the greatest part of those noble writings, which hourly start up to entertain it. If it were not for a rainy day, a drunken vigil, a fit of the spleen, a course of physick, a sleepy sunday, an ill run at dice, a long tailor's bill, a beggar's purse, a factious head, a hot sun, costive diet, want of books, and a just contempt of learning: but for these events, I say, and some others too long to recite (especially a prudent neglect of taking brimstone inwardly) I doubt, the number of authors, and of writings, would dwindle away to a degree most woful to behold. To confirm this opinion, hear the words of the famous Troglodyte philosopher: It is certain (said he) some grains of folly are of course annexed, as part of the composition of human nature, only the choice is left us, whether we please to wear them inlaid, or embossed: and we need not go very far to seek how that is usually determined, when we remember, it is with human faculties, as with liquors, the lightest will be ever at the top.
There is in this famous island of Britain, a certain paltry scribbler, very voluminous, whose character the reader cannot wholly be a stranger to[1]. He deals in a pernicious kind of writings, called second parts; and usually passes under the name of the
- ↑ This mode of placing the preposition at the end of the sentence, however sanctified by custom, and frequently used by our author, is yet very faulty, and offensive to a cultivated ear. It may easily be avoided by placing the preposition before the word to which it properly belongs. Thus, in the above instance, instead of saying, 'whose character the reader cannot wholly be a stranger to,'——if we transpose the particle thus, 'to whose character the reader cannot wholly be a stranger;' the sentence closes with an important word, in a manner satisfactory to the ear.
