where he never failed telling it as soon as he had gathered an audience about him.

After this short preface, which I have made up of such materials as my memory does at present suggest to me, before I present my reader with a fable of this kind, which I design as the entertainment of the present paper, I must in a few words open the occasion of it.

In the account which Plato gives us of the conversation and behaviour of Socrates, the morning he was to die, he tells the following circumstance.

When Socrates' fetters were knocked off (as was usual to be done on the day that the condemned person was to be executed) being seated in the midst of his disciples, and laying one of his legs over the other, in a very unconcerned posture, he began to rub it where it had been galled by the iron; and whether it was to shew the indifference with which he entertained the thoughts of his approaching death, or (after his usual manner) to take every occasion of philosophising upon some useful subject, he observed the pleasure of that sensation which now arose in those very parts of his leg, that just before had been so much pained by the fetter. Upon this he reflected on the nature of pleasure and pain in general, and how constantly they succeed one another. To this he added, that if a man of good genius for a fable were to represent the nature of pleasure and pain in that way of writing, he would probably join them together after such a manner, that it would be impossible for the one to come into any place, without being followed by the other.

It is possible, that if Plato had thought it proper at such a time to describe Socrates launching out into a discourse, which was not of a piece with the business of the day, he would have enlarged upon this hint, and have drawn it out into some beautiful allegory or fable. But, since he has not done it, I shall attempt

to write one myself in the spirit of that divine author.

"There were two families which from the begin"ning of the world were as opposite to each other as "light and darkness. The one of them lived in Hea66 ven, and the other in Hell. The youngest descend"ant of the first family was Pleasure, who was the "daughter of Happiness, who was the child of Virtue, "who was the offspring of the gods. These, as I said "before, had their habitation in Heaven. The young"est of the opposite family was Pain, who was the "son of Misery, who was the child of Vice, who was "the offspring of the Furies. The habitation of this "race of beings was in hell.

"The middle station of nature between these two " opposite extremes was the Earth, which was inha"bited by creatures of a middle kind, neither so vir"tuous as the one, nor so vicious as the other, but "partaking of the good and bad qualities of these "two opposite families. Jupiter considering that "these species, commonly called man, was too virtuous "to be miserable, and too vicious to be happy; that " he might make a distinction between the good and "the bad, ordered the two youngest of the above-men❝tioned families, Pleasure who was the daughter of "Happiness, and Pain who was the son of Misery, "to meet one another upon this part of nature which "lay in the half-way between them, having promised "to settle it upon them both, provided they could "agree upon the division of it, so as to share man"kind between them.

"Pleasure and Pain were no sooner met in their "new habitation, but they immediately agreed upon "this point, that Pleasure should take possession of "the virtuous, and Pain of the vicious part of that "species which was given up to them. But upon ex❝amining to which of them any individual they met

"with belonged, they found each of them had a right "to him; for that, contrary to what they had seen in "their old places of residence, there was no person so ❝ vicious who had not some good in him, nor any per"son so virtuous, who had not in him some evil. The "truth of it is, they generally found upon search, that " in the most vicious man Pleasure might lay a claim ❝to an hundredth part, and that in the most virtuous "man Pain might come in for at least two-thirds. "This they saw would occasion endless disputes be"tween them, unless they could come to some ac❝commodation. To this end there was a marriage "proposed between them, and at length concluded: "by this means it is that we find Pleasure and Pain " are such constant yoke-fellows, and that they either "make their visits together, or are never far asunder. "If Pain comes into an heart, he is quickly followed "by Pleasure; and if Pleasure enters, you may be " sure Pain is not far off.

"But notwithstanding this marriage was very con"venient for the two parties, it did not seem to an"swer the intention of Jupiter in sending them among "mankind. To remedy therefore this inconvenience, "it was stipulated between them by article, and con"firmed by the consent of each family, that, notwith"standing they here possessed the species indiffe"rently; upon the death of every single person, if he 66 was found to have in him a certain proportion of " evil, he should be dispatched into the infernal re"gions by a passport from Pain, there to dwell with "Misery, Vice, and the Furies. Or, on the contrary, "if he had in him a certain proportion of good, he "should be dispatched into Heaven by a passport from "Pleasure, there to dwell with Happiness, Virtue, " and the gods."

I..

VOL. III.

G

WHEN a man has discovered a new vein of humour, it often carries him much farther than he expected from it. My correspondents take the hint I give them, and pursue it into speculations which I never thought of at my first starting it. This has been the fate of my paper on the match of grinning, which has already produced a second paper on parallel subjects, and brought me the following letter by the last post. I shall not premise any thing to it farther, than that it is built on matter of fact, and is as follows.

'SIR,

YOU have already obliged the world with a discourse upon grinning, and have since proceeded to 'whistling, from whence you at length came to yawn'ing; from this, I think, you may make a very na⚫tural transition to sleeping. I therefore recommend 'to you for the subject of a paper the following advertisement, which about two months ago was given into every body's hands, and may be seen with some • additions in the Daily Courant of August the ninth.

"Nicholas Hart, who slept last year at St. Bartho"lomew's hospital, intends to sleep this year at the "Cock and Bottle in Little Britain."

Having since enquired into the matter of fact, I ⚫ find that the above-mentioned Nicholas Hart is every year seized with a periodical fit of sleeping, which

'begins upon the fifth of August, and ends on the ' eleventh of the same month: That

* On the first of that month he grew dull; 'On the second, appeared drowsy;

On the third, fell a yawning; 'On the fourth, began to nod; 'On the fifth, dropped asleep;

On the sixth, was heard to snore;

'On the seventh, turned himself in his bed;
'On the eighth, recovered his former posture;
On the ninth, feil a stretching;

On the tenth, about midnight, awaked;

'On the eleventh, in the morning, called for a little "small-beer.

This account I have extracted out of the journal ' of this sleeping worthy, as it has been faithfully kept by a gentleman of Lincoln's-Inn, who has un'dertaken to be his historiographer. I have sent it to you, not only as it represents the actions of Ni'cholas Hart, but as it seems a very natural picture of the life of many an honest English gentleman, 'whose whole history very often consists of yawning, nodding, stretching, turning, sleeping, drinking, and 'the like extraordinary particulars. I do not question, Sir, that, if you pleased, you could put out an advertisement not unlike the above-mentioned, of se'veral men of figure; that Mr. John Such-a-one, gen⚫tleman, or Thomas Such-a-one, Esquire, who slept ⚫ in the country last summer, intends to sleep in town this winter. The worst of it is, that the drowsy part of our species is chiefly made up of very honest gentlemen, who live quietly among their neighbours • without ever disturbing the public peace: they are drones without stings. I could heartily wish that several turbulent, restless, ambitious spirits, would for a while change places with these good men, and