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thing you said, which I happen'd to forget. In earnest, Madam, if I were to write to you as often as I think of you, it must be every day of my life. I attend you in spirit through all your ways, I follow you thro' every stage in books of travels, and fear for you thro' whole folio's; you make me shrink at the past dangers of dead travellers; and if I read of a delightful prospect, or agreeable place, I hope it yet subsists to please you. I enquire the roads, the amusements, the company,; of every town and country thro' which you pass, with as much diligence, as if I were to set out next week to overtake you. In a word, no one can have you more constantly in mind, not even your guardian Angel (if you have one) and I am willing to indulge so much Popery, as to fancy some Being takes care of you who knows your' value better than you do your self: I am willing to think that Heaven never gave so much self-neglect and resolution to a woman, to occasion her calamity, but am pious enough to believe thole qualities must be intended to conduce to her benefit and her glory.

Your first short letter only serves to show me you are alive: it puts me in mind of the first Dove that returned to

I 1 Noah, Noah, and just made him know it had found no rest abroad.

There is nothing in it that pleases me, but when you tell me you had no Sea-fickness. I beg your next may give me all the pleasure it can, that is, tell me any that you receive. You can make no discoveries that will be half so valuable to me as those or your own mind: Nothing that regards the States or Kingdoms you pass through, will engage so much of my curiosity or concern, as what relates to yourself: Your welfare, to say truth, is more at my heart than that of Christendom.

I am sure I may defend the truth, though perhaps not the virtue, of this declaration. One is ignorant, or doubtful at best, of the merits of differing religions and governments: but private virtues one can be sure of. I therefore know what particular person has desert enough to merit being happier than others, but not what nation deserves to conquer or oppress another, You will fay, I am not Publkk-fpirited\ let it be so, I may have too many tendernesses, particularly regards, or narrow views; but at the fame time I am certain that whoever wants these,

can, can never have a Publkhsvirtt; for (•as a friend of mine fays,/ how is it poiTible for that man to love twenty thousand people, who never loved one? I communicated your letter to Mr.

C— he thinks of you and talks

of you as he ought, I mean as I do, and one always thinks that to be just as it ought. His health and mine are now so good, that we wish, with all our fouls, you were a witness of it. We never meet but we lament over you: we pay a kind of weekly rites to your memory, where we strow flowers of rhetorick, and offer such libations to your name as it would be prophane to; call Toasting. The Duke of

Bm is sometimes the High Priest

of your praises; and upon the whole, I believe there are as few Men that are not sorry at your departure, as Women that are; for you know most of your Sex want good fense, and therefore must want generosity: You have so much of both, that I am sure you pardon them; for one cannot but forgive whatever one despises For my part I hate a great many women for your fake; and undervalue all the rest. 'Tis you are to blame, and may God revenge it upon you, with all

I 4 those those blessings and earthly prosperities which the Divines tell us are tjie cause of our Perdition; for if he makes you happy in this world, I dare trust your own virtue to do it in %he other. I am, LETTERS

Tour, &c

[graphic][merged small]

To the Honourable

ROBERT DfGBY,

From Mr. Pq? E.

To the Honourable Robert Digby.

; Chiswick, Jan. 2, 1717.

Dear Sht

IHad pleas'd myself sooner in writing to you, but that I have been your Successor in a Fit of Sickness, and am not yet so much recovered, but that I have thoughts of using your * Physicians. They are as grave Persons as any of the Faculty, and (like the Antients) carry their own Medicaments about with them. But indeed the Moderns are such Lovers of Raillery, that nothing is grave enough to escape them. Let 'em laugh, but People will still have their Opinions: As they think our Doctors Asses to them, we'll think them Asses to our Doctors.

* Asses.

I am

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