A Justice of Peace, who lives about five Miles off, and is not of Sir
ROGER'S Party, has it seems said twice or thrice at his Table, that he
wishes Sir ROGER does not harbour a Jesuit in his House, and that he
thinks the Gentlemen of the Country would do very well to make me give
some Account of my self.

On the other side, some of Sir ROGER'S Friends are afraid the old Knight
is impos'd upon by a designing Fellow, and as they have heard that he
converses very promiscuously when he is in Town, do not know but he has
brought down with him some discarded Whig, that is sullen, and says
nothing, because he is out of Place.

Such is the Variety of Opinions [which [2]] are here entertained of me,
so that I pass among some for a disaffected Person, and among others for
a Popish Priest; among some for a Wizard, and among others for a
Murderer; and all this for no other Reason, that I can imagine, but
because I do not hoot and hollow and make a Noise. It is true my Friend
Sir ROGER tells them, _That it is my way_, and that I am only a
Philosopher; but [this [2]] will not satisfy them. They think there is
more in me than he discovers, and that I do not hold my Tongue for
nothing.

For these and other Reasons I shall set out for _London_ to Morrow,
having found by Experience that the Country is not a Place for a Person
of my Temper, who does not love Jollity, and what they call
Good-Neighbourhood. A Man that is out of Humour when an unexpected Guest
breaks in upon him, and does not care for sacrificing an Afternoon to
every Chance-comer; that will be the Master of his own Time, and the
Pursuer of his own Inclinations makes but a very unsociable Figure in
this kind of Life. I shall therefore retire into the Town, if I may make
use of that Phrase, and get into the Crowd again as fast as I can, in
order to be alone. I can there raise what Speculations I please upon
others without being observed my self, and at the same time enjoy all
the Advantages of Company with all the Privileges of Solitude. In the
mean while, to finish the Month and conclude these my rural
Speculations, I shall here insert a Letter from my Friend WILL.
HONEYCOMB, who has not lived a Month for these forty Years out of the
Smoke of _London_, and rallies me after his way upon my Country Life.

_Dear_ SPEC,

'I Suppose this Letter will find thee picking of Daisies, or smelling
to a Lock of Hay, or passing away thy time in some innocent Country
Diver