people at least) more fatal, than the fame qualities in Achilles did to his unfortunate country-men.

Tho' the change of my fcene of life, from Windfor-forest to the fide of the Thames, be one of the grand Æra's of my days, and may be called a notable period in fo inconfiderable a hiftory; yet you can scarce imagine any hero paffing from one ftage of life to another, with fo much tranquillity, fo eafy a transition, and fo laudable a behaviour. I am become so truly a citizen of the world (according to Plato's expreffion) that I look with equal indifference on what I have left, and on what I have gained. The times and amusements past are not more like a dream to me, than thofe which are prefent: I lie in a refreshing kind of inaction, and have one comfort at least from obfcurity, that the darkness helps me to fleep the better. I now and then reflect upon the enjoy ment of my friends, whom, I fancy, I remember much as feparate fpirits do us, at tender intervals, neither interrupting their own employments, nor altogether careless of ours, but in general conftantly wishing us well, and hoping to have us one day in their company.

To grow indifferent to the world is to grow philofophical, or religious (which foever of thofe turns we chance to take) and indeed the

world

world is fuch a thing, as one that thinks pretty much, must either laugh at, or be angry with : but if we laugh at it, they fay we are proud; and if we are angry with it, they fay we are ill-natur'd. So the most politic way is to feem always better pleas'd than one can be, great admirers, greater lovers, and in fhort greater fools, than we really are: fo fhall wel live comfortably with our families, quietly with our neighbours, favoured by our masters, and happy with our miftreffes. I have filled my paper, and fo adieu.

LETTER IX.

Sept. 8, 1717.

Think your leaving England was like a good. man's leaving the world, with the bleffed confcience of having acted well in it; and I hope you have received your reward, in being happy where you are. I believe, in the religious country you inhabit, you'll be better pleased to find I confider you in this light, than if I compared you to thofe Greeks and Romans, whose conftancy in fuffering pain, and whofe refolution in purfuit of a generous end, would rather imitate than boast of.

you

.

But I had a melancholy hint the other day, as if you were yet a martyr to the fatigue your

virtue made you undergo on this fide the water. I beg, if your health be restored to you, not to deny me the joy of knowing it. Your endeavours of service and good advice to the poor papists, put me in mind of Noah's preaching forty years to those folks that were to be drowned at last. At the worst I heartily wish your Ark may find an Arrarat, and the wife and family (the hopes of the good patriarch) land fafely after the deluge, upon the fhore of Totnefs.

If I durft mix prophane with facred history, I would chear you with the old tale of Brutus the wandering Trojan, who found on, that very coaft the happy end of his peregrinations and adventures.

I have very lately read Jeffery of Monmouth (to whom your Cornwall is not a little beholden) in the translation of a clergyman in my neighbourhood. The poor man is highly concerned to vindicate Jeffery's veracity as an hiftorian; and told me he was perfectly astonished, we of the Roman communion could doubt of the legends of his Giants, while we believe thofe of our Saints. I am forced to make a fair compofition with him; and, by crediting fome of the wonders of Corinæus and Gogmagog, have brought him so far already, that he speaks respectfully of St. Christopher's carrying Christ,

and

and the refufcitation of St. Nicholas Tolentine's chicken. Thus we proceed apace in converting each other from all manner of infidelity.

Ajax and Hector are no more to be compared to Corinæus and Arthur, than the Guelphs and Ghibellines are to the Mohocks of ever dreadful memory. This amazing writer has made me lay afide Homer for a week, and, when I take him up again, I fhall be very well prepared to tranflate, with belief and reverence, the speech of Achilles's Horse.

You'll excufe all this trifling, or any thing elfe which prevents a fheet full of compliment: and believe there is nothing more true (even more true than any thing in Jeffery is falfe) than that I have a conftant affection for you, and am, &c.

P. S. I know you will take part in rejoycing for the victory of Prince Eugene over the Turks, in the zeal you bear to the Chriftian intereft, tho' your Coufin of Oxford (with whom I dined yesterday) fays, there is no other difference in the Chriftians beating the Turks, or the Turks beating the Chriftians, than whether the Emperor fhall firft declare war against Spain, or Spain declare it against the Emperor.

LETTER

LETTER X.

Nov. 27, 1717.

THE question you proposed to me is what at present I am the most unfit man in the world to answer, by my lofs of one of the best of Fathers.

He had lived in fuch a courfe of Temperance as was enough to make the longest life agreeable to him, and in such a course of Piety as fufficed to make the most fudden death fo alfo. Sudden indeed it was: however, I heartily beg of God to give me fuch a one, provided I can lead fuch a life. I leave him to the mercy of God, and to the piety of a religion that extends beyond the grave: Si qua eft ea cura, &c.

He has left me to the ticklish management of fo narrow a fortune, that any one false step would be fatal, My mother is in that dispirited ftate of refignation, which is the effect of long life, and the lofs of what is dear to us. We are really each of us in want of a friend, of fuch an humane turn as yourself, to make almoft any thing defireable to us. I feel your abfence more than ever, at the fame time I çan lefs exprefs my regards to you than ever; and shall make this, which is the most fincere let

ter