I never knew a man able to answer this argument.—But, indeed, to speak of my father as he was;—he was certainly irresistible;—both in his orations and disputations;—he was born an orator;—Θεοδίδακτος.—Persuasion hung upon his lips, and the elements of Logick and Rhetorick were so blended up in him,—and, withal, he had so shrewd a guess at the weaknesses and passions of his respondent,——that NATURE might have stood up and said,—“This man is eloquent.”—In short, whether he was on the weak or the strong side of the question, ’twas hazardous in either case to attack him.—And yet, ’tis strange, he had never read _Cicero_, nor _Quintilian de Oratore_, nor _Isocrates_, nor _Aristotle_, nor _Longinus_, amongst the antients;—nor _Vossius_, nor _Skioppius_, nor _Ramus_, nor _Farnaby_, amongst the moderns;—and what is more astonishing, he had never in his whole life the least light or spark of subtilty struck into his mind, by one single lecture upon _Crackenthorp_ or _Burgersdicius_ or any _Dutch_ logician or commentator;—he knew not so much as in what the difference of an argument _ad ignorantiam_, and an argument _ad hominem_ consisted; so that I well remember, when he went up along with me to enter my name at _Jesus College_ in ****,—it was a matter of just wonder with my worthy tutor, and two or three fellows of that learned society,—that a man who knew not so much as the names of his tools, should be able to work after that fashion with them. To work with them in the best manner he could, was what my father was, however, perpetually forced upon;——for he had a thousand little sceptical notions of the comick kind to defend——most of which notions, I verily believe, at first entered upon the footing of mere whims, and of a _vive la Bagatelle_; and as such he would make merry with them for half an hour or so, and having sharpened his wit upon them, dismiss them till another day. I mention this, not only as matter of hypothesis or conjecture upon the progress and establishment of my father’s many odd opinions,—but as a warning to the learned reader against the indiscreet reception of such guests, who, after a free and undisturbed entrance, for some years, into our brains,—at length claim a kind of settlement there,——working sometimes like yeast;—but more generally after the manner of the gentle passion, beginning in jest,—but ending in downright earnest.