hope to others. I am here
forced to use a great deal of diligence before I can spring[143] anything
to my mind, whereas in town, whilst I am following one character, it is
ten to one but I am crossed in my way by another, and put up such a
variety of odd creatures in both sexes, that they foil the scent of one
another, and puzzle the chase. My greatest difficulty in the country is
to find sport, and in town to choose it. In the meantime, as I have given
a whole month's rest to the cities of London and Westminster, I promise
myself abundance of new game upon my return thither.

It is indeed high time for me to leave the country, since I find the
whole neighbourhood begin to grow very inquisitive after my name and
character: my love of solitude, taciturnity, and particular[144] way of
life, having raised a great curiosity in all these parts.

The notions which have been framed of me are various: some look upon me
as very proud, some as very modest, and some as very melancholy. Will
Wimble, as my friend the butler tells me, observing me very much alone,
and extremely silent when I am in company, is afraid I have killed a man.
The country people seem to suspect me for a conjurer; and some of them,
hearing of the visit which I made to Moll White, will needs have it that
Sir Roger has brought down a cunning man with him, to cure the old woman,
and free the country from her charms. So that the character which I go
under in part of the neighbourhood, is what they here call a "white
witch[145]."

A justice of peace, who lives about five miles off, and is not of Sir
Roger's party, has it seems said twice or thrice at his table, that he
wishes Sir Roger does not harbour a Jesuit in his house, and that he
thinks the gentlemen of the country would do very well to make me give
some account of myself.

On the other side, some of Sir Roger's friends are afraid the old Knight
is imposed upon by a designing fellow, and as they have heard that he
converses very promiscuously[146] when he is in town, do not know but he
has brought down with him some discarded[147] Whig, that is sullen, and
says nothing because he is out of place.

Such is the variety of opinions which are here entertained of me, so that
I pass among some for a disaffected person, and among others for a Popish
priest; among some for a wizard, and among others for a murderer; and all
this for no other reason, that I can imagine, but because I do not hoot
and hollow, an