ry breeze, and the husbandman ever es in joyful expectation. But though the nation be exempt from 1 evils, think not, my friend, that it is re happy on this account than others. ey are afflicted, it is true, with neither aine nor pestilence, but then there is a order peculiar to the country, which ery season makes strange ravages among em; it spreads with pestilential rapidity, dinfects almost every rank of people; aat is still more strange, the natives have name for this peculiar malady, though ell known to foreign physicians by the operation of epidemic terror.

A season is never known to pass in hich the people are not visited by this calamity in one shape or another; semingly different, though ever the same: the year it issues from a baker's shop in e shape of a sixpenny loaf; the next, it les the appearance of a comet with a ery tail; a third, it threatens like a flat

med boat; and a fourth, it carries contenation at the bite of a mad dog. The e, when once infected, lose their relish happiness, saunter about with looks of ondence, ask after the calamities of hay, and receive no comfort but in tening each other's distress. It is infcant how remote or near, how weak powerful, the objects of terror may when once they resolve to fright and bighted, the merest trifles sow consterand dismay: each proportions his , not to the object, but to the dread iscovers in the countenance of others; Then once the fermentation is begun, tes on of itself, though the original Ase be discontinued which first set it in

on.

A dread of mad dogs is the epidemic or which now prevails; and the whole on is at present actually groaning cer the malignity of its influence. The rople sally from their houses with that rcumspection which is prudent in such I expect a mad dog at every turning. be physician publishes his prescription, e beadle prepares his halter, and a few unusual bravery arm themselves with wts and buff gloves, in order to face the emy if he should offer to attack them. short, the whole people stand bravely

upon their defence, and seem, by their present spirit, to show a resolution of not being tamely bit by mad dogs any longer.

Their manner of knowing whether a dog be mad or no somewhat resembles the ancient European custom of trying witches. The old woman suspected was tied hand and foot, and thrown into the water. If she swam, then she was instantly carried off to be burnt for a witch; if she sunk, then indeed she was acquitted of the charge, but drowned in the experiment. In the same manner, a crowd gather round a dog suspected of madness, and they begin by teasing the devoted animal on every side: if he attempts to stand upon the defensive and bite, then he is unanimously found guilty, for "a mad dog always snaps at everything;" if, on the contrary, he strives to escape by running away, then he can expect no compassion, for "mad dogs always run straight forward before them."

It is pleasant enough for a neutral being like me, who have no share in these ideal calamities, to mark the stages of this national disease. The terror at first feebly enters with a disregarded story of a little dog, that had gone through a neighbouring village, that was thought to be mad by several that had seen him. The next account comes, that a mastiff ran through a certain town, and had bit five geese, which immediately ran mad, foamed at the bill, and died in great agonies soon after. Then comes an affecting history of a little boy bit in the leg, and gone down to be dipt in the salt water. When the people have sufficiently shuddered at that, they are next congealed with a frightful account of a man who was said lately to have died from a bite he had received some years before. This relation only prepares the way for another still more hideous, as how the master of a family, with seven small children, were all bit by a mad lapdog; and how the poor father first perceived the infection by calling for a draught of water, where he saw the lapdog swimming in the cup.

When epidemic terror is thus once excited, every morning comes loaded with some new disaster: as in stories of ghosts each loves to hear the account, though it

ors open, be very sure Fortune is not re; when you see a man whose pocketles are laced with gold, be satisfied rtune is not there; wherever you see beautiful woman good-natured and liging, be convinced Fortune is never ere. In short, she is ever seen accomnying industry, and as often trundling a aeelbarrow as lolling in a coach and six. If you would make Fortune your friend, to personize her no longer, if you desire, y son, to be rich, and have money, be ore eager to save than acquire: when ople say, Money is to be got here, and ney is to be got there, take no notice; and your own business; stay where you re, and secure all you can get without ing. When you hear that your neighour has picked up a purse of gold in the treet, never run out into the same street, young about you in order to pick up such her; or when you are informed that e has made a fortune in one branch of tess, never change your own in order ole his rival. Do not desire to be rich once; but patiently add farthing to sung. Perhaps you despise the petty and yet they who want a farthing, have no friend that will lend them it, farthings very good things. Whang, th foolish miller, when he wanted a ang in his distress, found that no friend lend, because they knew he wanted. 3. you ever read the story of Whang in books of Chinese learning? he who, ising small sums, and grasping at all, even what he had.

