thou, with fate, but neuter in this controversy: and if I cannot do credit to human nature, and to the female sex, by bringing down such an angel as this to class with and adorn it, (for adorn it she does in her very foibles,) then I am all yours, and never will resist you more.

Here I arose; I shook myself; the window was open. Away the troublesome bosom-visitor, the intruder, is flown. I see it yet! I see it yet! And now it lessens to my aching eye; and now the cleft air is closed after it, and it is out of sight!-and once more I am

ROBERT LOVELACE.

Well, I can't help it.

Mennell has, however, though with some reluctance, consented to write me a letter, provided I will allow it to be the last step he shall take in this affair.

I presumed, I told him, that if I could cause Mrs Fretchville's woman to supply his place, he would have no objection to that.

None, he says. But is it not pity

A pitiful fellow! Such a ridiculous kind of pity his, as those silly souls have, who would not kill an innocent chicken for the world; but when killed to their hands, are always the most greedy devourers of it.

Now this letter gives the servant the smallpox; and she has given it to her unhappy vapourish lady. Vapourish people are perpetual subjects for diseases to work upon. Name but the malady, and it is theirs in a moment. Ever fitted for inoculation.-The physical tribe's milch-cows.-A vapourish or splenetic patient is a fiddle for the doctors; and they are eternally playing upon it. Sweet music does it make them. All their difficulty, except a case extraordinary happens, (as poor Mrs Fretchville's, who has realized her apprehensions,) is but to hold their countenance, while their patient is drawing up a bill of indictment against himself; -and when they have heard it, proceed to punish -the right word for prescribe. Why should they not, when the criminal has confessed his guilt?—And punish they generally do with a

vengeance.

VOL. VI.

Yet, silly toads too, now I think of it. For why, when they know they cannot do good, may they not as well endeavour to gratify, as to nauseate, the patient's palate?

Were I a physician, I'd get all the trade to myself; for Malmsey, and Cyprus, and the generous product of the Cape, a little disguised, should be my principal doses: as these would create new spirits, how would the revived patient covet the physic, and adore the doctor!

Give all the paraders of the faculty whom thou knowest this hint.-There could but one inconvenience arise from it. The APOTHECARIES would find their medicines cost them something; but the demand for quantities would answer that; since the honest NURSE would be the patient's taster, perpetually requiring repetitions of the last cordial julap.

Well, but to the letter-Yet what need of further explanation after the hints in my former? The widow can't be removed; and that's enough: and Mennell's work is over: and his conscience left to plague him for his own sins, and not another man's: and, very possibly, plague enough will give him for those.

This letter is directed, To Robert Lovelace, Esq., or, in his absence, to his Lady. She had refused dining with me, or seeing me; and I was out when it came. She opened it: so is my lady by her own consent, proud and saucy as she is.

I am glad at my heart that it came before we entirely make up. She would else perhaps have concluded it to be contrived for a delay: and now, moreover, we can accommodate our old and new quarrels together; and that's contrivance, you know. But how is her dear haughty heart humbled to what it was when I knew her first, that she can apprehend any delays from me; and have nothing to do but to vex at them!

I came in to dinner. She sent me down the letter, desiring my excuse for opening it.-Did it before she was aware. Lady-pride, Belford! -recollection, then retrogradation!

I requested to see her upon it that moment. -But she desires to suspend our interview till morning. I will bring her to own, before I have done with her, that she can't see me too often.

My impatience was so great, on an occasion so unexpected, that I could, not help writing to tell her, how much vexed I was at the accident; but that it need not delay my happy day, as that did not depend upon the house. She knew that before, she'll think; and so did I.] And as Mrs Fretchville, by Mr Mennell, so handsomely expressed her concern upon it, and her wishes that it could suit us to bear with the unavoidable delay, I hoped, that going down to The Lawn for two or three of the summermonths, when I was made the happiest of men, would be favourable to all round.

The dear creature takes this incident to heart, I believe: She has sent word to my repeated re

quest to see her notwithstanding her denial, that she cannot till the morning: it shall be then at six o'clock, if I please!

