most trifling kind." The doctor replied, "He had by him an old Greek
manuscript where a favourite diversion of Socrates was recorded." "Ay!"
says the parson eagerly; "I should be most infinitely obliged to you
for the favour of perusing it." The doctor promised to send it him, and
farther said, "That he believed he could describe it. I think," says
he, "as near as I can remember, it was this: there was a throne
erected, on one side of which sat a king and on the other a queen, with
their guards and attendants ranged on both sides; to them was
introduced an ambassador, which part Socrates always used to perform
himself; and when he was led up to the footsteps of the throne he
addressed himself to the monarchs in some grave speech, full of virtue,
and goodness, and morality, and such like. After which, he was seated
between the king and queen, and royally entertained. This I think was
the chief part. Perhaps I may have forgot some particulars; for it is
long since I read it." Adams said, "It was, indeed, a diversion worthy
the relaxation of so great a man; and thought something resembling it
should be instituted among our great men, instead of cards and other
idle pastime, in which, he was informed, they trifled away too much of
their lives." He added, "The Christian religion was a nobler subject
for these speeches than any Socrates could have invented." The
gentleman of the house approved what Mr Adams said, and declared "he
was resolved to perform the ceremony this very evening." To which the
doctor objected, as no one was prepared with a speech, "unless," said
he (turning to Adams with a gravity of countenance which would have
deceived a more knowing man), "you have a sermon about you, doctor."
"Sir," said Adams, "I never travel without one, for fear of what may
happen." He was easily prevailed on by his worthy friend, as he now
called the doctor, to undertake the part of the ambassador; so that the
gentleman sent immediate orders to have the throne erected, which was
performed before they had drank two bottles; and, perhaps, the reader