writing to you gives me so much pleasure, and as I can't do any thing to you but write this. morning-I know you'll excufe me.

Did you ever hear to what Crufoe owed his exiftence? You remember Alexander Selkirk's ftrange fequeftration at Juan Fernandez. It is mentioned, I believe, in Walter's account of Anfon's Voyage. When Captain Woodes Rogers met with him and brought him to England, he employed the famous Daniel de Foe to revife his papers. That fertile genius improved upon his materials, and compofed the celebrated story of Robinson Crufoe. The confequence was that Selkirk, who foon after made his appearance in print, was confidered as a baftard of Crufoe, with which fpurious offspring the prefs too often teems. In De Foe, undoubtedly, this was not honeft. Had Selkirk given him his papers, there could have been no harm in working them up his own way. I can easily conceive a writer making his own use of a known fact, and filling up the outlines which have been sketched by the bold and hafty hand of fate. A moral may be added, by such means, to a particular incident; characters may be placed in their juft and proper lights; mankind may be amufed, (and amufements fometimes prevent crimes) or, if the story be criminal, mankind

may

may be bettered, through the channel of their curiofity. But, I would not be dishonest, like De Foe; nor would I pain the breast of a single individual connected with the ftory.

Toexplain what I mean by a criminal story.~ Faldoni and Teresa might have been prevented from making profelytes, if they ever have made any, by working up their most affecting story so as to take off the edge of the dangerous example. But not in the way Mr. Jerningham has done it; who tells us, not lefs intelligibly than pathetically,

All-ruling love, the god of youth, poffefs'd
Entire dominion of Faldoni's breaft:
An equal flame did sympathy impart
(A flame destructive) to Terefa's heart:
As on one stem two opening flowers refpire,
So grew their life (entwin'd) on one defire.

Are you not charmed? Perhaps you never faw the poem. I have it here and will bring it you as a curiofity: the melancholy tale will not take up three words, though Mr. J. has bestowed upon it 335 melancholy lines. The catastrophe happen'd near Lyons, in the month of June, 1770. Two lovers (Faldoni and Terefa Meunier) meeting with an invincible obstacle to their union, determined to

put

put an end to their existence with piftols. The place they chose for the execution of their terrible project was a chapel that ftood at a little diftance from the house. They even decorated the altar for the occafion. They paid a particular attention to their own drefs. Terefa was dreffed in white, with rose-coloured ribbands. The fame 'coloured ribbands were tied to the pistols. Each held the ribband that was fastened to the other's trigger, which they drew at a certain fignal.

Arria and Pætus (fays Voltaire) fet the example, but then it must be confidered they were condemned to death by a tyrant. Whereas love was the only inventor and perpetrator of

this deed.

Yet, while I talk of taking off the dangerous edge of their example, they have almost listed me under their bloody banners

On looking over the fermon I have written,

I recollect a curious anecdote of Selkirk.

(By the bye, Wilkes, I fuppofe, would fay, that none but a Scotchman could have lived fo many years upon a desert island.)

. He tamed a great number of kids for fociety, and with them and the numerous offspring of two or three cats that had been left with him, he ufed often to dance.--From all which my infe

rence

rence is this-M. will not furely deprive herself of H's fociety; but will let him find her there to-morrow. Efpecially, fince, in Mr. J.'s expreffive language,

As on one stem two opening flowers refpire, So grow our lives (entwin'd) on one defire.

LETTER

To Mr.

XV.

H. 23 Feb. 76.

?

Where was you this morning, my life? I hould have been froze to death I believe with the cold, if I had not been waiting for you. I am uneafy, very uneafy. What could prevent you Your own appointment too. Why not write, if you could not come ?Then, I had a dream laft night, a fad dream, my H.

"For thee I fear, my love;

"Such ghastly dreams laft night furprized my foul."

You may reply, perhaps, with my favourite Iphis,

"Heed not thefe black illufions of the night, "The mockings of unquiet flumbers."

Alas, I cannot help it. I am a weak wo

man, not a foldier.

I thought

I thought you had a duel with a person whom we have agreed never to mention. I thought you killed each other. I not only faw his fword, I heard it pafs through my H.'s body. I faw you both die; and with you, love and gratitude. Who is there, thought I, to mourn for M.?Not one!

You may call me foolish; but I am uneafy, miferable, wretched! Indeed, indeed I am. For God's fake, let me hear from you.

LETTER

To the Same.

XVI.

H. 24. Feb. 76.

THAT bufinefs, as I told you it would, laft night, obliges him to go to town. I am to follow, for the winter. Now, my H. for the royal black bob and the bit of chalk; or for any better scheme you'll plan. Let me know, to-morrow, where you think Lady G.'s scheme will be moft practicable on the road, and there I'll take care to ftop. I take my bible oath I won't deceive you, and more welcome fhall you be to my longing arms, than all the dukes or princes in Christendom. If I am not happy for one whole night in my life, it will now be your fault.