with religion, an unhappy opportunity to rail at all who do not submit to the whole of what they plead for, or do not approve of their treacherous manner of pleading for truth itself; they censure them for joining in with the enemies of religion and virtue, and by that means make the pious weak people detest those they see thus misrepresented. This intimidates more cautious people (who lament secretly the ill usage those can thus make of opposition to themselves) from opposing them. This hath prevented numbers from showing that dislike of what hath been said to the dishonour of reasoning and substituting means, instead of (what is the perfection of God himself) goodness. But I have no time for such reflections. Mrs. Talbot is so very ill, that Mrs. Sayer, though I do not, gives her over absolutely as gone: I think her case is extremely dangerous, but not desperate. She thinks she will not live many days, nor can she, if she grows not better soon: she continually vomits and purges, voids blood, and hath kept no nourishment since Sunday. Grief made her apply for consolation to, what she was never much used to, strong cordials; that treacherous flattering Syren, whom so many still believe, though they daily see the numbers it destroys, that gave, after short refreshment, a colic; this required larger doses, these again gave vomitings, which demanded still larger doses: the short ease was attributed to its power; but not the increase of misery which followed. The doctor railed at it, his medicines came too late to overcome this evil soon; and therefore, in natural impatience of sickness, were despised; and the old short-lived interval of ease again desired, which still increased the distemper, and disappointed all the remedies. Yours sincerely. LETTER XV. DR. THOMAS RUNDLE TO MRS. SANDYS. MADAM, Jan. 30, 1730-31. My rambling life is over; and now I shall have the leisure of performing the duty of writing to my friends: I have spent this Christmas in Berkshire, with Mr. Talbot and his delightful family. No man is more happy than he is, in the prospect of seeing many noble and great branches spring from his root. Wit and sprightliness, when they accompany good sense and virtue, will recommend the more worthy qualities, and make them doubly successful; and these are united in a sweet con'trast in his second boy, who was this Christmas with us. There is a cheerful gravity in the next, which makes him thoughtful and industrious, but will preserve these useful accomplishments from and that unsociable selfishness which too often deforms learning. The third is all life and gaiety, good-nature and innocence, with the fairest blossoms of reason, which the care of Mr. Talbot, in his education, will secure from being blasted, and ripen into abundance. How mean a sight is the spring, with all its beauties, when compared to the opening of youth, with so full a promise of every virtue, to give joy to themselves, and happiness and ornament to their country! His eldest is at Paris, and behaves as one would wish he should behave. His rough English love for liberty disdains the embroidered slavery that glitters in that trifling court. He hates chains, though made of gold; and contemns a nation, who can be mean enough to be contented and in love with wretchedness, because it hath a painted face. With a sort of virtuous surliness, his good sense is so much offended at their flattery of those that oppress them, in that chain of mutual slaves and tyrants, that descends from the highest to the lowest among them, that one almost fears he should, instead of learning complaisance in that polite school of dissimulation, run counter to the manners he hates, and be in danger of growing in love with that plain dealing which is now no where fashionable, if his good sense and good-nature did not secure him from it: the first teaches all, that civility and obligingness is a virtue as much due, as more important branches of justice; the other, that benevolence in the heart will accommodate itself to all, and throw light and amiableness over the behaviour: and he that knows this, is well bred by nature, though he makes a bow awkwardly, and never learnt to cut a caper. LETTER XVI. DR. THOMAS RUNDLE TO MRS. SANDYS. MADAM, Ashdown-Park, Friday morning, 1731. THE servant who brings you this is the person to whom the important trust of conducting the black colony into Wales is committed; and I could not suffer any one to go from hence, without sending you an account of the health of that family for whom you have the goodness to be concerned. I hear that Mrs. Sayer by no means worse than when I left her; that she appears with as much ease as she hath done since her misfortune*, and though not with cheerfulness, yet with freedom. But I confess, I gather but little hope from these fair appearances, because in company with those she loves, her goodness would conceal, with a well-bred deceit, that pain which she knew would give pain to her company. This little solitary island, in the midst of a vast verdant ocean, secured from the intrusion of chance company and the interruption of business, can afford no news to fill a letter. Every one that inhabits it is gay and happy according to their various ranks and desires. Philosophy, exercise, and cards, hospitality profuse in generosity without luxury,freedom uncontrolled by any thing but voluntary decency and ever-wakeful reason, mirth that seems to neglect thoughtfulness, but shows by its becoming ease and gracefulness, and insinuating instruction with amiable negligence every moment, that it hath used it much in private, as the carriage of a gentleman shows he hath learned to dance, though he doth not in company lead up a minuet or cut a caper, vary our hours, and heighten each other's pleasures by the perpetual change. All the nine Muses came hither with Mr. Thomson, wit and sprightliness with Billy, and wisdom The death of Mr. George Sayer. (though she left her solemn state behind her) with the solicitor. From this description, you will imagine that I am very happy, though I contribute but little to the entertainment, besides becoming a pleased auditor, which is as essential a charac ter to fill up a society, as that of the best performer in any of those delightful acts of diversion above mentioned. But no rapture can ever so engage my thoughts as to make me forget or neglect my friend, or lose an opportunity of assuring you that I am, madam, your, &c. us. LETTER XVII. DR. THOMAS RUNDLE TO MRS. SANDYS. MADAM, 1730. I AM much concerned that the letter, which I sent you to Bath, did not come thither time enough to prevent your leaving it, in expectation of seeing Mrs. Talbot and myself at Miserden-because your company to the unhappy family there must give much greater pleasure than you could receive from And though there is nothing I so much long for, as a few hours free conversation with you, yet I hope I never shall be so selfish, as to desire that you should deny yourself the greatest satisfaction of your life, doing good; though it is to bestow on me the truest pleasure I know, the privilege of unburthening my thoughts in all the genuine sincerity and confidence of friendship, to one who is able |