His nephew _Silvio_, just come from the university, declaims on every subject you can mention, and imagines himself master of every science. Whatever is the topick of discourse, he will suffer no body to talk upon it but himself; his uncle has but one hope of curing him of his folly, that is, by engaging him to talk of maritime affairs before captain _Firebal_ of the _Tempest_, who, very probably, will beat him into better manners. Beauty itself loses its attraction when accompanied with these humours. _Artemisa_ is exquisitely handsome, but takes the liberty of abusing every body at random, by asking ill-natur’d questions, and being witty upon others imperfections: excuses herself by saying, ’tis her way to tell unlucky truths and she can’t help it. _Crito_ is a man of sense, learning, and accuracy of judgment; but this ought not to privilege him to treat every writer he does not like with opprobrious language. _Belliza_ has wit and beauty, accompanied with a solid judgment. Yet all this will hardly palliate the disgust she gives people with whom she eats. She never uses a fork, is be-greased up to the knuckles, and by her immoderate taking of snuff, which frequently falling among her sauce, she gives her guests their bellies full before they have half din’d. Concludes with a merry story of a certain Colonel, whose flight it was, when he had drank a glass or two too much, to fire off and play tricks with his pistols. One night the col. having drank too freely order’d, his footman, who was an _Irishman_ newly hired, to bring his pistols, _Teague_ obey’d; the Col. loaded them both, and having lock’d the door commanded his man to hold one of the candles at arm’s length, till he snuff’d it with a ball. Prayers and intreaties were in vain, and comply he must, and did, tho’ trembling; the Col. perform’d the operation at the first attempt, then laying down his pistols was going to unlock the door. _Teague_ catches up that which was loaded, ‘Arra Maishter, says he, but now you must take up t’other candle, and let me have my shoot too.’ The col. call’d him rogue and rascal to no purpose, _Teague_ was now vested with power, and would be obey’d: Accordingly his master extended the candle, but this being the first time of _Teague_’s performing, he not only miss’d, but shot off a button from the breast of the colonel’s coat. So narrow an escape had a good effect, and cur’d him of this humour of turning marksman in his drink. The Universal Spectator, _Jan. 9._ No. 118. Contains two Letters, with the _Spectator’s_ answers to them.