gentleman (meaning the officer you may be sure) hath been so good as to favour us with.

The young gentleman made her a very handsome bow for this overture, which, however, he affected to interpret only as a mere civility.

This vigorous vindication, delivered with an earnestness and warmth, equal to its keenness, dumfounded all opposition, and to my infinite satisfaction, which I took care to intimate, carried the cause in favour of Hurlothrumbo.

And here, O reader, I met with an occasion of being thankful for that inestimable stock of wisdom, which I derive from education, upon hearing the ignorant wretch of a butler, who happened to get a part both of the play and the dispute, as he gave attendance, muttering to himself some uncouth criticisms, as well on what had passed in the company, as on the performance itself. I heard him swear by his soul, he believed the author was mad, and the whole company little better, for talking so gravely about his hare brained rants, as he called them; adding, that Tom Clatterplate, who had been lately at London, with his master, Justice Wiseacre, assured him every body there began to suspect the author to be a madman. Astonishing stupidity! Be thou thankful also, O reader, that thou art not such a one as this butler, nor as Clatterplate, the traveller; for had not thy stars been kind to thee, thou mightest have been yet worse than them, even a scavenger. So take not the honour to thyself, but be thankful.

The rest of the play being read out, to the great entertainment and edification of us all, we spent the evening very agreeably, every one turning to, and repeating such particular passages, as happened best to hit his taste and humour.

I cannot shut up this elaborate and useful treatise, without a parallel between Lord Shaftsbury and Mr. Johnson. There is such a resemblance to justify this new trespass on the patience of my reader, that the genius of the one seems to be transfused into the other. But what seems to bring them the nearest to each other, is the Rhapsody and the Hurlothrumbo, to which two performances the reader is

desired to consider me, as alluding in the following comparison.

These two authors have, with the same boldness, ventured from the common worn path of all other writers, which can now afford nothing that is new, and notwithstanding they seem to scour the boundless regions of poetical and philosophical matter at random, yet tread precisely in the same path, excepting in a very few instances, which I shall point to hereafter.

I persuade myself, I have a clear and distinct idea of both their methods; and yet I find it exceedingly difficult to communicate that idea to the reader, for want of terms, which in this case ought to be very complex, and which, as the occasion is new, have not yet been provided by the learned. But, in some measure to get clear of this difficulty, let us suppose, what will probably happen among posterity, that there is a great number of writings formed exactly according to the manner and plan of each; one half of which are called Rhapsodies, after that of lord Shaftsbury, the first of that name, and the other called Hurlothrumbos, after Mr. Johnson's, as Cicero's Philippics are so called after those of Demosthenes. By which means, Rhapsody and Hurlothrumbo, become the terms of two general ideas, which ideas every intelligent reader will best form to himself, by carefully perusing the two performances; and those who cannot read may get others to do it for them.

Were it not for the different periods of their publication, so great is their resemblance to each other, that one would be apt to think they had flowed through the same pen.

There is a tragic spirit blended with the philosophy of the Rhapsody, and a philosophical, in the Hurlothrumbo; insomuch that the Rhapsody may not improperly be called an Hurlothrumbo of a Rhapsody, and the Hurlothrumbo, a Rhapsody of a tragedy. There is the same astonishing variety in both. Both breathe the same free spirit of thinking. Both surprise us after the same manner, and by the same faculty of digressing suddenly, and hurrying the reader in a moment from the sight of the first subject, in pursuit of a new one, which escapes and leaves him on the scent of a third, and so on, till a thousand, one after another are started and quitted in the same page. They both pursue their themes with infinite eagerness; but pursue them

gentleman (meaning the officer you may be sure)! so good as to favour us with.

The young gentleman made her a very ha for this overture, which, however, he affect only as a mere civility.

This vigorous vindication, delivered ness and warmth, equal to its keenn opposition, and to my infinite satisf care to intimate, carried the cau thrumbo.

