undone by it. But, I hope, the reason is, that I do not fee fo evidently the ruin of the public to be a confequence of it, as I do the lofs of my friends. I fear there are few befides yourself that will be perfuaded by old Hefiod, that half is more than the whole. I know not whether I do not rejoice in your fufferings a; fince they have fhewn me your mind is principled with such a fentiment, I affure you I expect from it a performance greater still than Homer. I have an extreme joy from your communicating to me this affection of your mind;

Quid voveat dulci Nutricula majus alumno?

Believe me, dear Sir, no equipage could fhew you to my eye in fo much fplendor. I would not indulge this fit of philofophy fo far as to be tedious to you, elfe I could profecute it with pleasure.

I long to fee you, your Mother, and your Villa; till then I will fay nothing of Lord Bathurst's wood, which I faw on my return hither. Soon after Chriftmas I defign for London, where I shall mifs Lady Scudamore very much, who intends to stay in the country all winter. I am angry with her, as I am like to suffer by this refolution, and would fain blame her, but

* See Note on v.139. of the fecond Satire, ii. Book of Horace.

cannot

cannot find a caufe. The man is curfed that has a longer letter than this to write with as bad a pen, yet I can use it with pleasure to send my fervices to your good mother, and to write myfelf,

Your, &c.

LETTER X.

Sept. 1, 1722.

D

Octor Arbuthnot is going to Bath, and will stay there a fortnight or more: perhaps you would be comforted to have a fight of him, whether you need him or not. I think him as good a Doctor as any man for one that is ill, and a better Doctor for one that is well. He would do admirably for Mrs. Mary Digby: she needed only to follow his hints, to be in eternal business and amusement of mind, and even as active as fhe could defire. But indeed I fear fhe would out-walk him; for (as Dean Swift obferved to me the very first time I faw the Doctor) He is a man that can do

rr

every thing but walk.” His brother, who is lately come into England, goes alfo to the Bath; and is a more extraordinary man than he, worth your going thither on purpose to know him. The spirit of Philanthropy, fo long dead to our world, is revived in him: he is a philofopher

all

all of fire; fo warmly, nay fo wildly in the right, that he forces all others about him to be fo too, and draws them into his own Vortex. He is a ftar that looks as if it were all fire, but is all benignity, all gentle and beneficial influence. If there be other men in the world that would ferve a friend, yet he is the only one, I believe, that could make even an enemy ferve a friend.

As all human life is chequered and mixed with acquifitions and loffes (tho' the latter are more certain and irremediable, than the former lafting or fatisfactory) fo at the time I have gained the acquaintance of one worthy man I have loft another, a very easy, humane, and gentlemanly neighbour, Mr. Stonor. "Tis certain the lofs of one of this character puts us naturally upon setting a greater value on the few that are left, tho' the degree of our esteem may be different. Nothing, fays Seneca, is fo melancholy a circumftance in human life, or fo foon reconciles us to the thought of our own death, as the reflection and profpect of one friend after another dropping round us! Who would stand alone, the fole remaining ruin, the laft tottering column of all the fabric of friendship once fo large, feemingly fo ftrong, and yet fo fuddenly funk and buried?

I am, &c.

LET

I

LETTER XI.

Have belief enough in the goodness of your

whole family, to think you will all be pleased that I am arrived in safety at Twickenham; tho' it is a fort of earnest that you will be troubled again with me, at Sherburne, or Colefhill; for however I may like one of your places, it may be in that as in liking one of your family; when one fees the reft, one likes them all. Pray make my fervices acceptable to them, I wish them all the happiness they may want, and the continuance of all the happiness they have; and I take the latter to comprize a great deal more than the former. I must separate Lady Scudamore from you, as, I fear, she will do herself before this letter reaches you: fo I with her a good Journey, and I hope one day to try if the lives as well as you do: tho' I much question if she can live as quietly: I fufpect the Bells will be ringing at her arrival, and on her own and Mifs Scudamore's birth-days, and that all the Clergy in the country come to pay respects; both the Clergy and their Bells expecting from her, and from the young Lady, further business and further employment. Befides all this, there dwells on the one fide of her the Lady Conningfby, and on the other Mr. W*. Yet I fhall, when the days and the

years

years come about, adventure upon all this for her fake.

I beg my Lord Digby to think me a better man than to content myself with thanking him in the common way. I am in as fincere a sense of the word, his fervant, as you are his fon, or father.

he

your

I must in my turn infist upon hearing how my last fellow-travellers got home from Clarendon, and defire Mr. Philips to remember me in his Cyder, and to tell Mr. W* that I am dead and buried.

I wish the young Ladies, whom I almost robb'd of their good name, a better name in return (even that very name to each of them, which they shall like beft, for the sake of the man that bears it.) Your, &c.

YOUR

me.

LETTER XII.

1722.

OUR making a fort of apology for your not writing, is a very genteel reproof to I know I was to blame, but I know I did not intend to be fo, and (what is the happiest knowledge in the world) I know you will forgive me; for fure nothing is more fatisfactory than to be certain of fuch a friend as will overlook one's failings, fince every fuch inftance is a conviction of his kindness.