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this head. I wrote to you concerning it long fince; but a friend of yours and mine was of opinion, it was taking too much upon me, and more than I could be entitled to by the mere merit of long acquaintance, and good will. I have not a thing in my heart relating to any friend, which I would not, in my own nature, declare to all mankind. The truth is what you guefs; I could not efteem your conduct, to an object of mifery fo near you as Mrs. and I have often hinted it to yourfelf: The truth is, I cannot yet efteem it for any reason I am able to fee. But this I promife, I acquit you as far as your own mind acquits you. I have now no further caufe of complaint, for the unhappy Lady gives me now no farther pain; fhe is no longer an object either of yours or my compaffion; the hardships done her, are lodg'd in the hands of God, nor has any man more to do in them, except the perfons concern'd in occafioning them.

As for the interruption of our Correspondence, I am forry you feem to put the Teft of my friendfhip upon that, because it is what I am difqualified from toward my other acquaintance, with whom I cannot hold any frequent commerce. I'll name you the obftacles which I can't furmount: want of health, want of time, want of good eyes; and one yet stronger than them all, I write not upon the terms of other men. For however glad I might be, of expreffing my refpect, opening my mind, or venting my concerns, to my private friends; I hardly dare while there are Curlls in the world. If you please to reflect either on the impertinence of weak admirers, the malice of low enemies, the avarice of mercenary Bookfellers, or the filly curiofity of people in general; you'll con

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fefs I have small reafon to indulge correfpondencies in which too I want materials, as I live altogether out of town, and have abftracted my mind (I hope) to better things than common news. I wifh my friends would fend me back thofe forfeitures of my difcretion, commit to my justice what I trusted only to their indulgence, and return me at the year's end thofe trifling letters, which can be to them but a day's amufement, but to me may prove a difcredit as lafting and extenfive, as the aforefaid weak admirers, mean enemies, mercenary fcriblers, or curious fimpletons, can make it.

I come now to a particular you complain of, my not answering your question about fome Partypapers, and their authors. This indeed I could not tell you, because I never was, or will be privy to fuch papers: And if by accident, thro' my acquaintance with any of the writers, I had known a thing they concealed; I fhould certainly never bẹ the Reporter of it.

For my waiting on you at your country-house, I have often wifh'd it; it was my compliance to a fuperior duty that hinder'd me, and one which you are too good a Chriftian to wish I fhould have broken, having never ventur'd to leave my mother (at her great age) for more than a week, which is too little for fuch a journey.

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Upon the whole, I muft acquit myself of act or thought, in prejudice to the regard I owe you, as fo long and obliging an acquaintance and correfpondent. I am fure I have all the good wifhes for yourself and your family, that become a friend : There is no accident that can happen to your advantage, and no action that can redound to your credit, which I should not be ready to extol, or to rejoice in. And therefore I beg you to be affured,

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I am in difpofition and will, tho' not so much as I would be in teftimonies or writing,

Yours, &c.

LETTER XLII.

To Mr. RICHARDSON.

Jan. 13, 1732.

Have at laft got my Mother fo well, as to allow

I myself to be abfent from her for three days. As funday is one of them, I do not know whether I may propose to you to employ it in the manner you mentioned to me once. Sir Godfrey call'd imploying the pencil, the prayer of a painter, and affirmed it to be his proper way of ferying God, by the talent he gave him. I am fure, in this inftance, it is ferving your friend; and, you know, we are allowed to do that (nay even to help a neighbour's ox or afs) on the fabbath: which tho' it may feem a general precept, yet in one fenfe particularly applies to you, who have help'd many a human ox, and many a human afs, to the likeness of man, not to fay of God.

Believe me, dear Sir, with all good wishes for yourself and your family (the happiness of which tyes I know by experience, and have learn'd to value from the late danger of lofing the beft of mine)

Your, &c.

LET

A

LETTER XLIII.

To the fame.

Twickenham, June 10, 1733:

S I know, you and I mutually defire to fee one another, I hoped that this day our wifhes would have met, and brought you hither. And this for the very reafon which poffibly might hinder your coming, that my poor Mother is dead †. I thank God, her death was as eafy, as her life was innocent; and it coft her not a groan, or even a figh, there is yet upon her countenance fuch an expreffion of Tranquillity, nay, almoft of Pleafure, that it is even amiable to behold it. It would afford the fineft Image of a Saint expir'd, that ever Painting drew; and it would be the greatest obligation which even That obliging Art could ever bestow on a friend, if you could come and sketch it for me. I am fure, if there be no very prevalent obftacle, you will leave any common business to do this and I hope to fee you this evening as late as you will, or to morrow morning as early, before this winter-flower is faded. I will defer her interment till to morrow night. I know you love me, or I could not have written this-I could not (at this time) have written at all---Adieu! May you die as happily!

Your, &c.

+ Mrs. Pope died the feventh of June, 1733, aged 93.

LET.

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LETTER XLIV.

To the fame.

T is hardly poffible to tell you the joy your pencil gave me, in giving me another friend, fo much the fame! and which (alas for mortality !) will out-laft the other. Pofterity will, thro' your means, see the man whom it will for ages honour, vindicate, and applaud, when envy is no more, and when (as I have already faid in the Effay to which you are fo partial)

The fons fhall blufh their fathers were his foes.

That Effay has many faults, but the poem your fent me has but one, and that I can eafily forgive. Yet I would not have it printed for the world, and yet I would not have it kept unprinted neitherbut all in good time. I'm glad you publish your Milton. B-ly will be angry at you, and at me too fhortly for what I could not help, a Satyrical Poem on Verbal Criticism by Mr. Mallet, which he has infcrib'd to me, but the poem itfelf is good (another caufe of anger to any Critic.) As for myself, I refolve to go on in my quiet, calm, moral course, taking no fort of notice of man's anger, or woman's scandal, with Virtue in my eyes, and Truth upon my tongue. Adieu.

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