situations. Perhaps, too, there is a certain deception in our ideas of what the station or character of the person should impress upon his feelings, which the very truth and genuine colour of nature may sometimes offend. We have all our prejudices, like Partridge, though they may not be altogether so simple. It is very seldom, however, that we have any room for a complaint of this sort. It is only in a Garrick or a Siddons that nature presses so close on us, that she'galls our kibe.'

Z.

No. 26. SATURDAY, JULY 30, 1785.

I HAVE observed, that the authors of former periodical publications have commonly given some account of their life and situation in the world. Hitherto, for certain good causes and considerations,' I have been very sparing in these particulars. Stepping the other day into a box in the playhouse, I was very much entertained with overhearing part of a conversation between two young ladies. I found they had been talking about the Lounger; and at the time I chanced to come in they were disputing whether the author was a married or an unmarried man. 'I don't trust much,' said one of the young ladies, to his own hint in a late paper; authors I know take liberties that way: but he certainly must be a bachelor; for had he been married, he would before now have told us something about his wife and children.'—No,' says the other, he has certainly a wife, and children too, I believe, otherwise he could not have described

VOL. I.

P

domestic situations so well as he does; he could not'-Here she mentioned some of my papers in a style which it would not be proper for me to repeat. The two ladies at last agreed to refer their dispute to an elderly lady, Mrs. B., who sat by them. 'My dear,' said Mrs. B. addressing herself to the young lady next her, if he is not married, he certainly ought to be.'

I am sorry that for the present I must leave this matter in the same uncertainty in which Mrs. B. has left it; possibly at some other time I may clear up the point, and amuse my readers with some other incidents of my life.

Meanwhile it is to my present purpose to observe, that, whether a married man or a bachelor, there is nothing in either of these situations which can incapacitate me from carrying on my present undertaking. In the course of my observations, I have had occasion to remark, that there are Loungers in all situations; some with a wife and family at home, and others who, when they leave their house, may put the key in their pockets, all their friends and acquaintance being without doors.

very

I remember a story of two gentlemen who were fond of the game of backgammon; and being both excellent players, and nearly a match for each other, seldom met but they fell to it with great keenness. One evening they encountered at a coffeehouse, and continued playing during the whole course of the night. The saunterers in the coffee-room, who were numerous when they first began, had all dropped off. One man only continued to sit by them, and had his eye fixed the whole time with a steady look on the backgammon table. A nice point in the game having occurred, and the players being unable to settle it, were likely to get into some heat. It was agreed to refer the dispute to the gentleman

Tooker-on. The appeal, therefore, being made to him, he told them he could not determine it, for he knew nothing at all about the game.- What, sit here all night, and know nothing of the game!'- Yes; I have a wife at home.'

Though from this story, and from a variety of observations of my own, I have no doubt that there are many Loungers among the married men, which may be accounted for from a variety of reasons; yet, as far as I can discover, the number of Loungers among the bachelors greatly exceeds those among the other class. Whoever walks the streets of this populous city will see a number of bachelor Loungers prowling wherever he goes.

At the very moment in which I write this, I see passing by the window of the parlour where I sit, Captain N., a Lounger of this denomination. Thirty years ago, I am told the captain was one of the gayest and most fashionable men in town. He entered early into the army; but an indolent disposition, and a little parliamentary interest, which he had by accident acquired, induced him to give up all prospects of rising in his profession, and content himself with the office of deputy-governor of a garrison, with a tolerable, though not large appointment.

The captain's garrison not requiring his residence, he fixed his habitation in this city, where he has since continued. He was then about thirty-five years of age, with a good appearance, good temper, good spirits, attentive to his dress, and circumspect in his conduct. The captain sung a good song; and, when occasion required, could swallow a sufficient quantity of liquor. He had sense enough never to say any thing that was foolish, and understanding enough to make himself pass for having more understanding than he had. He took care never to offend; and, while he was always pleased with holding a second place in any

company he was in, he never created envy or disquiet by aiming at the first. The captain was no partyman, having made an observation, that there were as good dinners among the Whigs as among the Tories. With these qualifications, about thirty years ago, Captain N. was a welcome guest at every table in town. He filled up a place with a most becoming propriety; and while he never diminished the pleasure of any company, he most commonly added to its enjoyment. His mornings were spent in paying visits: and though he might now and then disturb the family-economy of a Mrs. Careful*, and interrupt her instructions to her daughters; yet there were so many persons as idle as himself, that he could easily contrive so to bestow his visits as to have them received with a welcome face. These visits were sure to produce some future dinners, and these future dinners ended in as many suppers.

Thirty years have made a great change in poor N.'s situation. He is no longer the gay-looking fashionable man he was; his legs are shrivelled; his face bears upon it the marks of bumpers; his voice is broken, and the whole man has the appearance of a superannuated beau.

The tables where he used to dine and to sup are no longer open to receive him. Death has removed some of his friends, change of residence others; in some places his chair is occupied by younger men, and in others it is occupied by nobody at all. Poor N. dares no longer offer his hand to conduct a young lady through the crowd in an assembly-room, lest the lady should show a desire to be conducted by some younger beau. He is no longer invited to dine with my Lady Rumpus, that he may attend her to the theatre, my lady having bespoke some other at

* Vide No. 8..

tendant; and he is no longer croupier at Lord E.'s, his place there being filled up by Tom Toastwell.

In this situation, the captain is frequently obliged to go home and dine by himself on a cold chicken; or he is forced to spend his evenings in the coffeehouse, amidst the hubbub of waiters, and the hum of coffee-house politicians, over a bit of toasted cheese and a can of punch, because he is afraid of the solitariness and want of stir in his own home.

At a dancing-school ball, where I happened to be not long ago, I was struck with the solitary figure of Captain N. looking demure, and stuck up in a corner. It attracted my attention the more, from the circumstance of observing, not far from him, my friend Mr. H. This gentleman is a Lounger, like Mr. N. and with fewer abilities to support the character. He possesses, however, a good plain understanding, which nobody can despise, and nobody envies, and obtains the good will and regard of all his companions and acquaintance, by an honest openness of disposition, and a social warmth of heart. He married early in life a lady agreeable in her person, though not a beauty; possessed of good understanding, though not a wit; and endowed with very amiable dispositions. By her he has a family of very fine children, for the purpose of whose education he now lives in town, and only visits his paternal estate now and then to superintend the management, in which he is reckoned very skilful. H. saunters like N.;-but he has that asy good-humoured look, that results from his being independent of the idlers around him; from which, if he should tire of them, his house is open to receive aim. His house is not splendid, but he contrives to make it hospitable; and the happiness of the familyscene which his guests now and then witness, gives him a certain rank, a certain respectability in life, which neither the abilities nor the accommodating