fures and delights that one is over-run with in those places, I wonder how any body hath health and spirits enough to fupport them: I am heartily glad she has, and whenever I hear fo, I find it contributes to mine. You fee I am not free from dependance, tho' I have lefs attendance than I had formerly; for a great deal of my own welfare still depends upon hers. Is the widow's house to be difpos'd of yet? I have not given up my pretenfions to the Dean; if it was to be parted with, I wish one of us had it; I hope you wish fo too, and that Mrs. Blount and Mrs. Howard wish the fame, and for the very fame reason that I wish it. All I could hear of you of late hath been by advertisements in news-papers, by which one would think the race of Curls was multiplied; and, by the indignation fuch fellows fhow against you, that you have more merit than any body alive could have. Homer himself hath not been worse us'd by the French. I am to tell you that the Duchess makes you her compliments, and is always inclin'd to like any thing you do; that Mr. Congreve admires, with me, your fortitude: and loves, not envies, your performance, for we are not Dunces. Adieu.

LET

I

LETTER XVIII.

April 18, 1730.

F my friendship were as effectual as it is fincere, you would be one of those people who would be vastly advantag'd and enrich'd by it. I ever honour'd thofe Popes who were most famous for Nepotism, 'tis a fign that the old fellows loved Somebody, which is not usual in fuch advanced years. And I now honour Sir Robert Walpole for his extensive bounty and goodness to his private friends and relations. But it vexes me to the heart when I reflect, that my friendship is so much less effectual than theirs; nay fo utterly useless that it cannot give you any thing, not even a dinner at this distance, nor help the General, whom I greatly love, to catch one fifh. My only confolation is to think you happier than myself, and to begin to envy you, which is next to hating you (an excellent remedy for love.) How comes it that Providence has been so unkind to me (who am a greater object of compaffion than any fat man alive) that I am forced to drink wine, while you riot in water, prepar'd with oranges by the hand of the Duchefs of Queenfberry? that I am condemn'd to live by a highway fide, like an old Patriarch, receiving all guests, where my portico (as Virgil has it)

Mane Jalutantum totis vomit ædibus undam,

while you are wrapt into the Idalian Groves, fprinkled with rofe-water, and live in burrage, balm, and burnet, up to the chin, with the Duchefs of Queenfberry? that I am doom'd to the drudgery of dining at court with the ladies in waiting at Windfor, while you are happily banish'd with the Duchefs of Queensberry? So partial is fortune in her difpenfations! for I deferv'd ten times more to be banish'd than you, and I know fome Ladies who merit it better than even her Grace. After this I muft not

name any, who dare do fo much for you as to fend you their fervices. But one there is, who exhorts me often to write to you, I fuppofe, to prevent or excufe her not doing it herself; the feems (for that is all I'll fay for a courtier) to with you mighty well. Another, who is no courtier, frequently mentions you, and does certainly wish you well-I fancy, after all, they both do fo.

and told him the The Dean is well;

I writ to Mr. Fortefcue pains you took to fee him. I have had many accounts of him from Irish evidence, but only two letters these four months, in both which you are mention'd kindly : he is in the north of Ireland, doing I know not what, with I know not whom. Mr. Cleland always

fpeaks

speaks of you: he is at Tunbridge, wondering at the fuperior carnivoracity of our friend: he plays now with the old Duchess, nay dines with her, after she has won all his money. Other news I know not, but that Counsellor Bickford has hurt himself, and has the strongest walking-staff I ever faw. He intends speedily to make a you vifit with it at Amesbury. I am my Lord Duke's, my Lady Duchefs's, Mr. Dormer's, General Dormer's, and

Your, &c.

you,

LETTER XIX.

with great truth

Sept. 11, 1730.

that I think of you daily; oftener indeed than is confiftent with the character of a reafonable man, who is rather to make himself eafy with the things and men that are about him, than uneafy for those which he wants. And whofe abfence is in a manner perpetual to me, ought rather to be remembred as a good man gone, than breathed after as one living. You are taken from us here to be laid up in a more blessed state with spirits of a higher kind: fuch I reckon his Grace and her Grace,

Grace, fince their banishment from an earthly court to a heavenly one, in each other and their friends; for, I conclude, none but true friends will confort or affociate with them afterwards. I can't but look upon myself (so unworthy as a man of Twitnam feems, to be rank'd with fuch rectify'd and fublimated beings as you) as a feparated spirit too from Courts and courtly fopperies. But, I own, not altogether fo divested of terrene matter, nor altogether fo fpiritualized, as to be worthy admiffion to your depths of retirement and contentment. I am tugg'd back to the world and its regards too often; and no wonder, when my retreat is but ten miles from the Capital. I am within ear-shot of reports, within the vortex of lies and cenfures. I hear sometimes of the lampooners of beauty, the calumniators of virtue, the jokers at reafon and religion. I presume these are creatures and things as unknown to you, as we of this dirty orb are to the inhabitants of the planet Jupiter; except a few fervent prayers reach you on the wings of the poft, from two or three of your zealous votaries at this distance; as one Mrs. H. who lifts up her heart now and then to you, from the midst of the Colluvies and fink of human greatness at W-r; one Mrs. B. that farcies you may remember her while you liv'd in your mortal and too tranfitory state at Peterfham; VOL. VIII. N

one