From my own Apartment,May 12.

I have taken a resolution hereafter,on any want of intelligence,to carry my Familiar abroad with me,who has promised to give me very proper and just notices of persons and things,to make up the history of the passing day.He is wonderfully skilful in the knowledge of men and manners,which has made me more than ordinarily curious to know how he came to that perfection,and I communicated to him that doubt."Mr.Pacolet,"said I,"I am mightily surprised to see you so good a judge of our nature and circumstances,since you are a mere spirit,and have no knowledge of the bodily part of us."He answered,smiling,"You are mistaken;I have been one of you,and lived a month amongst you,which gives me an exact sense of your condition.You are to know that all who enter into human life have a certain date or stamen given to their being which they only who die of age may be said to have arrived at;but it is ordered sometimes by fate,that such as die infants are,after death,to attend mankind to the end of that stamen of being in themselves which was broken off by sickness or any other disaster.These are proper guardians to men,as being sensible of the infirmity of their State.You are philosopher enough to know that the difference of men's understandings proceeds only from the various dispositions of their organs;so that he who dies at a month old is in the next life as knowing,though more innocent,as they who live to fifty;and after death they have as perfect a memory and judgment of all that passed in their lifetime as I have of all the revolutions in that uneasy,turbulent condition of yours;and you would say I had enough of it in a month were I to tell you all my misfortunes.""A life of a month cannot have,one would think,much variety.But pray,"said I,"let us have your story."Then he proceeds in the following manner:--