To be sure I do please!

Can see her but once a-day now, Jack! Did I tell thee, that I wrote a letter to my cousin Montague, wondering that I heard not from Lord M., as the subject was so very interesting? In it I acquainted her with the house I was about taking; and with Mrs Fretchville's vapourish delays.

I was very loath to engage my own family, either man or woman, in this affair; but I must take my measures securely and already they all think as bad of me as they well can. You observe by my Lord M.'s letter to yourself, that the well-mannered peer is afraid I should play this admirable creature one of my usual dog's

tricks.

I have received just now an answer from Charlotte.

Charlotte i'n't well. A stomach disorder! No wonder a girl's stomach should plague her. A single woman; that's it. When she has a man to plague, it will have something besides itself to prey upon. Knowest thou not, moreover, that man is the woman's sun; woman is the man's earth?-How dreary, how desolate, the earth, that the sun shines not upon!

Poor Charlotte! But I heard she was not well: that encouraged me to write to her; and to express myself a little concerned, that she had not, of her own accord, thought of a visit in town to my charmer.

Here follows a copy of her letter. Thou wilt see by it that every little monkey is to catechise me. They all depend upon my good-nature.

DEAR COUSIN,

M. Hall, May 22.

We have been in daily hope for a long time, I must call it, of hearing that the happy knot was tied. My lord has been very much out of order; and yet nothing would serve him, but he would himself write an answer to your letter. It was the only opportunity he should ever have, perhaps, to throw in a little good advice to you, with the hope of its being of any signification; and he has been several hours in a day, as his gout would let him, busied in it. It wants now only his last revisal. He hopes it will have the greater weight with you, if it appear all in his own hand-writing.

Indeed, Mr Lovelace, his worthy heart is wrapt up in you. I wish you loved yourself but half as well. But I believe too, that if all the family loved you less, you would love yourself

more.

His lordship has been very busy, at the times he could not write, in consulting Pritchard about those estates which he proposes to transfer to you on the happy occasion, that he may answer your letter in the most acceptable manner; and shew,

by effects, how kindly he takes your invitation. I assure you he is mighty proud of it.

As for myself, I am not at all well, and have not been for some weeks past, with my old stomach-disorder. I had certainly else before now have done myself the honour you wonder I have not done myself. Lady Betty, who would have accompanied me, (for we had laid it all out,) has been exceedingly busy in her law-affair; her antagonist, who is actually on the spot, having been making proposals for an accommodation. But you may assure yourself, that when our dear relation-elect shall be entered upon the new habitation you tell me of, we will do ourselves the honour of visiting her; and if any delay arise from the dear lady's want of courage, (which, considering her man, let me tell you, may very well be,) we will endeavour to inspire her with it, and be sponsors for you ;-for, cousin, I believe you have need to be christened over again before you are entitled to so great a blessing. What think you?

Just now, my lord tells me, he will despatch a man on purpose with his letter to-morrow: so I needed not to have written. But now I have, let it go; and by Empson, who sets out directly on his return to town.

My best compliments, and sister's, to the most deserving lady in the world, [you will need no other direction to the person meant] conclude

[The Lady, in her next letter, gives Miss Howe an account of what has passed between Mr Lovelace and herself. She resents his behaviour with her usual dignity. But when she comes to mention Mr Mennell's letter, she reurges Miss Howe to perfect her scheme for her deliverance; being resolved to leave him. But, dating again, on his sending up to her Miss Montague's letter, she alters her mind, and desires her to suspend for the present her application to Mrs Townsend.]

I HAD begun, says she, to suspect all he had said of Mrs Fretchville and her house; and even Mr Mennell himself, though so well-appearing a man. But now that I find Mr Lovelace had apprized his relations of his intention to take it, and had engaged some of the ladies to visit me there, I could hardly forbear blaming myself for

censuring him as capable of so vile an imposture. But may he not thank himself for acting so very unaccountably, and taking such needlessly-awry steps, as he has done, embarrassing, as I told him, his own meanings, if they were good?