Whang, the miller, was naturally icious; nobody loved money better La he, or more respected those that had When people would talk of a rich a in company, Whang would say, I aw him very well; he and I have been ing acquainted; he and I are intimate; stood for a child of mine: but if ever a or man was mentioned, he had not the ast knowledge of the man; he might be ry well for aught he knew; but he was fond of many acquaintances, and loved choose his company. Whang.however, with all his eagerness for thes, was in reality poor; he had nothing it the profits of his mill to support him; it though these were small, they were cer

tain: while his mill stood and went, he was sure of eating; and his frugality was such, that he every day laid some money by, which he would at intervals count and contemplate with much satisfaction. Yet still his acquisitions were not equal to his desires; he only found himself above want, whereas he desired to be possessed of affluence.

One day, as he was indulging these wishes, he was informed that a neighbour of his had found a pan of money under ground, having dreamed of it three nights running before. These tidings were daggers to the heart of poor Whang. "Here am I," says he, "toiling and moiling from morning till night for a few paltry farthings, while neighbour Hunks only goes quietly to bed, and dreams himself into thousands before morning. Oh that I could dream like him! with what pleasure would I dig round the pan; how slily would I carry it home; not even my wife should see me ; and then, oh, the pleasure of thrusting one's hand into a heap of gold up to the elbow!"

Such reflections only served to make the miller unhappy; he discontinued his former assiduity; he was quite disgusted with small gains, and his customers began to forsake him. Every day he repeated the wish, and every night laid himself down in order to dream. Fortune, that was for a long time unkind, at last, however, seemed to smile upon his distresses, and indulged him with the wished-for vision. He dreamed, that under a certain part of the foundation of his mill there was concealed a monstrous pan of gold and diamonds, buried deep in the ground, and covered with a large flat stone. He rose up, thanked the stars that were at last pleased to take pity on his sufferings, and concealed his good luck from every person, as is usual in money dreams, in order to have the vision repeated the two succeeding nights, by which he should be certain of its veracity. His wishes in this also were answered; he still dreamed of the same pan of money, in the very same place.

Now, therefore, it was past a doubt; so, getting up early the third morning, he repairs alone, with a mattock in his hand, to the mill, and began to undermine that part of the wall which the vision directed. The first omen of success that he met was

a broken mug; digging still deeper, he turns up a house tile, quite new and entire. At last, after much digging, he came to the broad flat stone, but then so large, that it was beyond one man's strength to remove it. "Here," cried he, in raptures, to himself, "here it is! under this stone there is room for a very large pan of diamonds indeed! I must e'en go home to my wife, and tell her the whole affair, and get her to assist me in turning it up.' Away therefore he goes, and acquaints his wife with every circumstance of their good fortune. Her raptures on this occasion may easily be imagined; she flew round his neck, and embraced him in an agony of joy: but those transports, however, did not delay their eagerness to know the exact sum; returning, therefore, speedily together to the place where Whang had been digging, there they found-not indeed the expected treasure, but the mill, their only support, undermined and fallen.-Adieu.

LETTER LXXI.

From Lien Chi Altangi to Fum Hoam, First President of the Ceremonial Academy at Pekin in China.

THE people of London are as fond of walking as our friends at Pekin of riding; one of the principal entertainments of the citizens here in summer is to repair about nightfall to a garden not far from town, where they walk about, show their best clothes and best faces, and listen to a concert provided for the occasion.

I accepted an invitation a few evenings ago from my old friend, the Man in Black, to be one of a party that was to sup there; and at the appointed hour waited upon him at his lodgings. There I found the company assembled, and expecting my arrival. Our party consisted of my friend, in superlative finery, his stockings rolled, a black velvet waistcoat, which was formerly new, and a gray wig combed down in imitation of hair; a pawnbroker's widow, of whom, by the by, my friend was a professed admirer, dressed out in green damask, with three gold rings on every finger; Mr. Tibbs, the second-rate beau I have formerly described; together with his lady, in flimsy silk, dirty gauze instead of linen, and an hat as big as an umbrella.

Our first difficulty was in settling we should set out. Mrs. Tibbs h natural aversion to the water, and widow, being a little in flesh, as wa protested against walking; a coach therefore agreed upon; which being small to carry five, Mr. Tibbs const to sit in his wife's lap.

In this manner, therefore, we set fore being entertained by the way with bodings of Mr. Tibbs, who assured t did not expect to see a single cre for the evening above the degree cheesemonger; that this was the last! of the gardens, and that consequently should be pestered with the nobility gentry from Thames Street and Cro Lane; with several other prophetic ej lations, probably inspired by the uneasi of his situation.

