fpect of being hereafter fit for any thing, but talking in an elbow-chair. I own to you, my friend, my fituation in Ireland is as agreeable to me as any poffibly could be, remote from the early friendships of my life. I have been ferved as Plato in his common-wealth would have Homer treated; "firft," fays the philofopher," do him honours, reward his merit, and then-banifh him." At Dublin I enjoy the moft delightful habitation, the finest landfcape, and the mildeft climate, that can be defcribed or defired. I have a house there rather too elegant and magnificent; in the north an eafy diocese, and a large revenue. I have but thirty-five beneficed clergymen under my care, and they are all regular, decent, and neighbourly: each hath confiderable and commendable general learning; but not one is eminent for any particular branch of knowledge. And I have rather more curates, who are allowed by their rectors fuch a ftipend as hath, alas tempted most of them to marry; and it is not uncommon to have curates that are fathers of eight or ten children, without any thing but an allowance of forty pounds a year to fupport them. The only difcipline that I have as yet exerted, hath been to discard three out of my diocefe, who, though refufed certificates by me and my clergy, have obrained good livings in America, and found room for repentance. If their former misfortunes have been a warning to them, I rejoice at their fuccefs; but if they are once more negligent of their conduct, there is no farther beneficial pardon for their follies in this life, though they fhould fincerely feek it with tears. Dr. Thomas Rundle to Mrs. Sandys. · MY Lord has commanded me to write to you. He hath the mot melarcholy excufe for not doing it himself, tha ever a poor father had. He hath lots fecond fon, the clergyman, who w. the delight and honour of his father, ard beloved by all mankind. I have lot friend, in whom I had placed all the comfort and happiness of my life. In ver had a thought of pleasure, to whic his company and converfation did not cotribute the greatest and most amibe part. He gave a relifh to all my experations. Perhaps there may have been many fuperior to him in learning; £z few his equals in abilities, who have the fame accuracy of judgment, tr fame difcernment, the fame clearned thought; but what a divine world wom this be, were there any numbers that in his fweetnefs of temper, his fincerity, love for virtue! He loved nothing ex -The whole ambition of his life was make others happy: he valued his a ties only as they could contribute to t God-like end. His converfation hai: much spirit and wit, joined with as ma right fenfe and inftruction, as ever, te fingle, made men defired for their c pany: yet he valued thefe in himfeli, as they made him beloved and praed all, but his own fhare of the fatisfa arofe from the thought that he enterta others, not from any fuperiority e others on that account. My heart ist of affection for him. Nothing can faid equal to his merit; or can I exte my grief for his lofs. We lived toge ten years in the most tender and ende friendship. When in the fame place, un fouls were open to each other; in care fation, we thought aloud. When a My Dean, your kinfman, is much beloved at Derry, and is highly delighted with the preferment. That place was the first object of his fondnefs, and agrees with his conftitution; his wife was born in it, and is related to great numbers near it. He is very generous, and a great economist; lives fplendidly yet buys eftates; and equally takes care of his reputation and his family, The income is above 1300l. per ann. but he *Edward Talbot, Archdeacon of Beha hath seven curates, to whom he is ge- whofe friendship Dr. Rundle owed his in nerous. It is a preferment which will tion to the family, and confequent promeson & increase daily, and the outgoings conti-him in the Life of Archbishop Socker, by died 1720. Very honourable mention is mat i nue the fame. It is now a clear 1000l. Porteus and Stinton, published in 1770 our letters were the pictures of our fouls, and every poft we converfed. I had no pleasure but what his friendship gave me. I beg pardon, Madam, for my talking fo much of my own felf and my forrows, when I fhould be begging your affiftance, by a kind letter, to comfort my poor Lord. So much, perhaps, you may learn from this letter, that I am unable to do it myself; and therefore it may induce you to haften your charity. I put on a forced eafinefs and cheerfulnefs when in his company, and make my looks belie my heart; but when I retire, I am glad to indulge my grief. I loved him; I think all that knew me will fay that I loved nothing elfe. But I muit beg your excufe, Madam, that I fhould let my concern overflow, when I ought to be entertaining you; but I am fure you are fenfible of the pleasure of friendhip, and can forgive rudeneffes which are caufed by fuch a virtue. It