ther's rheumatism continues, and she chooses to go to Bagnieres-tell her not to be stopped for want of money, for my purse shall be as open as my heart. I have preached at the Ambassador's chapel-Hezekiah—(an odd subject your mother will say). There was a concourse of all nations, and religions too. I shall leave Paris in a few days. I am lodged in the same hotel with Mr. T- ;-they are good and generous souls-tell your mother that I hope she will write to me, and that when she does so, I may also receive a letter from my Lydia.

Kiss your mother from me, and believe me your affectionate, &c.

LETTER XLV.

MR. STERNE TO DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.

Bath, April 6, 1765.

I SCALP YOU !—my dear Garrick! my dear friend! -foul befal the man who hurts a hair of your head!-and. so full was I of that very sentiment, that my letter had not been put into the postoffice ten minutes, before my heart smote me; and I sent to recall it—but failed-You are sadly to blame, Shandy! for this, quoth I, leaning with my head on my hand, as I recriminated upon my false delicacy in the affair-Garrick's nerves (if he has any left) are as fine and delicately spun as thy own-his sentiments as honest and friendly-thou knowest, Shandy, that he loves thee-why wilt thou hazard him moment's pain? Puppy! fool,

coxcomb, jack-ass, &c. &c.-and so I balanced the account to your favour, before I received it drawn up in your way-I say your way-for it is not stated so much to your honour and credit, as I had passed the account before—for it was a most lamented truth, that I never received one of the letters your friendship meant me, except whilst in Paris.-O! how I congratulate you for the anxiety the world has, and continues to be under, for your return.—Return, return to the few who love you, and the thousands who admire you.-The moment you set your foot upon your stage-mark! I tell it you-by some magic, irresisted power, every fibre about your heart will vibrate afresh, and as strong and feelingly as ever.-Nature, with glory at her back, will light up the torch within you-and there is enough of it left, to heat and enlighten the world these many, many, many years.

Heaven be praised! (I utter it from my soul) that your lady, and Minerva, is in a condition to walk to Windsor-full rapturously will I lead the graceful pilgrim to the temple, where I will sacrifice with the purest incense to her-but you may worship with me, or not-'twill make no difference either in the truth or warmth of my devotion -still (after all I have seen) I still maintain her peerless.

Powel; good Heaven!—give me some one with less smoke and more fire-There are who, like the Pharisees, still think they shall be heard for much speaking-Come-come away, my dear Garrick, and teach us another lesson.

Adieu!-I love you dearly—and your lady better-not hobbihorsically-but most sentimentally

and affectionately-for I am yours (that is, if you never say another word about with all the sentiments of love and friendship you deserve from

me.

LETTER XLVI.

MR. STERNE TO MR. W.

Coxwould, May 23, 1765.

AT this moment I am sitting in my summer-house with my head and heart full, not of my uncle Toby's amours with the widow Wadman, but my sermons —and your letter has drawn me out of a pensive mood-the spirit of it pleaseth me-but in this solitude, what can I tell or write to you but about myself? I am glad that you are in love-'twill cure you at least of the spleen, which has a bad effect on both man and woman-I myself must ever have some Dulcinea in my head-it harmonizes the soul -and in those cases I first endeavour to make the lady believe so, or rather I begin first to make myself believe that I am in love-but I carry on my affairs quite in the French way, sentimentally"L'amour (say they) n'est rien sans sentiment.”

-Now, notwithstanding they make such a pother about the word, they have no precise idea annexed to it And so much for the same subject called love. I must tell you how I have just treated a French gentleman of fortune in France, who took a liking to my daughter-without any ceremony (having got my direction from my wife's banker) he wrote me word that he was in love with my daughter, and desired to know what fortune I would give

her at present, and how much at my death-by-thebye, I think there was very little sentiment on his side-My answer was, "Sir, I shall give her ten thousand pounds the day of marriage-my calculation is as follows-she is not eighteen, you are sixty-two—there goes five thousand pounds— then, sir, you at least think her not ugly-she has many accomplishments, speaks Italian, French, plays upon the guitar, and as I fear you play upon no instrument whatever, I think you will be happy to take her at my terms, for here finishes the account of the ten thousand pounds."-I do not suppose but he will take this as I mean-that is, a flat refusalI have had a parsonage house burnt down by the carelessness of my curate's wife-as soon as I can I must rebuild it, I trow-but I lack the means at present-yet I am never happier than when I have not a shilling in my pocket-for when I have, I can never call it my own. Adieu, my dear friend -may you enjoy better health than me, though not better spirits, for that is impossible. Yours sincerely.

My compliments to the Col.

LETTER XLVII.

MR. STERNE TO MISS STERNE.

MY DEAR GIRL,

Naples, Feb. 3, 1766.

YOUR letter, my Lydia, has made me both laugh and cry.-Sorry am I that you are both so afflicted with the ague, and by all means I wish you both to fly from Tours, because I remember it is situated

between two rivers, la Loire and le Cher-which must occasion fogs, and damp unwholesome weather therefore for the same reason go not to Bourges en Bresse—'tis as vile a place for agues.— I find myself infinitely better than I was—and hope to have added at least ten years to my life by this journey to Italy-the climate is heavenly, and I find new principles of health within me, which I have been long a stranger to—but trust me, my Lydia, I will find you out, wherever you are, in May. Therefore I beg you to direct to me at Belloni's at Rome, that I may have some idea where you will be then.-The account you give me of Mrs. C― is truly amiable-I shall ever honour her- Mr. C. is a diverting companion-what he said of your little French admirer was truly droll-the marquis de is an impostor, and not worthy of your acquaintance-he only pretended to know me, to get introduced to your mother-I desire you will get your mother to write to Mr. C. that I may discharge every debt, and then, my Lydia, if I live the produce of my pen shall be yours—If fate reserves me not that-the humane and good, part for thy father's sake, part for thy own, will never abandon thee!-If your mother's health will permit her to return with me to England, your summers I will render as agreeable as I can at Cox. would-your winters at York-You know my publications call me to London. If Mr. and Mrs. Care still at Tours, thank them from me for their cordiality to my wife and daughter. I have purchased you some little trifles, which I shall give you when we meet, as proofs of affection from your fond father.