will complete them, and separate you and me for ever. But in what part of the world soever I am, I will live mindful of your sincere kindness to me; and will please myself with the thought, that I still live in, your esteem and affection as much as ever I did; and that no accident of life, no distance of time or place, will alter you in that respect. It never can me; who have loved and valued you ever since I knew you, and shall not fail to do it when I am not allowed to tell you so; as the case will soon be. Give my faithful services to Dr. Arbuthnot, and thanks for what he sent me, which was much to the purpose, if any thing can be said to be to the purpose, in a case that is already determined. Let him know my defence will be such, that neither my friends need blush for me, nor my enemies have great occasion of triumph, though sure of the victory. I shall want his advice before I go abroad, in many things, but I question whether I shall be permitted to see him, or any body, but such as are absolutely necessary towards the despatch of my private affairs. If so, God bless you both; and may no part of the ill fortune that attends me, ever pursue either of you! I know not but I may call upon you at my hearing, to say somewhat about my way of spending my time at the deanery, which did not seem calculated towards managing plots and conspiracies. But of that I shall consider; you and I have spent many hours together, upon much pleasanter subjects; and, that I may preserve the old custom, I shall not part with you now till I have closed this letter with three lines of Milton, which you, I know, readily, and not without some degree of concern, apply to your ever affectionate friend.

Some natʼral tears he dropt, but wip'd them soon ;
The world was all before him where to choose

His place of rest; and Providence his guide.

DEAR SIR,

LETTER 171.

Dr. Arbuthnot to Mr. Pope.

I little doubt of your kind concern for me, nor of that of the lady you mention. I have nothing to repay my friends with at present, but prayers and good wishes. I have the satisfaction to find that I am as officiously serv ed by my friends as he that has thousands to leave in legacies, besides the assurance of their sincerity. God Almighty has made my bodily distress as easy as a thing of that nature can be. I have found some relief, at least, sometimes, from the air of this place. My nights are bad, but many poor creatures are worse.

As for you, my good friend, I think, since our first acquaintance, there have not been any of those little sus, picions or jealousies that often affect the sincerest friendships; I am sure not on my side. I must be so sincere as to own, that though I could not help valuing you for those talents which the world prizes, yet they were not the foundation of my friendship; they were quite of another sort; nor shall I at present offend you by enumerating them! And I make it my last request, that you will continue that noble disdain and abhorrence of vice which you seem naturally endued with, but still with a due regard to your own safety and study more to inform than to chastise, though the one cannot be effected without the other. Lord Bathurst I have always honored, for every good quality that a person of his rank ought to have; pray give my respects and kindest wishes to the family. My venison stomach is gone, but I have those about me, and often with me, who will be very glad of

fiis present; if it is left at my house it will be transmitted

safe to me.

A recovery in my case, and at my age, is impossible; the kindest wish of my friends is euthanasia; living or dying I shall always be your

Sincere friend.

LETTER 172.

Letter from Mr. West to Mr. Gray, soliciting his correspondence.

SIR,

You use me very cruelly; you have sent me but one letter since I have been at Oxford, and that too agreeable not to make me sensible how great my loss is in not having more. Next to seeing you is the pleasure of seeing your hand writing; next to hearing you is the pleasure of hearing from you. Really and sincerely I wonder at you, that you thought it not worth while to answer my letter. I hope this will have better success in behalf of your quondam school fellow; in behalf of one who has walked hand in hand with you, like the two children in the wood,

Thro

many a flow'ry path and shelly grot, Where learning lull'd us in her private maze.

The very thought, you see, tips my pen with poetry, and brings Eton to my view. Consider me very seriously here in a strange country, inhabited by things that call themselves doctors and masters of arts; a country flowing with syllogisms and ale, and where Horace and Virgil are equally unknown; consider me, I say, in this melancholy light, and then think if something be not due to Yours, &c.

LETTER 173.

Dr. Johnson to Mrs. Thrale, on the death of her Husband

DEAREST MADAM,

Of your injunctions to pray for you and write to you, I hope to leave neither unobserved; and I hope to find you willing, in a short time, to alleviate your trouble, by some other exercise of mind. I am not without my part of the calamity. No death since that of my wife has ever oppressed me like this. But let us remember that we are in the hands of Him, who knows when to give and when to take away; who will look upon us with mercy, through all our variations of existence, and who invites us to call on him in the day of trouble. Call upon him in this great revolution of life, and call with confidence. You will then find comfort for the past, and support for the future. He that has given you happiness in marriage to a degree of which, without personal knowledge I should have thought the description fabulous, can give you another mode of happiness as a mother; and at last the happiness of losing all temporal cares in thoughts of an eternity in Heaven.

I do not exhort you to reason yourself into tranquillity. We must first pray, and then labor; first implore the blessing of God, and those means which he puts into our hands. Cultivated ground has few weeds; a mind occupied by lawful business, has little room for useless regret.

We read the will to-day; but I will not fill my first letter with any other account than that, with all my zeal for your advantage, I am satisfied; and that the other exccutors, more used to consider property than I, commended it for wisdom and equity. Yet why should I not tell

you, that you have five hundred pounds for your immediate expenses, and two thousand pounds a year, with both the houses, and all the goods?

Let us pray for one another, that the time, whether long or short, that shall yet be granted us, may be well spent ; and that when this life, which at the longest is very short, shall come to an end, a better may begin which shall never end.

I am, dearest madam,

Yours, &c.

LETTER 174.

Mrs. Whiteway to Lord Orrery, describing the melancholy situa-tion of Dean Swift.

MY LORD,

The easy manner in which you reproach me, for not acquainting you with the poor dean's situation, lays a fresh obligation upon me; yet, mean as an excuse is for a fault I shall attempt one to your lordship, and only for this reason, that you may not think me capable of neglecting any thing you could command me. I told you in my last letter the dean's understanding was quite gone, and I feared the further particulars would only shock the tenderness of your nature, and the melancholy scene make your heart ache, as it has often done mine. I was the last person whom he knew, and when that part of his memory failed, he was so outrageous at seeing any body, that I was forced to leave him, nor could he rest for a night or two after seeing any person; so that all the attendance which I could pay him, was calling twice a week to inquire after his health, and to observe that proper care was