For much amazed was that good man." Indeed!
Said he with glad'ning eye," will money breed? (1)
"How have I lived? I grieve, with all my heart,
"For my late knowledge in this precious art:-
"Five pounds for every hundred will he give?
"And then the hundred?—I begin to live."
So he began, and other means he found,
As he went on, to multiply a pound:
Though blind so long to Interest, all allow
That no man better understands it now:
Him in our Body-Corporate we chose,
And once among us, he above us rose;
Stepping from post to post, he reach'd the Chair,
And there he now reposes-that's the Mayor. (2)
But 't is not he, 't is not the kinder few,

The mild, the good, who can our peace renew;
A peevish humour swells in every eye,
The warm are angry, and the cool are shy;
There is no more the social board at whist,
The good old partners are with scorn dismiss'd;

(1) [Original edition:

In fact, the Fisher was amazed: as soon

Could he have judged gold issued from the moon ;

But being taught, he grieved with all his heart

For lack of knowledge in this precious art.]

(2) The circumstance here related is a fact; although it may appear to many almost incredible, that, in this country, and but few years since, a close and successful man should be a stranger to the method of increasing money by the loan of it. The minister of the place where the honest Fisherman resided has related to me the apprehension and suspicion he witnessed: with trembling hand and dubious look, the careful man received and surveyed the bond given to him; and, after a sigh or two of lingering mistrust, he placed it in the coffer whence he had just before taken his cash; for which, and for whose increase, he now indulged a belief that it was indeed both promise and security.

No more with dog and lantern comes the maid,
To guide the mistress when the rubber's play'd;
Sad shifts are made lest ribands blue and green
Should at one table, at one time, be seen:
On care and merit none will now rely,
'Tis Party sells, what party-friends must buy;
The warmest burgess wears a bodger's coat,
And fashion gains less int'rest than a vote;
Uncheck'd the vintner still his poison vends,
For he too votes, and can command his friends.
But this admitted; be it still agreed,
These ill effects from noble cause proceed;
Though like some vile excrescences they be,
The tree they spring from is a sacred tree,
And its true produce, Strength and Liberty.
Yet if we could th' attendant ills suppress,
If we could make the sum of mischief less;
If we could warm and angry men persuade
No more man's common comforts to invade ;
And that old ease and harmony re-seat
In all our meetings, so in joy to meet;
Much would of glory to the Muse ensue,
And our good Vicar would have less to do.

THE BOROUGH.

LETTER VI.

PROFESSIONS LAW.

Quid leges sine moribus

Vanæ proficiunt ? — HORACE.

Væ! misero mihi, mea nunc facinora

Aperiuntur, clam quæ speravi fore. - MANILIUS.

Trades and Professions of every Kind to be found in the Borough-Its Seamen and Soldiers -Law, the Danger of the Subject-Coddrington's Offence-Attorneys increased; their splendid Appearance, how supported— Some worthy Exceptions Spirit of Litigation, how stirred up - A Boy articled as a Clerk; his Ideas - How this Profession perverts the Judgment— Actions appear through this Medium in a false Light-Success from honest Application-Archer, a worthy Character-Swallow, a Character of different Kind – His Origin, Progress, Success, &c.

THE BOROUGH.

LETTER VI.

PROFESSIONS-LAW.

"TRADES and Professions". - these are themes the Muse,

Left to her freedom, would forbear to choose;

But to our Borough they in truth belong,

And we, perforce, must take them in our song.

Be it then known that we can boast of these
In all denominations, ranks, degrees;

All who our numerous wants through life supply,
Who soothe us sick, attend us when we die,
Or for the dead their various talents try.
Then have we those who live by secret arts,
By hunting fortunes, and by stealing hearts;
Or who by nobler means themselves advance;
Or who subsist by charity and chance.

Say, of our native heroes shall I boast,
Born in our streets, to thunder on our coast,
Our Borough-seamen? Could the timid Muse
More patriot-ardour in their breasts infuse;