such an interview must have been attended with,) you had become a reformed man: for no devil do I fear, but one in your shape.

Ir is now eleven o'clock at night. The lady who retired to rest an hour ago, is, as Mrs. Lovick tells me, in a sweet slumber.

. I will close here. I hope I shall find her the better for it in the morning. Yet, alas! how frail is hope-How frail is life; when we are apt to build so much on every shadowy relief; although in such a desperate case as this, sitting down to reflect, we must know, that it is but shadowy !

I will enclose Brand's horrid pedantry. And for once am aforehand with thy ravenous impatience.

LETTER X.

MR. BRAND, TO MR. JOHN WALTON.

DEAR MR. WALTON,

Sat. Night, Sept. 2. I AM obliged to you for the very handsomely penned, (and elegantly written,) letter which you have sent me on purpose to do justice to the character of the younger Miss Harlowe; and yet I must tell you that I had reason, before that came, to think, (and to know indeed,) that we were all wrong. And so I had employed the greatest part of this week, in drawing up an apologetical letter to my worthy patron, Mr. John Harlowe, in order to set all matters right between me and them, and, (as far as I could,) between them and Miss. So it required little

more than connection and transcribing, when I received your's; and it will be with Mr. Harlowe aforesaid, tomorrow morning; and this, and the copy of that, will be with you on Monday morning.

You cannot imagine how sorry I am that you and Mrs. Walton, and Mrs. Barker, and I myself, should have taken matters up so lightly, (judging, alas-a-day! by appearance and conjecture,) where character and reputation are concerned. Horace says truly,

Et semel emissum volat irrevocabile verbum.

That is, Words once spoken cannot be recalled. But, Mr. Walton, they may be contradicted by other words; and we may confess ourselves guilty of a mistake, and express our concern for being mistaken; and resolve to make our mistake a warning to us for the future: and this is all that can be done, and what every worthy mind will do; and what nobody can be readier to do than we four undesigning offenders, (as I see by your letter, on your part, and as you will see by the enclosed copy, on mine ;) which, if it be received as I think it ought, (and as I believe it will,) must give me a speedy opportunity to see you when I visit the lady; to whom, (as you will see in it,) I expect to be sent up with the olive. branch.

The matter in which we all erred, must be owned to be very nice; and (Mr. Belford's character considered) appearances ran very strong against the lady. But all that this serveth to show is, that in doubtful matters the wisest people may be mistaken; for so saith the Poet,

Fallitur in dubiis hominum solertia rebus.

If you have an opportunity, you may (as if from yourself, and unknown to me) show the enclosed to Mr. Belford, who (you tell me) resenteth the matter very heinously; but not to let him see or hear read, those words that relate to him, in the paragraph at the bottom of the second page, beginning, [But yet I do insist upon it,] to the end of that paragraph; for one would not make one's self enemies, you know; and I have reason to think, that this Mr. Belford is as passionate and fierce a man as Mr. Lovelace. What pity it is the lady could find no worthier a protector! You may paste those lines over with blue or black paper, before he seeth it: and if he insisteth upon taking a copy of my letter, (for he, or any body that seeth it, or heareth it read, will, no doubt, be glad to have by them the copy of a letter so full of the sentiments of the noblest writers of antiquity, and so well adapted, as I will be bold to say they are, to the point in hand; I say, if he insisteth upon taking a copy,) let him give you the strongest assurances not to suffer it to be printed on any account; and I make the same request to you, that you will not; for if any thing be to be made of a man's works, who, but the author, should have the advantage? And if the Spectators, the Tatlers, the Examiners, the Guardians, and other of our polite papers, make such a strutting with a single verse, or so by way of motto, in the front of each day's paper; and if other authors pride themselves in finding out and embellishing the title-pages of their books with a verse gr adage from the classical writers; what a figure would such a letter as the enclosed make, so full fraught with admirable precepts, and à-propos quotations, from the best authority?

I have been told that a certain noble Lord, who once

sat himself down to write a pamphlet in behalf of a great minister, after taking infinite pains to no purpose to find a Latin motto, gave commission to a friend of his to offer to any one, who could help him to a suitable one, but of one or two lines, a hamper of claret. Accordingly, his lordship had a motto found him from Juvenal, which he unhappily mistaking, (not knowing Juvenal was a poet,) printed as a prose sentence in his title-page.

If, then, one or two lines were of so much worth, (A hamper of claret! No less!) of what inestimable value would such a letter as mine be deemed?-And who knoweth but that this noble P―r, (who is now* living,) if he should happen to see this letter shining with such a glorious string of jewels, might give the writer a scarf, in order to have him always at hand, or be a mean (some way or other) to bring him into notice? And I will be bold to say (bad as the world is) a man of sound learning wanteth nothing but an initiation to make his fortune.

I hope, my good friend, that the lady will not die: I shall be much grieved, if she doth; and the more because of mine unhappy misrepresentation: so will you for the same cause; so will her parents and friends. They are very rich and very worthy gentlefolks.

But let me tell you, by-the-by, that they had carried the matter against her so far, that I believe in my heart they were glad to justify themselves by my report; and would have been less pleased, had I made a more favourable And yet in their hearts they dote upon her. But Dow they are all (as I hear) inclined to be friends with her, and forgive her; her brother, as well as the rest.

one.

* i. e. At the time this Letter was written.

But their cousin, Col. Morden, a very fine gentleman, had had such high words with them, and they with him, that they know not how to stoop, lest it should look like being frighted into an accommodation. Hence it is, that I have taken the greater liberty to press the reconciliation; and I hope in such good season, that they will all be pleased with it: for can they have a better handle to save their pride all around, than by my mediation? And let me tell you, (inter nos, betwixt ourselves,) very proud they all are.

By this honest means, (for by dishonest ones I would not be Archbishop of Canterbury,) I hope to please every body; to be forgiven, in the first place, by the lady, (whom, being a lover of learning and learned men, I shall have great opportunities of obliging; for, when she departed from her father's house, I had but just the honour of her notice, and she seemed highly pleased with my conversation;) and, next to be thanked and respected by her parents, and all her family; as I am (I bless God for it) by my dear friend Mr. John Harlowe: who indeed is a man that professeth a great esteem for men of erudi tion; and who (with singular delight, I know) will run over with me the authorities I have quoted, and wonder at my memory, and the happy knack I have of recommend. ing mine own sense of things in the words of the greatest sages of antiquity.

Excuse me, my good friend, for this seeming vanity. The great Cicero (you must have heard, I suppose) had a much greater spice of it, and wrote a long letter begging and praying to be flattered. But if I say less of myself than other people (who know me) say of me, I think I keep a medium between vanity and false modesty; the latter of which oftentimes gives itself the lie, when it