ders "how I have the
conscience to sneak abroad, without paying my funeral expenses."

"Lord!" says one, "I durst have sworn that was honest Dr. PARTRIDGE, my
old friend; but, poor man, he is gone!"

"I beg your pardon," says another, "you look so like my old acquaintance
that I used to consult on some private occasions: but, alack, he is gone
the way of all flesh."

"Look, look!" cries a third, after a competent space of staring at me;
"would not one think our neighbour the _Almanack_ maker was crept out of
his grave, to take another peep at the stars in this world, and shew how
much he is improved in fortune telling by having taken a journey to the
other."

Nay, the very Reader of our parish (a good sober discreet person) has
sent two or three times for me to come and be buried decently, or send
him sufficient reasons to the contrary: or if I have been interred in any
other parish, to produce my certificate as the _Act_ requires.

My poor wife is almost run distracted with being called Widow PARTRIDGE,
when she knows it's false: and once a Term, she is cited into the Court,
to take out Letters of Administration.

But the greatest grievance is a paltry Quack that takes up my calling
just under my nose; and in his printed directions with a, _N.B._, says:
_He lives in the house of the late ingenious Mr. JOHN PARTRIDGE, an
eminent Practitioner in Leather, Physic, and Astrology_.

But to shew how far the wicked spirit of envy, malice, and resentment can
hurry some men, my nameless old persecutor had provided a monument at the
stone-cutter's, and would have it erected in the parish church: and this
piece of notorious and expensive villany had actually succeeded, if I had
not used my utmost interest with the Vestry; where it was carried at last
but by two voices, that I am alive.

That stratagem failing, out cometh a long sable _Elegy_ bedecked with
hour-glasses, mattocks, skulls, spades, and skeletons, with an _Epitaph_
[_see_ p. 486] as confidently written to abuse me and my profession, as
if I had been under ground these twenty years.

And, after such barbarous treatment as this, can the World blame me, when
I ask, What is become of the freedom of an Englishman? and, Where is the
Liberty and Property that my old glorious Friend [_WILLIAM III_.] came
over to assert? We have driven Popery out of the nation! and sent Slavery
to foreign climes! The Arts only remain in bondage, when a Man of Science
and Character sha