and curiosity, some are
literal and real, as between poetry and painting, two arts which pursue
the same end, by the operation of the same mental faculties, and which
differ only as the one represents things by marks permanent and natural,
the other by signs accidental and arbitrary. The one, therefore, is more
easily and generally understood, since similitude of form is immediately
perceived; the other is capable of conveying more ideas, for men have
thought and spoken of many things which they do not see.

Other parallels are fortuitous and fanciful, yet these have sometimes
been extended to many particulars of resemblance by a lucky concurrence
of diligence and chance. The animal body is composed of many members,
united under the direction of one mind: any number of individuals,
connected for some common purpose, is therefore called a body. From this
participation of the same appellation arose the comparison of the body
natural and body politick, of which, how far soever it has been deduced,
no end has hitherto been found.

In these imaginary similitudes, the same word is used at once in its
primitive and metaphorical sense. Thus health, ascribed to the body
natural, is opposed to sickness; but attributed to the body politick
stands as contrary to adversity. These parallels therefore have more of
genius, but less of truth; they often please, but they never convince.

Of this kind is a curious speculation frequently indulged by a
philosopher of my acquaintance, who had discovered, that the qualities
requisite to conversation are very exactly represented by a bowl of
punch.

Punch, says this profound investigator, is a liquor compounded of spirit
and acid juices, sugar and water. The spirit, volatile and fiery, is the
proper emblem of vivacity and wit; the acidity of the lemon will very
aptly figure pungency of raillery, and acrimony of censure; sugar is the
natural representative of luscious adulation and gentle complaisance;
and water is the proper hieroglyphick of easy prattle, innocent and
tasteless.

Spirit alone is too powerful for use. It will produce madness rather
than merriment; and instead of quenching thirst will inflame the blood.
Thus wit, too copiously poured out, agitates the hearer with emotions
rather violent than pleasing; every one shrinks from the force of its
oppression, the company sits entranced and overpowered; all are
astonished, but nobody is pleased.

The acid juices give this genial