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Now can I tell all the feelings of your dear heart. Now see I your fancy busy with her magic pencil; and affecting is the picture it has begun. Begun--for your weeping eyes will not suffer you to finish it. Can not you, through all your tears, distinguish Alberti and his wife dying in each others arms after about half a year? What a scene!
Is there any sum of money you would not give to have this tragedy end happily? That, of course, is impossible. But Everard speaks of the poor souls in his next letter, which I may perhaps send
my next.Come -be a good girl, and you shall have it: now, though it will not give you much confolation,
" My last to you was expressive, and perhaps too much fo, of the gloomy situation of my mind. I own the deplorable condition of the worthy man described in it, was enough to add double severity to the hideous mansions. At present, however, I have the happiness to inform you, that I was spectator of the most affecting scene I ever yet beheld. Nine days after I had written my last, a person came post from Vienna to the little village near the mouth of the greater Shaft. He was soon after followed by a second, and he by a third. The first enquiry was after the unfortunate Count ; and I, happening to overhear the demand, gave them the best information. Two of these were the brother and
coufin of the lady, the third was an intimate friend and- fel-
Says not our friend Sterne, that the circumstance of his being at Rennes at the very time the Marquis reclaimed his forfeited nobility and his fword, was an incident of good fortune which will never happen to any traveller but a sentimental one?--I believe it: and every other incident of good fortune befall all such travellers!
Did not I say this second part of the story would not afford you much consolation ? Excuse me for such a falsity. That was only to surprize you. Well I knew what would be my M.'s feelings.
Are you as deep in astrology as when you wrote last to me? On the page I have to spare I will send you some hasty lines which I scribbled the other day to ridicule the weakness of a Dr. W. who is as great a--fool at least as Dryden, and never fails to cast the nativity of his children.
Kind heaven has heard the parent's prayer,
“ Pray let the Doctor sce.".
“ His son's nativity.”
With “ well, and how's the child, my friends?”
“ He's happy, Sir, ere this.”-
« Of happier, I guess.
“ Assuredly await
or never more
* T was there I read my happy boy
-when nurse sobb’d and said,
“ These two hours hath beendead."
26 January 1777 One of Lord Harcourt's suite will carry this. to England. His Lordship was relieved from guard yesterday by the arrival of the new Lord Lieutenant. As politicks have not much to do with love, I shall not trouble you with a history of the late reign, or with a prophecy of what will be the present. Only let our great actors take care they do not play the farce of America in Ireland.
Myspirits, I thank you, are now tolerably well. But you know I am, at least I know I have been ever since you have known me, a strange comical fellow. Neither one thing nor t’other. Sometimes in the garret, but much oftner down in the cellar. If Salvator Rosa, or Rousseau, wanted
to draw a particular character, I am their man. But you and I shall yet be happy together, I know; and then my spirits and paflions will return into their usual channels.
Why do you complain of tħe language and tenderness of my letters ? Suppose they were not tender. What would you say, what would you think, then ? Must not love speak the language of love? Nay, do we not see every day that love and religion have mutual obligations, and corrtinually borrow phrases from each other? Put Jamie or Jenny, instead of Christ, and see what you will make of Mrs. Rowe's most solemn poems, or of Dr. Watts's hymns.
Let me transcribe you a letter written by an other person to a lady.
et Sir Benjamin telling me you were not come to town at $ 3 o'clock, makes me in pain to know how your son does, " and I can't help enquiring after him and dear Mrs. Free
man. The bishop of Worcester was with me this mornsing before I was dressed. I him letter to the « Queen, and he has promised to second it, and seemed to “ undertake it very willingly : though, by all the discourse • I had with him (of which I will give you a particular
account when I see you) I find him very partial to here * The last time he was here, I told him you had several “ times desired you might go from me, and I have repeated be the same thing again to him. For you may easily imagine
“ I would