as to love: and who has fince ruin'd me for all the conversation of one sex, and almost all the friendship of the other. I am but too fenfible thro' your means, that the company of men wants a certain softness to recommend it, and that of women wants every thing else How often have I been quietly going to take poffeffion of that tranquillity and indolence I had fo long found in the Country; when one evening of your converfation has spoil'd me for a Solitaire! Books have lost their effect upon me, and I was convinced fince I faw you, that there is one alive wiser than all the fages. A plague of female wisdom! it makes a man ten times more uneafy than his own. What is very strange, Virtue herself, (when you have the dresfing her) is too amiable for one's repofe. You might have done a world of good in your time, if you had allow'd half the fine gentlemen who have feen you, to have conversed with you; they would have been ftrangely bitt, while they thought only to fall in love with a fair lady, and you had bewitch'd them with Reafon and Virtue (two beautics that the very fops pretend to no acquaintance with.)

The unhappy distance at which we correfpond, removes a great many of those restrictions and punctilious decorums, that oftentimes in nearer converfation prejudice truth, to fave good breeding. I may now hear of my faults, and you of your good qualities, without a blufh; we convefe upon fuch unfortunate generous terms, as exclude the regards of fear, fhame, or defign, in either of us. And methinks it would be as paltry a part, to impofe (even in a fingle thought) upon each other in this ftate of feparation, as for fpirits of a different sphere who have fo little intercourse with us, to employ that little (as fome

would

would make us think they do) in putting tricks and delufions upon poor mortals.

Let me begin then, Madam, by asking you a question, that may enable me to judge better of my own conduct than most instances of my life. In what manner did I behave the last hour I faw you? What degree of concern did I discover when I felt a misfortune which I hope you will never feel, that of parting from what one moft efteems? for if my parting look'd but like that of your common acquaintance, I am the greatest of all the hypocrites that ever decency made.

I never fince pass by your house but with the fame fort of melancholy that we feel upon feeing the tomb of a friend, which only ferves to put us in mind of what we have loft. I reflect upon the circumstances of your departure, which I was there a witnefs of, (your behaviour in what I may call your laft moments) and I indulge a gloomy kind of pleasure in thinking that thofe lait moments were given to me. I would fain imagine this was not accidental, but proceeded from a penetration which I know you have, in finding out the truth of people's fentiments; and that you were willing, the laft man that would have parted from you, fhould be the laft that did. I really look'd upon you just as the friends of Curtius might have done upon that Hero, at the inftant when he was devoting himself to glory, and running to be loft out of generofity: I was oblig'd to admire your refolution, in as great a degree as I deplored it; and had only to wifh, that heaven would reward fo much virtue as was to be taken from us, with all the felicities it could enjoy elsewhere!

L 4

I am, &c.

LETTER

LETTER XXI.

Can never have too many of your letters. I am angry at every scrap of paper loft, and tho' it is but an odd compliment to compare a fine lady to a Sybil, your leaves methinks like hers, are too good to be committed to the winds; tho' I have no other way of receiving them but by thofe unfaithful meffengers. I have had but three, and I reckon that fhort one from D-, which was rather a dying ejaculation than a letter.

You have contriv'd to fay in your last the two things moft pleafing to me: The firft, that whatever be the fate of your letters, you will continue to write in the discharge of your confcience. The other is, the juftice you do me, in taking what I writ to you in the ferious manner it was meant it is the point upon which I can bear no fufpicion, and in which above all I defire to be thought ferious. It would be vexatious indeed, if you should pretend to take that for wit, which is no more than the natural overflowing of a heart improv'd by an esteem for you: but fince you tell me you believe me, I fancy my expreffions have not been entirely unfaithful to my thoughts.

May your faith be encreased in all truths, that are as great as this, and depend upon it to whatever deg ee it may extend, you can never be a bigot.

If you could fee the heart I talk of, you would really think it a foolish good kird of thing, with fome qualities, as well deferving to be half laughed at, and half eftce m'd, as moft hearts in the world.

Its grand foible in regard to you, is the most like reafon of any foible in nature. Upon my word this heart is not like a great warehouse, stored only with my own goods, or with empty spaces to be supply'd as fast as Intereft or Ambition can fill them: but is every inch of it let out into lodgings for its friends, and fhall never want a corner where your idea will always lie as warm, and as clofe, as any idea in Christendom.

If this distance (as you are fo kind as to fay) enlarges your belief of my friendship, I affure you it has fo extended my notion of your value, that I begin to be impious upon that account, and to wish that even flaughter, ruin, and desolation may interpose between you and the place you defign for; and that you were restored to us at the expence of a whole people.

Is there no expedient to return you in peace to the bofom of your country? I hear you are come as far asdo you only look back to die twice? is Euridice once more fnatch'd to the fhades? If ever mortal had reason to hate the King, it is I, whofe particular misfortune it is, to be almoft the only innocent perfon he has made to fuffer; both by his Government at home, and his Negotiations abroad.

If you must go from us, I wish at least you might país to your banishment by the most pleasant way; that all the road might be rofes and myrtles, and a thoufand objects rife round you, agreeable enough to make England leis defirable to you. It is not now my intereft to with England agrecable: It is highly probable it may ufe me ill enough to drive me from it. Can I think that place my country, where I cannot now call a foot of paternal Earth my own? Yet it may feem fome alleviation, that when the wifeft

wifeft thing I can do is to leave my country, what was most agreeable in it fhould first be fnatch'd away from it.

I could overtake you with pleasure in- -and make that tour in your company. Every reasonable entertainment and beautiful view would be doubly engaging when you partook of it. I fhould at leaft attend you to the fea coafts, and caft a laft look after the fails that tranfported you. But perhaps I might care as little to ftay behind you; and be full as uneafy to live in a country where 1 faw others perfecuted by the rogues of my own religion, as where I was perfecuted myfelf by the rogues of yours. And it is not impoffible I might run into Afia in fearch of liberty; for who would not rather live a freeman among a nation of slaves, than a slave among a nation of freemen ?

In good carneft if I knew your motions, and your exact time; I verily think I fhould be once more happy in a fight of you next fpring.

I'll conclude with a wish, God fend you with us, or me with you.

LETTER