By the instigation and encouragement of my friends, I became at length ambitious of a seat in parliament; and accordingly set out for the town of Wallop in the west, where my arrival was welcomed by a thousand throats, and I was in three days sure of a majority:  but after drinking out one hundred and fifty hogsheads of wine, and bribing two-thirds of the corporation twice over, I had the mortification to find that the borough had been before sold to Mr. Courtly.

In a life of this kind, my fortune, though considerable, was presently dissipated; and as the attraction grows more strong the nearer any body approaches the earth, when once a man begins to sink into poverty, he falls with velocity always increasing; every supply is purchased at a higher and higher price, and every office of kindness obtained with greater and greater difficulty.  Having now acquainted you with my state of elevation, I shall, if you encourage the continuance of my correspondence, shew you by what steps I descended from a first floor in Pall-Mall to my present habitation[1].

I am, Sir,

Your humble servant,

Misargyrus.

[1] For an account of the disputes raised on this paper, and on the
    other letters of Misargyrus, see Preface.

No. 39.  Tuesday, march 20, 1753.

 —­[Greek:  Oduseus phulloisi kalupsato to d ar Athaenae
  Hypnon ep ommasi cheu, ina min pauseie tachista
  Dusponeos kamatoio.]—­Hom.  E. 491

 —­Pallas pour’d sweet slumbers on his soul;
  And balmy dreams, the gift of soft repose,
  Calm’d all his pains, and banish’d all his woes.  Pope.

If every day did not produce fresh instances of the ingratitude of mankind, we might, perhaps, be at a loss, why so liberal and impartial a benefactor as sleep, should meet with so few historians or panegyrists.  Writers are so totally absorbed by the business of the day, as never to turn their attention to that power, whose officious hand so seasonably suspends the burthen of life; and without whose interposition man would not be able to endure the fatigue of labour, however rewarded, or the struggle with opposition, however successful.

Night, though she divides to many the longest part of life, and to almost all the most innocent and happy, is yet unthankfully neglected, except by those who pervert her gifts.

The astronomers, indeed, expect her with impatience, and felicitate themselves upon her arrival:  Fontenelle has not failed to celebrate her praises; and to chide the sun for hiding from his view the worlds, which he imagines to appear in every constellation.  Nor have the poets been always deficient in her praises:  Milton has observed of the night, that it is “the pleasant time, the cool, the silent.”