However, my Lord, I own, that critics of this fort can intimidate me, nay half incliné me to write no more: That would be making the Town a compliment which, I think, it deferves; and which fome, I am fure, would take very kindly. This way of Satire is dangerous, as long as flander rais'd by fools of the lowest rank, can find any countenance from thofe of a higher. Even from the conduct shewn on this occafion, I have learnt there are fome who would rather be wicked than ridiculous; and therefore it may be fafer to attack Vices than Follies. I will therefore leave my betters in the quiet poffeffion of their Idols, their Groves, and their High-places; and change my fubject from their pride to their meanness, from their vanities to their miferies; and, as the only certain way to avoid misconstructions, to leffen offence, and not to multiply ill-natur'd applications, I may probably, in my next, make use of real names inftead of fictitious ones. I am,

My Lord,

Your moft Affectionate, &c.

LETTER XXVII*.

Cirencefter.

IT

T is a true faying, that misfortunes alone prove one's friendships; they show us not only that of other people for us, but our own for them. We hardly know ourfelves any otherwife. I feel my being forced to this Bath-journey as a misfortuné and to follow my own welfare preferably to thofe love, is indeed a new thing to me: my health has

*To Mrs. B.

not

not usually got the better of my tendernesses and affections. I fet out with a heavy heart, wishing I had done this thing the last season; for every day I defer it, the more I am in danger of that accident which I dread the moft, my Mother's death (efpecially fhould it happen while I am away.) And another Reflection pains me, that I have never, fince I knew you, been fo long feparated from you, as I now muft be. Methinks we live to be more and more strangers, and every year teaches you to live without me: This abfence may, I fear, make my return less welcome and lefs wanted to you, than once it feem'd, even after but a fortnight. Time ought not in reason to diminish friendship, when it confirms the truth of it by experience.

The journey has a good deal difordered me, notwithstanding my refting place at Lord Bathurft's. My Lord is too much for me, he walks, and is in fpirits all day long; I rejoice to fee him fo. It is a right distinction, that I am happier in feeing my friends fo many degrees above me, be it in fortune, health, or pleasures, than I can be in sharing either with them for in these fort of enjoyments I cannot keep pace with them, any more than I can walk with a stronger man. I wonder to find I am a companion for none but old men, and forget that I am not a young fellow myfelf. The worst is, that reading and writing, which I have ftill the greatest relish for, are growing painful to my eyes. But if I can preserve the good opinion of one or two friends, to fuch a degree, as to have their indulgence to my weakneffes, I will not complain of life: And if I could live to fee you confult your eafe and quiet, by becoming independent on those who will never help you to either, I doubt not of finding the latter part of my life pleafanter than the former, or present. My uneafineffes of body I can bear; my chief uncafiness of mind is in your regard, You have a VOL. VIII. temper

L

temper that would make you eafy and beloved (which is all the happiness one needs to wifh in this world) and content with moderate things. All your point is not to lose that temper by facrificing yourself to others, out of a mistaken tenderness, which hurts you, and profits not them. And this you must do foon, or it will be too late: Habit will make it as hard for you to live independent, as for L-to live out of a Court.

You must excuse me for obferving what I think any defect in you: You grow too indolent, and give things up too eafily: which would be otherwife, when you found and felt yourself your own: Spirits would come in, as ill-ufage went out. While you live under a kind of perpetual dejection and oppreffion, nothing at all belongs to you, not your own Humour, nor your own Senfe.

You can't conceive how much you would find refolution rife, and chearfulness grow upon you, if you'd once try to live independent for two or three months. I never think tenderly of you but this comes across me, and therefore excufe my repeating it, for whenever I do not, I diffemble half that I think of you: Adieu, pray write, and be particu lar about your health.

OUR letter dated at nine a clock on Tuesday (night, as I fuppofe) has funk me quite. Yefterday I hoped; and yesterday I fent you a line or two for our poor Friend Gay, inclos'd in a few words to you; about twelve or one a clock you fhould have had it. I am troubled about that, tho'

*To the fame,

the prefent cause of our trouble be so much greater †. Indeed I want a friend, to help me to bear it better. We want each other. I bear a hearty share with Mrs. Howard, who has loft a man of a most honeft heart; fo honeft an one, that I wish her Master had none lefs honeft about him. The world after all is

a little pitiful thing; not performing any one promife it makes us, for the future, and every day taking away and annulling the joys of the paft. Let us comfort one another, and, if poffible, ftudy to add as much more friendship to each other, as death has deprived us of in him: I promise you more and more of mine, which will be the way to deferve more and more of yours.

I purposely avoid faying more. The fubject is beyond writing upon, beyond cure or ease by reafon or reflection, beyond all but one thought, that it is the will of God.

So will the death of my mother be! which now I tremble at, now refign to, now bring close to me, now fet farther off: Every day alters, turns me about, and confuses my whole frame of mind. Her dangerous diftemper is again return'd, her fever coming onward again, tho' lefs in pain; for which laft however I thank God.

I am unfeignedly tired of the world, and receive nothing to be call'd a Pleasure in it, equivalent to countervail either the death of one I have fo long lived with, or of one I have fo long lived for. I have nothing left but to turn my thoughts to one comfort; the last we ufually think of, tho' the only one we should in wifdom depend upon, in fuch a difappointing place as this. I fit in her room, and the is always prefent before me, but when I fleep.

+ Mr. Gay's death, which happen'd in Nov. 1732, at the Duke of Queensberry's houfe in London, aged 46.

L 2

P.

I wonder

I wonder I am fo well: I have fhed many tears, but now I weep at nothing. I would above all things fee you, and think it would comfort you to fee me fo equal-temper'd and fo quiet. But pray dine here; you may, and the know nothing of it, for fhe dozes much, and we tell her of no earthly thing, left it run in her mind, which often trifles have done. If Mr. Bethel had time, I wish he were your companion hither. Be as much as you can with each other: Be affur'd I love you both, and be farther affur'd, that friendship will increase as I live

on.

LETTER XXIX.

To HUGH BETHEL, Efq.

July 12, 1723.

Affure you unfeignedly any memorial of your good-nature and friendliness is most welcome to me, who know those tenders of affection from you are not like the common traffic of compliments and profeffions, which most people only give that they may receive; and is at beft a commerce of Vanity, if not of Falsehood. I am happy in not immediately wanting the fort of good offices you offer: but if I did want them, I fhould not think myself unhappy in receiving them at your hands: this really is fome compliment, for I would rather moft men did me a small injury, than a kindness. I know your humanity, and, allow me to fay, I love and value you for it: 'Tis a much better ground of love and value, than all the qualities I fee the world fo fond of: They generally admire in the wrong place,

and