LETTER CXI.

MR LOVELACE TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.

Wednesday, May 24. [He gives his friend an account of their interview that morning; and of the happy effects of his cousin Montague's letter in his favour. Her reserves, however, he tells him, are not absolutely banished. But this he imputes to form.]

It is not in the power of woman, says he, to be altogether sincere on these occasions. But why?-Do they think it so great a disgrace to be found out to be really what they are?

I regretted the illness of Mrs Fretchville; as the intention I had to fix her dear self in the house before the happy knot was tied, would have set her in that independence in appearance, as well as fact, which was necessary to shew to all the world that her choice was free; and as the ladies of my family would have been proud to make their court to her there, while the settlements and our equipages were preparing. But, on any other account, there was no great matter in it; since when my happy day was over, we could, with so much convenience, go down to The Lawn, to my Lord M.'s, and to Lady Sarah's, or Lady Betty's, in turn; which would give full time to provide ourselves with servants and other accommodations.

How sweetly the charmer listened!

I asked her, if she had had the small-pox? Ten thousand pounds the worse in my estimation, thought I, if she has not; for not one of her charming graces can I dispense with.

"Twas always a doubtful point with her mother and Mrs Norton, she owned. But although she was not afraid of it, she chose not unnecessarily to rush into places where it was.

Right, thought I-Else, I said, it would not have been amiss for her to see the house before she went into the country; for if she liked it not, I was not obliged to have it.

She asked, if she might take a copy of Miss Montague's letter?

I said, she might keep the letter itself, and send it to Miss Howe, if she pleased; for that, I suppose, was her intention.

She bowed her head to me.

There, Jack! I shall have her courtesy to me

by and by, I question not. What a-devil had I to do, to terrify the sweet creature by my termagant projects!-Yet it was not amiss, I believe, to make her afraid of me. She says, I am an unpolite man-And every polite instance from such a one is deemed a favour.

Talking of the settlements, I told her I had rather that Pritchard (mentioned by my cousin Charlotte) had not been consulted on this occasion. Pritchard, indeed, was a very honest man, and had been for a generation in the family, and knew the estates, and the condition of them, better than either my lord or myself; but Pritchard, like other old men, was diffident and slow, and valued himself upon his skill as a draughts-man; and, for the sake of that paltry reputation, must have all his forms preserved, were an imperial crown to depend upon his despatch.

I kissed her unrepulsing hand no less than five times during this conversation. Lord, Jack, how my generous heart ran over!-She was quite obliging at parting.-She in a manner asked me leave to retire; to re-peruse Charlotte's letter.-I think she bent her knees to me; but I won't be sure.-How happy might we have both been long ago, had the dear creature been always as complaisant to me! For I do love respect, and, whether I deserve it or not, always had it, till I knew this proud beauty.

And now, Belford, are we in a train, or the deuce is in it. Every fortified town has its strong and its weak place. I had carried on my attacks against the impregnable parts. I have no doubt but I shall either shine or smuggle her out of her cloke, since she and Miss Howe have intended to employ a smuggler against me.-All we wait for now is my lord's letter.

But I had like to have forgot to tell thee, that we have been not a little alarmed, by some inquiries that have been made after me and my beloved, by a man of good appearance, who yesterday procured a tradesman in the neighbourhood to send for Dorcas; of whom he asked several questions relating to us; particularly (as we boarded and lodged in one house) whether we were married?

This has given my beloved great uneasiness. And I could not help observing upon it, to her, how right a thing it was, that we had given out below that we were married. The inquiry, most probably, I said, was from her brother's quarter; and now perhaps that our marriage was owned, we should hear no more of his machinations. The person, it seems, was curious to know the day that the ceremony was performed. But Dorcas refused to give him any other particulars than that we were married; and she was the more reserved, as he declined to tell her the motives of his inquiry.

LETTER CXII.

MR LOVELACE TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.

May 24.

