don, to furnish out a decent and plentiful execution, of Greeks and Trojans. It is not to be exprefs'd how heartily I wish the death of all Homer's heroes, one after another. The Lord preserve me in the day of battle, which is just approaching! join in your prayers and know me to be always

for me,

Your, &c.

LETTER II.

C

London, March 31, 1718.

O convince you how little pain I give myself in correfponding with men of good nature and good understanding, you fee I omit to answer your letters till a time, when another man would be ashamed to own he had received them. If therefore you are ever moved on my account by that spirit, which I take to be as familiar to you as a quotidian ague, I mean the spirit of goodness, pray never stint it, in any fear of obliging me to a civility beyond my natural inclina tion. I dare truft you, Sir, not only with my folly when I write, but with my negligence when I do not; and expect equally your pardon for either.

If I knew how to entertain you thro' the reft of this paper, it should be fpotted and diverfified with conceits all over; you should be put out of breath with laughter at each sentence, and pause at each period, to look back over how much wit you have paffed. But I have found by experience that people now-a-days regard writing as little as they do preaching : the most

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we can hope is to be heard just with decency and patience, once a week, by folks in the country. Here in town we hum over a piece of fine writing, and we whistle at a fermon. The ftage is the only place we feem alive at ; there indeed we ftare; and roar, and clap hands for K. George; and the government. As for all other virtues but this loyalty, they are an obfolete train, fo ill-drefs'd, that men, women, and children hifs them out of all good company. Humility knocks fo fneakingly at rhe door that every footman outraps it, and makes it give way to the free entrance of pride, prodigality, and vain - glory.

My Lady Scudamore, from having rufticated in your company too long, really behaves herself fcandaloufly among us: fhe pretends to open her eyes for the fake of seeing the fun, and to fleep because it is night; drinks tea at nine in the morning, and is thought to have faid her prayers before; talks, without any manner of fhame, of good books, and has not feen Cibber's play of the Non-juror. I-rejoiced the other day to see a libel on her toilette, which gives me fome hope that you have, at least, a taste of scandal left you, in defect of all other vices.

Upon the whole matter, I heartily wifh you well; but as I cannot entirely defire the ruin of all the joys of this city, so all that remains is to wifh you would keep your happiness to yourselves, that the happiest here may not die with envy at a bliss which they cano not attain to.

I

LETTER III.

『

From Mr. DIGBY.

Coleshill, April 17, 1718.

Have read your letter over and over with delight. By your description of the town, I imagine it to lie under fome great enchantment, and am very much concerned for you and all my friends in it. I am the more afraid, imagining, fince you do not fly thofe horrible monsters, rapine, dissimulation, and luxury, that a magic circle is drawn about you, and you cannot escape. We are here in the country in quite another. world, furrounded with blessings and pleasures, without any occafion of exercising our irafcible faculties; indeed we cannot boast of good - breeding and the art of life, but yet we don't live unpleasantly in primitive fimplicity and good - humour. The fafhions of the town affect us but just like a raree - fhow, we have a curiofity to peep at them, and nothing more. What you call pride, prodigality, and vain-glory, we cannot find in pomp and splendor at this distance; it appears to us a fine glittering scene, which if we don't envy you, we think you happier than we are, in your enjoying it. Whatever you may think to persuade us of the humility of Virtue, and her appearing in rags amongst you, we can never believe our uninform'd minds reprefent her so noble to us, that we neceffarily annex fplendor to her and we could as foon imagine the order of things inverted, and that there is no man

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in the moon, as believe the contrary. I can't forbear telling you we indeed read the spoils of Rapine as boys do the English rogue, and hug ourselves full as much over it; yet our roses are not without thorns. Pray give me the pleasure of hearing (when you are at leisure) how foon I may expect to fee the next volu. me of Homer.

I am, &c.

LETTER IV..

May 1, 1720.

You'll think me very full of myself, when after

long filence (which however, to fay truth, has rather been employed to contemplate of you, than to forget you) I begin to talk of my own works. I find it is in the finishing a book, as in concluding a feffion of Parliament, one always thinks it will be very soon, and finds it very late. There are many unlook'd-for incidents to retard the clearing any public account, and for I fee it is in mine. I have plagued myself, like great ministers, with undertaking too much for one man; and with a defire of doing more than was expected from me, have done less than I ought. For having defign'd four laborious and uncomvery mon fort of Indexes to Homer, I'm forç'd, for want of time, to publish two only; the design of which you will own to be pretty, tho' far from being fully executed. I've also been obliged to leave unfinish'd in my defk the heads of two Effays, one on the Theology

1

and Morality of Homer, and another on the Oratory of Homer and Virgil. So they inuft wait for future editions, or perifh: and (one way or other, no great inatter which) dabit Deus his quoque finem. I think of you every day, I affure you, even without fuch good inemorials of you as your fifters, with whom I fometimes talk of you, and find it one of the most agree. able of all fubjects to thein. My Lord Digby must be perpetually remember'd by all who ever knew him, or knew his children. There needs no more than an acquaintance with your family, to make all elder fons wifh they had fathers to their lives end.

I can't touch upon the subject of filial love, without putting you in mind of an old woman, who has a fincere, hearty, old fashion'd refpect for you, and constantly blames her fon for not having writ to you oftener to tell you so.

DI very much wish (but what fignifies my wifhing? my lady Scudamore wifhes, your fifters wifh) that you were with us, to compare the beautiful contrafte this feafon 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. Johnson of Twickenham is) in this warmer season. Our river glitters beneath an unclouded fun, at the fa me 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 ftretching 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 rises high enough to attract