of mutton with him. All this, however, is true. As is also another anecdote, which Muckworm forgot to mention: his first cousin dined that day with the servants, who took compassion on the lad, after he had been turned down stairs, with a refusal of twenty pounds to set him up in the trade of a shoemaker.

There is pedantry in every disquisition, however måsterly it may be, that stops the general conversation of the company. When Silius delivers that sort of lecture he is apt to get into, though it is supported by the most extensive information, and the clearest discernment, it is still pedantry; and, while I admire the ta lents of Silius, I cannot help being uneasy at his exhibition of them. In the course of this dissertation, the farther a man proceeds, the more he seems to acquire strength and inclination for the progress. Last night, after supper, Silius began upon Protestanism, proceeded to the Irish

massacre, went through the Revolution, drew the character of King William, repeated anecdotes of Schomberg, and ended at a quarter past twelve, by delineating the course of the Boyne, in half a bumper of port, upon my best table: which river, happening to overflow its banks, did infinite damage to my cousin Sophy's white sattin petticoat.

In short, every thing, in this sense of the word, is Pedantry, which tends to destroy that equality of conversation which is necessary to the perfect ease and goodhumour of the company. Every one would be struck with the impoliteness of that person's behaviour, who should help himself to a whole plate of pease or strawberries, which some friend had sent him for a rarity in the beginning of the season. Now, Conversation is one of those good things, of which our guests or companions are equally entitled to a share, as of any other constituent part of the

entertainment; and it is as essential a want of politeness to engross the one, as to monopolize the other.

Besides, it unfortunately happens, that we are very inadequate judges of the value of our own discourse, or the rate at which the dispositions of our company will incline them to hold it. The reflections we make, and the stories we tell, are to be judged of by others, who may hold a very different opinion of their acuteness or their humour. It will be prudent, therefore, to consider, that the dish we bring to this entertainment, however pleasing to our own taste, may prove but moderately palatable to those we mean to treat with it; and that, to every man, as well as ourselves, (except a few very humble ones,) his own conversation is the plate of pease or strawberries.

No. 7. TUESDAY, February 16, 1779.

Indocilis privata loqui.

Luc.

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE MIRROR.

SIR,

I AM a sort of retainer to the muses; and though I cannot boast of much familiarity with themselves, hold a subordinate intimacy with several branches of the family. I never made verses, but I can repeat several thousands. Though I am not a writer, I am reckoned a very ready expounder of enigmas; and I have given many good hints towards the composition of some favourite rebuses and charades. I have also a very competent share of classical learning; I can con

strue Latin when there is an English version on the opposite column, and read the Greek character with tolerable facility; I speak a little French, and can make shift to understand the subject of an Italian opera.

With these qualifications, Sir, I am held in considerable estimation by the wits of both sexes. I am sometimes allowed to clap first at a play, and pronounce a firm encore after a fashionable song. I am consulted by several ladies before they stick their pin into the catalogue of the circulating library; and have translated to some polite companies all the mottoes of your paper, except the last, which, being somewhat crabbed, I did not chuse to risk my credit by attempting. I have at last ventured to put myself into print in the Mirror; and send you information of a scheme I have formed for making my talents serviceable to the republic of letters,