agreeable company I enjoy'd the night before! without the least hope of entertainment but from my laft recourfe in fuch cafes, a book. I then began to enter into acquaintance with your Moralifts, and had just received from them fome cold confolation for the inconveniencies of this life, and the uncertainty of human affairs; when I perceived my vehicle to ftop, and heard from the fide of it the dreadful news of a fick woman preparing to enter it. 'Tis not easy to guess at my mortification; but being fo well fortify'd with philofophy, I ftood refign'd with a ftoical conftancy to endure the worst of evils, a fick woman. I was indeed a little comforted to find, by her voice and drefs, that he was young and a gentlewoman; but no fooner was her hood remov'd, but I faw one of the fineft faces I ever beheld, and, to increase my surprise, heard her falute me by my I never had more reafon to accufe nature for making me fhort-fighted than now, when I could not recollect I had ever feen thofe fair eyes which knew me fo well, and was utterly at a lofs how to addrefs nyfelf; till with a great deal of fimplicity and innocence he let me know (even before I dif cover'd my ignorance) that he was the daughter of one in our neighbourhood, lately marry'd, who having been confulting her phyficians in town, was returning into the country, to try what good air and a hufband could do to recover her. My father, you must know, has fometimes recommended the study of phyfic to me, but I never had any ambition to be a doctor till this inftant. I ventured to prescribe fome fruit (which I happened to have n the coach) which being forbidden her by her doctors, he had the

name.

more inclination to. In short, I tempted, and she eat; nor was I more like the Devil than fhe like Eve. Having the good fuccefs of the 'forefaid Tempter before my eyes, I put on the gallantry of the old ferpent, and in fpite of my evil form accosted her with all the gaiety I was mafter of; which had so good an effect, that in less than an hour she grew pleasant, her colour return'd, and she was pleas'd to fay my prefcription had wrought an immediate cure: in a word, I had the pleasantest journey imaginable.

Thus far (methinks.) my letter has something of the air of a romance, tho' it be true. But I hope you will look on what follows as the greatest of truths, that I think myself extremely obliged by you in all points; especially for your kind and honourable information and advice in a matter of the utmoft concern to me, which I fhall ever acknowledge as the higheft proof at once of your friendship, juftice and fincerity. At the fame time be affur'd that gentleman we spoke of, shall never by any alteration in me difcover my knowledge of his mistake; the hearty forgiving of which is the only kind of return I can poffibly make him for fo many favours: And I may derive this pleafure at least from it, that whereas I must otherwise have been a little uneafy to know my incapacity of returning his obligations, I may now, by bearing his frailty, exercife my gratitude and friendship more than himself either is, or perhaps ever will be fenfible of.

Ille meos, primus qui me fibi junxit, amores

Abflulit; ille habeat fecum, fervetque fepulchro! But in one thing, I must confefs you have yourself obliged me more than any man, which is, that you have fhewed me many of my faults, to which as you

are the more an implacable enemy, by fo much the more you are a kind friend to me. I could be proud, in revenge, to find a few flips in your verfes, which I read in London, and fince in the country, with more application and pleasure: the thoughts are very juft, and you are fure not to let them suffer by the verfification. If you would oblige me with the truft of any thing of yours, I should be glad to execute any commiffions you would give me concerning them. here fo perfectly at leifure, that nothing would be fo agreeable an entertainment to me; but if you will not afford me that, do not deny me at least the fatisfaction of your letters as long as we are absent, if you would not have him very unhappy who is very fincerely Your, &c.

I am

Having a vacant space here, I will fill it with a fhort Ode on Solitude, which I found yesterday by great.accident, and which I find by the date, was written when when I was not twelve years old; that you may perceive how long I have continued in my passion for a rural life, and in the fame employments of it.

Happy the man, whofe wish and care

A few paternal acres bound,

Content to breath his native air

In his own ground.

Whofe herds with milk, whofe fields with bread,
Whole flocks fupply him with attire,

Whofe trees in fummer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

I

Bleft who can unconcern'dly find

Hours, days, and years flide soft away, In health of body, peace of mind,

Quiet by day.

Sound fleep by night: ftudy and ease,
Together mix'd; fweet recreation,
And innocence which moft does please,
With meditation.

Thus, let me live, unfeen, unknown,
Thus, unlamented let me die,
Steal from the world, and not a stone

Tell where I lie.

LETTER IX.

Aug. 19. 1709.

FI were to write to you as often as I think of you, my letters would be as bad as a rent charge; but tho' the one be but too little for your good nature, the other would be too much for your quiet, which is one bleffing good nature fhould indifpenfably receive from mankind, in return for thofe many it gives. I have been informed of late, how much I am indebted to that quality of yours, in fpeaking well of me in my abience; the only thing by which you prove yourself no wit nor critic; tho' indeed I have often thought, that a friend will fhow juft as much indulgence (and no more) to my faults when I am abfent, as he does feverity to 'em when I am prefent. To be very frank with you, Sir, I must own, that where I receiv'd fo much civility at first, I could hardly have expected fo much

fincerity afterwards. But now I have only to wish that the last were but equal to the first, and that as you have omitted nothing to oblige me, so you would omit nothing to improve me.

I caus'd an acquaintance of mine to enquire twice of your welfare, by whom I have been inform'd, that you have left your fpeculative angle in the Widow's Coffee-house, and bidding adieu for fome time to all the Rehearsals, Reviews, Gazettes, &c. have march'd off into Lincolnshire. Thus I find you vary your life in the fcene at least, tho' not in the action; for tho' life for the most part, like an old play, be still the fame, yet now and then a new scene may make it more entertaining. As for myself, I would not have my life a very regular play, let it be * a good merry farce, a-G-d's name, and a fig for the critical unities! For the generality of men, a true modern life is like a true modern play, neither tragedy, comedy, nor farce, nor all of these; every actor is much better known by his having the fame face, than by keeping the fame character: for we change our minds as often as they can their parts, and he who was yesterday Cæfar is to-day Sir John Daw. So that one might ask the fame question of a modern life, that Rich did of a modern play; "Pray do me the favour, Sir, to inform me; Is this your tragedy or your comedy?"

I have dwelt the longer upon this, because I perfuade myself it might be useful, at a time when we have no theatre, to divert ourselves at this great one. Here is

Tolerable farce, in the Author's own Edit. a God's name omitted there.