is the only virtue that I can boast my heart was fincerely full of. Madam, your most obedient, moft humble fervant. LETTER V. From the fame to the fame. May 1729. Madam, Do not write to entertain you. Poor Dr. Clarke is dying. This mornig we thought him out of danger; but ow he is going to his Newton. He is bove our pity. It is felfishness to laent him; but a felfifhnefs that a man Innot love virtue without feeling. My eart is big with concern and tenderness, nd longing for the dear inftruction of even is moft carelefs converfation! With what ife and cheerfulnefs did he familiarize nowledge, and bring the higheft fubjects to the sprightlinefs of converfation! Reon pities the world, for its not deferving e blessing of his fweet authority, to stop e torrent of infidelity amongst the eat. They knew his fenfe and inteity. They could not believe there was Dr. Clarke died the 17th of May 1729. His nefs began on the 11th, from which he had fo recovered, as to give hopes of his restoration, the day preceding his diffolution. Born Oct. -1675. His memoirs, written by Whifton, d through three editions; first published in no truth in what he defended, obeyed, and for which he fuffered. What pu. nifhment, good God! art thou preparing to inflict on a diffolute world! that thou calleft out of it the fervant who is beft prepared to promote thy bleft defire of making it wife and virtuous, and by them happy! but he is going to enjoy the reward of his goodness. If there is a God (and that there is, all Nature cries aloud in all her works) he must delight in fuch worth, fuch love for truth, fuch refignation, fuch active virtue; and that which he delights in, must be happy; happier than this world can make it, though he was happy here. Our prefent bleflings are all that juftice can require; but are not equal to the bounty of infinite goodness! What good man, that had it in his power to reward fuch worth, but would rejoice in doing it? and doth any mortal prefume to think he loves virtue more than God doth? what we would, he can reward; and what he can, he wills. He who gave us being, when nothing but his own kindness prompted him, will be folicited more strongly to continue it on fo much worth, and to one who so amiably refembled him. But why do my thoughts run on into fuch meditations? I know not how; recollecting fuch affurances, is the natural resource of a mind oppreft by the loss of a friend he loved; it is our only. receiving it. I ought to have thanked you fooner for your last; but hoping to get every poft more time, I have fquandered what I had, and am obliged now to write, not only in an hurry, but in company. You do not well to compare your manner of writing to the workings of the fpider, though nothing can fo fully exprefs the native treafures and untaught art that adorn your mind. I remember the Egyptian writers in hieroglyphics thought it fit to reprefent the Creator, who produced all from himself, and was confcious of every thing which touched any part of this offspring of his power; and as much as I admire you, I will not allow you to apply to yourfelf what hath been confecrated before, to fo peculiar a fubject; though if had a right, it would be one that makes it the amiable duty of life to refemble the great mind in a much more lively manner than can be expreffed by that figured language. Mrs. Sayer begs your pardon for omitting to thank Mrs. Sandys for her lampreys, and affure her that nothing was ever better; but do not wonder that the forgot it; when he was writing, fhe was too full of you, to think of even your prefents; and any this, Lord Archbishop of Cambray fays, is the true fpirit of devotion when applied to an higher object; to be in that tranfport of admiration at his perfections, which will even obfcure his very bounties, and make his infinite kindness unregarded, and unthought on; and it is no wonder if fincere friendship humbly imitates that noble natural working of the heart, which is only friendship fublimed and enlarged, and only differs from it as a rivulet doth from the ocean. My Lord and Mrs. Talbot are extremely well, and preparing to remove into their fweet retirement; but sweet as it is, it will be no-ways agrecable, till you animate the groves and meadows with a mufic, which is more delightful than that of nightingales, your converfation. Spadille calls, and I must obey; that pretended enemy, yet trueft friend, to idlene fs! that tyrant to deftrey the only joy of company, even whilst he boatts of his being fociable! I may rail, but he will triumph over me, and because I hate him, he punishes me, but the lofs of time is worfe than that of money; but there is none but a Parthian victory to be obtained over him, and I hope next Monday to conquer by flying from him. I carry down with me the fun of the folicitor; if my converfation can be of any fervice to him I fhall rejoice; for I would not live any longer, than I could get opportunities to thew my gratitude to that family, to which I owe all the happines and dignity of my life. He is perfectly fober and innocent, and I would animate thofe blank virtues with fentiments of honour, and a noble zeal and ardeur for the brave virtues, from whence arifes the fplendour and usefulness of large fortunes, without which the enjoyment of them is only a gaudy idlenefs.