ked you to send me back the
first Volume of French Sermons I formerly lent you;_ Sir, said the
Chapman, I have often looked for it but cannot find it; It is certainly
lost, and I know not to whom I lent it, it is so many Years ago; _then,
Sir, here is the other Volume, I'll send you home that, and please to
pay for both_. My Friend, reply'd he, canst thou be so Senseless as not
to know that one Volume is as imperfect in my Library as in your Shop?
_Yes, Sir, but it is you have lost the first Volume, and to be short I
will be Paid._ Sir, answered the Chapman, you are a young Man, your Book
is lost, and learn by this little Loss to bear much greater Adversities,
which you must expect to meet with. _Yes, Sir, I'll bear when I must,
but I have not lost now, for I say you have it and shall pay me._
Friend, you grow Warm, I tell you the Book is lost, and I foresee in the
Course even of a prosperous Life, that you will meet Afflictions to make
you Mad, if you cannot bear this Trifle. _Sir, there is in this Case no
need of bearing, for you have the Book._ I say, Sir, I have not the
Book. But your Passion will not let you hear enough to be informed that
I have it not. Learn Resignation of your self to the Distresses of this
Life: Nay do not fret and fume, it is my Duty to tell you that you are
of an impatient Spirit, and an impatient Spirit is never without Woe.
_Was ever any thing like this?_ Yes, Sir, there have been many things
like this. The Loss is but a Trifle, but your Temper is Wanton, and
incapable of the least Pain; therefore let me advise you, be patient,
the Book is lost, but do not you for that Reason lose your self.

T.

[Footnote 1: Lord Somers.]

* * * * *

No. 439. Thursday, July 24, 1712. Addison.

'Hi narrata ferunt alio: mensuraque ficti
Crescit; et auditis aliquid novus adjicit auctor.'

Ovid.

Ovid describes the Palace of Fame [1] as situated in the very Center of
the Universe, and perforated with so many Windows and Avenues as gave
her the Sight of every thing that was done in the Heavens, in the Earth,
and in the Sea. The Structure of it was contrived in so admirable a
manner, that it Eccho'd every Word which was spoken in the whole Compass
of Nature; so that the Palace, says the Poet, was always filled with a
confused Hubbub of low dying Sounds, the Voices being almost spent and
worn out before they arriv