one may go to it by Land?  But, alas, I am afraid it has lost its Virtue, and that a Woman of our Times would find no more Relief in taking such a Leap, than in singing an Hymn to Venus.  So that I must cry out with Dido in Dryden’s Virgil,

  Ah! cruel Heaven, that made no Cure for Love!

  Your disconsolate Servant,_

  ATHENAIS.

  MISTER SPICTATUR,

   My Heart is so full of Lofes and Passions for Mrs. Gwinifrid, and
  she is so pettish and overrun with Cholers against me, that if I had
  the good Happiness to have my Dwelling (which is placed by my
  Creat-Cranfather upon the Pottom of an Hill) no farther Distance but
  twenty Mile from the Lofers Leap, I would indeed indeafour to preak
  my Neck upon it on Purpose.  Now, good Mister SPICTATUR of Crete
  Prittain, you must know it there is in Caernaruanshire a fery pig
  Mountain, the Glory of all Wales, which is named Penmainmaure, and
  you must also know, it iss no great Journey on Foot from me; but the
  Road is stony and bad for Shooes.  Now, there is upon the Forehead of
  this Mountain a very high Rock, (like a Parish Steeple) that cometh a
  huge deal over the Sea; so when I am in my Melancholies, and I do
  throw myself from it, I do desire my fery good Friend to tell me in
  his Spictatur, if I shall be cure of my grefous Lofes; for there is
  the Sea clear as Glass, and as creen as the Leek:  Then likewise if I
  be drown, and preak my Neck, if Mrs. Gwinifrid will not lose me
  afterwards.  Pray be speedy in your Answers, for I am in crete Haste,
  and it is my Tesires to do my Pusiness without Loss of Time.  I remain
  with cordial Affections, your ever lofing Friend, Davyth ap
  Shenkyn.

  P. S. My Law-suits have brought me to London, but I have lost my
  Causes; and so have made my Resolutions to go down and leap before the
  Frosts begin; for I am apt to take Colds.

Ridicule, perhaps, is a better Expedient against Love than sober Advice, and I am of Opinion, that Hudibras and Don Quixote may be as effectual to cure the Extravagancies of this Passion, as any of the old Philosophers.  I shall therefore publish, very speedily, the Translation of a little Greek Manuscript, which is sent me by a learned Friend.  It appears to have been a Piece of those Records which were kept in the little Temple of Apollo, that stood upon the Promontory of Leucate.  The Reader will find it to be a Summary Account of several Persons who tried the Lovers Leap, and of the Success they found in it.  As there seem to be in it some Anachronisms and Deviations from the ancient Orthography, I am not wholly satisfied myself that it is authentick, and not rather the Production of one of those Grecian Sophisters, who have imposed upon the World several spurious Works of this Nature.  I speak this by way of Precaution, because I know there are several Writers, of uncommon Erudition, who would not fail to expose my Ignorance, if they caught me tripping in a Matter of so great Moment. [3]