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pain to know how far she may be allowed to draw your character, which is a right claimed by all dedicators; and she thinks this the more incumbent on her from the surprising instances of your generosity and favour that she has already received, and which she has been so unfashionable to publish wherever she goes. This makes her apprehend that all she can say to your lordship's advantage will be interpreted as the mere effect of flattery, under the style and title of gratitude.

I sent her word that I could be of no service to her upon this article; yet I confess, my lord, that all those who are thoroughly acquainted with her will impute her encomiums to a sincere but overflowing spirit of thankfulness, as well as to the humble opinion she has, of herself: although the world in general may possibly continue in its usual sentiments, and list her in the common herd of dedi


Therefore, upon the most mature deliberation, I concluded that the office of setting out your lordship's character will not come properly from her pen, for her own reasons: I mean the great favours you have already conferred on her; and God forbid that your character should not have a much stronger support. You are hourly gaining the love, esteem, and respect of wise and good men; and in due time, if Mrs. Barber can have but a little patience, you will bring them all over, in both kingdoms, to a I confess the number is not great; but that is not your lordship's fault, and therefore, in reason, you ought to be contented.


I guess the topics she intends to insist on; your learning, your genius, your affability, generosity, the love you bear to your native country, and your compassion for this; the goodness of your nature, your humility, modesty, and condescension; your most agreeable conversation, suited to all tempers, conditions, and understandings: perhaps she may be so weak as to add the regularity of your life; that you believe a God and Providence; that you are a firm christian according to the doctrine of the church established in both kingdoms.

These and other topics I imagine Mrs. Barber designs to insist on in the dedication of her poems to your lordship; but I think she will better show her prudence by omitting them all. And yet my lord I cannot disapprove of her ambition, so justly placed in the choice of a patron; and at the same time declare my opinion that she deserves your protection on account of her wit and good sense, as well as of her humility, her gratitude, and many other virtues. I have read most of her poems; and believe your lordship will observe that they generally contain something new and useful, tending to the reproof of some vice or folly, or recommending some virtue. She never writes on a subject with general unconnected topics, but always with a scheme and method driving to some particular end; wherein many writers in verse and of some distinction are so often known to fail. In short, she seems to have a true poetical genius, better cultivated than could well be expected either from her sex or the scene she has acted in as the wife of a citizen; yet I am assured that no woman was ever more useful to her husband in the way of his business. Poetry has only been her favourite amusement; for which she has one qualification that I wish all good poets possessed a share of, I mean that she is ready to take advice, and submit to have her verses corrected by those who are generally allowed to be the best judges. I have at her entreaty suffered her to take a copy

a Her husband was a woollen-draper.

of this letter, and given her the liberty to make it public; for which I ought to desire your lordship's pardon but she was of opinion it might do her some service, and therefore I complied. I am, my lord, with the truest esteem and respect, your lordship's most obedient servant, JONATHAN SWIFT.


Wednesday, August 29, 1733. If you are disposed to be easy and cheerful, I will send something for dinner to your lodgings, and eat it with you and Mrs. Ridgeway;b with a bottle of wine, and bread. Speak freely, and send me word. But Mrs. Ridgeway shall take all the care upon her. If you do like this proposal, send word. I would dine a little after two.



September 1, 1733. I HAVE every day wished to write to you to say a thousand things; and yet I think I should not have writ to you now if I was not sick of writing any. thing, sick of myself, and (what is worse) sick of my friends too. The world is become too busy for me; everybody is so concerned for the public that all private enjoyments are lost or disrelished. write more to show you I am tired of this life than to tell you anything relating to it. I live as I did, I think as I did, I love you as I did; but all these are to no purpose: the world will not live, think, or love as I do. I am troubled for, and vexed at, all my friends by turns. Here are some whom you love, and who love you; yet they receive no proofs of that affection from you, and they give none of it to you. There is a great gulf between. In earnest, I would go a thousand miles by land to see you, but the sea I dread. My ailments are such that I really believe a sea-sickness (considering the oppression of colical pains and the great weakness of my breast) would kill me; and if I did not die of that, I must of the excessive eating and drinking of your hospitable town, and the excessive flattery of your most poetical country. I hate to be crammed either way. digest it, I cannot. Let your hungry poets and your rhyming peers I like much better to be abused and half-starved than to be so overpraised and overfed. Drown Ireland! for having caught you and for having kept you: I only reserve a little charity

a The dean used constantly to visit Mrs. Dingley; but in such a manner as to prevent her being at any expense in providing entertainments.

