through its sides.

Though there may be no more pride in a minister of state, who opens a
budget, than in a tinker who carries one, yet they equally contend for
the honor of their trade.

Every man, from the attorney's clerk to the butcher's apprentice, feels
his own honor, with that of his profession, wounded by travelling on
foot. To be caught on his feet, is nearly the same as to be caught in a
crime. The man who has gathered up his limbs, and hung them on a horse,
looks _down_ with dignity on him who has not; while the man on foot
offers his humble bow, afraid to look up--If providence favours us with
feet, is it a disgrace to use them?--I could instance a person who
condescended to quit London, that center of trick, lace, and equipage;
and in 1761, open a draper's shop in Birmingham: but his feet, or his
_pride_, were so much hurt by walking, that he could scarcely travel ten
doors from his own without a post-chaise--the result was, he became such
an adept in riding, that in a few months, he rode triumphant into the
Gazette. Being quickly scoured bright by the ill-judged laws of
bankruptcy, he rode, for the last time, _out_ of Birmingham, where he
had so often rode _in_: but his injured creditors were obliged to _walk_
after the slender dividend of eighteen pence in the pound. The man who
_can_ use his feet, is envied by him who _cannot_; and he, in turn,
envies him who _will_ not. Our health and our feet, in a double sense,
go together. The human body has been justly compared to a musical
instrument; I add, this instrument was never perfectly in tune, without
a due portion of exercise.

The man of military character, puts on, with his scarlet, that martial
air, which tells us, "he has formed a resolution to kill:" and we