view the real honest money-making censorious citizen of London, (for he also can descant at large on the vices and excesses of the age,) and let us inquire of what real benefit or use he is of to society at large he is but little better than the Dutch merchant, whose soul is his till, and looks up to God only through the crevice by which the money passes into it: he walks in no temple but his counting house, and has no faith but in his banker, and his heart strings and his purse strings are synonymous terms. In the morning he goes to the Exchange, is occupied all the forenoon, and best part of the day, in making money; goes home to dinner, gormandises at table and gets drunk after; goes to bed, rises the next morning to repeat his daily labours; gets drunk again, is cuckolded, and dies. A fortnight after his burial, his son makes

water on his grave; his favourite dog follows the young master's example; and this hopeful youth, for whom he has been toiling for many years, takes as much pains to spend the fortune, as his father did to acquire it.

A good merchant is a good man; and a good man is a good merchant it is also said, that a good mason is a good man, and that a good man also is a good mason.

do not dispute it; but it reminds me of sharpers tossing up for money with fools, and crying, Heads I win, Tails you lose.

I now return to a more interesting object; need I inform my readers that I mean myself?

After a few years enjoyment of every pleasure and satisfaction in life, which

that age of pleasure, extravagance, and elegance, was calculated to afford, a sudden and unforeseen event took place, the result of which I have ever had cause to repent from that early hour to the present moment. I do not wish to rip up old grievances, especially as one of the parties who profited at my expence is dead, and the other is a near friend. It is sufficient to say, that I conceived myself most unjustly treated relative to a promotion that took place in the first regiment of foot guards, in which corps I had then the honour of being an ensign. Great parliamentary interest was the cause of it, to the entire destruction of my promotion in a service to which I was most devoutly attached; and of which I resolved to experience the substance, not the disgraceful empty shadow of parading about the streets of London, with the outward

flimsy insignia of a soldier, a cockade and red coat. This I evinced by voluntarily going into the Hessian service to America very shortly after. Had I remained in the first regiment of guards, I should at this moment have had the honour of commanding that regiment for above a twelvemonth; which the rotation of names here mentioned will plainly prove to my, old friends, the brigade of guards; they were as follow: D'Oyley, Duff, Strickland, Fanshaw, Edmonstone, Hanger. My old acquaintance General-D'Oyley has long been out of the regiment; soon after the Helder expedition. Duff, before him, had a regiment. Strickland quitted the regiment and retired as a private gentleman, and is since dead. Fanshaw sold out, and went into the Russian service, in which, a very few years ago, he was still living. Edmon

stone died aid-de-camp to General Rictarell, the commander in chief of the German troops under General Burgoyne in Canada. Next came a youth, not much favoured by fortune or by fame, your humble servant, George Hanger.

My

gallant and old friend, George Ludlow, (General Ludlow,) who now commands the first regiment of guards, was not above half-way up the ensigns when I quitted the regiment, with four captains junior to me. This statement will prove to those who are conversant with the promotion of the army, in what an high situation I should have stood in point of rank and command, had I remained in the guards. I quitted the guards at the period when the American war commenced, in which fate destined me to serve. With a heart-felt satisfaction I reflect that I had the sense of my regi