my remembrance of the histories of those times, to have been all, with the exception of a few Scotchmen, Englishmen. These undeniable facts are sufficient to warn us against the fatal consequences of credulity, and the danger of trusting to the outward appearances I have been describing, however fair. Let us not, therefore, shut our ears to the cries of the streets, nor turn away our eyes from the lamentations of the news-papers. Let us not be cozened by the arts of crafty and designing men, who maliciously and falsely represent them as the counterfeit tears, the groans and wailings of hired mourners; the snarling, roaring, and howling, of ravenous faction; or the hooting, cackling, and braying, of a wayward and deluded mob: they are the generous and noble calls of liberty; the genuine voice of the venerable and sacred multitude, neither provoked by private resentment, nor bribed by promises, nor awed by fear, nor urged by hunger, nor sold for gain. I have read almost every Pamphlet and Paper that has been published within these five years on political subjects, with equal delight and astonishment at the deep and comprehensive judgment, wit, spirit, and humour, with which many of them are manifestly written; and I congratulate with my countrymen, on the rapid progress we are making in this art. Their erudition I have not mentioned, it having been discovered to be of no use at all in the knowledge or exercise of this art. It is an observation of the great lord Bacon, that a man will never get to the end of his journey, if he happens to mistake the way, and go the wrong road; which he has clearly proved in his immortal treatises, Novum Organum, and De Augmentis Scientiarum. Now, men had been taught to believe, until very lately, before the discovery of a direct road, and a short cut, that the composition of a professed politician required as many and as great a variety of ingredients, as Cicero’s orator, or the knight-errant of Don Quixote: accordingly the great baron Montesquieu confesseth, That after the hardy study and drudgery of twenty-five years, by day and by night, consumed in the production of two small volumes; he believed them, on mature revisal, unworthy of the public; in a fit of despair dashed them against the wall; and had not the wall, as he affirms, returned them, they would never have been heard of. Since this discovery was made, which I shall explain hereafter, it has been found out, to the saving of much labour, that the study of ancient and modern history, laws, treaties, political systems, &c. is mere loss of time, and downright pedantry. There are very few of our modern politicians to be seen now adays, bestrewed with learned dust, like Pope’s politician; or smelling of the lamp, like Demosthenes; or lean, like Cassius, with constant meditation; or pale and blind with poring over Tacitus, Aristotle, Plato, Montesquieu, Harrington, Sidney, or Locke. They have heard that