Next to the merry fellow is the _good-natured man_, a being generally
without benevolence, or any other virtue, than such as indolence and
insensibility confer. The characteristick of a good-natured man is to
bear a joke; to sit unmoved and unaffected amidst noise and turbulence,
profaneness and obscenity; to hear every tale without contradiction; to
endure insult without reply; and to follow the stream of folly, whatever
course it shall happen to take. The good-natured man is commonly the
darling of the petty wits, with whom they exercise themselves in the
rudiments of raillery; for he never takes advantage of failings, nor
disconcerts a puny satirist with unexpected sarcasms; but while the
glass continues to circulate, contentedly bears the expense of an
uninterrupted laughter, and retires rejoicing at his own importance.

The _modest man_ is a companion of a yet lower rank, whose only power of
giving pleasure is not to interrupt it. The modest man satisfies himself
with peaceful silence, which all his companions are candid enough to
consider as proceeding not from inability to speak, but willingness to
hear.

Many, without being able to attain any general character of excellence,
have some single art of entertainment which serves them as a passport
through the world. One I have known for fifteen years the darling of a
weekly club, because every night, precisely at eleven, he begins his
favourite song, and during the vocal performance, by corresponding
motions of his hand, chalks out a giant upon the wall. Another has
endeared himself to a long succession of acquaintances by sitting among
them with his wig reversed; another by contriving to smut the nose of
any stranger who was to be initiated in the club; another by purring
like a cat, and then pretending to be frighted; and another by yelping
like a hound, and calling to the drawers to drive out the dog[k].

Such are the arts by which cheerfulness is promoted, and sometimes
friendship established; arts, which those who despise them should not
rigorously blame, except when they are practised at the expense of
innocence; for it is always necessary to be loved, but not always
necessary to be reverenced.

No. 189. TUESDAY, JANUARY 7, 1752.

_Quod tam grande Sophos clamat tibi turba togata;
Non tu, Pomponi; caena diserta tua est_. MART. Lib. vi. Ep. xlviii.

Resounding plaudits though the crowd have rung;
Thy treat is eloquent, and not thy tongue. F