the cause of virtue and religion, assure me you will not think that clergymen when injured, have the least right to your protection; and it is from that assurance I trouble you with this, to complain of the Examiner, who calumniates as freely as he commends, and whose invectives are as groundless as his panegyrics.

In his paper of the eighth instant, after a most furious invective against many noble lords, a considerable number of the commons, and a very great part of her majesty's good subjects, as disaffected and full of discontent, which by the way, is but an aukward compliment to the prince whose greatest glory it is to reign in the hearts of her people, that the clergy may not go without their share of his resentment, he concludes with a most malicious reflection upon some of them. He names indeed nobody, but points to Windsor and St. Paul's, where he tells us, some are disrespectful to the queen, and enemies to her peace; most odious characters, especially in clergymen, whose profession is peace, and to whose duty and affection her majesty has a more immediate right, by her singular piety and great goodness to them. "They have sucked in," he says, "this warlike principle from their arbitrary patrons." It is not enough, it seems, to calumniate them, unless their patrons also be insulted, no less patrons than the late king and the duke of Marlborough. These are his arbitrary men; though nothing be more certain than that without the king, the shadow of a legal government had not been left to us; nor did there ever live a man, who in the nature and temper of him, less deserved the character of arbitrary than the duke. How now is this terrible charge against those clergymen supported? Why, as to St. Paul's,

the fact, according to him, is this;"Some of the church, to affront the queen, on the day the peace was proclaimed, gave orders for parochial prayers only, without singing, as is used upon fast-days, though in this particular their inferiors were so very honest to disobey them." This the Examiner roundly affirms after his usual manner, but without the least regard to truth; for it is fallen in my way without inquiring, to be exactly informed of this matter, and therefore I take upon me in their vindication to assure you, that every part of what is said is absolutely false, and the truth is just the reverse. The inferiors desired there might be only parochial prayers; but the person applied to was aware to what construction it might be liable, and therefore would not consent to the request, though very innocent and reasonable. The case was this: the procession of the ceremony had reached Ludgate just at the time of prayers, and there was such a prodigious concourse of people, that one of the vergers came to the residentiary in waiting, to represent, that it would be impossible to have prayers that afternoon; that the crowds all round the church were so great, there would be no getting in but it was insisted, that there must be prayers, only the tolling of the bell should be deferred a little until the head of the procession was got be-. yond the church. When the bell had done, and none of the quire appeared, but one to read, it was upon this again represented, that there could be only parochial prayers, a thing that sometimes happens, twice or thrice perhaps in a year, when upon some allowable occasions the absence of the quire-men is so great, as not to leave the necessary voices for cathedral service; which very lately was the case upon a performance of the thanksgiving

music at Whitehall. So that had the prayers, on that occasion, been parochial only, it had been neither new nor criminal, but necessary and unavoidable, unless the Examiner can tell how the service may be sung decently without singing-men. However to leave informers no room for calumny, it was expressly urged, that parochial prayers on such a day, would look ill; that therefore, if possible, it should be avoided, and the service should be begun as usual, in hopes one or two of the quire might come in before the psalms; and the verger was ordered to look out, if he could see any of the quire, to hasten them to their places; and so it proved, two of the best voices came in time enough, and the service was performed cathedral-wise, though in a manner to bare walls, with an anthem suitable to the day. This is the fact on which the Examiner grounds a charge of factious and seditious principles against some at St. Paul's, and I am persuaded there is as little truth in what he charges some of Windsor with, though I know not certainly whom he means. Were I disposed to expostulate with the Examiner, I would ask him if he seriously thinks this be answering her majesty's intentions? Whether disquieting the minds of her people is the way to calm them? Or to traduce men of learning and virtue, be to cultivate the arts of peace? But I am too well acquainted with his writings not to see he is past correction; nor does any thing in his paper surprise me, merely because it is false; for to use his own words, not a day passes with him, but " it brings forth a mouse or a monster, some ridiculous lie, some vile calumny or forgery." He is almost equally false in every thing he says; but it is not always equally easy to make his falsehood plain and palpable. And

it is chiefly for that reason I desire you to give this letter a place in your papers, that those that are willing to be undeceived may learn, from so clear an instance, what a faithful, modest writer this is, who pretends to teach them how to think and speak of things and persons they know nothing of themselves. As this is no way disagreeable to your character of Guardian, your publication of it is a favour which I flatter myself you will not deny to,

SIR,

your humble servant,

R. A.'

N° 81. SATURDAY, JUNE 13, 1713.

Quietè et purè atque eleganter actæ ætatis placida ac lenis recordatio. CICERO.

Placid and soothing is the remembrance of a life passed with quiet, innocence, and elegance.

THE paper which was published on the thirtieth of last month, ended with a piece of devotion written by the archbishop of Cambray. It would (as it was hinted in that precaution) be of singular use for the improvement of our minds, to have the secret thoughts of men of good talents on such occasions. I shall for the entertainment of this day give my reader two pieces, which if he is curious will be pleasing for that reason, if they prove to have no other effect upon him. One of them was

found in the closet of an Athenian libertine, who lived many ages ago, and is a soliloquy wherein he contemplates his own life and actions according to the lights men have from nature, and the compunctions of natural reason. The other is a prayer of a gentleman who died within a few years last past; and lived to a very great age; but had passed his youth in all the vices in fashion. The Athenian is supposed to have been Alcibiades, a man of great spirit, extremely addicted to pleasures, but at the same time very capable, and upon occasion very attentive to business. He was by nature endued with all the accomplishments she could bestow; he had beauty, wit, courage, and a great understanding; but in the first bloom of his life was arrogantly affected with the advantages he had over others. That temper is pretty visible in an expression of his : when it was proposed to him to learn to play upon a musical instrument; he answered, It is not for

me to give, but to receive delight.' However, the conversation of Socrates tempered a strong inclination to licentiousness into reflections of philosophy; and if it had not the force to make a man of his genius and fortune wholly regular, it gave him some cool moments, and this following soliloquy is supposed by the learned to have been thrown together before some expected engagement, and seems to be very much the picture of the man:

I am now wholly alone, my ears are not entertained with music, my eyes with beauty, nor any of my senses so forcibly affected, as to divert the course of my inward thoughts. Methinks there is something sacred in myself, now I am alone. What is this being of mine? I came into it without my choice, and yet Socrates says it is to be imputed

to me.

In this repose of my senses wherein they