Oxford to correct their pride and their pupils at their leisure; yet am I much mistaken if either undergo any considerable reform, in a hurry.—I wonder what could possess my foolish brain with the supposition of finding genius and learning, combined, in this place.— I might as well have searched for chastity in a brothel, or reason in a Methodist sermon.—But this was among my whims.—I will go and live in the seat of the Muses, said I, on the banks of the Isis, more famous than the mount of Parnassus, or the waters of Helicon.—What a booby!—I will spend my substance among the sons of philosophy, I shall be delighted and informed —they are enlightened and dispassionate,

open to conviction, and in love with truth.—What a numskull!—I shall find, among these sons of genius, some one who wants a patron, and a friend, to bring his merits forward, and shew them to the world. I shall be happy to produce the fruits of ingenuity in the mart of science.—It will atone, in some degree, for my own want of talents, or misapplication of them.—What a dunderpate!—
I SHOULD be sorry, rashly, to affirm, that there are no such persons as I was in search of amongst these learned and reverend wranglers; but this I will affirm, that, instead of finding the teachers devoted to the discovery of truth, I found them dogmatical to disgust, and resolved to maintain what they have once advanced or believed, though refuted to silence.—These were the fellows,

who encouraged every author that opposed our divine Newton—not because they believed him wrong, but because he was educated at Cambridge.— As for their pupils, instead of being in love with study, vigilant, and ingenious, they are lost in riot and debauchery—
BUT I have left them, and am, now, at Swanley; where, dear George, I expect shortly to see you, who are a valuable compensation, by the friendship I contracted with you, at Oxford, for the disappointment my sanguine temper led me into.
PRAY what is become of your favourite comedian, in whose praise your last was so eloquent?—What, you are deceived?—Come, confess—You are ashamed of a too hasty prepossession?—Aye, aye—I have

suffered that kind of chagrin fifty times in my life.—A fellow with a good address, a placid countenance, and a certain knack at saying no, and yes, could get into my good graces presently; I would idolize him, become his trumpeter, or