THE devil take this uncle of mine! He has at last sent me a letter, which I cannot shew, without exposing the head of our family for a fool. A confounded parcel of pop-guns has he let off upon me. I was in hopes he had ex

hausted his whole stock of this sort in his letter to you. To keep it back, to delay sending it, till he had recollected all this farrago of nonsense-confound his wisdom of nations, if so much of it is to be scraped together, in disgrace of itself, to make one egregious simpleton !But I am glad I am fortified with this piece of flagrant folly, however; since, in all human affairs, the convenient and inconvenient, the good and the bad, are so mingled, that there is no having the one without the other.

I have already offered the bill enclosed in it to my beloved; and read to her part of the let ter. But she refused the bill; and, as I am in cash myself, I shall return it. She seemed very desirous to peruse the whole letter. And when I told her, that, were it not for exposing the writer, I would oblige her, she said, it would not be exposing his lordship to shew it to her; and that she always preferred the heart to the head. I knew her meaning; but did not thank

her for it.

All that makes for me in it I will transcribe for her yet, hang it, she shall have the letter, and my soul with it, for one consenting kiss.

SHE has got the letter from me without the reward. Deuce take me, if I had the courage to propose the condition. A new character this of bashfulness in thy friend. I see, that a truly modest woman may make even a confident man keep his distance. By my soul, Belford, I believe, that nine women in ten, who fall, fall either from their own vanity or levity, or for want of circumspection and proper reserves.

I DID intend to take my reward on her returning a letter so favourable to us both. But she sent it to me, sealed up, by Dorcas. I might have thought that there were two or three hints in it, that she would be too nice immediately to appear to. I send it to thee; and here will stop, to give thee time to read it. Return it as soon as thou hast perused it.

LETTER CXIII.

LORD M. TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.

Tuesday, May 23.

Iris a long lane that has no turning.—Do not despise me for my proverbs-you know I was always fond of them; and if you had been so too, it would have been the better for you, let me tell you. I dare swear, the fine lady you are so likely to be soon happy with, will be far from despising them; for I am told, that she writes well, and that all her letters are full of sentences. God convert you! for nobody but He and this lady can.

I have no manner of doubt but that you will marry, as your father, and all your ancestors, did before you: else you would have had no title to be my heir; nor can your descendants have any title to be yours, unless they are legitimate; that's worth your remembrance, sir!—No man is always a fool, every man is sometimes.-But your follies, I hope, are now at an end.

I know you have vowed revenge against this fine lady's family; but no more of that, now. You must look upon them all as your relations; and forgive and forget. And when they see you make a good husband and a good father, [which God send, for all our sakes! they will wonder at their nonsensical antipathy, and beg your pardon: But while they think you a vile fellow, and a rake, how can they either love you, or excuse their daughter?

And methinks I could wish to give a word of comfort to the lady, who, doubtless, must be under great fears, how she shall be able to hold in such a wild creature as you have hitherto been. I would hint to her, that by strong arguments, and gentle words, she may do anything with you; for though you are apt to be hot, gentle words will cool you, and bring you into the temper that is necessary for your cure.

Would to God, my poor lady, your aunt, who is dead and gone, had been a proper patient for the same remedy! God rest her soul! No reflections upon her memory! Worth is best known by want! I know hers now; and if I had went first, she would by this time have known mine.

There is great wisdom in that saying, God send me a friend, that may tell me of my faults : if not, an enemy, and he will. Not that I am your enemy; and that you well know. The more noble any one is, the more humble: so bear with me, if you would be thought noble.—Am I not your uncle? and do I not design to be better to you than your father could be? Nay, I will be your father too, when the happy day comes; since you desire it: and pray make my compliments to my dear niece; and tell her I wonder much that she has so long deferred your happiness.

Pray let her know as that I will present HER (not you) either my Lancashire seat or The Lawn in Hertfordshire, and settle upon her a thousand pounds a-year penny-rents; to shew her, that we are not a family to take base advantages: and you may have writings drawn, and settle as you will.-Honest Fritchard has the rent-roll of both these estates; and as he has been a good old servant, I recommend him to your lady's favour. I have already consulted him: he will tell you what is best for you, and most pleasing to me.