b Mrs. Dingley's lodgings were in Grafton-street, Dublin, at the house of a daughter of his old housekeeper, Mrs. Brent, wife to an idle spendthrift, one Ridgeway, a cabinet-maker; for the relief of whose necessities she was once about selling an annuity of 201. a-year, that had been bequeathed to her for life by her late mistress, lady Newtown. The dean, upon hearing agreed for as the purchase, retaining it in his own power; then of such a design, commiserated her case and paid down the sum paid the annuity to her every year, as if it had been received from lady Newtown's executors; and afterwards bequeathed it to her, which she enjoyed till her death, which happened Oct. 16, 1774. For her better encouragement to take more than or dinary care of him in that illness which he always dreaded and foresaw as plainly as he would a coming shower, he left her 1004. more. But, to bind her more strongly to her duty still, after he had settled all his affairs by a last will, he signed a bond and warrant for a further sum of 3001.; observing at the same time," It may be the jade will hereafter demand interest upon this bond, though only intended as an additional lega cy." Upon which she declared she never would do so, and wondered that the dean could suspect her of it. However, his conjecture proved true in the end for she afterward intermarried with an avaricious man, one Henry Land (whom the dean had formerly appointed sextou of his cathedral, in which office join him in demanding 144/. for eight years' interest due on the he had acquired some wealth), who persuaded her in 1748 to said bond, which was paid along with the principal by the executors: but she generously remitted a small part, by way of benefaction to the dean's hospital.

for her knowing your value and esteeming you: you are the only patriot I know who is not hated for serving his country. The man who drew your character and printed it here was not much in the wrong in many things he said of you; yet he was a very impertinent fellow for saying them in words quite different from those you had yourself employed before on the same subject; for surely to alter your words is to prejudice them and I have been told that a man himself can hardly say the same thing twice over with equal happiness; nature is so much a better thing than artifice.

I have written nothing this year: it is no affectation to tell you my mother's loss has turned my frame of thinking. The habit of a whole life is a stronger thing than all the reason in the world. I know I ought to be easy and to be free; but I am dejected, I am confined: my whole amusement is in reviewing my past life, not in laying plans for my future. I wish you cared as little for popular applause as I; as little for any nation in contradistinction to others as I; and then I fancy you that are not afraid of the sea, you that are a stronger man at sixty than ever I was at twenty, would come and see several people who are (at last) like the primitive christians, of one soul and of one mind. The day is come which I have often wished, but never thought to see; when every mortal that I esteem is of the same sentiment in politics and in religion.

Adieu. All you love are yours, but all are busy, except, dear sir, your sincere friend.


