YOUR LETTER XII. 1722. OUR making a fort of apology for your not writing, is a very genteel reproof to me. I know I was to blame, but I know I did not intend to be fo, and (what is the happieft knowledge in the world) I know you will forgive me for fure nothing is more fatisfactory than to be certain of such a friend as will overlook one's failings, fince every such inftance is a conviction of his kindness. If I am all my life to dwell in intentions, and never to rife to actions, I have but too much need of that gentle difpofition which I experience in you. But I hope better things of myself, and fully purpose to make you a vifit this fummer at Sherburne. I'm told you are all upon removal very speedily, and that Mrs. Mary Digby talks in a letter to Lady Scudamore, of feeing my Lord Bathurst's wood in her way. How much I wish to be her guide thro' that enchanted forest, is not to be expreft: I look upon myself as the magician appropriated to the place, without whom no mortal can penetrate into the receffes of thofe facred fhades. I could pafs whole days, in only defcribing to her the future, and as yer vifionary beauties, that are to rife in those scenes: the palace that is to be built, the pavillions that are to glit ter, the colonades that are to adorn them: nay more, the meeting of the Thames and the Severn, which (when the noble owner has finer dreams than ordinary) are to be led into each other's embraces thro' fecret caverns of not above twelve or fifteen miles, till they rife and celebrate their marriage in the midst of an immenfe amphitheatre, which is to be the admiration of posterity, a hundred years hence. But till the deftin'd time shall arrive that is to manifest these wonders, Mrs. Digby muft content herself with feeing what is at préfent no more than the finest wood in England. The objects that attract this part of the world, are of a quite different nature. Women of quality are all turn'd followers of the camp in Hyde- park this year, whither all the town refort to magnificent entertainments given by the officers, &c. The Scythian Ladies that dwelt in the waggons of war, were not more closely attached to the luggage. The matrons, like thofe of Sparta, attend their fons to the field, to be the witnesses of their glo. rious deeds; and the maidens with all their charins difplay'd, provoke the spirit of the Soldiers: Tea and Coffee fupply the place of Lacedemonian black broth. This Camp feems crown'd with perpetual victory, for every fun that rifes in the thunder of cannon, fets in the mufic of violins. Nothing is yet wanting but the conftant prefence of the Princefs, to represent the Mater Exercitus. © At Twickenham the world goes otherwife. There are certain old people who take up all my time, and will hardly allow me to keep any other company. They were introduced here by a man of their own fort, who has made me perfectly rude to all contemporaries, and won't fo much as fuffer me to look upon them. The perfon I complain of is the Bishop of Rochefter. Yet he allows me (from fomething he has heard of your character and that of your family, as if you were of the old fect of moralists) to write three or four fides of paper to you, and to tell you (what these fort of people never tell but with truth and religious fincerity) that I am, and ever will be, Your, &c. T LETTER XIII. HE fame reafon that hinder'd your writing, hinder'd mine, the pleafing expectation to see you in town. Indeed fince the willing confinement I have lain under here with my mother (whom it is natural and reasonable I should rejoice with, as well as grieve) I could the better bear your abfence from London, for I could hardly have seen you there; and it would not have been quite reasonable to have drawn you to a fick room hither from the first embraces of your friends. My mother is now (I thank God) wonderfully recovered, tho' not fo much as yet to venture out of her chamber, but enough to enjoy a few particular friends, when they have the good nature to look upon her. I may recommend to you the room we fit in, upon one (and that a favourite) account, that it is the very warmeft in the house; we and our fires will equally finile upon your face. There is a Perfian proverb that fays (I think very prettily),,The converfation of a friend ,,brightens the eyes." This I take to be a fplendor ftill more agreeable than the fires you fo delightfully describe. That you may long enjoy your own fire-fide in the metaphorical sense, that is, all those of your family who D} make it pleasing to fit and spend whole wintry months together (a far more rational delight, and better felt by an honest heart, than all the glaring entertainments, nunerous lights, and falfe fplendors, of an Assembly of empty heads, aking hearts, and falfe faces.) This is my fincere wish to you and yours. You fay you propose much pleasure in seeing fome few faces about town of my acquaintance. I guess you mean Mrs. Howard's and Mrs. Blount's. And Í affure you, you ought to take as much pleasure in their hearts, if they are what they fometimes exprefs with 'regard to you. Believe me, dear Sir, to you all, a very faithful 'fervant. I Can't return from fo agreeable an 'entertainment as yours in the country, without acknowledging it. I thank you heartily for the new agreeable idea of life you there gave me; it will remain long with me, for it is very strongly impreffed upon my imagination. I repeat the memory of it often, and shall value that faculty' of the mind now more than ever, for the power it gives me of being entertained in your villa, when absent from it. As you are poffeffed of all the pleasures of the country, and, as I think, of a right mind, what can I wish you but health to enjoy them? This I fo heartily do, that I fhould be even glad to hear your good old mother might lofe all her prefent pleasures in her un wearied care of you, by your better health convincing them it is unneceffary. I am troubled and shall be so till I hear you have receiv'd this letter: for you gave me the greatest pleasure imaginable in yours, and I am impatient to acknowledge it. If I any ways deferve that friendly warmth and affection with which you write, it is, that I have a heart full of love and esteem for you: fo truly, that I should lose the greatest pleasure of my life if I loft your good opinion. It rejoices me very much to be reckoned by you in the clafs of honest men; for tho' I am not trous bled overmuch about the opinion moft may have of me, yet, I own, it would grieve me not to be thought well of, by you and fome few others. I will not doubt my own ftrength, yet I have this further fecurity to maintain my integrity, that I cannot part with that, without forfeiting your esteem with it. Perpetual disorder and ill health have for fome years fo disguised me, that, I fometimes fear I do not to my best friends enough appear what I really am. Sickness is a great oppreffor; it does great injury to a zealous heart, ftifling its warmth, and not fuffering it to break out in action. But, I hope, I fhall not make this complaint much longer. I have other hopes that please me too, tho' not fo well grounded; these are, that you may yet make a journey westward with Lord Bathurft; but of the probability of this I do not venture to reason, be cause I would not part with the pleasure of that belief. It grieves me to think how far I am removed from you, |