cry out with the Pfalmift, Some in chariots and fome in horfes, but we will invocate the name of the Lord.

I am, &c.

XII.

TH

LETTER

HE weather is too fine for any one that loves the country to leave it at this feafon; when every smile of the fun, like the smile of a coy lady, is as dear as it is uncommon: and I am fo much in the taste of rural pleasures, I had rather fee the fun than any thing he can fhew me, except yourself. I defpife. every fine thing in town, not excepting your new gown, till I fee you dress'd in it, (which by the way I don't like the better for the red; the leaves, I think, are very pretty.) I am growing fit, I hope, for a better world, of which the light of the fun is but a fhadow: for I doubt not but God's works here, are what come nearest to his works there; and that a true relish of the beauties of nature, is the most easy preparation and gentleft tranfition to an enjoyment of those of heaven: as, on the contrary, a true town life of hurry, confufion, noise, flander, and diffenfion, is a fort of apprenticeship to hell and its furies. I'm endeavouring to put my mind into as quiet a fituation as I can, to be ready to receive that ftroke, which, I believe, is coming upon me, and have fully relign'd my self to yield to it. The feparation of my foul and body is what I could think of with lefs pain; for I

ain very fure he that made it will take care of it, and

in whatever ftate he pleafes it fhall be, that state must be right: But I cannot think without tears of being feparated from my friends, when their condition is fo doubtful, that they may want even such assistance as mine. Sure, it is more merciful to take from us after death all memory of what we lov'd or pursued here, for else what a torment would it be to a spirit, ftill to love those creatures it is quite divided from? Unless we fuppofe, that in a more exalted life, all that esteemed in this imperfect state will affect us no more, than what we lov'd in our infancy concerns us now.

we

This is an odd way of writing to a lady, and, I'm fenfible, would throw me under a great deal of ridicule, were you to fhow this letter among your acquaintance. But, perhaps, you may not yourself be quite a stranger to this way of thinking. I heartily with your life may be fo long and fo happy, as never to let you think quite fo far as I am now led to do; but, to think a little towards it, is what will nake you the happier, and the easier at all times.

There are no pleasures or amusements that I don't wish you, and therefore 'tis no small grief to me that I fhall for the future be lefs able to partake with you in them. But let fortune do her worst, whatever she makes us lose, as long as he never makes us lose our honefty and our independence; I defpife from my heart whoever parts with the first, and I pity from my foul whoever quits the latter.

I am griev'd at Mr G- -'s condition in this laft refpect of dependence. He has Merit, Good-nature, and Integrity, three qualities, that I fear are too often loft upon great men; or at least are not all three a

a match for that one which is oppos'd to them, Flattery. I wish it may not foon or late difplace him from the favour he now poffeffes, and feems to like. I'm fure his late action deferves eternal favour and esteem: Lord Bathurst was charm'd with it, who came hither to see me before his journey. He asked and spoke very particularly of you. To-morrow

Mr Fortescue comes to me from London about B's fuit in forma pauperis. That poor man looks ftarved: he tells me you have been charitable to him. Indeed 'tis wanted; the poor creature can fcarce ftir or speak; and I apprehend he will die, juft as he gets something to live upon. Adieu.

T

LETTER XIII.

HIS is a day of wishes for you, and I hope you have long known, there is not one good one

that

which I do not form in your behalf. Every year paffes, I wifh fomethings more for my friends, and fome things lefs for myself. Yet were I to tell you what I wish for you in particular, it would be only to repeat in profe, what I told you last year in rhyme (fo fincere is my poetry:) I can only add, that as I then wifh'd you a friend I now with that friend

"O be thou bleft with all that heav'n can fend,

Long health, long life, long pleasure, and a friend."

Abfence is a fhort kind of death; and in either, one can only wish, that the friends we are separated from, may be happy with those that are left them. I am therefore very folicitous that you may pass much agreeable time together: I am forry to fay I envy. you no other companion; tho' I hope you have others that you like; and I am always pleas'd in that hope, when it is not attended with any fears on your own account.

I was troubled to leave you both, juft as I fancy'd we should begin to live together in the country. 'Twas a little like dying the moment one had got all one defired in this world. Yet I go away with one generous fort of fatisfaction, that what I part with, you are to inherit.

I know you would both be pleas'd to hear fome certain news of a friend departed; to have the adventures of his paffage, and the new regions thro which he travelled, defcribed; and, upon the whole, to know, that he is as happy where he now is, as while he lived among you. But indeed I (like many a poor unprepared foul) have feen nothing I like fo well as what I left: No fcenes of Paradife, no happy bowers equal to thofe on the banks of the Thames. Where-ever I wander, one reflection ftrikes me: I wish you were as free as I; or at least had a tye as tender, and as reasonable as mine, to a relation that as well deferved your conftant thought, and to whom you would be always pulled back (in fuch a manner as I am) by the heart-ftring. I have never been well fince I fet out: but don't tell my mother fo; it will trouble her too much:

And as

probably the fame reafon may prevent her fending a true account of her health to me, I must desire you to acquaint me. I would gladly hear the country air improves your own; but don't flatter me when you are ill, that I may be the better fatisfy'd when you fay you are well for these are things in which one may be fincerer to a reasonable friend, than to a fond and Adieu.

partial parent.

γου

LETTER XIV.

OU can't be furprised to find him a dull correspondent whom you have known fo long for a dull companion. And tho' I am pretty fenfible, that, if I have any wit, I may as well write to show it, as not; yet I'll content myself with giving you as plain a history of my pilgrimage, as Purchas himself, or as John Bunyan could do, of his walking thro' the wilderness of this world, &c.

First then, I went by water to Hampton-Court, unattended by all but my own virtues; which were not of fo modeft a nature as to keep themfelves, or me conceal'd: For I met the Prince with all his ladies on horseback, coming from hunting. Mrs B* and Mrs L* took me into protection (contrary to the laws against harbouring Papifts) and gave me a dinner, with fomething I liked better, an opportunity of converfation with Mrs H*. We all agreed that the life of a Maid of honour was of all things the moft miferable: and wish'd that every woman who envy'd it, had a