London, September 22, 1733. SIR,-Knowing your great esteem and tenderness for Miss Kelly, and that there is no one whom she has so high an opinion of, or whose advice would sway so much with her, I cannot forbear letting you know my thoughts about her at this time; that I think she wants the assistance and counsel of her best and wisest friend. As she has been so good to distinguish me among her female acquaintance and to show more confidence than in any other, I think I can better tell her mind; but as she has a natural closeness I judge chiefly by hints; for I believe she does not open herself entirely to any one. Her health I think in a much worse way than when she came to London: she has still a slow fever, a violent cough, great and almost continual sickness in her stomach,a and added to all these, a very great dejection of spirit; which last I cannot but think proceeds in a good measure from discontent and uneasiness of mind; and the physicians are of the same opinion. I have endeavoured by all the means I could think of to find out the cause, hoping that if it were known it might by the assistance of friends be remedied. I know, when a young person shows any discontent, people are apt to imagine there can be no cause for it but a disappointment in love; I really think that is not Miss Kelly's case: I have tried her to the uttermost on that subject, and I cannot find she has any attachment to any particular person, but that the whole world, except a few friends, is indifferent to her but what I take her present uneasiness to proceed from is the unkindness in general of her parents, and the fear of not being supported by her father in the way she likes, and as her present bad state of health indeed requires. She has a high spirit, and cannot bear to be obliged to her friends, and she has not been much used to management. She is here in a very expensive way, with her sickness, her servants, and horses; and I believe she Miss Kelly died the last week in October, 1733.

would be greatly mortified, after appearing in this manner, to be obliged to fall below it; and at the same time she has reason to fear, from her father's behaviour, that he thinks little of her, and will not support her in it: she has not heard from him these two months; and the letters she had from him at Bristol were warning her not to marry without his consent, enjoining her not to go to public places, and above all, to spend little money; very odd subjects to one in her condition. Now, what I would beg of you, sir, is to endeavour to find out what are his resolutions in relation to her, and, if there be any that has an influence over him, to get them to convince him that his child's life is in the greatest danger; and then perhaps he may not think his time and money ill employed to save it. If at the same time, sir, you would join your good advice to her, I believe it might be of great use either to make her bear with less uneasiness the ills of this life, or, if it please God to take her from us, to prepare her for another and a better. Her humour is much changed; her spirits are low; and upon every little disappointment her passions rise high: you know, sir, how best to apply to these. She is at Hampstead quite alone; and although her physicians desire much she should come to town, she cannot be prevailed upon to think of it; she desires to be alone; even Mrs. Rooke and I, whom she calls her best friends, are troublesome to her. I believe I need not tell you, sir, that I desire this letter may be a secret, and especially to the person concerned. If you have anything to tell me that can be of use on this sub ject, and will honour me with your commands, direct if you please for me, under cover to Mrs Anne Shuttleworth, at Mr. Jourdain's, in Conduit street. I should beg pardon, sir, for troubling you with this long letter, but I hope my friendship to Miss Kelly will be my excuse. I am sorry to write on so melancholy a subject, and which I am sure must give you uneasiness; but pleased with any opportunity of assuring you that I am, sir, your very great admirer and most obedient humble servant, ANNE DONNELLAN.


Gloucester, October 24, 1733. SIR, I cannot imagine how my lord Orrery came by my last letter to you; I believe my good genius conveyed it into his hands to make it of more consequence to you: if it had that effect I wish this may meet with the same fortune.

If I were writing to a common correspondent, I should now make a fine flourish to excuse myself for not sooner acknowledging the favour of your letter; but I must deal plainly with you, sir, and tell you (now do not be angry) that the fear of tiring you stopped my hand. I value your correspondence so highly that I think of every way that may preserve it, and one is not to be too troublesome.

Now I cannot guess how you will take this last paragraph; but if it makes me appear affected or silly, I will endeavour not to offend in the same manner again. Some mortification of that kind is wanting to bring me to myself: your ways of making compliments are dangerous snares, and I do not know how to guard against the pleasure they bring: to be remembered and regretted by you are honours of a very delicate kind. I have been told that unexpected good fortune is harder to bear well than adversity.

The coid weather I suppose has gathered together Dr. Delany's set: the next time you meet may I beg the favour to make my compliments acceptable? Ĭ recollect no entertainment with so much pleasure as

what I received from that company; it has made me very sincerely lament the many hours of my life that I have lost in insignificant conversation.

I am very much concerned at the disorder you complain of. I hope you submit to take proper care of yourself, and that the next account I have of your health will be more to my satisfaction.

