Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. I let him take me to the English Embassy, and we went through some sort of a ceremony. Into one of these the waterman jumped, and, having assisted Mr. She was curious, and at the same time clearly resolved she must not hear it.
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