-Spadille, I come! I am unwilling'y torn from you; but I will fill interrupt his diverfion, and it pend his eagerness, till I have affured you, that I fhall receive no pleasure at Durham fo great as hearing from you, and thanking you for your letters. I am your most fincere, &c. I Miferden, without thanking you fe the entertainment you gave us there, which had every thing in it that coud make life delightful; and though your ble was with the most elegant eafe co vered with the greatest variety, yet low pleafures which the art of cookery can pretend to bestow, are not though of when we reflect on the happiness enjoyed in your retirement. Convers tion, which Milton rightly calls the food of the foul, was the noble feaft, u angels themselves would not think it be low them to partake of, and enjoy an etertainment, which was composed of w dom and virtue. COULD not fuffer my fervant to go My friend hath left me, and though am till with other friends, whom gratitude and inclination make me love, ye I know not how he hath fo taken ped fion of my heart, that his prefence is t only the highest pleasure to me it, like the beholding of funfhine, but like that, neceffary alfo to make me view and receive pleasure from all other the meà beloved objects. My Lord continues well, but methinks his air hath not that ferene complacence in it that we admired at Miferden; there was fomething then that fhed a gladness over his countenance, and enlightened his features; his look differs from what it then appeared, as a landscape viewed in the fhade doth from the fame landscape beheld in the brightest day. He defires that you would be fo good as to fend him fome of your rob of elder; a medicine of which he is extremely fond, and of which I have the meanest opinion; but if the juice itfelf hath no virtue, expectation may add fome to it, and as many have found relief from an hearty good opinion, as from a natural efficacy; and if good is received, it is no matter whether it be from the drugs or our own fa.icy. When I return to London, I hope to be able to furnish out a letter of diverfion for you; this place affords no accounts but of the murders and affaffinations of innocent hares and pheasants, which fport of death I have a perverfe good nature in me, which, though reafon juftifes, is unable to be fubdued to approve of. If I could explain to my underítanding that great mystery of natural religion, the ordaining, that the life of fome fhould be fupported always by the death of others, I fhould believe it right, though unintelligible; for what goodnefs hath evidently appointed is good; and I would have reprimanded the reluctance of my heart for difliking what the Author of nature, the Father of mercies, hath chofen. But I think I fee clearly the wifdom and benevolence of this scheme of things; my reafon is convinced, but my averfion to mifery is fo indifcreetly ftrong, that it overpowers my judgment, and I am downright vicious, out of an excess of goodness. This prevents my joining in the amusements of the place, this and my laziness together; and though I am in a crowd of company I spend my day in folitude. I am, &c. beauties as imagination. It is a subject, that our firft parents would have fung in Paradife, had they never been feduced, by the ferene flattery of falfe knowledge, to forfake humility and innocence. But they would fcarcely have excited, by what they fung, a purer praise of virtue or higher raptures of adoration, than will warm your heart, when you read the defcription of these rural scenes of the graces and benevolence of nature. Such writings give dignity to leifure, and exalt entertainment and amufements into devotion. If I praise the performance more than it deferves, confider it as an honest art of giving value to my prefent: for I would not willingly offer any thing to you, of which I ha. not an high esteem. But I confefs, I am fo fond of poetry, that every attempt to unite and marry it to virtue is extremely agreeable to me; and I can, on fuch occafions, fcarcely forbear compofing their epithalamium. Hail facred verfe, thou eldeft offspring of human ingenuity! before letters were invented, numbers and the mufic of regularly unequal fyllables retained thofe hiftories in the memory of mankind, which then there was no outward learning to preferve. By thee thofe fons of reafon, arts, philofophy, and laws, were nourished and educated; men were civilized and fociety made delightful. The chronicles of the Bards and the