f Work than any of the Seven
Wonders of the World; with many other honest Prejudices which
naturally cleave to the Heart of a 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 Putt 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 seemed 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 the 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 walk'd 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 us'd 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 Moonlight Nights that I have walked by my self, and thought