before; since 
which time it had the perpetual possession of his mind and thoughts, 
and he did verily believe was the true natural cause of his present 
distemper: For, said he, I am thoroughly persuaded, and I think I have 
very good reasons, that Mr. Bickerstaff spoke altogether by guess, and 
knew no more what will happen this year than I did myself. I told him 
his discourse surprized me; and I would be glad he were in a state of 
health to be able to tell me what reason he had to be convinc'd of Mr. 
Bickerstaff's ignorance. He reply'd, I am a poor ignorant fellow, bred to 
a mean trade, yet I have sense enough to know that all pretences of 
foretelling by astrology are deceits, for this manifest reason, because 
the wise and the learned, who can only know whether there be any truth 
in this science, do all unanimously agree to laugh at and despise it; and 
none but the poor ignorant vulgar give it any credit, and that only upon 
the word of such silly wretches as I and my fellows, who can hardly 
write or read. I then asked him why he had not calculated his own 
nativity, to see whether it agreed with Bickerstaff's prediction? at which 
he shook his head, and said, Oh! sir, this is no time for jesting, but for 
repenting those fooleries, as I do now from the very bottom of my heart. 
By what I can gather from you, said I, the observations and predictions 
you printed, with your almanacks, were mere impositions on the people. 
He reply'd, if it were otherwise I should have the less to answer for. We 
have a common form for all those things, as to foretelling the weather, 
we never meddle with that, but leave it to the printer, who takes it out 
of any old almanack, as he thinks fit; the rest was my own invention, to
make my almanack sell, having a wife to maintain, and no other way to 
get my bread; for mending old shoes is a poor livelihood; and, (added 
he, sighing) I wish I may not have done more mischief by my physick 
than my astrology; tho' I had some good receipts from my grandmother, 
and my own compositions were such as I thought could at least do no 
hurt. 
I had some other discourse with him, which now I cannot call to mind; 
and I fear I have already tired your Lordship. I shall only add one 
circumstance, That on his death-bed he declared himself a 
Nonconformist, and had a fanatick preacher to be his spiritual guide. 
After half an hour's conversation I took my leave, being half stifled by 
the closeness of the room. I imagine he could not hold out long, and 
therefore withdrew to a little coffee-house hard by, leaving a servant at 
the house with orders to come immediately, and tell me, as near as he 
could, the minute when Partridge should expire, which was not above 
two hours after; when, looking upon my watch, I found it to be above 
five minutes after seven; by which it is clear that Mr. Bickerstaff was 
mistaken almost four hours in his calculation. In the other 
circumstances he was exact enough. But whether he has not been the 
cause of this poor man's death, as well as the predictor, may be very 
reasonably disputed. However, it must be confess'd the matter is odd 
enough, whether we should endeavour to account for it by chance, or 
the effect of imagination: For my own part, tho' I believe no man has 
less faith in these matters, yet I shall wait with some impatience, and 
not without some expectation, the fulfilling of Mr. Bickerstaff's second 
prediction, that the Cardinal de Noailles is to die upon the fourth of 
April, and if that should be verified as exactly as this of poor Partridge, 
I must own I should be wholly surprized, and at a loss, and should 
infallibly expect the accomplishment of all the rest. 
______________________________________________ 
An Elegy on the supposed Death of Partridge, the Almanack-Maker. 
Well, 'tis as Bickerstaff has guess'd, Tho' we all took it for a jest; 
Partridge is dead, nay more, he dy'd E're he could prove the good 
'Squire ly'd. Strange, an Astrologer shou'd die, Without one Wonder in 
the Sky! Not one of all his Crony Stars To pay their Duty at his Herse? 
No Meteor, no Eclipse appear'd? No Comet with a flaming Beard? The 
Sun has rose, and gone to Bed, Just as if partridge were not dead: Nor
hid himself behind the Moon, To make a dreadful Night at Noon. He at 
fit Periods walks through Aries, Howe'er our earthly Motion varies; 
And twice a Year he'll cut th' Equator,    
    
		
	
	
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