inftruction of the Druids on every duty and ornament of life were adorned by harmony, and by pleafing imagination were remembered with eafe. How much better known is the hunting on Chiviot, than the glorious deeds of our ancestors at Creffy and Agincourt? In verfe oracles were delivered to man kind. The fublimity, and beauty, and difficulty of that measured language were thought a proof that it came from more than mortal beings. Men have not been unwilling to acknowledge every aftonit ing accomplishment to be owing to the afliftance of fome divinity; that whilst they praifed thofe noble abilities they might comfort their own vanity, and not think any of their brethren naturally fo very much their fuperiors: for an oak was ftill an oak, though Jove returned his answers from it. In verfe, men offered up their grati tude in temples, though fanctity of manners and an harmony of life were a more Na 4 acceptable Poetry and mufic were thus introduced into public worship. The care of a decency in ranging and giving harmony to the order of their words taught an higher care of the infinitely more fublime, more pleafing decency of a right conduct in life; and a right harmony amidst the affections of the heart. Devotion thus was deemed flovenly and carelefs and uninftructive, when feparated from verfe; like coming into the prefence of a king undreffed, it was a negligence, which was interpreted difrefpect. The defire of communicating knowledge to each other, and expreffing the gratitude and thankfulness, with which they glowed towards heaven, gave birth to the fweet art of adding mufic to words. They joined uniformity and variety (in which every fort of beauty confifts) to the meafures, with which their fentences moved from the tongue. But a love of money and trade at laft in vented letters, embodied thought, and made founds become visible and immortal. There was then no longer a neceffity to embalm ftories in verfe, to induce men to remember them; because they could now be engraven on marble, or, what is more -durable, on paper, and laft to future ages in spite of the careleffnefs of the prefent. Men having now their hearts turned to the adoration of the new goddefs, daughter of trade, unneceffary riches, neglected the pomp and dignity of that worfhip, which was their joy, whilft innocence and contentment with nature's bounty governed them. Verfe, therefore, and the laboured fimplicity of its charms, were no longer cultivated for the temple, but the tawdry beauties, which trade invented, banished her thence to feat themselves in her place. Gold and embroidery, fculpture and painting, was toned with nimic finery, to captivate the heart, and recommended and pleaded for the fervice of that idol Superftition, becaufe fhe in return pleaded for their high ufe and religious value. When poetry was degraded from being the priestefs of nature, the foon was feduced to lend her office to meaner pur pofes, and became the fervant of every paffion in the temper; and vanity and love chiefly retained her in their fervice, and flattery and lafciviousness were loan made too agreeable by her affifiance. How worthy therefore is the defiga f chiding her meannefs, to recall her to ter firit high office of adorning piety, and raising an ambition after virtue. This is the intention of Mr. Thomfon's work, which I fend you. I am willing to be blind to every imperfection, where is worthy a with guided the pen. But what are the imperfections! a rough or hard word, now and then indulged to lift s numbers above profe, and make the pal try gingle of rhime unneceflary; the repetition of the fame phrafe, every where highly proper perhaps; but the wart of writing concealed from him the remembrance, that the reader is, though the writer is not, cool enough to demand variety; a hint not worked up to t height which our unexperienced imag nation thinks it might be carried; be d we had tried ourselves, we fhould word at the dignity to which words have rid it. Thefe and fuch mighty imperfectio offend thofe who are untouched eneg to be fo minutely judicious. But the fo timents of liberty, of virtue, of genes manly piety, hurry away my approbatica, and I have not leifure enough to be fage cious. The most amufing paintings of poet that fwiftly transport me from icar to fcene of nature, ever charming, a wonderful, fo fill my heart with raptor, that I forget the poet and myself, a am only attentive on him and his works, whofe goodness ordained the prefent e ufeful proportion of thefe changes, wh are in all their majetty of wisdom pled before my reafon to demand its gratirace, Out of the abundance of the heart the pen as well as the tongue fpeaketh, and my love of poetry hath made me forget, to what an indecent length of praise [ have fuffered it to ramble and take up that paper, which fhould be allotted to more epiftolary fubjects. I yesterday was at Afted; my Lord is better, |