the cause had; which is, that the Bishop had said inadvertently, he was
at Bath, and had not a Bible in his family. It is worth remarking, that
all the arguments used by Powell about his power over Punch, 'lighting
his pipe with one of his legs,' &c., are a good burlesque of those used
by the advocates of non-resistance."--(Dr. John Hoadly.)]

[Footnote 435: The Bishop, after quoting a respectful expression of
Hoadly's, says, "Your servant, sir, for that."]

[Footnote 436: A beat of the drum or sound of a trumpet, which summons
the enemy to a parley. In _Spectator_, No. 165, Addison ridiculed the
use of this and other French war terms by English writers.]

No. 45. [STEELE.

From _Thursday, July 21, to Saturday, July 23_, 1709.

Credo pudicitiam Saturno rege moratam
In terris.
Juv., Sat. vi. I.

* * * * *

White's Chocolate-house, July 22.

The other day I took a walk a mile or two out of town and strolling
wherever chance led me, I was insensibly carried into a by-road, along
which was a very agreeable quickset, of an extraordinary height, which
surrounded a very delicious seat and garden. From one angle of the
hedge, I heard a voice cry, "Sir, sir--" This raised my curiosity, and I
heard the same voice say, but in a gentle tone, "Come forward, come
forward." I did so, and one through the hedge called me by my name, and
bade me go on to the left, and I should be admitted to visit an old
acquaintance in distress. The laws of knight-errantry made me obey the
summons without hesitation; and I was let in at the back gate of a
lovely house by a maid-servant, who carried me from room to room, until
I came into a gallery; at the end of which, I saw a fine lady dressed in
the most sumptuous habit, as if she were going to a ball, but with the
most abject and disconsolate sorrow in her face that I ever beheld. As I
came near, she burst into tears, and cried, "Sir, do not you know the
unhappy Teraminta?" I soon recollected her whole person: "But," said I,
"madam, the simplicity of dress, in which I have ever seen you at your
good father's house, and the cheerfulness of countenance with which you
always appeared, are so unlike the fashion and temper you are now in,
that I did not easily recover the memory of you. Your habit was then
decent and modest, your looks serene and beautiful: whence then this
unaccountable change? Nothing c