that the happieft here may not die with Envy at a Blifs which they cannot attain to. To the fame. I am, &c. May 1, 1720. Dear Sir, YOU'LL think me very full of myself, when after a long Silence (which however to fay Truth has rather been employ'd 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 Seffion of Parliament; one always thinks it will be very foon, and finds it very late. There are many unlook'd for Incidents to retard the clearing any public Account, and fo I fee it is in mine. I have plagued my felf, like great Minifters, 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 very laborious and uncommon Indexes to Homer, I'm forc'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 alfo been oblig❜d to leave unfinish'd in my Desk the Heads of two Eflays, one on the Theology and Morality of Homer, and another on the Oratory of Homer and Virgil. So they must wait for future Editions, or perifh; and E 3 (one (one Way or other, no great Matter which) dabit Deus his quoque finem. I think of you every Day, I affure you, even without fuch good Memorials of you as your Sifters, with whom I fometimes talk of you, and find it one of the most agreeable of all Subjects to them. 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 Sons with 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-fafhion'd Refpect for you, and conftantly blames her Son for not having writ to you oftner, to tell you fo. I very much wifh (but what fignifies my wifhing? my Lady Scudamore wifhes, your Sifters wifh) that you were with us, to compare the beautiful Contraft this Seafon affords us of the Town and 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 Seafon. Our River glitters beneath an unclouded Sun, at the fame time that it's Banks retain the Verdure of Showers; our Gardens are offering their firft Nofegays; our Trees, like new Acquaintance brought happily together, are. stretching their Arms to meet each other, and growing nearer and nearer every Hour: The birds are paying their thanksgiving Songs for the new Habitations I have made 'em ; my Building rifes high enough to attract the Eye and Curiofity of the Paffenger from the River, where, upon beholding a Mixture of Beauty and Ruin, he enquires what Houfe is falling, or what Church is rifing? So little Tafte have our common Tritons of Vitruvius; whatever De light the true, unfeen, poetical Gods of the River may take in reflecting on their Streams by Tufcan Porticos, or Ionic Pilafters. But (to defcend from all this Pomp of Style) the beft Account I can give of what I am building, is, that it will afford me a few pleasant Rooms for fuch a Friend as yourfelf, or a cool Situation for an Hour or two for Lady Scudamore, when she will do me the Honour (at this publick House on the Road) to drink her own Cyder. The Moment I am writing this, I am furprized with the Account of the Death of a Friend of mine; which makes all I have here been talking of, a mere Jeft! Buildings, Gardens, Writings, Pleafures, Works, of whatever Suff Man can raife! none of them (God knows) capable of advantaging a Creature that is mortal, or of fatisfying a Soul that is immortal! Dear Sir, I am To the fame. July 20, 1720. YOUR kind Defire to know the State of my Health had not been unfatisfied of fo long, had not that ill State been the Impediment. Nor fhould I have feem'd an unconcern'd Party in the Joys of your Family, which I heard of from Lady Scudamore, whofe fhort Efchantillon of a Letter (of a quarter of a Page) I value as the fhort Glimpse of a Vifion afforded to fome devout Hermit; for it includes (as thofe Revelations do) a promise of a better Life in the Elyfian Groves of Cirencester, whether, I could almost fay in the Style of a Sermon, the Lord bring us all, &c. Thither may we tend, by various ways to one blissful Bower: Thither may Health, Peace, and good Humour, wait upon us as Affociates: Thither may whole Cargoes of Nectar (Liquor of Life and Longevity!) by Mortals call'd Spaw-water, be convey'd And there (as Milton has it) may we, like the Deities, On Flow'rs repos'd, and with fresh Garlands crown'd, Quaff Immortality and Joy When I fpeak of Garlands, I fhould not forget the green Vestments and Scarfs which your Sifters promis'd to make for this Purpose: I expect you too in green with a Hunting-horn by your Side and a green Hat, the Model of which you may take from Osborne's Defcription of King James I. What What Words, what Numbers, what Oratory, or what Poetry, can fuffice, to exprefs how infinitely I efteem, value, love, and defire you all, above all the great ones, the rich ones, and the vain ones of this part of the World! above all the Jews, Jobbers, Bubblers, Subfcribers, Projectors, Directors, Governors, Treafurers, &c. &c. &c. &c. in fæcula fæculorum! Turn your Eyes and Attention from this miferable mercenary Period; and turn yourself, in a juft Contempt of thefe Sons of Mammon, to the Contemplation of Books, Gardens, and Marriage, in which I now leave you, and return (Wretch that I am!) to water-gruel and Palladio. I am, &c. Dear Sir, To the fame. Twickenham, Sept. .. YOUR Doctor is going to the Bath, and stays a Fortnight or more; perhaps you would be comforted to have a Sight of him, whether you need him or not. I think him as good a Doctor as any for one that is ill, and a better Doctor than any for one that is well. He would do admirably for Mrs Mary Digby: She needed only to follow his Hints, to be în eternal Bufinefs and Amusement of Mind, and even as active as fhe could defire. But indeed I fear fhe would out-walk him : For (as Dean Swift obferv'd to me the very firft time I faw the Doctor) He is a Man that can do |