A few days before I had your last letter my sister and I made a visit to my lord and lady Bathurst at Cirencester. Oakly-wood joins to his park; the grand avenue that goes from his house through his park and wood is five miles long; the whole contains 5000 acres. We stayed there a day and a half: the wood is extremely improved since you saw it; and when the whole design is executed it will be one of the finest places in England. My lord Bathurst talked with great delight of the pleasure you once gave him by surprising him in his wood, and showed me the house where you lodged. It has been rebuilt; for the day you left it it fell to the ground; conscious of the honour it had received by entertaining so illustrious a guest, it burst with pride. My lord Bathurst has greatly improved the wood-house, which you may remember but a cottage not a bit better than an Irish cabin. It is now a venerable castle, and has been taken by an antiquarian for one of king Arthur's "with thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild." I endeavoured to sketch it out for you, but I have not skill enough to do it justice. My lord Bathurst was in great spirits; and though surrounded by candidates and voters against next parliament, made himself agreeable in spite of their clamour we did not forget to talk of Naboth's vineyarda and Delville.b I have not seen him since, though he promised to return my visit.

All the beau monde flock to London to see her royal highness disposed of; while I prefer paying my duty to my mother, and the conversation of a country girl, my sister, to all the pomp and splendour of the court. Is this virtue or stupidity? If I can help it I will not go to town till after Christmas. I shall spend one month in my way to London at Longleat I hear that the young people there are very happy.

It is a little unreasonable for me to begin a fourth page; but it is a hard task to retire from the company one likes best. I am, sir, your most obliged and faithful humble servant, M. PENDARVES.

FROM THE DUCHESS OF QUEENSBERRY. Amesbury, November 3, 1733. DEAR SIR,-I was mightily pleased to receive a letter from you last post; yet I am so ungrateful I will not thank you for it, and it may be you do not deserve it. The cruelest revenge that one can possibly inflict (without hurting oneself) is that of being doubly diligent to those who neglect one, in order to shock them into better behaviour. As I have tried this trick myself, and that strong appearances are against me, I must defend myself, and then you will own I do not quite deserve chastisement.

The post before I left this place I received a letter from you, which I designed to have answered before I left London and England; but was hindered from both for some time by an express which hurried us down to Winchester school, to take care of our little boy there who was violently ill of a fever. From that time till I came to Spa we were never at home; and as soon as I began the waters, writing could not a Naboth's vineyard belonged to Dr. Swift.

b Dr. Delany's beautiful villa, near Dublin. The late princess of Orange.

Wiltshire, the superb seat of lord Weymouth, now marquis of Bath.

be done with my bad head. Since I left that place and grew well, I have been still upon the ramble. After all, these are not very substantial good reasons; but upon my word I did design it; in order to which, two days ago I washed the mould out of my inkhorn put fresh ink into it, and promised myself to write to you this very post: pleasing myself with the fancy that this would reach you and convince you that I had you still in great regard, before you could or would think it worth your while to put me in mind of you. I could not fail to gain credit if you could conceive the great satisfaction your letters give me. I have seldom met with any half so conversable. I do not only pity but grieve at those complaints you mention; they are a cruel incumbrance to you. Why cannot you transfer them to a thousand inanimate creatures who have nothing in their heads? I was, and am, really sorry that you could not go with us to the Spa. I am confident it must have done you good. I cannot describe the vast difference I felt after drinking the waters a week, and am still much better than I ever expected, though not quite free of the complaints in my head, but they are greatly lessened."

I have three or four letters to write this very night, so have not time to think of answering your letters. This is only a volunteer, after which I may with greater assurance desire you to believe that I am, with constancy, regard, and respect, yours, &c.


