modern War-makers *, which are likely to prove (to fome people at leaft) more fatal, than the fame qualities in Achilles did to his unfortunate country

men.

Tho' the change of my scene of life, from Windfor-foreft 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 history; yet you can scarce imagine any hero paffing from one stage of life to another, with fo much tranquillity, fo eafy a tranfition, and fo laudable a behaviour. I am become fo 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 those which are present: I lie in a refreshing kind of inaction, and have one comfort at least from obscurity, that the darkness helps me to fleep the better. I now and then reflect upon the enjoyment of my friends, whom, I fancy, I remember much as feparate spirits do us, at tender intervals, neither interrupting their own employments, nor altogether careless of ours, but in general constantly wishing us well, and hopeing 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 is fuch a thing, as one that thinks pretty much, muft 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-natured. So the maft politic way is to feem always better pleafed than one can be, greater admirers, greater lovers, and in fhort greater fools, than we really are: fo fhall we live

ton. P.

* This was wri.ten in the year of the affair of Prefcomfortably

VOL. VIII.

C

comfortably with our families, quietly with our neighbours, favoured by our masters, and happy with our mistreffes, I have filled my paper, and fo adieu.

LETTER IX.

Sept. 8, 1717.

I

Think your leaving England was like a good man's leaving the world, with the bleffed conscience 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 those Greeks and Romans, whofe conftancy in suffering pain, and whofe refolution in pursuit of a generous end, you would rather imitate than boast of.

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 reftored to you, not to deny me the joy of knowing it. Your endeavours of fervice and good advice to the poor papifts, put me in mind of Noah's preaching forty years to thofe folks that were to be drowned at laft. At the worst I heartily wish your Ark may find an Ararat, 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

The poor man is highly concerned to vindicate Jeffery's veracity as an hiftorian; and told me he was perfectly aftonished, we of the Roman communion could doubt of the legends of his Giants, while we believe those 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 fo far already, that he speaks refpectfully of St. Chriftopher's carrying Chrift, 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 Gibellines 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 fpeech of Achilles's Horse.

You'll excufe all this trifling, or any thing else 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 rejoicing 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 declarè war against Spain, or Spain declare it against the Emperor.

THE

LETTER X.

Nov. 27, 1717.

HE queftion you propofed to me is what at present I am the most unfit man in the world to anfwer, 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 longeft life agreeable to him, and in such a courfe of Piety as fufficed to make the moft fudden death fo alfo. Sudden indeed it was: however, I heartily beg of God to give me fuch an 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

fura, &c.

He has left me to the ticklifh management of fa narrow a fortune, that any one falfe ftep would be fatal. My mother is in that difpirited state 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 yourfelf, to make almoft any thing defirable to us. I feel your abfence more than ever, at the fame time I can lefs exprefs my regards to you than ever; and fhall make this, which is the moft fincere letter I ever writ to you, the fhorteft and fainteft perhaps of any you have received. 'Tis enough if you reflect, that barely to remember any perfon when one's mind is taken up with a fenfible forrow, is a great degree of friendfhip. I can fay no more but that I love you, and all that are yours; and that I wifh it may be very long before any of yours fhall feel for you what I now feel for my father. Adieu.

LETTER

Y

Rentcomb in Gloucefterfhire, Oct. 3, 1721.

OUR kind letter has overtakeh me here, for I have been in and about this country ever fince your departure. I am well pleas'd to date this from a place fo well known to Mrs Blount, where I write as if I were dictated to by her ancestors, whofe faces are all upon me. I fear none fo much as Sir Chriftopher Guife, who, being in his fhirt, feems as ready to combat me, as her own Sir John was to demolifh Duke Lancastare. I dare fay your Lady will recollect his figure. I look'd upon the manfion, walls, and terraces; the plantations, and flopes, which nature has made to command a variety of valleys and rifing woods; with a veneration mix'd with a pleasure, that represented her to me in thofe puerile amufements, which engaged her fo many years ago in this place. I fancied I faw her fober over a fampler, or gay over a jointed baby. I dare fay fhe did one thing more, even in those early times; "remembered her Creator in the days of her youth."

You defcribe fo well your hermitical ftate of life, that none of the ancient anchorites could go beyond you, for a cave in a rock, with a fine fpring, or any of the accommodations that befit a folitary. Only I don't remember to have read, that any of thofe venerable and holy perfonages took with them a lady, and begat fons and daughters. You muft modeftly be content to be accounted a patriarch. But were you a little younger, I fhould rather rank you with Šir Amadis, and his fellows. If Piety be fo romantic, I fhall turn hermit in good earneft; for, I fee, one may go fo far as to be poetical, and hope to fave one's foul at the fame time. I really with myself something more, that is, a prophet;

1.

C 3

for