And here, O reader, I me thankful for that inestimable rive from education, upon 1 butler, who happened to the dispute, as he gave some uncouth critici the company, as or swear by his soul whole company his hare-braine Tom Clatteri

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exactly alike in all ...hough it be the most difwherein they differ. If I misFord Shaftsbury, to charm and

Mr. Johnson to astonish and er hath more art, the latter more nutes, the latter commands. His is zur reason by stratagem. Mr. Johnby storm. His lordship leads us in antastic heaven. Mr. Johnson drives ugh imaginary terrors. The spirit of the fatuus, that leads his reader through es, over hills and dales, and at last leaves gp to his ears in a bog. And the genius of cally when it exerts itself in description, is g up of a magazine of gunpowder, that on a sudden with a frightful burst, scatters sement round it, shakes the earth, and intheses with a chaos of uproar and confusion. 2^as patence, candid and long-suffering reader, hath ee thus far, it is now high time I should reward gable diligence, and present thee with the most e word by far, in this tedious treatise, which I have reserved to make amends for all the rest, which hed for word, if thou wilt cast thy eyes downward, presently behold.

A

LETTER

TO THE

VINE ANALOGY,

OPHERS:

D OFFICER.

- Ne tanta animis assuescite bella,

Veu patriæ validas in viscera vertite vires.-VIRG.

GENTLEMEN,

No doubt, you will think it somewhat odd, to receive a letter from an old officer, on a subject in which books only seem to be concerned, and which relates to one of the subtlest theological controversies that has either exercised or disturbed the church. And what will probably surprise you still more, is to find the same letter directed jointly to two persons, whom their places of abode, but more especially their differences in opinion, have set at so great a distance. But the very occasion of your surprise must remove it; for had you not entered the lists together in the spirit of combat, I should never have had occasion to interpose in the character of a peace-maker, nor call to you both at once, rather in the voice of one that attempts to reconcile friends at variance, than compose the resentments of enemies.

I own it may seem a little too presuming, for one of my character and employment, to intermeddle in the controversies of divines; for which reason I should have taken some feigned name, and wrote to you in the disguise, perhaps, of a clergyman, had I not contracted such a habit in the service, of talking about military affairs, and

only for a moment. It is the peculiar excellence of them both to deviate, before they have beaten their path bare; to quit the pump, before they have exhausted their subject.

Nor do these two eminent writers, less resemble each other in that gloomy magnificence, in which the true dignity of their writings consists. The same midnight darkness lours over both their performances. Each presents his reader with a night-piece, drawn in so deep a shade, that it seems rather the picture of night itself, than of benighted objects. Yet from this darkness, a gleam of light, now and then, breaks forth, which although it serves not for sight or direction, yet looks excessively bright, because it shines in the dark. They resemble a cloud which envelopes a huge body of fire, and sometimes suffers a flash of lightning, to rush out with amazing suddenness and lustre.

But, as no two authors ever were exactly alike in all respects, so neither are these, although it be the most difficult thing in nature to see wherein they differ. If I mistake not, it is peculiar to lord Shaftsbury, to charm and bewitch his readers, and to Mr. Johnson to astonish and terrify them. The former hath more art, the latter more fire. The former insinuates, the latter commands. His lordship circumvents our reason by stratagem. Mr. Johnson takes our hearts by storm. His lordship leads us in the dark through a fantastic heaven. Mr. Johnson drives us trembling through imaginary terrors. The spirit of the former is an ignis-fatuus, that leads his reader through hedges and ditches, over hills and dales, and at last leaves him a sticking up to his ears in a bog. And the genius of the latter, especially when it exerts itself in description, is like the blowing up of a magazine of gunpowder, that breaks out on a sudden with a frightful burst, scatters death and amazement round it, shakes the earth, and invades the skies with a chaos of uproar and confusion.

If thy patience, candid and long-suffering reader, hath carried thee thus far, it is now high time I should reward thy indefatigable diligence, and present thee with the most agreeable word by far, in this tedious treatise, which I have hitherto reserved to make amends for all the rest, which long-wished for word, if thou wilt cast thy eyes downward, thou shalt presently behold.