London, November 6, 1733. I HAD the favour of your letter in Derbyshire, from whence I came last week. I am extremely concerned to hear the ill state of your health. I was afraid of it when I was so long without the pleasure of hearing from you. Those sort of disorders puzzle the physicians everywhere; and they are merciless dogs in purging and vomiting to no purpose when they do not know what to do. I heartily wish you would try the Bath waters, which are allowed to be the best medicine for strengthening the stomach; and most distempers in the head proceed from thence. Vomits may clean a foul stomach, but they are certainly the worst things that can be for a weak


I have long had it at heart to see your works collected and published with care. It is become absolutely necessary since that jumble with Pope, &c., in three volumes, which put me in a rage when ever I meet them. I know no reason why at this distance of time the "Examiners" and other political pamphlets written in the queen's reign might not be inserted. I doubt you have been too negligent in keeping copies; but I have them bound up, and most of them single besides. I lent Mr. Corbet that paper to correct his "Gulliver" by; and it was from it that I mended my own. There is every single alteration from the original copy; and the printed

book abounds with all those errors which should be avoided in the new edition.

In my book the blank leaves were wrong placed, so that there are perpetual references backward and forward, and it is more difficult to be understood than the paper; but I will try to get one of the second edition, which is much more correct than the first, and transcribe all the alterations more clearly. I shall be at a loss how to send it afterwards, unless I am directed to somebody that is going to Ireland. All books are printed here by subscription: if there be one for this, I beg I may not be left out. Mr. Crosthwaite my steward will pay for me. The dissenters were certainly promised that the

test act should be repealed this session in Ireland; I should be glad to know whether any attempt has been or is to be made towards it; and how it is like to succeed.

We have lost Miss Kelly, who they say was destroyed by the ignorance of an Irish physician, one Gorman. Doctor Beaufort was sent for when she was dying, and found her speechless and senseless.

Our late lord-mayor has gone through his year with a most universal applause. He has shown himself to have the best understanding of any man in the city, and gained a character, which he wanted before, of courage and honesty. There is no doubt of his being chosen member of parliament for the city at the next election. He is something the poorer for his office; but the honour he has got by it makes him ample amends.

For God's sake try to keep up your spirits. They have hitherto been greater than any man's I have met, and it is better to preserve them even with wine than to let them sink. Divert yourself with Mrs. Worrall at backgammon. Find out some new country to travel in: anything to amuse. Nothing can contribute sooner than cheerfulness to your recovery; which, that it may be very speedy, is sincerely the thing in the world most wished for by your ever obliged, &c.

FROM THE DUCHESS OF QUEENSBERRY. Amesbury, November 10, 1733. DEAR SIR,-I have only stayed to give time for my letters getting to you. There is some satisfaction in sitting down to write, now that I am something less in your debt; I mean by way of letter. To speak seriously, I must love contradiction more than ever woman did if I did not obey your commands; for I do sincerely take great pleasure in conversing with you. If you have heard of my figure abroad, it is no more than I have done on both sides of my ears (as the saying is), for I did not cut and curl my hair like a sheep's head, or wear one of their trolloping sacks; and by so not doing I did give some offence.

We have seen many very fine towns, and travelled through good roads and pleasant countries. I like Flanders in particular, because it is the likest to England. The inns were very unlike those at home, being much cleaner and better served; so that here I could not maintain my partiality with common justice. As to the civilizing any of that nation, it would employ more ill-spent time fruitlessly than any one has to spare; they are the only people I ever saw that were quite without a genius to be civil when they had a mind to be so. Will you eat? Will you play at cards? are literally the tip-top wellbred phrases in use. The French people we met are quite of another turn, polite and easy; one is the natural consequence of the other, though a secret that few have discovered. I can bring you an Irish witness (if that be sufficient) that I have wished for you many times during this journey, particularly at Spa, where I imagined you might have been mending every day as fast as I did; and you are a base man to say that any such impediment as you mentioned thwarted your journey; for you were sure of a welcome share in everything we had. It were unnecessary to say this now, if we had no thoughts of ever going again; but it is what I am strongly advised to, though I should not much want it, and I am not averse: travelling agrees with me, and makes me good humoured. At home I am generally more nice than wise, but on the road nothing comes amiss. At Calais we were windbound four or five days and I was very well contented; when the wind changed

