I very much wish (but what fignifies my withing? my lady Scudamore wishes, your sifters with) that you were with us, to compare the beautiful contraste this season affords us, of the town and the country. No ideas you could form in the winter can make you imagine what Twickenham is (and what your friend Mr. Johnfon of Twickenham is) in this warmer seafon. Our river glitters beneath an unclouded fun, at the fame time that its banks retain the verdure of showers: our gardens are offering their first nofegays; our trees, like new acquaintance brought happily together, are stretching their arms to meet each other, and growing nearer and nearer every hour; the birds are paying their thanksgiving fongs for the new habitations I have made them; my building rifes high enough to attract the eye and curiofity of the paffenger from the river, where, upon beholding a mixture of beauty and ruin, he enquires what houfe is falling, or what church is rifing? So little taste have our common Tritons of Vitruvius; whatever delight the poetical gods of the river may take, in reflecting on their ftreams, my Tuscan Porticos, or Ionic Pilafters.

But to (defcend from all this pomp of style) the best account of what I am building, is, that

it

it will afford me a few pleasant rooms for such a friend as yourself, or a cool fituation for an hour or two for Lady Scudamore, when she will do me the honour (at this public house on the road) to drink her own cyder.

The moment I am writing this, I am furprized with the account of the death of a friend of mine; which makes all I have here been talking of, a mere jeft! Building, gardens, writings, pleasures, works, of whatever stuff man can raife! none of them (God knows) capable of advantaging a creature that is mortal, or of fatisfying a foul that is immortal! Dear Sir, I am, &c.

LETTER V.

From Mr. DIG BY.

May 21, 1720.

You UR letter, which I had two posts ago,

was very medicinal to me; and I heartily thank you for the relief it gave me. I was fick of the thoughts of my not having in all this time given you any teftimony of the affection I owe you, and which I as conftantly indeed feel as I think of you. This indeed was a troublefome ill to me, till, after reading your letter, I found

E 2

I found it was a moft idle weak imagination to think I could fo offend you. Of all the impreffions you have made upon me, I never receiv'd any with greater joy than this of your abundant good-nature, which bids me be affured. of fome share of your affections.

I had

many other pleasures from your letter; that your mother remembers me is a very fincere joy to me; I cannot but reflect how alike you are; from the time you do any one a favour, you think yourselves obliged as those that have received one. This is indeed an oldfashioned respect, hardly to be found out of your house. I have great hopes however, to fee many old-fashioned virtues revive, fince you have made our age in love with Homer; I heartily wish you, who are as good a citizen as a poet, the joy of feeing a reformation from your works. I am in doubt whether I fhould congratulate your having finished Homer, while the two effays you mention are not completed; but if you expect no great trouble from finishing these, I heartily rejoice with

you.

I have fome faint notion of the beauties of Twickenham from what I here fee round me.. The verdure of fhowers is poured upon every tree and field about us; the gardens unfold variety of colours to the eye every morning, the hedges breath is beyond all perfume, and the

fong

fong of birds we hear as well as you. But tho' I hear and see all this, yet I think they would delight me more if you was here. I found the want of these at Twickenham while I was there with you, by which I guess what an increase of charms it must now have. How kind is it in you to wish me there, and how unfortunate are my circumftances that allow me not to vifit you? If I fee you, I must leave my Father alone, and this uneafy thought would difappoint all my propofed pleasures; the fame circumftance will prevent my profpect of many happy hours with you in Lord Bathurst's wood, and I fear of feeing you till winter, unless Lady Scudamore comes to Sherburne, in which cafe I shall prefs you to see Dorsetshire, as you propofed. May you have a long enjoyment of your new favourite Portico.

Your, &c.

LETTER

VI.

From Mr. DIGBY.

Sherburne, July 9, 1720.

THE London language and conversation is, I find, quite changed fince I left it, tho' it is not above three or four months ago. No violent change in the natural world ever asto

nished a Philosopher fo much as this does me. I hope this will calm all Party-rage, and introduce more humanity than has of late obtained in converfation. All scandal will fure be laid afide, for there can be no fuch disease any more as Spleen in this new golden age. I am pleased with the thoughts of feeing nothing but a general good humour when I come up to town; I rejoice in the univerfal riches I hear of, in the thought of their having this effect. They tell me you was foon content; and that you cared not for fuch an increase as others wished you. By this account I judge you the richest man in the South-fea, and congratulate you accordingly. I can with you only an increase of health, for of riches and fame you have enough. Your, &c.

YOUR

LETTER VII.

July 20, 1720.

QUR kind defire to know the state of my health had not been unfatisfied fo long, had not that ill state been the impediment. Nor fhould I have feem'd an unconcerned party in the joys of your family, which I heard of from lady Scudamore, whofe fhort Efchantillon of a letter (of a quarter of a page) I value as the

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