Inding myfelf arriv'd fafe at my Seat at Oxford, I can't help cafting my Eye back, my Eye of Affection and Pity, on those I have left behind me in Town: particularly thofe, who are running to and fro after Happiness; while I am fo humble, as to fit down contented with Peace. You, my dear Madam, are one of the first in my Mind's Eye, from whom I never return without fomething better about my Heart. You bring Truths home to it, which however lightly I may fometimes treat them, while I am with you, I never fail to apply seriously in my Hours of Recefs and Recollection. Particularly your Maxim, "Be humble, and be happy;" which I now feel the Force of, and am enjoying moft fenfibly. A little Raillery, I know you ex.cuse the -I am fure you have forgiven me; and as to what you have given me, I profefs it ftartles me every time I look at it. I have lived a matter of in this wicked World, on and off, and (except yourself) never had a Prefent from any of thofe good Folks, my Betters, fave a Ring from Lady A. B. for finging Praises of her Lord, and a from for fingBut what I had

Years

ing Ballads to done to you, that you should decoy me away into a Mercer's Shop, diveft yourself of all Paffion and Affection for Guineas and Three-PoundTwelves, and clothe me in Purple and Yellow; fedately too, and in your right Mind, aftonishes

me

me beyond any thing I have met with. You charged me not to tell it to the World, and indeed I obeyed you; for I was unwilling to give the leaft Ground of Sufpicion about your Intellects; tho' I faw nothing wrong in your Behaviour myself. You made up your Accounts with Mr. Hoare, with as much Circumfpection as if you really knew the Value of Money; and except your flinging it away again on Mr. B's Counter, I could perceive nothing in your Conduct that was at all delirious. However, I would not truft the World with the Secret upon any account; because, to give, you know, is fo diametrically oppofite to thofe eftablished Maxims of to fave, and to get, that I was afraid People would lift up their Eyes ftill more at you. A few faving Maxims in relation to a Part that is not at all-material, they know you are not to be beat out of; but fhould they be told how lavifh you are of the foremention'd precious Moveable, and how little Value you fet upon a Groat, it would be in vain to infift upon either the Goodness of your Heart, or the Soundnefs of your Head." Not fave her Money! "Nay then, the Inference is plain."

In hopes I fhall hear of you foon, and that you are trusted by yourfelf, and fuffered to walk about as ufual,

I remain,

In admiration of your Virtues, &c.

LETTER

CXXIII.

To the SA ME.

Have been long abridg'd in one of the most elegant Pleasures I have, my Correfpondbut have felt no Silence fo properly as

ence;

yours.

yours. A Succeffion of teazing, as well as painful Affairs, has kept the Spirits of Philofophy up to fo exalted a pitch, that I've been abfent to moft other Things, but the Fear of being forgot by you. Indeed I had told you fuch dif mal Stories of myself of late, that I could not but acknowledge you had Reason to be comforted in my Silence. But I revere your Patience, I honour your Sentiments, I love your Letters; and tho' I cannot reduce them to Practice, I contemplate them as a Rule of Faith; and put more Truft in you, tho' a Woman, than ever I did in Man. Lady H. never tells me a Word about you; only in one Letter faid, fhe had feen you but once fince you came from Bath. But not a Word did she tell me of Arm; nor I dare fay ever dreamt of any Blood, but what was to flow from her Lord's Wounds. I'm rejoyc'd you've recover'd the Ufe of it, both for your own Sake and mine. Your Sentiments are fo delicate, and your Heart (as far as I know of it) fo honeft, that 'tis Pity you fhould ever want a Hand to exprefs either.

your

I've always fo much to fay to you, when I write, that I ought to apoftrophize your Patience, did I not know that you love to exercife yourfelf in all Virtue. But this I defign to be a fhort Letter, (O may it prove fo!) having hopes of feeing you next Month. I'm going to Town to have a Conference with no lefs a Person than Dr. Young, upon an Affair that is to endure for But hope you'll let me have the Pleasure of hearing from you, before I grow immortal; because I know not what Changes and Tranfmigrations may happen to me, when I come to tread

ever.

on

on Stars, and talk with Poets. I'll only add, the Sight of your Hand gave me fo much Pleafure in this mortal State, that I hope you'll never lose the Use of your Arm, 'till I'm rais'd above it.

Lady F. W. does me higher Honours than perhaps the means me; as great Souls diffuse Pleasure whether they will or no. Lady H. B. is quite filent, and I have not Time to interrupt her Repofe. All the Notion I have of her Ladyfhip at prefent, is, that she's very fat, and fhort breath'd.

I

LETTER CXXIV.
To the SA ME.

Have been trying to fequefter an Hour to my dear Friend upon Richmond-green, ever fince I came home; but find it difficult to rife to a State of Contemplation, where fo many Things about me are in Action. "Tis you only, that can abstract yourself from the feveral Vortices, and fhoot away from Orb to Orb, with as much Agility as if you were no Part of the Syftem. One Moment immerft in Books of Accounts; and the next with Fontenelle, and all his Worlds: this Instant on Earth, among Drums and Routs; the next, filent and foft, and foar'd to Heaven. I've often took Notice how fmall a Portion of Time you allow yourself at your Toilet; and how precipitately Caps, Handkerchiefs, and Gloves are hurry'd on. But when you drefs your Mind, how curious of your Ornaments! and what a Croud of goodly Tire-men for your

Atten

Attendants! Clarke fets all right about your Head; and the good Bishop of Cambray holds the Glafs, and fhews you your Heart. While Mr. Locke afcertains the Fashion of your Ideas, fettles your Modes of Thinking, and gives to every Part of Speech its proper Force and Figure.

Thus much came, before I look'd over yours, to see whereabouts to begin an Answer. And now I've read it, dare not truft myself. Every Sentence whets my Edge, and I could go on for this half Hour, without thinking; but that I hate to be at Eafe and Laughing, when any thing I love is in such Diftrefs as poor Lady H. B. muft be, while there are no Accounts from my Lord. The Solitude, fhe treated me with while fhe went to Town, was beyond any thing I have felt this Twelvemonth. O that you had been but a Mile off (for I would not have had an Angel in the House with me, if I must have found Conversation for it) that I might have communicated my Contentments once a day, and then retired into myself again!-Tears-how could you have fuch a Thought? What, for the World! The London I left behind me-' Tears were far from me. 'Twas all mild, complacent, and heavenly. The Lodge itself a Paradife, and then in its higheft (which is next to immortal) Bloom. "Sweet was the Breath of Morn, and fweet "the dewy Eve." I paffed the Day among Jeffamins and Rofes, in Grots or Arbours, to the Melody of Nature's Songfters; and at Night read, or wrote to my Sovereign, from whom I derived thefe Bleffings of Quiet and Liberty. Prayed little, but often felt the filent and sweet Emotions of Praife and Thanksgiving. I am glad you forgot that Sentence about weeping

the