of the sweetest flowers, blooming in the midst of winter. But the attraction of novelty has ceased; I am now satiated, and begin to feel somewhat of disgust. The windows of our inn are scarcely thirty paces from the sea; and, as Ovid beautifully says,

Tired, on the uniform expanse I gaze.

I have, therefore, no other resource, than, with Cicero, to count the waves, or, with Archimedes and Archytas, to measure the sands. I cannot describe to you how weary I am of this place, nor my anxiety to be again at Oxford, where I might jest with you, or philosophize with Poore. If it be not inconvenient, I wish you would write to me often, for I long to know how you and our friends are ; but write, if you please, in Latin, and with gaiety; for it grieves me to observe the uneasiness under which you appear to labour. Let me ever retain a place in your affection, as you do in mine; continue to cultivate polite literature; woo the Muses; reverence philosophy; and give your days and nights to composition, with a due regard, however, to the preservation of your health.

XIV.

To C. Reviczki.*

Nice, April, 1770.

IT is impossible to describe my vexation at not hearing from you; and I can only conclude that you have not received my letter of February, or, what would be more unpleasant, that your letter has miscarried; or finally, what I dread even to suspect, that I no longer retain a place in your remembrance. I have written to you from this place, not (as Cicero says to Lucceius) a very fine epistle, but one that I cannot but think would be acceptable to you, because it was very long, and contained, besides, much information respecting myself. After a sufficient time for the receipt of an answer, which I most anxiously expected, I daily inquired if there were any letters from Vienna;-none, none, was the reply day after day. My auxiety and uneasiness at this disappointment daily increased; and nearly two months are now elapsed without a line from you. What can I do? or what shall I devise? I fear to trust your papers, which you desired me to return,

• Written in Latin.

to a conveyance so hazardous as the post; although I am persuaded it will be inconvenient for you to be so long without them but although I cannot venture to send them before I hear from you, I enclose my remarks, which you may throw into the fire, if you do not like them: they are, as you seemed to wish, somewhat hypercritical, and perhaps too

severe.

Your Treatise on the Military Art of the Turks delighted me exceedingly; nothing can be more useful or opportune. As I cannot depend upon this letter reaching you, I write but little, having no wish to talk to the winds, and risk the loss of time, which I can better employ. I expect to leave this town about the middle of the month. My proposed Italian expedition is deferred to a future period. Farewell, my Charles, and remember me, as I do you. After my return to England, I will write to you frequently, and my letters shall be longer and more cheerful.

XV.

To C. Reviczki.*

(Date erased.) ALTHOUGH I cannot possibly receive an answer to my letter before I leave this place, I will not have to reproach myself for neglecting an opportunity of writing to you. I concur most heartily in your sentiments on the pleasures of travelling, as on all other subjects: nothing, in my opinion, can be more useful or more delightful. How much more agreeable would my journey be, if I could make Vienna a part of it, where I might enjoy your conversation, philosophize with you, trifle away an idle hour, or explore with you the hidden treasures of poetry. As I am deprived of this happiness, I shall take the liberty of saying something not so favourable of the pleasures which I actually enjoy. I am disgusted with the odious rattle of French gaiety; and the calm serenity of an Italian sky has something gloomy in it. I am so much in love with myself, i. e. so much beside myself, that in my own eyes I appear more worthy of your friendship than ever. You cannot conceive how

Written in Latin.

different I am from what you knew me in England. I was then young and thoughtless; now I devote myself wholly to polite literature; and the great objects of my ambition, are virtue, fame, and, above all, your friendship; objects than which nothing can be more divine, estimable, or dear to me. That I may not altogether write an unlettered letter, I send you a Greek version of an English epigram : it was composed, in a calm night, by a friend of mine, and I translated it at his request. I think it will please you, as it appears to have an affinity to the style of Meleager, and other poets in the Anthologia.

XVI.

To Lady Spencer.

Nice, April 14, 1770.

It is with great pleasure that I acquaint your ladyship, that Mrs. Poyntz, Lady Harriet, and her brother are prefectly well: Mrs. Poyntz goes this morning to Villa Franca; I am to be her knight, and am just equipped to mount my Rosinantè; Mademoiselle Annette is to go upon Lady Mary Somerset's ass; so we shall make a formidable procession: it is a delightful morning, and I hope Mrs. Poyntz will be pleased with her jaunt, We have had very bad wea