“Being of a very spare and hective constitution, I am forced to make frequent journies of a mile or two for fresh air; and indeed by this last, which was no further than the village of Chelsea, I am farther convinced of the necessity of travelling to know the world; for, as it is usual with young voyagers, as soon as they land upon a shore, to begin their accounts of the nature of the people, their soil, their government, their inclinations, and their passions, so really I fancied I could give you an immediate description of this village from the Five Fields, where the robbers lie in wait, to the coffee-house, where the _literati_ sit in council. A great ancestor of ours, by the mother’s side, Mr. Justice Overdo, (whose history is written by Ben Johnson,) met with more enormities by walking _incognito_ than he was capable of correcting; and found great mortifications in observing, also, persons of eminence, whom he before knew nothing of: thus it fared with me, even in a place so near the town as this. When I came into the coffee-house, I had not time to salute the company, before my eye was diverted by 10,000 gimcracks round the room, and on the ceiling. When my first astonishment was over, comes to me a sage, of thin and meagre countenance, which aspect made me doubt whether reading or fretting had made it so philosophic; but I very soon perceived him to be of that sect which the ancients call Gingivistæ, in our language, tooth-drawers. I immediately had a respect for the man; for these practical philosophers go upon a very rational hypothesis, not to cure, but to take away the part affected. My love of mankind made me very benevolent to Mr. Salter; for such is the name of this eminent barber and antiquary. Men are usually, but unjustly, distinguished rather by their fortunes than their talents, otherwise their patronage would make a great figure in that class of men which I distinguish under the title of Odd Fellows; but it is the misfortune of persons of great genius to have their faculties dissipated by attention to too many things at once. Mr. Salter is an instance of this; if he would wholly give himself up to the string, instead of playing twenty beginnings to tunes, he might, before he dies play _Roger de Caubly_ quite out. I heard him go through his whole round; and, indeed, I think he does play the Merry Christ Church Bells pretty justly; but he confessed to me, he did that rather to show he was orthodox than that he valued himself upon the music itself. Or if he did proceed in his anatomy, why might he not hope in time to cut off legs, as well as draw teeth?