Each of the lamps is drunk as a lord.
All is confusion; now isn't it odd?
I am the only thing sober abroad.
Sure it were rash with this crew to remain,
Better go into the tavern again.
This is parodied or stolen by the clever author of the Bon Gaultier Ballads, in one of his best pieces.
The famous Quaker Anthony Benezet, was accustomed to feed the rats in the area before his house in Philadelphia. An old friend who found him so engaged, expressed some surprise that he so kindly treated such pernicious vermin, saying, "They should rather be killed and out of the way." "Nay," said good Anthony, "I will not treat them so; thou wouldst make them thieves by maltreating and starving them, but I make them honest by feeding them, for being so fed, they never prey upon any goods of mine." This singular fact is very characteristic. When feeding rats, the benevolent philosopher used to stand in the area, and they would gather round his feet like chickens. One of the family once hung a collar about one of them, which was seen for years after, feeding in the group.
Des Cartes fought at the siege of Rochelle, and after a variety of adventures, established himself in Holland, where he composed most of his works. These abound in singular theories and curious speculations, and their spirit of independence aroused the same spirit wherever they were read. Scholars and theologians vied with each other in battling the new opinions. The followers of Aristotle and the followers of Locke arrayed themselves against him. His novelties even drew the attention of women from their fashions. "The ladies of quality here, of late," says a writer from Paris, in 1642, "addict themselves to the study of philosophy, as the men; the ladies esteeming their education defective, if they cannot confute Aristotle and his disciples. The pen has almost supplanted the exercise of the needle; and ladies' closets, formerly the shops of female baubles, toys, and vanities, are now turned to libraries and sanctuaries of learned works. There is a new star risen in the French horizon, whose influence excites the nobler females to this pursuit of human science. It is the renowned Monsieur Des Cartes, whose lustre far outshines the aged winking tapers of Peripatetic Philosophy, and has eclipsed the stagyrite, with all the ancient lights of Greece and Rome. 'Tis this matchless soul has drawn so many of the fairer sex to the schools. And they are more proud of the title—Cartesian—and of the capacity to defend his principles, than of their noble birth and blood."
We find in The Courts of Europe at the Close of the last Century, by Henry Swinburne, the following illustration of American manners:
"An English officer, Colonel A in a stage to New-York, and was extremely annoyed by a free and enlightened citizen's perpetually spitting across him, out of the window. He bore it patiently for some time, till at last he ventured to remonstrate, when the other said, 'Why, colonel, I estimate you're a-poking fun at me—that I do. Now, I'm not a-going to chaw my own bilge-water, not for no man. Besides, you need not look so thundering ugly. Why, I've practised all my life, and could squirt through the eye of a needle without touching the steel, let alone such a great saliva-box as that there window.' Colonel A at last his anger got up, and he spat bang in his companion's face, exclaiming, 'I beg you a thousand pardons, squire, but I've not practised as much as you have. No doubt, by the time we reach New-York, I shall be as great a dabster as you are.' The other rubbed his eye, and remained bouche close."