there are as many bad heads in England as in Ireland; I am sure none worse than my own; that I am made for pain, and pain for me; for, of late, we have been inseparable. It is a most dispiriting distemper! and brings on pain of mind, whether real or imaginary, it is all one.

While I had that very sincere good friend, I could some times lay open all my rambling thoughts, and he and I would often view and dissect them; but now they come and go, and I seldom find out whether they be right or wrong, or if there be any thing in them. Poor man! he was most truly every thing you could say of him. I have lost, in him, the usefullest limb of my mind. This is an odd expression; but I cannot explain my notion otherwise.

I deny that I am techy; yet am going to seem so again, by assuring you my letters are never false copies of my mind. They are often, I believe, imperfect ones, of an imperfect mind; (which, however, to do it justice, often directs me better than I act.) Though I will not take upon me to declare my way of thinking to be eternally the same, yet whatever I write is at that instant true. I would rather tell a lie, than write it down; for words are wind it is said; but the making a memorandum of one's own false heart, would stare one in the face immediately, and should put one out of countenance. Now, as a proof of my unsettled way of thinking, and of my sincerity, I shall tell you, that I am not so much in the wrong as you observed I was in my last for, my regard to you is lessened extremely, since I observed you are just like most other people, viz. disobliged at trifles, and obliged at nothings; for what else are bare words? Therefore pray never VOL. XIII. E believe

believe I wish to serve you, till you have tried me; till then protestations are bribes, by which I may only mean to gain the friendship of a valuable man, and therefore ought to be suspected. I seldom make any for that reason; so that if I have the peculiar happiness to have any wise and good people my flatterers, God knows how I came by it; but sure nothing can equal such glory, except that of having the silly and bad people my enemies.

Here I think we agree. You declare, that no such can depress your spirits; and if our constitutions are alike, I will not only preach up good spirits, but prescribe the materials that have ever agreed with me. If any body has done me an injury, they have hurt themselves more than me. If they give me an ill name (unless they have my help) I shall not deserve it. If fools shun my company, it is because I am not like them; if people make me angry, they only raise my spirits; and if they wish me ill, I will be well and handsome, wise and happy, and every thing, except a day younger than I am, and that is a fancy I never yet saw becoming to man or woman, so it cannot excite envy. Here I have betrayed to you the devilishness of my temper; but I declare to you, nothing ever enlivened me half so much, as unjust ill usage, either directed to myself, or to my friends. The very reverse happens to me, when I am too well spoken of; for I am sorry to find I do not deserve it all. This humbles me as much too much as the other exalts; so I hope you will not be too civil, since I have declared the consequence.

I am in great hopes you will make us a visit this summer; for, though I have a sensible satisfaction by conversing with you in this way, yet I love mightily

mightily to look in the person's face I am speaking to. By that one soon learns to stop when it is wished, or to mend what is said amiss.

Your stewards will take great care of your money; but you must first direct us to your friend Mr. Launcelott, (ill spelt, to be sure), and order him to give up Mr. Gay's note, on his sister's paying the money to his grace, who will give him his note for the money, or send it to you, as you order. And as to what interest is due to you, I suppose you have kept some account.

By this time you must be too much tired, to bear reading one word more; therefore I will make no excuses. Pray employ me; for I want to be certain, whether I know my own mind or not: for something or other often tells me, that I should be very happy to be of any use to you. Whether it be true or false, neither you or I can be positive, till an opportunity shows; but I do really think, that I am, dear sir, most sincerely yours, &c.

FROM CHARLES FORD, ESQ.

LONDON, APRIL 14, 1733.

I AM extremely concerned to hear the bad state of

your health. I have often wished that you would be more moderate in your walks; for, though riding has always been allowed to be good for a giddy head, I never heard walking prescribed for a strain, or any ailment in the leg; and the violent sweats you put yourself into, are apt to give colds, and I doubt occasion much of your other disorder. I am confident

you would find yourself better here; and even the journey would be of great use to you. I was vastly pleased to hear my lord mayor talk of the delight he should have in seeing you this year, that he might show you a creature of your own making. He has behaved himself so well in his publick capacity, that whether it be his humility, or his pride, he deserves to be gratified. I could heartily wish your other complaints were as much without foundation, as that of having lost half your memory, and all your invention. I will venture to pronounce you have more left of the first than most men, and of the last than any man now alive. While the excises were depending, you were expected every day; for it was said, Why should he not show as much regard for the liberty of England, as he did for the money of Ireland? I wish you had been here, though the affair, in my opinion, is happily ended. Many people were offended that the bills were dropped, and not rejected, and the authors of the scheme left unpunished. It was absolutely impossible to have carried it otherwise. You have heard sir Robert Walpole, and one or two more coming out of the house, were insulted. A few of that rabble have been seized, with the ringleader, who proves to be a Norfolk man; no enemy to excises, but an entire dependant upon the outraged person. Though the rejoicings were as great, and as universal as ever were known, there was no violence, except the breaking a very few windows, whose owners had shown an untimely thrift of their candles. I foretold Henley what his joking would come to; but the mayor of Southampton immediately printed his real letter, which was short, and extremely proper. His designed oponent at the next election, having voted

for

for the excise, will not dare to show himself in the corporation; and Henley, after the division, thanked him for having, by that vote, bestowed him fifteen hundred pounds.

I have great hopes this fine mild weather will set you right, and long to hear you are preparing for your journey. I am most entirely, your grateful, &c.

FROM LADY BETTY GERMAIN.

MAY 1, 1733.

I SHOULD have answered yours of the 22d of March long ago, but that I have had some troubles and frights and the uneasiness I was under made me neglect, what, at another time, would have been agreeable to myself; Mrs. Chambers's younger sister, having had the smallpox; but now perfectly well! though she has been hitherto a very puny sickly girl. Mrs. Floyd too has been excessively bad with her winter cough and dispiritedness; but country air, I think, has a little revived her.

His grace of Dorset bids me present his humble service to you, and says, the rectory of Churchtown is at Mr. Stafford Lightburne's service. As to the countess of Suffolk's affair in dispute, I cannot possibly (according your own just rule) be angry, because I am in the right. It is you ought to be angry, and never forgive her, because you have been so much in the wrong, as to condemn her without the show of justice; and I wish with all my heart, as a judgment upon you, that you had seen her, as I did, when the news of your friend's death