In the several sallies about his parish, and in the neighbouring visits to the gentry who lived around him, --you will easily comprehend, that the parson, so appointed, would both hear and see enough to keep his philosophy from rusting. To speak the truth, he never could enter a village, but he caught the attention of both old and young. ----Labour stood still as he pass’d----the bucket hung suspended in the middle of the well, ----the spinning-wheel forgot its round, ----even chuck-farthing and shuffle-cap themselves stood gaping till he had got out of sight; and as his movement was not of the quickest, he had generally time enough upon his hands to make his observations, --to hear the groans of the serious, --and the laughter of the light-hearted; --all which he bore with excellent tranquillity. --His character was, --he loved a jest in his heart--and as he saw himself in the true point of ridicule, he would say he could not be angry with others for seeing him in a light, in which he so strongly saw himself: So that to his friends, who knew his foible was not the love of money, and who therefore made the less scruple in bantering the extravagance of his humour, --instead of giving the true cause, --he chose rather to join in the laugh against himself; and as he never carried one single ounce of flesh upon his own bones, being altogether as spare a figure as his beast, --he would sometimes insist upon it, that the horse was as good as the rider deserved; --that they were, centaur-like, --both of a piece. At other times, and in other moods, when his spirits were above the temptation of false wit, --he would say, he found himself going off fast in a consumption; and, with great gravity, would pretend, he could not bear the sight of a fat horse, without a dejection of heart, and a sensible alteration in his pulse; and that he had made choice of the lean one he rode upon, not only to keep himself in countenance, but in spirits.