The father, Mr. Duckinton, was a man of some fortune, whose delight was in travelling, and who preferred Italy to all other countries. Being a whimsical person he had a fancy for naming each of his children, after the place where it happened to be born. One daughter therefore was baptized by the fair name of Florence, Mrs. Horseman, was christened Venetia, like the wife of Sir Kenelm Digby, whose husband was more careful of her complexion than of her character. Fortunate it was that he had no daughter born at Genoa or at Nantes, for if he had, the one must have concealed her true baptismal name under the alias of Jenny; and the other have subscribed herself Nancy, that she might not be reproached with the brandy cask. The youngest of his children was a son, and if he had been born in the French capital would hardly have escaped the ignominious name of Paris, but as Mr. Duckinton had long wished for a son, and the mother knowing her husband's wishes had prayed for one, the boy escaped with no worse name than Deodatus. * * * * * FRAGMENT OF INTERCHAPTER. Kissing has proverbially been said to go by favour. So it is but too certain, that Preferment does in Army and Navy, Church and State; and so does Criticism. That Kissing should do so is but fair and just; and it is moreover in the nature of things. That Promotion should do so is also in the nature of things—as they are. And this also is fair where no injustice is committed. When other pretensions are equal, favour is the feather which ought to be put into the scale. In cases of equal fitness, no wrong is done to the one party, if the other is preferred for considerations of personal friendship, old obligations, or family connection; the injustice and the wrong would be if these were overlooked. To what extent may favour be reasonably allowed in criticism? If it were extended no farther than can be really useful to the person whom there is an intention of serving, its limits would be short indeed. For in that case it would never proceed farther than truth and discretion went with it. Far more injury is done to a book and to an author by injudicious or extravagant praise, than by intemperate or malevolent censure. Some persons have merrily surmised that Job was a reviewer because he exclaimed “Oh that mine enemy had written a book!” Others on the contrary have inferred that reviewing was not known in his days, because he wished that his own words had been printed and published. * * * * * [The timbers were laid for a Chapter on wigs, and many notes and references were collected.—This Fragment is all that remains.]