'Of a certain player[353] he remarked, that his conversation usually
threatened and announced more than it performed; that he fed you with a
continual renovation of hope, to end in a constant succession of
disappointment.

'When exasperated by contradiction, he was apt to treat his opponents
with too much acrimony: as, "Sir, you don't see your way through that
question:"--"Sir, you talk the language of ignorance." On my observing
to him that a certain gentleman had remained silent the whole evening,
in the midst of a very brilliant and learned society, "Sir, (said he,)
the conversation overflowed, and drowned him."

'His philosophy, though austere and solemn, was by no means morose and
cynical, and never blunted the laudable sensibilities of his character,
or exempted him from the influence of the tender passions. Want of
tenderness, he always alledged, was want of parts, and was no less a
proof of stupidity than depravity.

'Speaking of Mr. Hanway, who published _An Eight Days' Journey from
London to Portsmouth_, "Jonas, (said he,) acquired some reputation by
travelling abroad[354], but lost it all by travelling at home.[355]"

'Of the passion of love he remarked, that its violence and ill effects
were much exaggerated; for who knows any real sufferings on that head,
more than from the exorbitancy of any other passion?

'He much commended _Law's Serious Call_, which he said was the finest
piece of hortatory theology in any language[356]. "Law, (said he,) fell
latterly into the reveries of Jacob Behmen[357], whom Law alledged to have
been somewhat in the same state with St. Paul, and to have seen