Ter. Adelph.
'To the "Guardian."
'Oxford, 1712.
'Sir,—I foresee that you will have many correspondents in this place; but as I have often observed, with grief of heart, that scholars are wretchedly ignorant in the science I profess, I flatter myself that my letter will gain a place in your papers. I have made it my study, sir, in these seats of learning, to look into the nature of dress, and am what they call an academical beau. I have often lamented that I am obliged to wear a grave habit, since by that means I have not an opportunity to introduce fashions amongst our young gentlemen; and so am forced, contrary to my own inclinations, and the expectation of all who know me, to appear in print. I have indeed met with some success in the projects I have communicated to some sparks with whom I am intimate, and I cannot, without a secret triumph, confess that the sleeves turned up with green velvet, which now flourish throughout the university, sprung originally from my invention.
'As it is necessary to have the head clear, as well as the complexion, to be perfect in this part of learning, I rarely mingle with the men (for I abhor wine), but frequent the tea-tables of the ladies. I know every part of their dress, and can name all their things by their names. I am consulted about every ornament they buy; and, I speak it without vanity, have a very pretty fancy to knots and the like. Sometimes I take a needle and spot a piece of muslin for pretty Patty Cross-stitch, who is my present favourite; which, she says, I do neatly enough; or read one of your papers and explain the motto, which they all like mightily. But then I am a sort of petty tyrant among them, for I own I have my humours. If anything be amiss, they are sure Mr. Sleek will find fault; if any hoity-toighty things make a fuss, they are sure to be taken to pieces the next visit. I am the dread of poor Celia, whose wrapping gown is not right India; and am avoided by Thalestris in her second-hand manteau, which several masters of arts think very fine, whereas I discovered with half an eye that it had been scoured.
'Though every man cannot fill his head with learning, it is in anyone's power to wear a pretty periwig; he who hath no knack at writing sonnets, may however have a soft hand; and he may arch his eye-brows, who hath not strength of genius for the mathematics.
'Simon Sleek.'
No. 22. The 'Guardian.'—April 6, 1713.