I was delighted to go. As impatience is generally my reigning distemper, you may imagine how I must be alarmed at this sudden alteration, till I happily recollected two instances, where I was myself. The one at Breda, where the innkeeper let drop "if you mean to go" an hour and a half after we had told him fifty times that we positively would go on. The other at Amsterdam, where we met with a very incurious gentleman, who affirmed there was nothing worth seeing; though, besides the town, which far surpassed my imagination, there happened to be a most famous fair. It is long since those two verses of Dryden's "Cymon" are strictly applicable to me:"Her corn and cattle are her only care, And her supreme delight a country fair."

I shall forget to name my Irish friend; it is Mr. Coote. He is in all appearance a modest, well-bred, splenetic, good-natured man. I had then one of these qualifications more than was pleasant, and so we became acquainted. He has a very great regard for you, sir; and there we agreed again. We were all highly pleased with him. He seems to have a better way of thinking than is common, and not to want for sense or good humour. I tell you that I do not use exercise; designedly never eat or drink what can disagree with me, but am no more certain of my stomach than of my mind; at sometimes proof against anything, and at other times too easily shocked; but time and care can certainly make a strong defence. I will obey your commands, and so will his grace, concerning Mrs. Barber, as soon as we come to London, where we stayed but three days. We are now at Amesbury; but pray direct for me at London. I doubt we can do her but little good; for as to my part, I have few acquaintance and little interest. I will believe everything you say of her, though I have hitherto ever had a natural aversion

to a poetess.

I am come almost to the end of my paper before I have half done with you. It was a rule I remember with poor Mr. Gay and me never to exceed three pages. I long to hear from you, that I may have an excuse to write again; for I doubt it would be carrying the joke too far to trouble you too often. Adieu, dear sir; health and happiness attend you ever. I fear I have written so very ill that I am quite unintelligible. His grace is very much yours.


London, November 10, 1733.

SIR,-Not many days ago I had the pleasure of yours by Mrs. Barber, whose turn seems to confirm the good impression you give of her. I want not more than your recommendation to engage my wishes to serve her, and also my endeavours, if any opportuity falls in my way.

Are there no hopes of seeing you on this side of the water? Cannot the great number of your friends, and the great variety of conversation abounding here, be some kind of inducement to your coming among us? Is not Mr. Pope a temptation to one of your distinction to draw you this way? Even the variety of people in this great city might contribute to the amusement of your mind, as a journey and exercise would to your bodily health. I would use every argument I could think of to invite you hither, and consequently to preserve a life so beneficial to the public and so dear to all your friends. You have a spirit that should prevail against indolence, and bring you into a part of the world which calls aloud for your talents. This winter would furnish you with many opportunities of doing great good, as well as making a shining figure, which re

flection gives me great hopes that you will think it a reasonable obligation; as in that case, like Pitt's diamond, you would stand alone. I wish I had a house in some measure worthy to entertain a guest that should be so welcome to me. You surprise me greatly in telling me that my lord Shelburne and you have not met, although he has been some time in Dublin and to my knowledge is one of your great admirers. Why do not you send to my lord Dunkerin, who undoubtedly wants only that encouragement to wait upon you? You see I want none to embrace the opportunity of assuring you that I am, with great esteem, respect, and affection, your very obliged and most humble servant, H. PRATT.


(When the year of his being lord-mayor had expired.) London, November 17, 1733. As I have now got rid of the plague of grandeur, and all its dependencies, I take this first opportunity to pay my respects to you, sir, which I beg pardon for not doing sooner. The transition from Goldsmiths'-hall to Queen-square is hardly credible; for in one view to imagine the constant hurry, noise, and impertinence I lay under from morning till night, in opposition to the peace, the quiet, and great tranquillity I feel in my little retirement, makes me pity your great men, who certainly must be strangers to the great pleasure I now enjoy.

