and had given her Number to a Friend and Confident, who had promised to keep the Secret, and bring her News of the Success.  The poor Adventurer was one Day gone abroad, when her careless Husband, suspecting she had saved some Money, searches every Corner, till at length he finds this same Ticket; which he immediately carries abroad, sells, and squanders away the Money without the Wife’s suspecting any thing of the Matter.  A Day or two after this, this Friend, who was a Woman, comes and brings the Wife word, that she had a Benefit of Five Hundred Pounds.  The poor Creature over-joyed, flies up Stairs to her Husband, who was then at Work, and desires him to leave his Loom for that Evening, and come and drink with a Friend of his and hers below.  The Man received this chearful Invitation as bad Husbands sometimes do, and after a cross Word or two told her he woudn’t come.  His Wife with Tenderness renewed her Importunity, and at length said to him, My Love!  I have within these few Months, unknown to you, scraped together as much Money as has bought us a Ticket in the Lottery, and now here is Mrs. Quick [come] [3] to tell me, that tis come up this Morning a Five hundred Pound Prize.  The Husband replies immediately, You lye, you Slut, you have no Ticket, for I have sold it.  The poor Woman upon this Faints away in a Fit, recovers, and is now run distracted.  As she had no Design to defraud her Husband, but was willing only to participate in his good Fortune, every one pities her, but thinks her Husbands Punishment but just.  This, Sir, is Matter of Fact, and would, if the Persons and Circumstances were greater, in a well-wrought Play be called Beautiful Distress.  I have only sketched it out with Chalk, and know a good Hand can make a moving Picture with worse Materials.

  SIR, &c.

  Mr. SPECTATOR,

I am what the World calls a warm Fellow, and by good Success in Trade I have raised myself to a Capacity of making some Figure in the World; but no matter for that.  I have now under my Guardianship a couple of Nieces, who will certainly make me run mad; which you will not wonder at, when I tell you they are Female Virtuosos, and during the three Years and a half that I have had them under my Care, they never in the least inclined their Thoughts towards any one single Part of the Character of a notable Woman.  Whilst they should have been considering the proper Ingredients for a Sack-posset, you should hear a Dispute concerning the [magnetick] [4], and in first reprint.] Virtue of the Loadstone, or perhaps the Pressure of the Atmosphere:  Their Language is peculiar to themselves, and they scorn to express themselves on the meanest Trifle with Words that are not of a Latin Derivation.  But this were supportable still, would they suffer me to enjoy an uninterrupted Ignorance; but, unless I fall in with their abstracted Idea of Things (as they call them) I must not expect to smoak one Pipe in Quiet.  In a late Fit of the Gout I complained