loft its cunning) is frequently in very aukward sensations rather than pain. But to convince you it is pretty well, it has done some mischief already, and just been strong enough to cut the other hand, while it was aiming to prune a fruit-tree.

Lady Bolingbroke has writ you a long, lively letter, which will attend this : She has very bad health, he very good. Lord Peterborow has. writ twice to you; we fancy some letters have been intercepted, or lost by accident. About ten thousand things I want to tell you : I wish you were as impatient to hear them, for if so, you would, you must come early this spring. Adieu. Let me have a line from

you. vex'd at losing Mr. Stopford as soon as I knew him: but I thank God I have known him no longer. If every man one begins to value must settle in Ireland, pray make me know no more of 'em, and I forgive you

I ain


this one.


Oct. 2, 1727 T is a perfect trouble to me to write to you,

and your kind letter left for me at Mr. Gay's affected me so much, that it made me like a girl. I can't tell what to say to you ; I



only feel that I wish you well in


circumstance of life; that 'tis almost as good to be hated as to be loved, considering the pain it is to minds of any tender turn, to find themselves so utterly impotent to do any good, or give any ease to those who deserve most from us. I would very fain know, as soon as you recover your complaints, or any part of them. Would to God I could ease any of them, or had been able even to have alleviated any! I found I was not, and truly it grieved me. I was sorry to find you could think yourself easier in any house than in mine, tho' at the same time I can allow for a tenderness in your way of thinking, even when it seem'd to want that tenderness; I can't explain my meaning, perhaps you know it. But the best way of convincing you of my indulgence, will be, if I live, to visit you in Ireland, and act there as much in my own way as you did here in yours. I will not leave your roof, if I am ill. To your bad health I fear there was added some disagreeable news from Ireland, which might occasion your so sudden departure: For the last time I saw you, you assured me you would not leave us this whole winter, unless your health grew better, and I don't find it did so. I never comply'd so unwillingly in my life with any friend as with



you, in staying fo intirely from you ; nor could
I have had the constancy to do it, if you had not
promised that before you went we shou'd meet,
and you would send to us all to come. I have
given your remembrances to those you mention
in yours: we are quite forry for you, I mean
for ourselves. . I hope, as you do, that we shall
meet in a more durable and more fatisfactory
ftate ; but the less sure I am of that, the more
I would indulge it in this. We are to believe,
we shall have something better than even a
friend, there, but certainly here we have nothing
so good. Adieu for this time; may you find

you go to as pleas'd and happy, as every friend you went from is forry and troubled.

Yours, &c.



From Dr. Swift.

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Dublin, Oct. 12, 1727. Have been long reasoning with myself upon

the condition I am in, and in conclusion have thought it best to return to what fortune hath made my home; I have there a large house, and servants and conveniencies about

may be worse than I am, and I have no





where to retire. I therefore thought it best to return to Ireland, rather than to go to any distant place in England. Here is my

maintainance, and here my convenience. If it pleases God to restore me to my health, I shall readily make a third journey; if not; we must part as all human creatures have parted. You are the best and kindest friend in the world, and I know no-body alive or dead to whom I am fo much obliged ; and if ever you made me angry, it was for your too much care about me. I have often wish'd that God Almighty would be so easy to the weakness of mankind as to let old friends be acquainted in another state ; and if I were to write an Utopia for heaven, that would be one of my schemes. This wildness you must allow for, because I am giddy and deaf.

I find it more convenient to be fick here, without the vexation of making my friends uneasy; yet my giddiness alone would not have done, if that unsociable comfortless deafness had not quite tired me. And I believe I should have returned from the Inn, if I had not feared it was only a short intermission, and the year was late, and my licence expiring. Surely befides all other faults, I should be a very ill judge, to doubt your friendihip and kindness. But it hath pleased God that you are not in a state of health, to be mortified with the care and fick


ness of a friend. Two fick friends never did well together ; such an office is fitter for seryants and humble companions, to whom it is wholly indifferent whether we give them trouble or no. The case would be quite otherwise if yoų were with me; you could refuse to see any body, and here is a large house where we need not hear each other if we were both sick. I have a race of orderly elderly people of both sexes at command, who are of no consequence, and have gifts proper for attending us; who can bawl when I am deaf, and tread softly when I am only giddy and would Neep.

I had another reason for my haste hither, which was changing my Agent, the old one having terribly involved my little affairs; to which however I am grown so indifferent, that I believe I shall lose two or three hundred pounds rather than plague myself with accompts; so that I am very well qualified to be a Lord, and put

into Peter Walter's hands. Pray. God continue and increase Mr. Congreve's amendment, though he does not deserve it like you, having been too lavilh of that health which Nature


him. I hope my Whitehall-landlord is nearer to a place than when I left him ; as the preacher said, “ the day of judgment was nearer than t? ever it had been before.”


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