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would induce me to serve you myself if it should ever be in my power. I saw Mr. Lytteltor last week: he is a candidate for the county of Worcester, together with lord Deerhurst; I hope Mr. Somervile will do him the honour to appear as his friend, which he must at least think second to that of succeeding.

I hear you are commenced chaplain since I saw you. I wish you joy of it. The chaplain's title is infinitely more agreeable than his office; and I hope the scarf, which is expressive of it, will be no diminutive thing, no four-penny-half-penny piece of ribboning; but that it will

"High o'er the neck its rustling folds display,
Disdain all usual bounds, extend its sway,
Usurp the head, and push the wig away."

I hope it will prove ominous, that my first letter is a congratulatory one; and if I were to have opportunities of sending all such, it would entirely quadrate with the sincere wishes of your, &c. I beg my compliments to Mr. Somervile, Mrs. Knight and your family.

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LETTER LI.

MR. SHENSTONE TO A FRIEND,

Expressing his Dissatisfaction at the Manner of Life in which he is engaged.

DEAR SIR,

1741.

I WONDER I have not heard from you lately-of you indeed I have, from Mr. W. If you could

come over, probably I might go back with you for a day or two; for my horse, I think, gets rather better, and may, with indulgence, perform such a journey. I want to advise with you about several matters;-to have your opinion about a building that I have built, and about a journey which I design to Bath; and about numberless things, which, as they are numberless, cannot be comprehended in this paper. I am, your, &c.

Now I am come home from a visit-every little uneasiness is sufficient to introduce my whole train of melancholy considerations, and to make me utterly dissatisfied with the life I now lead, and the and life which I foresee I shall lead. I am angry, envious, and dejected, and frantic, and disregard all present things, just as becomes a madman to do. I am infinitely pleased (though it is a gloomy joy) with the application of Dr. Swift's complaint, "that he is forced to die in a rage, like a poisoned rat in a hole." My soul is no more suited to the figure I make, than a cable rope to a cambric needle:-I cannot bear to see the advantages alienated, which I think I could deserve and relish so much more than those that have them. Nothing can give me patience but the soothing sympathy of a friend, and that will only turn my rage into simple melancholy.-I believe soon I shall bear to see nobody. I do hate all hereabouts already, except one or two. I will have my dinner brought upon my table in my absence, and the plates fetched away in my absence; and nobody shall see me; for I can never bear to appear in the same stupid mediocrity for years together, and gain no

ground. As Mr. G complained to me (and, I think, you too, both unjustly), “ I am no character." I have in my temper some rakishness, but it is checked by want of spirits; some solidity, but it is softened by vanity; some esteem of learning, but it is broke in upon by laziness, imagination, and want of memory, &c. I could reckon up twenty things throughout my whole circumstances wherein I am thus tantalized. Your fancy will present them. Not that all I say here will signify to you: I am only under a fit of dissatisfaction, and to grumble does me good-only excuse me, that I cure myself at your expense. Adieu!

LETTER LII.

MR. SHENSTONE TO MR.

With an Invitation to accompany him to Town.

DEAR SIR, Leasowes, Nov. 25, 1741. THE reason why I write to you so suddenly is, that I have a proposal to make to you. If you could

contrive to be in London for about a month from the end of December, I imagine you would spend it agreeably enough along with me, Mr. Outing, and Mr. Whistler. According to my calculations, we should be a very happy party at a play, coffeehouse, or tavern. Do not let your supercilious friends come in upon you with their prudential maxims. Consider you are now of the proper age for pleasure, and have not above four or five whimsical years left. You have not struck one bold

stroke yet, that I know of. Saddle your mule, and let us be jogging to the great city. I will be answerable for amusement. Let me have the pleasure of seeing you in the pit, in a laughter as cordial and singular as your friendship.- -Come -let us go forth into the Opera-house; let us hear how the eunuch-folk sing. Turn your eye upon the lilies and roses, diamonds and rubies; the Belindas and the Sylvias of gay life! Think upon Mrs. Clive's inexpressible comicalness; mention Hippesley's joke-abounding physiognomy! Think, I say, now; for the time cometh when you shall say, "I have no pleasure in them." I am conscious of much merit in bringing about the interview betwixt Mr. L- and Mr. Sbut merit, as Sir John Falstaff says, is not regarded in these coster-monger days.

not to

Pray now do not write me word that your business will not allow you ten minutes in a fortnight to write to me; an excuse fit for none but a cobbler who has ten children dependent upon a waxen thread. Adieu.

LETTER LIII.

MR. SHENSTONE TO MR. GRAVES,

On Benevolence and Friendship.

DEAR MR. GRAVES,

Leasowes, Jan. 19, 1741-2. I CANNOT forbear immediately writing to you: the pleasure your last letter gave me, put it out of my power to restrain the overflowings of my benevo

lence. I can easily conceive that, upon some extraordinary instances of friendship, my heart might be si fort attendri, that I could not bear any restraint upon my ability to show my gratitude. It is an observation I made upon reading to-day's paper, which contains an account of C. Khevenhuller's success in favour of the queen of Hungary. To think what sublime affection must influence that poor unfortunate queen, should a faithful and zealous general revenge her upon her enemies, and restore her ruined affairs!

Had a person shown an esteem and affection for me, joined with any elegance or without any elegance in the expression of it, I should have been in acute pain till I had given some sign of my willingness to serve him. From all this, I conclude that I have more humanity than some others.

Probably enough I shall never meet with a larger share of happiness than I feel at present. If not, I am thoroughly convinced, my pain is greatly superior to my pleasure. That pleasure is not absolutely dependent on the mind, I know from this, that I have enjoyed happier scenes in the company of some friends than I can possibly at present; but alas! all the time you and I shall enjoy together, abstracted from the rest of our lives, and lumped, will not perhaps amount to a solid year and a half. How small a proportion !

People will say to one that talks thus, "Would you die?" To set the case upon a right footing, they must take away the hopes of greater happiness in this life, the fears of greater misery hereafter, together with the bodily pain of dying, and address me in a disposition betwixt mirth and melancholy; and I could easily resolve them.

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