LETTER II. To Mrs. THRALE.

MADAM,

London, Aug. 13, 1765

IF you have really so good an opinion of me as you express, it will not be necessary to inform you how unwillingly I miss the opportunity of coming to Brighthelmstone in Mr. Thrale's company; or,. since I cannot do what I wish first, how eagerly I shall catch the second degree of pleasure by coming to you and him, as soon as I can dismiss my work from my hands.

I am afraid to make promises even to myself; but I hope that the week after the next will be the end of my present business. When business is done, what remains but pleasure? and where should pleasure be sought, but under Mrs. Thrale's influence.

Do not blame me for a delay by which I must suffer so much, and by which I suffer alone. If you cannot think I am good, pray think I am mending, and that in time I may deserve to be, dear Madam, your, &c.

LETTER III. To the Same.

MADAM,

Litchfield, July 20, 1767.

THOUGH I have been away so much longer than I purposed or expected, I have found nothing that withdraws my affections from the friends whom I left behind, or which makes me less desirous of reposing at that place which your kindness and Mr. Thrale's allow me to call my home.

Miss Lucy is more kind and civil than I ex pected, and has raised my esteem by many excel lences very noble and resplendent, though a little discoloured by hoary virginity. Every thing else recals to my remembrance years, in which I proposed what, I am afraid, I have not done, and promised myself pleasure which I have not found. But complaint can be of no use; and why then should I depress your hopes by my lamentations? I suppose it is the condition of humanity to design what never will be done, and to hope what never will be obtained. But among the vain hopes, let me not number the hope which I have, of being Jong, dear Madam, your, &c.

LETTER IV. To Mrs. THRALE,

MADAM,

Litchfield, August 14, 1769,

I SET out on Thursday morning, and found my companion, to whom I was very much a stranger, more agreeable than I expected. We went cheer. fully forward, and passed the night at Coventry. We came in late, and went out early; and therefore I did not send for my cousin Tom; but I design to make him some amends for the omission.

Next day we came early to Lucy, who was, 1 believe, glad to see us. She had saved her best gooseberries upon the tree for me; and as Steele says, I was neither too proud nor too wise to gather them. I have rambled a very little inter fontes et Alumina nota, but I am not yet well. They have

Miss Lucy Porter, daughter to Dr. Johnson's wife by former husband.

a

But down the trees in George Lane. Evelyn, in his book of Forest Trees, tells us of wicked men that cut down trees, and never prospered afterwards; yet nothing has deterred these audacious aldermen from violating the Hamadryads of George Lane. As an impartial traveller I must however tell that in Stow-street, where I left a draw-well, I have found a pump; but the ladingwell in this ill-fated George Lane lies shamefully neglected.

I am going to-day or to-morrow to Ashbourne ; but I am at a loss how I shall get back in time to London. Here are only chance coaches, so that there is no certainty of a place. If I do not come, let it not hinder your journey. I can be but a few days behind you; and I will follow in the Brighthelmstone coach. But I hope to come.

I took care to tell Miss Porter, that I have got another Lucy. I hope she is well. Tell Mrs. Salusbury, that I beg her stay at Streatham, for little Lucy's sake. I am, &c.

LETTER V. To the Same.

MADAM,

Litchfield, July 11, 1770.

SINCE my last letter nothing extraordinary has happened. Rheumatism, which has been very troublesome, is grown better. I have not yet seen Dr. Taylor, and July runs fast away. I shall not have much time for him, if he delays much longer to come or send. Mr. Greene the apothecary, has found a book, which tells who paid levies in our parish, and how much they

paid, above an hundred years ago. Do you not think we study this book hard? Nothing is like going to the bottom of things. Many families that paid the parish rates are now extinct, like the race of Hercules. Pulvis et umbra sumus. What is nearest us touches us most. The passions rise higher at domestic than at imperial tragedies. I am not wholly unaffected by the revolutions of Sadler-street: nor can forbear to mourn a little when old names vanish away, and new come into their place.

Do not imagine, Madam, that I wrote this letter for the sake of these philosophical meditations; for when I began it, I had neither Mr. Greene nor his book in my thoughts; but was resolved to write, and did not know what I had to send, but my respects to Mrs. Salusbury, and Mr. Thrale, and Harry, and the Misses, I am, dearest Madam, your, &c.

LETTER VI. To Mrs. THRALE.

DEAREST MADAM

Ashbourne, July 23, 1770–

THERE had not been so long an interval be. tween my two last letters, but that when I came hither I did not at first understand the hours of the post.

I have seen the great bull; and very great he is. I have seen likewise his heir apparent, who promises to inherit all the bulk and all the vir tues of his sire. I have seen the man who offered a hundred guineas for the young bull,

while he was yet little better than a calf. Matlock, I am afraid, I shall not see, but I purpose to see Dovedale, and after all this seeing, I hope to see you. I am, &c.

LETTER VII. To the Same.

DEAR MADAM.

Ashbourne, July 3, 1771a

LAST Saturday I came to Ashbourne; the dan gers or the pleasures of the journey I have at present no disposition to recount; else might I paint the beauties of my native plains; might I tell of the "smiles of nature, and the charms of 66 art:" else might I relate how I crossed the Staffordshire canal, one of the greatest efforts of human labour, and human contrivance; which from the bridge on which I viewed it, passed away on either side, and loses itself in distant regions, uniting waters that nature had divided, and dividing lands which nature had united. I might tell how these reflections fermented in my mind till the chaise stopped at Ashbourne, at Ashbourne in the Peak. Let not the barren name of the Peak terrify you; I have never wanted strawberries and cream. The great bull has no disease but age. I hope in time to be like the great bull; and hope you will be like him too a hundred years hence. I am, &c.