losophical community. But one of those
sad trifles which suffocate great ideas, and sometimes terminate in
suffocating philosophers, put a stop to my further enlightenment for the
present, by drying up the treasury of the Socratics. The philosophers
were the most civil as well as the most unfortunate people in the world.
One or other of them was always in want of money, either to perfect
some great scheme, or to save him from the unscientific 'handling' of a
bailiff. It was enough to move a mile-stone, to think how the progress
of improvement, or 'march of mind,' as it is called, might be delayed by
being too cold-hearted; and it did move my purse to such a degree, that
at length I had the satisfaction of discerning truth, sitting sola, at
the bottom of it. My pocket consumption, however, was not instant, but
progressive; it might be called a slow fever. Some of the philosophers
visited me for a loan, like a monthly epidemy; others drained me like
a Tertian; and one or two came upon me like an intermittent ague,
every other day. Among these was Mr. Hoaxwell, the editor, as he called
himself, of a magazine. This fellow had tried a number of schemes in
the literary line, though none had hitherto answered. But he had the
advantage and credit of shewing in his own person, the high repute in
which literature is held in London, for he could seldom walk the streets
without having two followers at his heels, one of whom frequently tapped
him on the shoulder, no doubt, to remind him of mortality, like the
slave in the ~~411~~~ Roman triumphs. The favourite thesis of this
gentleman, was the 'march of mind;' and on this subject he would spout
his half hour in so effectual a manner, as to produce two very opposite
effects; viz. the closing of the eyes of the elder philosophers, and
the opening of mine, which latter operation was usually rendered more
effectual by his concluding inquiry of 'have you such a thing as a pound
note about you?'

To match this saint, there was another,
As busy and perverse a brother.

"This was the treasurer of the Socratics, Thomas Carney Littlego, Esq.
and a treasure of a treasurer he was. This gentleman was a pupil of
Esculapius, and united in his own person the various departments of
dentist, apothecary, and surgeon. It is presumed that he found the
employment of drawing the eye teeth of Philosophical Tyros more
profitable, and bleeding the young Socratics more advantageous, than