I am still very bad with my gout, but will come in a litter, as soon as the day is fixed; it would be the joy of my heart to join your hands. And let ine tell you, if you do not make the best of husbands to so good a young lady, and one who has had so much courage for your sake, I will renounce you; and settle all I can upon her and hers by you, and leave you out of the question.

If anything be wanting for your further security, I am ready to give it; though you know, that my word has always been looked upon as my bond. And when the Harlowes know all this, let us see whether they are able to blush, and take shame to themselves.

Lady Sarah and Lady Betty want only to know the day, to make all the country round them blaze, and all their tenants mad. And, if any one of mine be sober upon the occasion, Pritchard shall eject him. And, on the birth of the first child, if a son, I will do something more for you, and repeat all our rejoicings.

I ought indeed to have written sooner. But I knew, that if you thought me long, and were in haste as to your nuptials, you would write and tell me so. But my gout was very troublesome: and I am but a slow writer, you know, at best; for composing is a thing that, though formerly I was very ready at it, (as my Lord Lexington used to say,) yet having left it off a great while, I am not so now. And I chose, on this occasion, to write all out of my own head and memory; and to give you my best advice; for I may never have such an opportunity again. You have had God mend you! a strange way of turning your back upon all I have said: this once, I hope, you will be more attentive to the advice I give you, for your own good.

I have still another end; nay, two other ends. The one was, that now you are upon the borders of wedlock, as I may say, and all your wild oats will be sown, I would give you some instructions as to your public as well as private behaviour in life; which intending you so much good as I do, you ought to hear; and perhaps would never have listened to, on any less extraordinary

occasion.

The second is, that your dear lady-elect (who is, it seems, herself so fine and so sententious a writer) will see by this, that it is not our faults,

nor for want of the best advice, that you was not a better man than you have hitherto been. And now, in few words, for the conduct I would wish you to follow in public, as well as in private, if you would think me worthy of advising.-It shall be short; so be not uneasy.

As to the private life: Love your lady as she deserves. Let your actions praise you. Be a good husband; and so give the lie to all your enemies; and make them ashamed of their scandals. And let us have pride in saying, that Miss Harlowe has not done either herself or family any discredit by coming among us. Do this; and I, and Lady Sarah, and Lady Betty, will love you for ever. This as follows

As to your public conduct: is what I could wish; but I reckon your lady's wisdom will put us both right-no disparagement, sir; since, with all your wit, you have not hitherto shewn much wisdom, you know.

Get into parliament as soon as you can; for you have talons to make a great figure there. Who so proper to assist in making new holding laws, as those whom no law in being could hold?

Then, for so long as you will give attendance in St Stephen's chapel-Its being called a chapel, I hope, will not disgust you: I am sure I have known many a riot there-a speaker has a hard time of it! but we peers have more decorum— But what was I going to say?—I must go back.

For so long as you will give your attendance in parliament, for so long will you be out of mischief; out of private mischief, at least: and may St Stephen's fate be yours, if you wilfully do public mischief!

When a new election comes, you will have two or three boroughs, you know, to choose out of: but if you stay till then, I had rather you were for the shire.

You will have interest enough, I am sure; and being so handsome a man, the women will make their husbands vote for you.

I shall long to read your speeches. I expect you will speak, if occasion offer, the very first day. You want no courage, and think highly enough of yourself, and lowly enough of everybody else, to speak on all occasions.

As to the methods of the house, you have spirit enough, I fear, to be too much above them: take care of that.-I don't so much fear your want of good manners. To men, you want no decency, if they don't provoke you: as to that, I wish you would only learn to be as patient of contradiction from others, as you would have other people to be to you.

Although I would not have you to be a courtier; neither would I have you to be a malcontent. I remember (for I have it down) what my old friend Archibald Hutcheson said; and it was a very good saying-(to Mr Secretary Craggs, I think, it was)" I look upon an administration,