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us fomething, as it deprives us of a great deal; and instead of leaving us what we cultivated, and expected to flourish and adorn us, gives us only what is of fome little ufe, by accident. Thus I have acquired, without my feeking, a few chance-acquaintance*, of young men, who look rather to the past age than the present, and therefore the future may have fome hopes of them. If I love them, it is because they honour fome of those whom I, and the world, have loft, or are lofing. Two or three of them have distinguished themselves in Parliament, and you will own in a very uncommon manner, when I tell you it is by their afferting of Independency, and Contempt of Corruption. One or two are linked to me by their love of the fame ftudies and the fame authors: but I will own to you, my moral capacity has got so much the better of my poetical, that I have few acquaintance on the latter score, and none without a cafting weight on the former. But I find my heart hardened and blunt to new impreffions, it will scarce receive or retain affections of yesterday; and those friends who have been dead these twenty years, are more prefent to me now, than thofe I fee daily. You, dear Sir,

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tenderness of heart, too much affected by the complaints of a peevish old man (labouring and impatient under his infirmities); and too intent in the friendly office of mollifying them.

W.

* Some of these new friends were, I know, displeased at the manner in which they are mentioned in this Letter.

are one of the former fort to me in all refpects, but that we can, yet, correfpond together. I don't know whether 'tis not more vexatious, to know we are both in one world, without any further intercourse. Adieu. I can fay no more, I feel fo much : let me drop into common things.-Lord Masham has just married his fon. Mr. Lewis has juft buried his wife. Lord Oxford wept over your letter in pure kindness. Mrs. B. fighs more for you, than for the lofs of youth. She fays, fhe will be agreeable many years hence, for fhe has learned that secret from fome receipts of your writing.-Adieu.

LETTER LXXXVI.

March 23, 1736-7.

THOUGH you were never to write to me, yet what you defired in your laft, that I would write often to you, would be a very eafy task; for every day I talk with you, and of you, in my heart; and I need only fet down what that is thinking of. The nearer I find myself verging to that period of life which is to be labour and forrow, the more I prop myself upon those few fupports that are left me. People in this state are like props indeed, they cannot stand alone, but two or more of them can stand, leaning and bearing upon one another. I wish you and I might pass this part of life together. My only ne

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ceffary care is at an end. I am now my own master too much; my houfe is too large; my gardens furnish too much wood and provision for my ufe. My fervants are fenfible and tender of me; they have intermarried, and are become rather low friends than servants and to all those that I fee here with pleafure, they take a pleasure in being useful. I conclude this is your cafe too in your domeftic life, and I fometimes think of your old house-keeper as my nurse; though I tremble at the fea, which only divides us. As your fears are not fo great as mine, and, I firmly hope, your ftrength ftill much greater, is it utterly impoffible, it might once more be fome pleasure to you to fee England? My fole motive in propofing France to meet in, was the narrowness of the paffage by fea from hence, the Physicians having told me the weakness of my breast, etc. is such, as a fea-ficknefs might endanger my life. Though one or two of our friends are gone, fince you faw your native country, there remain a few more who will last so till death, and who, I cannot but hope, have an attractive power to draw you back to a Country, which cannot quite be funk or enflaved, while fuch fpirits remain. And let me tell you, there are a few more of the fame fpirit, who would awaken all your old ideas, and revive your hopes of a future recovery and Virtue. These look up to you, with reverence, and would be animated by the fight

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of him at whose foul they have taken fire, in his writings, and derived from thence as much Love of their fpecies as is confiftent with a contempt for the knaves of it.

I could never be weary, except at the eyes, of writing to you; but my real reason (and a strong one it is) for doing it fo feldom, is Fear; Fear of a very great and experienced evil, that of my letters being kept by the partiality of friends, and paffing into the hands and malice of enemies; who publish them with all their Imperfections on their head; fo that I write not on the common terms of honeft men.

Would to God you would come over with Lord Orrery, whofe care of you in the voyage I could fo certainly depend on; and bring with you your old house-keeper and two or three fervants. I have room for all, a heart for all, and (think what you will) a fortune for all. We could, were we together, contrive to make our last days eafy, and leave fome fort of Monument, what Friends two Wits could be in spite of all the fools in the world.

Adieu.

LETTER LXXXVII.

FROM DR. SWIFT.

Dublin, May 31, 1737.

T is true, I owe

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you.

you fome letters, but it has pleased God, that I have not been in a condition to pay When you fhall be at my age, perhaps you may lie under the fame disability to your present or future friends. But my age is not my difability, for I can walk fix or feven miles, and ride a dozen. But I am deaf for two months together; this deafnefs unqualifies me for all company, except a few friends with counter-tenor voices, whom I can call names, if they do not speak loud enough for my ears. It is this evil that hath hindered me from venturing to the Bath, and to Twickenham; for deafness being not a frequent disorder, hath no allowance given it; and the fcurvy figure a man affected that way makes in company, is utterly infupportable.

It was I began with the petition to you of Orna me, and now you come like an unfair merchant to charge me with being in your debt; which by your way of reckoning I must always be, for yours are always guineas, and mine farthings; and yet I have a pretence to quarrel with you, because I am not at the head of any one of your Epiftles. I am often wondering how you come to excel all mortals on the fubject of Morality, even in the poetical way; and fhould

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