bility of our reaching, and rejoicing in the "haven where we would be," as there was of the old patriarch's having a child by his old wife. There is not any person living or dead, whom I have so strong a desire to see and converse with as your. self: indeed I have no inclination to visit, or say a syllable to, but a few persons in this lower vale of vanity and tears besides you;—but I often derive a peculiar satisfaction in conversing with the ancient and modern dead,-who yet live and speak excellently in their works.— My neighbours think me often alone, and yet at such times I am in company with more than five hundred muteseach of whom, at my pleasure, communicates his ideas to me by dumb sigus-quite as intelligibly as any person living can do by uttering of words. They always keep the distance from me which I direct, and, with a motion of my hand, I can bring them as near to me as I please. I lay hands on fifty of them sometimes in an evening, and handle them as I like:-they never complain of ill-usage, and when dismissed from my presence -though ever so abruptly-take no offence. Such convenience is not to be enjoyed-nor such li berty to be taken-with the living:-we are bound, in point of good manners, to admit all our pretended friends when they knock for an entrance, and dispense with all the nonsense or impertinence which they broach till they think proper to withdraw: nor can we take the liberty of humbly and decently opposing their sentiments, without exciting their disgust, and being in dan ger of their splenetic representation after they have left us.

I am weary of talking to the many,-who though quick of hearing-are so "slow of heart to believe"-propositions which are next to selfevident; -you and I were not cast in one mouldcorporal comparison will attest it, and yet we are fashioned so much alike, that we may pass for twins:-were it possible to take an inventory of all our sentiments and feelings-just and unjust,holy and impure-there would appear as little difference between them as there is between instinct and reason-or-wit and madness: the barriers which separate these-like the real essence of bodies--escape the piercing eye of metaphysics, and cannot be pointed out more clearly than geometricians define a straight line, which is said to have length without breadth.O ye learned anatomical aggregates, who pretend to instruct other aggregates! be as candid as the sage whom ye pretend to revere-and tell them, that all you know is, that you know nothing!

I have a mort to communicate to you on different subjects-my mountain will be in labour till I see you-and then-what then?—why you must expect to see it bring forth-a mouse. I therefore beseech you to have a watchful eye to the cats; but it is said that mice were designed to be killed by cats-cats to be worried by dogs, &c. This may be true-and I think I am made to be killed by my cough,-which is a perpetual plague to me; what, in the name of sound lungs, has my cough to do with you-or-you with my cough?

I am, sir, with the most perfect affection and esteem, your humble servant, &c.

DEAR SIR,

LETTER LXV.

MR. STERNE TO ****.

CA

AN

I HAVE received your kind letter of critical, and I will add, of parental advice, which, contrary to my natural humour, set me upon looking gravely for half a day together: sometimes I concluded you had not spoke out, but had stronger grounds for your hints and cautions than what your good nature knew how to tell me, especially with regard to prudence, as a divine; and that you thought in your heart the vein of humour too free for the solemn colour of my coat. A meditation upon death had been a more suitable trimming to it, I own; but then it could not have been set on by me. Mr. F—, whom I regard in the class I do you, as my best of critics and well-wishers, preaches daily to me on the same text: "Get your preferment first, Lory," he says, " and then write and welcome." But suppose preferment is long a-coming-and, for aught I know, I may not be preferred till the resurrection of the just-and am all that time in labour, how must I bear my pains? Like pious divines? or, rather like able philosophers, knowing that one passion is only to be combated with another? But to be serious (if I can), I will use all reasonable caution,-only with this caution along with it, not to spoil my book, that is, the air and originality of it, which must resemble the author; and I fear it is the

number of these slighter touches, which make the resemblance, and identify it from all others of the same stamp, which this under-strapping virtue of prudence would oblige me to strike out. A very able critic, and one of my colour too, who has read over Tristram, made answer, upon my saying I would consider the colour of my coat as I corrected it, that that idea in my head would render my book not worth a groat. Still I promise to be cautious; but deny I have gone as far as Swift: he keeps a due distance from Rabelais; I keep a due distance from him. Swift has said a hundred things I durst not say, unless I was dean of St. Patrick's.

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I like your caution, "ambitiosa recides ornamenta." As I revise my book I will shrive my conscience upon that sin, and whatever ornaments are of that kind shall be defaced without mercy. Ovid is justly censured for being "ingenii sui amator;" and it is a reasonable hint to me, as I'm not sure I am clear of it. To sport too much witli your wit, or the game that wit has pointed out, is surfeiting; like toying with a man's mistress, it may be very delightful solacement to the inamorato, but little to the bystander. Though I plead guilty to part of the charge, yet it would greatly alleviate the crime if my readers knew how much I have suppressed of this device. I have burnt more wit than I have published, on that very account, since I began to avoid the fault, I fear I may yet have given proofs of.-I will reconsider Slop's fall, and my too minute description of it; but, in general, I am persuaded that the happiness of the Cervantic humour arises from this very

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thing, of describing silly and trifling events with the circumstantial pomp of great ones. Perhaps this is overloaded, and I can ease it. I have a project of getting Tristram put into the hands of the archbishop, if he comes down this autumn, which will ease my mind of all trouble upon the topic of discretion. I am, &c.

LETTER LXVI.

IGNATIUS SANCHO TO MR. J-W

-E.

Charles-street, Feb. 14, 1768.

My worthy and much respected friend, Pope, ob

serves,

"Men change with fortune, manners change with climes, Tenets with books, and principles with times."

Your friendly letter convinced me that you are still the same and gave in that conviction a tenfold pleasure:-you carried out (through God's grace) an honest friendly heart, a clear discerning head, and a soul impressed with very humane feeling. That you are still the same-I repeat it-gives me morejoy-than the certainty would of your being worth ten jaghires:-I dare say you will ever remember that the truest worth is that of the mindthe best rectitude of the heart-the conscience unsullied with guilt-the undaunted noble eye, enriched with innocence, and shining with social glee-peace dancing in the heart-and health smiling in the face-May these be ever thy companions! and for riches you will ever be more