are more obliged to me for loving you as well when I knew you lefs, or for loving as well after loving you fo many years, I fhall not determine. What I would fay is this: whilst my mind grows daily more independant of the world, and feels lefs need of leaning on external objects, the ideas of friendship return oftner, they bufy me, they warm me more: Is it that we grow more tender as the moment of our great feparation approaches? or is it that they who are to live, together in another ftate, (for vera amicitia non nifi inter bonos) begin to feel more strongly that divine fympathy which is to be the great band of their future fociety? There is no one thought which fooths my mind like this: I encourage my imagination to purfue it, and am heartily afflicted when another faculty a of the intellect comes boisterously in,

a Viz. Reafon. Tully (to whom the letter-writer feems to allude) obferves fomething like this on the like occafion, where, speaking of Plato's famous book of the Soul, he fays, Nefcio quomodo, dum lego, adfentior: cum pofui librumt, et mecum iffe de immortalitate animerum capi cogitare, adfenfio illa omnis elabitur. Cicero feems to have had but a confufed notion of the cause of the flippery nature of this affent, which the Letter

writer has here explained, namely, that the imagination is always ready to indulge fo flattering an idea, but feverer reafon corrects and difclaims it. As to RELIGION, that is out of the queflion; for Tully wrote to his few philofophic friends; tho', as has been the fate of his Lordship's first Philofophy, (where this whole matter is explained at large) it came at laft into the hands of the Public.

and

and wakes me from fo pleafing a dream, if it be a dream. I will dwell no more on Oeconomicks than I have done in my former letter. Thus much only I will fay, that otium cum dignitate is to be had with 500l. a year as well as with 5000 the difference will be found in the value of the man, and not in that of the estate. I do affure you, that I have never quitted the defign of collecting, revifing, improving, and extending several materials which are still in my power; and I hope that the time of fetting myself about this last work of my life is not far off. Many papers of much curiofity and importance are loft, and fome of them in a manner which would furprize and anger you. However I shall be able to convey feveral great truths to posterity, so clearly and fo authentically, that the Burnets and the Oldmixons of another age may rail, but not be able to deceive. Adieu, my friend. I have taken up more of this paper than belongs to me, fince Pope is to write to you; no matter, for, upon recollection, the rules of proportion are not broken; he will fay as much to you in one page, as I have faid in three. Bid him talk to you of the work he is about, I hope in good earneft; it is a fine one; and will be, in his hands, an original b. His fole complaint is, that he finds it too easy in

the execution. This flatters his laziness, it flatters my judgment, who always thought that (univerfal as his talents are) this is eminently and peculiarly his, above all the writers I know living or dead; I do not except Horace.

LETTER XLIV.

I fody

;

Adieu.

Nov. 28, 1729.

HIS letter (like all mine) will be a Rhapit is many years ago fince I wrote as a Wita. How many occurrences or informations must one omit, if one determined to fay nothing that one could not fay prettily? I lately receiv'd from the widow of one dead correfpondent, and the father of another, feveral of my own letters of about fifteen and twenty years old; and it was not unentertaining to myself to observe, how and by what degrees I ceas'd to be a witty writer; as either my experience grew on the one hand, or my affection to my correfpondents on the other. Now as I love you

better than most I have ever met with in the world, and esteem you too the more, the longer I have compared you with the reft of the world; fo inevitably I write to you more negligently, that is, more openly, and what all but fuch as

He used to value himfelf on this particular.

I

love one another will call writing worse. fmile to think how Curl would be bit, were our Epiftles to fall into his hands, and how gloriously they would fall short of every ingenious reader's expectations?

You can't imagine what a vanity it is to me, to have fomething to rebuke you for in the way of Oeconomy. I love the man that builds a houfe fubito ingenio, and makes a wall for a horfe then cries, "We wife men must think "of nothing but getting ready money." I am glad you approve my annuity; all we have in this world is no more than an annuity, as to our own enjoyment: but I will increase your regard for my wifdom, and tell you, that this annuity includes alfo the life of another b, whofe concern ought to be as near me as my own, and with whom my whole profpects ought to finish. I throw my javelin of hope no farther, Cur brevi fortes jaculamur ævo- &c.

The fecond (as it is called, but indeed the eighth) edition of the Dunciad, with fome additional notes and epigrams, fhall be fent you, if I know any opportunity; if they reprint it with you, let them by all means follow that octavo edition. The Drapier's letters are again printed here, very laudibly as to paper, print, &c. for you know I difapprove Irish politics, (as my Commentator tells you) being a strong and jea

b His Mother's.

lous

lous fubject of England. The Lady you mention, you ought not to complain of for not acknowledging your prefent; fhe having lately receiv'd a much richer present from Mr. Knight of the S. Sea; and you are fenfible she cannot ever return it to one in the condition of an outlaw. It's certain, as he can never expect any favour, his motive must be wholly dif-interefted. Will not this Reflection make you blufh? Your continual deplorings of Ireland, make me wish you were here long enough to forget those scenes that so afflict you: I am only in fear if would you were, you grow fuch a patriot here too, as not to be quite at eafe, for your love of old England. It is very poffible, your journey, in the time I compute, might exactly tally with my intended one to you; and if you muft foon again go back, you would not be un-attended. For the poor woman decays perceptibly every week; and the winter may too probably put an end to a very long, and a very irreproachable life. My conftant attendance on her does indeed affect my mind very much, and leffen extremely my defires of long life; fince I fee the best that can come of it is a miferable benediction. I look upon myself to be many years older in two years fince you faw me:

He was mistaken in this. Knight was pardoned, and came home in the year 1742.

The