true
Englishman.

After some short Pause, the old Knight turning about his Head twice or
thrice, to take a Survey of this great Metropolis, bid me observe how
thick the City was set with Churches, and that there was scarce a single
Steeple on this side Temple-Bar. A most Heathenish Sight! says Sir
ROGER: There is no Religion at this End of the Town. The fifty new
Churches will very much mend the Prospect; but Church-work is slow,
Church-work is slow!

I do not remember I have any where mentioned, in Sir ROGER'S Character,
his Custom of saluting every Body that passes by him with a Good-morrow
or a Good-night. This the old Man does out of the overflowings of his
Humanity, though at the same time it renders him so popular among all
his Country Neighbours, that it is thought to have gone a good way in
making him once or twice Knight of the Shire. He cannot forbear this
Exercise of Benevolence even in Town, when he meets with any one in his
Morning or Evening Walk. It broke from him to several Boats that passed
by us upon the Water; but to the Knight's great Surprize, as he gave the
Good-night to two or three young Fellows a little before our Landing,
one of them, instead of returning the Civility, asked us what queer old
Put we had in the Boat, and whether he was not ashamed to go a Wenching
at his Years? with a great deal of the like Thames-Ribaldry. Sir ROGER
seemd a little shocked at first, but at length assuming a Face of
Magistracy, told us, That if he were a Middlesex Justice, he would make
such Vagrants know that Her Majesty's Subjects were no more to be abused
by Water than by Land.

We were now arrived at Spring-Garden, which is exquisitely pleasant at
this time of Year. When I considered the Fragrancy of the Walks and
Bowers, with the Choirs of Birds that sung upon the Trees, and the loose
Tribe of People that walked under their Shades, I could not but look
upon the Place as a kind of Mahometan Paradise. Sir ROGER told me it put
him in mind of a little Coppice by his House in the Country, which his
Chaplain used to call an Aviary of Nightingales. You must understand,
says the Knight, there is nothing in the World that pleases a Man in
Love so much as your Nightingale. Ah, Mr. SPECTATOR! the many Moon-light
Nights that I have walked by my self, and thought on the Widow by the
Musek of the Nightingales! He here fetched a deep Sigh, and was falling
into a Fit of musing, when a Masque, who came behind him, gave h