every thing but walk. His Brother, who is lately come into England, goes alfo to the Bath; and is a more extraordinary Man than he, worth your going thither on purpose to know him. The Spirit of Philanthropy, fo long dead to our World, is reviv'd in him. He is a Philofopher all of Fire; fọ fo warmly, nay fo wildly, in the Right, that he forces all others about him to be fo too, and draws them into his own Vortex. He is a Star that looks as if it were all Fire, but is all Benignity, all gentle and beneficial Influence. If there be other Men in the World that would ferve a Friend, yet he is the only one I believe that could make even an Enemy serve a Friend.

As all human Life is chequer'd and mix'd with Acquifitions and Loffes (though the latter are more certain and irremediable, than the former lafting or fatisfactory) fo at the time I have gain'd the acquaintance of one worthy Man, I have loft another; a very eafy, human, and gentlemanly Neighbour, Mr Stonor. Tis certain the Lofs of one of this Character, puts us naturally upon fetting a greater Value on the few that are left, though the Degree of our Efteem may be different. Nothing, fays Seneca, is fo melancholy-a Circumftance in human Life, or fo foon reconciles us to the Thought of our own Death, as the Reflexion and Profpect of one Friend after another 'dropping round us. Who would stand alone, the fole remaining Ruin, the laft tottering Column of all the Fabric of Friendfhip; once fo large, feemingly fo ftrong, and yet fo fuddenly funk and buried?

Dear Sir,

To the fame.

Saturday Night.

Have Belief enough in the Goodness of your whole Family, to think you will all be pleas'd that I am arriv'd in Safety at Twickenham; though 'tis a fort of Earneft, that you will be troubled again with me at Sherborne, or Coleshill For however I may like one of your places, it may be in that as in liking one of your Family; when one fees the reft, one likes them all. Pray make my Services acceptable to them: I wish them all the Happiness they may want, and the Continuance of all the Happiness they have; and I take the latter to comprize a great deal more than the former. I muft feparate Lady Scudamore from you, as I fear fhe will do herself, before this Letter reaches you: So I wish her a good Journey, and I hope one Day to try if the lives as well as you do; though I much question if she can live as quietly. I fufpect the Bells will be ringing at her Arrival, and on her own and Mifs Scudamore's Birthdays; and that all the Clergy in the Country come to pay Refpects; both the Clergy and their Bells expecting from her, and from the young Lady, further Bufinefs, and further Employment. Befides all this, there dwells. on the one fide of her the Lord Coningsby, and on the other Mr WYet I fhall, when the Days and Years come about, adventure upon all this for her fake.

I beg my Lord Digby to think me a better Man, than to content myself with thanking him in the common Way. I am in as fincere a Senfe of the Word, His Servant, as you are his Son, or he your Father.

I muft in my turn infift upon hearing how my laft Fellow-travellers got home from Clarendon, and defire Mr Philips to remember me in his Cyder, and to tell Mr W that I am dead and

buried.

I wifh the young Ladies, whom I almost robb'd of their good Name, a better Name in return (even that very Name to each of them, which they like beft for the fake of the Man that bears it.)

Your ever faithful

and affectionate Servant.

Го

To the fame.

1722.

YOUR making a fort of Apology for your not

writing, is a very genteel Reproof to me. I know I was to blame, but I know I did not intend to be fo, and (what is the happiest Knowledge in the World) I know you will forgive me : For fure nothing is more fatisfactory than to be certain of fuch a Friend as will overlook one's Failings, fince every fuch Inftance is a Conviction of his Kindness.

If I am all my Life to dwell in Intentions, and never to rife to Actions, I have but too much need of that gentle Difpofition which I experience in you. But I hope better things of myself, and fully purpose to make you a Vifit this Summer at Sherbourne. I'm told you are all upon Removal very speedily, and that Mrs Mary Digby talks in a Letter to Lady Scudamore, of feeing my Lord Bathurft's Wood in her Way. How much I wish to be her Guide thro' that inchanted Foreft, is not to be expreft. I look upon myself as the Magician appropriated to the Place, without whom no Mortal can penetrate into the Receffes of those facred Shades. I could pafs whole Days in only defcribing to her the future, and as yet vifionary Beauties, that are to rife in thofe Scenes: the Pa lace that is to be built, the Pavillions that are to glitter, the Colonnades that are to adorn them: Nay more, the meeting of the Thames and the Severn, which (when the noble Owner has finer Dreams than ordinary) are to be led into each other's Embraces thro' fecret Caverns of

not

not above twelve or fifteen Miles, till they rife and openly celebrate their Marriage in the midft of an immenfe Amphitheatre, which is to be the Admiration of Pofterity a hundred Years hence. But till the deftin'd time fhall arrive that is to manifest thefe Wonders, Mrs Digby muft content herself with feeing what is at prefent no more than the finest Wood in England.

The objects that attract this part of the World, are of a quite different Nature. Women of Quality are all turned followers of the Camp in HydePark this Year, whither all the Town refort to magnificent Entertainments given by the Officers, &c. The Scythian Ladies that dwelt in the Waggons of War, were not more clofely attached to the Luggage. The Matrons, like thofe of Sparta, attend their Sons to the Field, to be the Witneffes of their glorious deeds; and the Maidens with all their Charms difplay'd, provoke the Spirit of the Sol-. diers. Tea and Coffee fupply the place of Lacedemonian black Broth. This Camp feems crowded with perpetual Victory, for every Sun that rifes in the Thunder of Cannon, fets in the Mufick of Violins. Nothing is yet wanting but the constant prefence of the Princess, to represent the Mater Exercitus..

At Twickenham the World goes otherwife. There are certain old People who take up all my time, and will hardly allow me to keep any other Company. They were introduced here by a Man of their own fort, who has made me perfectly rude to all my Cotemporaries, and won't fo much as fufferer me to look upon 'em. The Perfon I complain of is the Bishop of Rochester. Yet he allows me (from fomething he has heard of your Character and that of your Family, as if you were of the old Sect of Moralifts) to write three or four fides of Paper