“It must be allowed, that Esquire Bickerstaff is of all authors the most ingenuous.  There are few, very few, that will own themselves in a mistake, though all the World sees them to be in downright nonsense.  You’ll be pleased, Sir, to pardon this expression, for the same reason for which you once desired us to excuse you when you seemed anything dull.  Most writers, like the generality of Paul Lorrain’s[2] saints, seem to place a peculiar vanity in dying hard.  But you, Sir, to show a good example to your brethren, have not only confessed, but of your own accord mended the indictment.  Nay, you have been so good-natured as to discover beauties in it, which, I will assure you, he that drew it never dreamed of:  And to make your civility the more accomplished, you have honoured him with the title of your kinsman,[3] which, though derived by the left hand, he is not a little proud of.  My brother (for such Obadiah is) being at present very busy about nothing, has ordered me to return you his sincere thanks for all these favours; and, as a small token of his gratitude, to communicate to you the following piece of intelligence, which, he thinks, belongs more properly to you than to any others of our modern historians.

“Madonella, who as it was thought had long since taken her flight towards the ethereal mansions, still walks, it seems, in the regions of mortality; where she has found, by deep reflections on the revolution[4] mentioned in yours of June the 23rd, that where early instructions have been wanting to imprint true ideas of things on the tender souls of those of her sex, they are never after able to arrive at such a pitch of perfection, as to be above the laws of matter and motion; laws which are considerably enforced by the principles usually imbibed in nurseries and boarding-schools.  To remedy this evil, she has laid the scheme of a college for young damsels; where, instead of scissors, needles, and samplers; pens, compasses, quadrants, books, manuscripts, Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, are to take up their whole time.  Only on holidays the students will, for moderate exercise, be allowed to divert themselves with the use of some of the lightest and most voluble weapons; and proper care will be taken to give them at least a superficial tincture of the ancient and modern Amazonian tactics.  Of these military performances, the direction is undertaken by Epicene,[5] the writer of ’Memoirs from the Mediterranean,’ who, by the help of some artificial poisons conveyed by smells, has within these few weeks brought many persons of both sexes to an untimely fate; and, what is more surprising, has, contrary to her profession, with the same odours, revived others who had long since been drowned in the whirlpools of Lethe.  Another of the professors is to be a certain lady, who is now publishing two of the choicest Saxon novels[6], which are said to have been in as great repute with the ladies of Queen Emma’s Court, as the ‘Memoirs from the New Atalantis’ are with those of ours.  I shall make it my business to enquire into the progress of this learned institution, and give you the first notice of their ‘Philosophical Transactions[7], and Searches after Nature.’