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 exprefling my refpect, opening my mind, or venting my concerns, to my private friends; I hardly dare while there are Curls 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 confefs I have fmall reafon to indulge correfpondencies: in which too I want materials, as I live altogether out of town, and have abstracted my mind (I hope) to better things than common news. I wish my friends would fend me back those forfeitures of my discretion, commit to my justice what I trufted only to their indulgence, and return me at the year's end those 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 Party-papers, 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 conceal'd; I fhould certainly never be the Reporter of it.

For my waiting on you at your country-house, I have often wish'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 should 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.

Upon the whole, I must acquit myself of any 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 wishes 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 there. fore I beg you to be affured, I am in difpofition and will, tho' not fo much as I would be in testimonies or writing,

Your, &c.

LETTER XLII.

To Mr RICHARDSON.

Jan. 13. 1732.

I

Have at last got my Mother fo well, as to allow myself to be abfent froin her for three days. As Sunday is one of them, I do not know whether I may propofe to you to employ it in the manner you mentioned to me once. Sir Godfrey call'd employing the pencil, the prayer of a painter, and affirmed it to be

his proper way of ferving 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 seem a general precept, yet in one sense 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 yourfelf and your family (the happiness of which) ties, I know by experience, and have learn'd to value from the late danger of lofing the best of mine),

LETTER XLIII.

To the fame.

Your, &c.

A

Twickenham, June 10. 1733.

SI know, you and I mutually defire to fee one

another, I hoped that this day our wishes 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 as it cost her not a groan, or even a figh, there is yet upon her countenance fuch an expreffion of Tranquillity, nay, almost 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

* Mrs Pope died the venth of June, 1733, aged 93.

greateft 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!

LETTER XLIV.

To the fame.

Your, &c.

T is hardly poffible to tell you the joy your pencil

IT

gave me, in giving me another friend, so much the fame! and which (alas for mortality!) will out-laft the other. Pofterity will, thro' your means, fee 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 you fent me has but one, and that I can easily forgive. Yet I would not have it printed for the world, and yet I would not have it kept unprinted neither--but all in good time. I'm glad you publish your Milton. B- -ly will be angry at you, and at me too shortly * Lord Bolingbroke.

me

for what I could not help, a Satyrical Poem on Verbal Criticism by Mr Mallet, which he has inscribed to ; but the poem itself is good (another cause of anger to any Critic.) As for myfelf, I refolve to go on in my quiet, calm, moral course, taking no fort of notice of man's anger, or woman's fcandal, with Virtue Adieu. in my eyes, and Truth upon my tongue.

LETTER

XLV.

To Mr BE THE L.

Aug. 9. 1733.

OU might well think me negligent or forgetful

You

of you, if true friendship and fincere esteem were to be measured by common formis and compliments. The truth is, I could not write then, without faying fomething of my own condition, and of my lofs of fo old and so deserving a parent, which really would have troubled you; or I must have kept a filence upon that head, which would not have suited that freedom and fincere opening of the heart which is due to you from me. I am now pretty well; but my home is uneafy to me ftill, and I am therefore wandering about all this fummer. I was but four days at Twickenham fince the occafion that made it so melancholy. I have been a fortnight in Effex, and am now at Dawley (whofe mafter is your fervant) and going to Cirencefter to Lord Bathurst. I fhall alfo fee Southampton with Lord Peterborow. The Court and Twit'nam I

fhall forfake together. I wish I did not leave our friend, who deferves more quiet, and more health and

* Mrs B