Distracted, their dupes worry through life. Nervewracked, they stumble from the cradle to the grave.

But there has none employed my Thoughts of late ſo much, as a very nice inquiſition, or inſpection, into the frequent differences we meet with Human Ordure. The World may ſay, perhaps, I had very little to do, and that ſo ſolemn and ſerious a Preface, ill became ſo foul a Subject; but let what will be ſaid, I can't help communicating my Sentiments, but will endeavour to wrap 'em up in as cleanly a manner, as the dirtineſs of the Theme will admit.

Why resurrect the idea almost 25 years later?

these uncontrollable spinnings of the head