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says, “he seems to bring his arm-chair to the proscenium and chat with us in all the lusty ease of his fine English”—he takes us, as it were, into his confidence, and discourses frankly of his aims and his way of work. He looked upon these little “initial Essays” indeed, as an indispensable part of his scheme. They have given him, says he more than once, “the greatest Pains in composing” of any part of his book, and he hopes that, like the Greek and Latin mottoes in the Spectator, they may serve to secure him against imitation by inferior authors. [Footnote: Notwithstanding this warning, Cumberland (who copied so much) copied these in his novel of Henry. On the other hand, Fielding’s French and Polish translators omitted them as superfluous.] Naturally a great deal they contain is by this time commonplace, although it was unhackneyed enough when Fielding wrote. The absolute necessity in work of this kind for genius, learning, and knowledge of the world, the constant obligation to preserve character and probability—to regard variety and the law of contrast:—these are things with which the modern tiro (however much he may fail to possess or observe them) is now supposed to be at least theoretically acquainted. But there are other chapters in which Fielding may also be said to reveal his personal point of view, and these can scarcely be disregarded. His “Fare,” he says, following the language of the table, is “HUMAN NATURE,” which he shall first present “in that more plain and simple Manner in which it is found in the Country,” and afterwards “hash and ragoo it with all the high French and Italian seasoning of Affectation and Vice which Courts and Cities afford.” His inclination,