[141] Nichols thought this paper was written by Addison, or with his assistance. "The _Tatler_ upon Milton's 'spear' is not mine, madam. What a puzzle there was between you and your judgment! In general you may sometimes be sure of things, as that about Style [_Tatler_, No. 230], because it is what I have frequently spoken of; but guessing is mine;--and I defy mankind if I please" (Swift's "Journal to Stella," Nov. 8, 1710).
From _Saturday, Oct. 14_, to _Tuesday, Oct. 17, 1710_.
Storms at sea are so frequently described by the ancient poets, and copied by the moderns, that whenever I find the winds begin to rise in a new heroic poem, I generally skip a leaf or two till I come into fair weather. Virgil's Tempest is a masterpiece in this kind, and is indeed so naturally drawn, that one who has made a voyage can scarce read it without being sea-sick.
Land showers are no less frequent among the poets than the former, but I remember none of them which have not fallen in the country; for which reason they are generally filled with the lowings of oxen and the bleatings of sheep, and very often embellished with a rainbow.
Virgil's Land Shower is likewise the best in its kind: it is indeed a shower of consequence, and contributes to the main design of the poem, by cutting off a tedious ceremonial, and bringing matters to a speedy conclusion between two potentates of different sexes. My ingenious kinsman, Mr. Humphrey Wagstaff, who treats of every subject after a manner that no other author has done, and better than any other can do, has sent me the description of a City Shower. I do not question but the reader remembers my cousin's description of the Morning as it breaks in town, which is printed in the ninth _Tatler_, and is another exquisite piece of this local poetry:
Careful observers may foretell the hour (By sure prognostics) when to dread a shower: While rain depends, the pensive cat gives o'er Her frolics, and pursues her tail no more. Returning home at night, you'll find the sink Strike your offended sense with double stink. If you be wise, then go not far to dine, You'll spend in coach-hire more than save in wine. A coming shower your shooting corns presage, Old aches throb,[144] your hollow tooth will rage. Saunt'ring in coffee-house is Dulman seen; He damns the climate, and complains of spleen.