your condition: I would come and take a room by you at Hampstead, to be with you daily, were she not still in danger of death. I have conftantly had particular accounts of you from the Doctor, which have not ceas'd to alarm me yet. God preserve your life, and restore your health. I really beg it for my own fake, for I feel I love you more than I thought in health, tho' I always loved you a great deal. If I am fo unfortunate as to bury my poor mother, and yet have the good fortune to have my prayers heard for you, I hope we may live most of our remaining days together. If, as I believe, the air of a better clime, as the Southern part of France, may be thought useful for your recovery, thither I would go with you infallibly; and it is very probable we might get the Dean with us, who is in that abandon'd ftate already in which I shall shortly be, as to other cares and duties. Dear Gay, be as chearful as your fufferings will permit: God is a better friend than a Court; even any honeft man is a better. I promise you my entire friendship in all events, heartily praying for your recovery. Your, &c.

Do not write, if you are ever fo able: the Doctor tells me all.

I

bles

LETTER XIII.

your re

Am glad to hear of the progress of covery, and the oftner I hear it, the better, when it becomes easy to you to give it me. I. fo well remember the confolation you were to me in my Mother's former illness, that it doumy concern at this time not to be able to be with you, or you able to be with me. Had I lost her, I would have been no where else but with you during your confinement. I have now past five weeks without once going from home, and without any company but for three or four of the days. Friends rarely ftretch their kindness fo far as ten miles. My Lord Bolingbroke and Mr. Bethel have not forgotten to vifit me: the reft (except Mrs. Blount once) were contented to send messages. I never paffed so melancholy a time, and now Mr. Congreve's death touches me nearly. It was twenty years and more that I have known him: Every year carries away fomething dear with it, till we outlive all tenderneffes, and become wretched individuals again as we begun. Adieu! This is my birth-day, and this is my reflection upon

it.

With added days if life give nothing new,
But, like a Sieve, let ev'ry Pleasure thro' ;

Some

Some Foy ftill loft, as each vain Year runs o'er,
And all we gain, fome fad Reflection more!
Is this a Birth-day?— 'Tis, alas! too clear,
'Tis but the Fun'ral of the former Year.

Your, &c.

LETTER XIV.

To the Honourable Mrs.

June 20..

WE cannot omit taking this occafion to

congratulate you upon the encrease of your family, for your Cow is this morning very happily deliver'd of the better fort, I mean a female calf; fhe is as like her mother as fhe can stare. All Knights Errants Palfreys were distinguish'd by lofty names: we see no reason why a Pastoral Lady's fheep and calves should want names of the fofter found; we have therefore given her the name of Cæfar's wife, Calfurnia: imagining, that as Romulus and Remus were fuckled by a wolf, this Roman lady was fuckled by a cow, from whence she took that name. In order to celebrate this birthday, we had a cold dinner at Marble-hill, Mrs. Sufan offered us wine upon the occafion,

a Mrs. Howard's house.

M 4

and

and upon fuch an occafion we could not refuse it. Our entertainment confifted of flesh and fish, and the lettice of a greek Island called Cos. We have fome thoughts of dining there to-morrow, to celebrate the day after the birthday, and on friday to celebrate the day after that, where we intend to entertain Dean Swift; because we think your hall the most delightful room in the world except that where you are. If it was not for you, we would forfwear all courts; and and really it is the moft mortifying thing in nature, that we can neither get into the court to live with you, nor you get into the country to live with us; fo we will take up with what we can get that belongs to you, and make ourselves as happy as we can, in your house.

I hope we shall be brought into no worse company, when you all come to Richmond for whatever our friend Gay may wish as to getting into Court, I disclaim it, and defire to fee nothing of the court but yourself, being wholly and folely

Your, &c.

LETTER

LETTER XV.

July 21.

U have the same share in my memory

You that good things generally have; I always know (whenever I reflect) that you fhould be in my mind; only I reflect too feldom. However, you ought to allow me the indulgence I allow all my friends (and if I did not, they would take it) in confideration that they have other avocations, which may prevent the proofs of their remembring me, tho' they preserve for me all the friendship and good-will which I deferve from them. In like manner I expect from you, that my past life of twenty years may be set against the omiffion of (perhaps) one month: and if you complain of this to any other, 'tis you are in the spleen, and not I in the wrong. If you think this letter fplenetic, confider I have just receiv'd the news of the death of a friend, whom I efteem'd almost as many years as you; poor Fenton. He died at Eafthamstead, of indolence and inactivity; let it not be your fate, but use exercise. I hope the Duchefs will take care of you in this respect, and either make you gallop after her, or teize you enough at home to serve instead of exercise * Of Queensberry,

a

abroad.