wanted nothing but good-nature, and the spirit of true freedom (which he had only in idea,) to make him excellent; and yet, perhaps, his acrimony was the sting of the bee, for such he was, rather than a wasp.

Though we are so backward in some sort of intelligence, we are perfectly acquainted with the virtues of tar-water; some have been cured, as they think, and some made sick by it; and I do think it a defect in the good bishop's recommendation of it, that he makes it a catholicon: but, I dare be confident, he believes it such.

I cannot tell what the good people of London think of our public affairs. We that judge two hundred miles from the capital, are not without our apprehensions. There is something disagreeable to reflect, that we are secured at home by strangers*; and abroad, if not at the mercy of our enemies, yet, certainly, upon the defensive. I see by a letter from the camp, that our officers there are quite angry with the Dutch; but, perhaps, they are more the objects of pity.

I shall be extremely pleased with half a dozen copies of Mr. Say's book. I am, dear sir, yours,

&c.

*6000 Dutch troops.

LETTER XXXVI.

ARCHBISHOP HERRING TO WILLIAM DUNCOMBE,

DEAR SIR,

ESQ.

Bishop-Thorpe, June 25, 1746. SINCE bad news must be told, I think it an honest art, for the comfort of this chequered life, to convey it in as agreeable manner as may be, and mix it, in some sort with pleasure. Your good brother* is paying a debt which, serius ocius, is due from us all; but, I dare say, your kind presence contributes not a little to lighten his spirit, and sooth the cares of his family; and I thank you, when you told me a story that gave me real concern, that you blended entertainment with it. If the good man is still amongst us, my best wishes are with him; if he is mingled with the greater number, peace be to his manes: and I hope and believe that he leaves a son behind him of a temper and disposition to imitate so good a father.

Your friend Bewlay dined with me the other day. He told me your brother was still alive, by his last intelligence. I propose to be better acquainted with Mr. Bewlay. He is a very agreeable man, and has the air and appearance of a very honest one. I pretend to some skill in faces. No way is infallible, but I am confident that is one way to the hearts of men. As I do not love

• John Duncombe, eaq. of Stocks, in Hertfordshire. He died June 30, 1746.

ave love a god den bete at MỊ are mes a Mr. Bewas, who

more aiters

ay swa, to the

Lovat, the

ve her private ish

J Sppy & levouring army. Dedicat de “neury-country, and surely

.... Ziua „le -jevs Jr de ustest vengeance:

a ne scene, which madad kalėti sia as he resection. Praised

of preserving to us the I jesue Lovernment: I am,

LETTER XXXVIL

TOPTANJA. 1easide TO WILLIAM QUNCOMBE,

statuup-torpe, Oct. 21, 1747.

Jats 'Vul yuk tiers nto my hands a

Caer, md been as often WALN Auch alt, or ever will forget my

to be idle, I have done a good deal here at my premises, and I have called in Mr. Bewlay, who has a turn for it, to plan me a few more alterations. I hope what I have now is my own, to the end of my short lease; at least no northern irruptions are likely to shorten it. Old Lovat, the arch-rebel, is taken; and the chiefs are now suffering the just punishment of the most perfidious rebellion that ever men were guilty of. Their country is the picture of desolation; half the men slain; families perishing for want; houses and huts burnt; corn destroyed for forage; not a spire of grass; woods burnt to the ground, for the compass of twenty miles; and even their private fisheries all drained, to supply a devouring army. This is the state of the enemy-country, and surely no other than the effects of the justest vengeance: and yet there is a horror in the scene, which makes nature shrink back at the reflection. Praised be the goodness of God, for preserving to us the blessings of a just and gentle government! I am, dear sir, yours, &c.

LETTER XXXVII.

ARCHBISHOP HERRING TO WILLIAM DUNCOMBE,

DEAR SIR,

ESQ.

Bishop-Thorpe, Oct. 21, 1747. I HAVE taken both your letters into my hands a great many times to answer, and been as often prevented. I never did, nor ever will forget my