I lately saw an Instance of this kind of Writing, which gave me so lively an Idea of it, that I could not forbear begging a Copy of the Letter from the Gentleman who shew’d it to me.  It is written by a Country Wit, upon the Occasion of the Rejoycings on the Day of the King’s Coronation.

  Dear Jack, (Past two a Clock and a frosty Morning.) [1]

I have just left the Right Worshipful and his Myrmidons about a Sneaker of Five Gallons.  The whole Magistracy was pretty well disguised before I gave ’em the Slip.  Our Friend the Alderman was half Seas over before the Bonfire was out.  We had with us the Attorney, and two or three other bright Fellows.  The Doctor plays least in Sight.

At Nine a Clock in the Evening we set Fire to the Whore of Babylon.  The Devil acted his Part to a Miracle.  He has made his Fortune by it.  We equip’d the young Dog with a Tester a-piece.  Honest old Brown of England was very drunk, and showed his Loyalty to the Tune of a hundred Rockets.  The Mob drank the King’s Health, on their Marrow-bones, in Mother Day’s Double.  They whip’d us half a dozen Hogsheads.  Poor Tom Tyler had like to have been demolished with the End of a Sky-Rocket, that fell upon the Bridge of his Nose as he was drinking the King’s Health, and spoiled his Tip.  The Mob were very loyal ’till about Midnight, when they grew a little mutinous for more Liquor.  They had like to have dumfounded the Justice; but his Clerk came in to his Assistance, and took them all down in Black and White.

  When I had been huzza’d out of my Seven Senses, I made a Visit to the
  Women, who were guzzling very comfortably.  Mrs. Mayoress clip’d the
  King’s English.  Clack was the Word.

  I forgot to tell thee, that every one of the Posse had his Hat cocked
  with a Distich:  The Senators sent us down a Cargo of Ribbon and Metre
  for the Occasion.

Sir Richard to shew his Zeal for the Protestant Religion, is at the Expence of a Tar-Barrel and a Ball.  I peeped into the Knight’s great Hall, and saw a very pretty Bevy of Spinsters.  My dear Relict was amongst them, and ambled in a Country-Dance as notably as the best of ’em.

  May all his Majesty’s liege Subjects love him as well as his good
  People of this his ancient Borough.  Adieu.

[Footnote 1:  (Two in the Morning is the Word, old Boy.)]

* * * * *

No. 617.  Monday, November 8, 1714.

  ’Torva Mimalloneis implerunt cornua bombis,
  Et raptum vitulo caput ablatura superbo
  Bassaris, et lyncem Maenas flexura corymbis,
  Evion ingeminat reparabilis adsonat Echo.’

  Persius.

There are two Extreams in the Stile of Humour, one of which consists in the Use of that little pert Phraseology which I took Notice of in my last Paper; the other in the Affectation of strained and pompous Expressions, fetched from the learned Languages.  The first savours too much of the Town; the other of the College.