The illuminations began before arrived, and I must confess, that t entering the gardens I found every s overpaid with more than expected pleas the lights everywhere glimmering thro the scarcely moving trees-the full-bo concert bursting on the stillness of night--the natural concert of the birds, the more retired part of the grove, vy with that which was formed by artcompany gaily dressed, looking satisfact

and the tables spread with various di cacies,-all conspired to fill my imagi tion with the visionary happiness of t Arabian lawgiver, and lifted me into ecstasy of admiration. "Head of Ce fucius," cried I to my friend, "this fine! this unites rural beauty with coun magnificence! if we except the virgins immortality, that hang on every tree, a may be plucked at every desire, I do n see how this falls short of Mahome Paradise!"-"As for virgins," cries a friend, "it is true they are a fruit that d not much abound in our gardens here; hi if ladies, as plenty as apples in autu-1 and as complying as any Houri of the all, can content you, I fancy we have s need to go to heaven for Paradise."

I was going to second his remarks, wła we were called to a consultation by Mr. Tibbs and the rest of the compary, r know in what manner we were to lay the evening to the greatest advantage

s. Tibbs was for keeping the genteel Ik of the garden, where, she observed, re was always the very best company; widow, on the contrary, who came but ce a season, was for securing a good nding place to see the waterworks, ich she assured us would begin in less in an hour at farthest: a dispute theree began, and as it was managed between oof very opposite characters, it threated to grow more bitter at every reply. rs. Tibbs wondered how people could tead to know the polite world, who adreceived all their rudiments of breeding had a counter: to which the other relied, that though some people sat behind ters, yet they could sit at the head of ez own tables too, and carve three good ishes of hot meat whenever they thought rer; which was more than some people ou say for themselves, that hardly knew bit and onions from a green goose nd gooseberries.

It's hard to say where this might have , had not the husband, who probably | the impetuosity of his wife's dison, proposed to end the dispute by rning to a box, and try if there was ing to be had for supper that was ortable. To this we all consented; tere a new distress arose: Mr. and Tibbs would sit in none but a genteel -a box where they might see and be one, as they expressed it, in the very public view; but such a box not easy to be obtained, for though were perfectly convinced of our own pality, and the gentility of our appearyet we found it a difficult matter to suade the keepers of the boxes to be of ropinion; they chose to reserve genteel es for what they judged more genteel

pany.

At last, however, we were fixed, though mewhat obscurely, and supplied with usual entertainment of the place. the widow found the supper excellent, ut Mrs. Tibbs thought everything detestle. "Come, come, my dear," cries the sband, by way of consolation, "to be re we can't find such dressing here as we ive at Lord Crump's or Lady Crimp's; , for Vauxhall dressing, it is pretty od: it is not their victuals, indeed, I

find fault with, but their wine; their wine," cries he, drinking off a glass, “indeed, is most abominable."

By this last contradiction the widow was fairly conquered in point of politeness. She perceived now that she had no pretensions in the world to taste; her very senses were vulgar, since she had praised detestable custard, and smacked at wretched wine; she was therefore content to yield the victory, and for the rest of the night to listen and improve. It is true, she would now and then forget herself, and confess she was pleased; but they soon brought her back again to miserable refinement. She once praised the painting of the box in which we were sitting, but was soon convinced that such paltry pieces ought rather to excite horror than satisfaction: she ventured again to commend one of the singers, but Mrs. Tibbs soon let her know, in the style of a connoisseur, that the singer in question had neither ear, voice, nor judgment.

Mr. Tibbs, now willing to prove that his wife's pretensions to music were just, entreated her to favour the company with a song; but to this she gave a positive denial-"for you know very well, my dear," says she, "that I am not in voice to-day, and when one's voice is not equal to one's judgment, what signifies singing? besides, as there is no accompaniment, it would be but spoiling music.' All these excuses, however, were overruled by the rest of the company, who, though one would think they already had music enough, joined in the entreaty. But particularly the widow, now willing to convince the company of her breeding, pressed so warmly, that she seemed determined to take no refusal. At last, then, the lady complied, and after humming for some minutes, began with such a voice, and such affectation, as, I could perceive, gave but little satisfaction to any except her husband. He sat with rapture in his eye, and beat time with his hand on the table.

You must observe, my friend, that it is the custom of this country, when a lady or gentleman happens to sing, for the company to sit as mute and motionless as statues. Every feature, every limb, must seem to correspond in fixed attention; and while