His aquiescent speech, his gracious look,
That pure attention, when the brethren spoke,
Was all contrition,—­he had felt the wound,
And with confession would again be sound. 
   True, Swallow’s board had still the sumptuous treat;
But could they blame? the warmest zealots eat: 
He drank—­’twas needful his poor nerves to brace;
He swore—­’twas habit; he was grieved—­’twas grace: 
What could they do a new-born zeal to nurse? 
“His wealth’s undoubted—­let him hold our purse;
He’ll add his bounty, and the house we’ll raise
Hard by the church, and gather all her strays: 
We’ll watch her sinners as they home retire,
And pluck the brands from the devouring fire.” 
   Alas! such speech was but an empty boast;
The good men reckon’d, but without their host;
Swallow, delighted, took the trusted store,
And own’d the sum; they did not ask for more,
Till more was needed; when they call’d for aid —
And had it?—­No, their agent was afraid: 
“Could he but know to whom he should refund
He would most gladly—­nay, he’d go beyond;
But when such numbers claim’d, when some were gone. 
And others going—­he must hold it on;
The Lord would help them.”—­Loud their anger grew,
And while they threat’ning from his door withdrew,
He bow’d politely low, and bade them all adieu,
   But lives the man by whom such deeds are done! 
Yes, many such—­But Swallow’s race is run;
His name is lost,—­for though his sons have name,
It is not his, they all escape the shame;
Nor is there vestige now of all he had,
His means are wasted, for his heir was mad: 
Still we of Swallow as a monster speak,
A hard bad man, who prey’d upon the weak.

LETTER VII.

Finirent multi letho mala; credula vitam
Spes alit, et melius cras fore semper ait. 
                                 Tibullus.

He fell to juggle, cant, and cheat . . . 
For as those fowls that live in water
Are never wet, he did but smatter;
Whate’er he labour’d to appear,
His understanding still was clear. 
A paltry wretch he had, half starved,
That him in place of zany served. 
                        Butler, Hudibras.

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Professions—­physic.

The Worth and Excellence of the true Physician—­Merit, not the sole Cause of Success—­Modes of advancing Reputation—­Motives of medical Men for publishing their Works—­The great Evil of Quackery—­Present State of advertising Quacks—­Their Hazard—­Some fail, and why—­ Causes of Success—­How Men of understanding are prevailed upon to have recourse to Empirics, and to permit their Names to be advertised—­Evils of Quackery:  to nervous Females; to Youth; to Infants—­History of an advertising Empiric, &c.