t
they will post back again, I am under the last apprehension, that these
will, at their return, all set up for 'pretty fellows,' and thereby
confound all merit and service, and impose on us some new alteration in
our nightcap-wigs[280] and pockets, unless you can provide a particular
class for them. I cannot apply myself better than to you, and I am sure
I speak the mind of a very great number as deserving as myself."

The pretensions of this correspondent are worthy a particular
distinction: he cannot indeed be admitted as a "pretty," but is, what we
more justly call, a "smart fellow." Never to pay at the playhouse, is an
act of frugality, that lets you into his character. And his expedient in
sending his children a-begging before they can go, are characteristical
instances that he belongs to this class. I never saw the gentleman; but
I know by his letter, he hangs his cane on his button;[281] and by some
lines of it, he should wear red-heeled shoes;[282] which are essential
parts of the habit belonging to the order of "smart fellows."

My familiar is returned with the following letter from the French king:

"Versailles, _June 13_, 1709.

#"_Louis XIV. to Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq._[283]#

"SIR,

"I have your epistle, and must take the liberty to say, that there has
been a time, when there were generous spirits in Great Britain, who
would not have suffered my name to be treated with the familiarity you
think fit to use. I thought liberal men would not be such time-servers,
as to fall upon a man because his friends are not in power. But having
some concern for what you may transmit to posterity concerning me, I am
willing to keep terms with you, and make a request to you, which is,
that you would give my service to the nineteenth century (if ever you or
yours reach to them), and tell them, that I have settled all matters
between them and me by Monsieur Boileau. I should be glad to see you
here."

It is very odd this prince should offer to invite me into his dominions,
or believe I should accept the invitation. No, no, I remember too well
how he served an ingenious gentleman, a friend of mine,[284] whom he
locked up in the Bastille for no reason in the world, but because he was
a wit, and feared he might mention him with justice in some of his
writings. His way is, that all men of sense are preferred, banished, or
imprisoned. He has indeed a sort of justice in him, like that of the
gamesters; if a stander-by sees o