Non bene junctarum discordia semina rerum.
Ovid.
When I want Materials for this Paper, it is my Custom to go abroad in
quest of Game; and when I meet any proper Subject, I take the first
Opportunity of setting down an Hint of it upon Paper. At the same time I
look into the Letters of my Correspondents, and if I find any thing
suggested in them that may afford Matter of Speculation, I likewise
enter a Minute of it in my Collection of Materials. By this means I
frequently carry about me a whole Sheetful of Hints, that would look
like a Rhapsody of Nonsense to any Body but myself: There is nothing in
them but Obscurity and Confusion, Raving and Inconsistency. In short,
they are my Speculations in the first Principles, that (like the World
in its Chaos) are void of all Light, Distinction, and Order.
About a Week since there happened to me a very odd Accident, by Reason
of one of these my Papers of Minutes which I had accidentally dropped at
_Lloyd's_ [1] Coffee-house, where the Auctions are usually kept. Before
I missed it, there were a Cluster of People who had found it, and were
diverting themselves with it at one End of the Coffee-house: It had
raised so much Laughter among them before I had observed what they were
about, that I had not the Courage to own it. The Boy of the
Coffee-house, when they had done with it, carried it about in his Hand,
asking every Body if they had dropped a written Paper; but no Body
challenging it, he was ordered by those merry Gentlemen who had before
perused it, to get up into the Auction Pulpit, and read it to the whole
Room, that if any one would own it they might. The Boy accordingly
mounted the Pulpit, and with a very audible Voice read as follows.