I have indeed been for some years silent, or, in the language of Mr. BICKERSTAFF, “dead”; yet like many an old man that is reported so by his heirs, I have lived long enough to bury my successor [the Tatler having been discontinued].  In short, I am returned to Being after you have left it; and since you were once pleased to call yourself my brother-astrologer, the world may be apt to compare our story to that of the twin-stars CASTOR and POLLUX, and say it was our destiny, not to appear together, but according to the fable, to live and die by turns.

Now, Sir, my intention in this Epistle is to let you know that I shall behave myself in my new Being with as much moderation as possible, and that I have no longer any quarrel with you [i.e., STEELE], for the accounts you inserted in your writings [the joke was continued in the Tatler] concerning my death, being sensible that you were no less abused in that particular than myself.

The person from whom you took up that report, I know, was your namesake, the author of BICKERSTAFF’s Predictions, a notorious cheat.[16] And if you had been indeed as much an Astrologer as you pretended, you might have known that his word was no more to be taken than that of an Irish evidence [SWIFT was now Dean of St. Patrick’s]:  that not being the only Tale of a Tub he had vented.  The only satisfaction therefore, I expect is, that your bookseller in the next edition of your Works [The Tatler], do strike out my name and insert his in the room of it.  I have some thoughts of obliging the World with his nativity, but shall defer that till another opportunity.

I have nothing to add further, but only that when you think fit to return to life again in whatever shape, of Censor [the designation of the supposed Writer of the Tatler], a Guardian, an Englishman, or any other figure, I shall hope you will do justice to

Your revived friend and servant,

JOHN PARTRIDGE.

On the last leaf of this Almanack is the following notice:—­

This is to give notice to all people, that all those Prophecies, Predictions, Almanacks, and other pamphlets, that had my name either true, or shammed with the want of a Letter [i.e., spelling his name PARTRIGE instead of PARTRIDGE]:  I say, they are all impudent forgeries, by a breed of villains, and wholly without my knowledge or consent.  And I doubt not but those beggarly villains that have scarce bread to eat without being rogues, two or three poor printers and a bookbinder, with honest BEN, will be at their old Trade again of Prophesying in my name.  This is therefore to give notice, that if there is anything in print in my name beside this Almanack, you may depend on it that it is a lie, and he is a villain that writes and prints it.

In his Almanack for 1715 [P.P. 2465/7], PARTRIDGE says—­