 of the Merit of such
Compositions.
    Such therefore were properly called the Men of Wit and Pleasure; but I
question whether the same Appellation may, with the same Propriety, be given to
those young Gentlemen of our Times, who have the same Ambition to be
distinguished for Parts. Wit certainly they have nothing to do with. To give
them their due, they soar a Step higher than their Predecessors, and may be
called Men of Wisdom and Vertù (take heed you do not read Virtue). Thus at an
Age when the Gentlemen abovementioned employed their Time in toasting the Charms
of a Woman, or in making Sonnets in her Praise; in giving their Opinion of a
Play at the Theatre, or of a Poem at Will's or Button's; these Gentlemen are
considering of Methods to bribe a Corporation, or meditating Speeches for the
House of Commons, or rather for the Magazines. But the Science of Gaming is that
which above all others employs their Thoughts. These are the Studies of their
graver Hours, while for their Amusements they have the vast Circle of
Connoisseurship, Painting, Music, Statuary, and natural Philosophy, or rather
unnatural, which deals in the Wonderful, and knows nothing of Nature, except her
Monsters and Imperfections.
    When Jones had spent the whole Day in vain Enquiries after Mrs. Fitzpatrick,
he returned at last disconsolate to his Apartment. Here while he was venting his
Grief in private, he heard a violent Uproar below Stairs; and soon after a
female Voice begged him for Heaven's Sake to come and prevent Murder. Jones, who
was never backward on any Occasion, to help the Distressed, immediately ran down
Stairs; when stepping into the Dining-room, whence all the Noise issued, he
beheld the young Gentleman of Wisdom and Vertù just before mentioned, pinned
close to the Wall by his Footman, and a young Woman standing by, wringing her
Hands, and crying out, »He will be murdered, he will be murdered;« and indeed
the poor Gentleman seemed in some Danger of being choaked, when Jones flew
hastily to his Assistance, and rescued him just as he was breathing his last,
from the unmerciful Clutches of the Enemy.
    Though the Fellow had received several Kicks and Cuffs from the little
Gentleman, who had more Spirit than Strength, he had made it a kind of Scruple
of Conscience to strike his Master, and would have contented himself with only
choaking him; but towards Jones he bore no such Respect: He no sooner therefore
found himself a little roughly handled by his new Antagonist, than he gave him
