strict virtue, by a commendable, though sometimes painful restraint, enjoin themselves to their lovers. The snuff-box being produced, was at first civilly, and indeed gently, refused; but, on a second application, accepted. The teatable was soon called for, at which a discourse passed between these young lovers, which, could we set it down with any accuracy, would be very edifying, as well as entertaining, to our reader. Let it suffice, then, that the wit, together with the beauty of this young creature, so inflamed the passion of Wild, which, though an honourable sort of a passion, was at the same time so extremely violent, that it transported him to freedoms too offensive to the nice chastity of Lætitia; who was, to confess the truth, more indebted to her own strength for the preservation of her virtue, than to the awful respect or backwardness of her lover: he was indeed so very urgent in his addresses, that had he not, with many oaths, promised her marriage, we could scarce have been strictly justified in calling his passion honourable; but he was so remarkably attached to decency, that he never offered any violence to a young lady without the most earnest promises of that kind; these being, he said, a ceremonial due to female modesty, which cost so little, and were so easily pronounced, that the omission