Before I left my office I took care to do justice to Mr. Pilkington, who has received more than I mentioned, and indeed more than any chaplain ever had before, viz. :

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St. Paul's happened to be shut up in the summer for two months, when the mayor went on Sundays to his own chapel at Guildhall, and his chaplain read prayers for eight Sunday mornings only; for which the mayor got him from the court of aldermen twenty guineas.

I have been the more particular in this account because I know your great punctuality in things of this nature, as well as to do myself justice. How much he may be a gainer by coming over I cannot tell; but if he had pleased to have lived near the hall, as he might, in a lodging of ten or twelve pounds a-year, he need not have kept a man (for I had more for show than business), nor given the extravagant sum of thirty pounds a-year for lodgings; he might have saved something in those articles. Had he lived in the city, I should now and then have had the favour of his company in an evening; but his living from me brought him into company, and among the rest into that of Mr. Edward Walpole, from whom he has great dependencies.

I recommended him to Mr. alderman Champion, who got the primate's wife's brother to write in his favour to the primate. And he talks of the living of Colerain's being vacant; if it be, I will do him what service I can.

Thus, sir, I have discharged myself of the duty you laid upon me in relation to that gentleman, hich I hope will be to your satisfaction; for I will a The official residence of the lord-mayor of London.

never be ungrateful, though I have met with it frcquently myself.

All your friends in town are well and in high spirits. Lord Bolingbroke complains you do not write to him. Poor Mrs. Barber has the gout, but is better. It was a great mortification to me that you did not come and eat some custard; but I hope your health will permit your coming next summer. We rejoice much at my brother French's success. I know you do not deal in news, so I send you none. Pray God continue your health, and believe me always, with the greatest sincerity, sir, your most obedient and most obliged humble servant, JOHN BARBER. P.S. Why Mr. Pilkington should send his wife home in the midst of winter, or why he should stay here an hour after her, are questions not easily answered. I am not of his council.


Hawnes, November 27, 1733, DEAR SIR, I have received the honour of your commands, and shall obey them; for I am very proud of your remembrance. I do not know we ever quarrelled; but if we did, I am as good a Christian as you are, in perfect charity with you. My son, my daughter, and all our olive-branches salute you most tenderly. I never wished so much as I do now that I were bright and had a genius which could entertain you, in return for the many excellent things that entertain me daily, which I read over and over with fresh delight. Will you never come into England, and make Hawnes your road? You will find nothing here to offend you; for I am a hermit, and live in my chimney-corner, and have no ambition, but that you will believe I am the charming dean's most obedient humble servant, GRANVILLE.


George-street, November 29, 1733. Sin, Mrs. Barber did not deliver your letter till after the intended wedding brought me hither. She has as much a better title to the favour of her sex than poetry can give her, as truth is better than fiction, and shall have my best assistance. But the town has been so long invited into the subscription that most people have already refused or accepted, and Mr. Conduitt has long since done the latter.

I should have guessed your holiness would rather have laid than called up the ghost of my departed friendship, which, since you are brave enough to face, you will find divested of every terror but the remorse that you were abandoned to be an alien to your friends, your country, and yourself. Not to renew an acquaintance with one who can twenty years after remember a bare intention to serve him, would be to therefore when you return to England I shall try to throw away a prize I am not now able to re-purchase; excel in what I am very sorry you want, a nurse; in the mean time I am exercising that gift to preserve one who is your devoted admirer.

Lord Harvey has written a bitter copy of verses upon Dr. Sherwin for publishing (as it is said) his lordship's epistle, which must have set your brother Pope's spirits all a-working.

Thomson is far advanced in a poem of 2000 lines,

deducing liberty from the patriarchs to the present times, which, if we may judge from the press, is now in full vigour. But I forget I am writing to one who has the power of the keys of Parnassus, and that

• Widow and relict of George lord Carteret, and daughter of John Granville, earl of Bath.

b Thus indorsed by the dean:-"My old friend Mrs. Barton, now Mrs. Conduitt."

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