are to adorn them. Nay more, the meeting of the Thames and the Severn, which (when the noble owner has finer dreams than ordinary) are to be led into each other's embraces through secret caverns of not above twelve or fifteen miles, till they rise and celebrate their marriage in the midst of an immense amphitheatre, which is to be the admiration of posterity a hundred years hence. But till the destined time shall arrive that is to manifest these wonders, Mrs. Digby must content herself with seeing what is at present no more than the finest wood in England.

The objects that attract this part of the world, are of a quite different nature. Women of quality are all turned followers of the camp in Hyde-Park this year, whither all the town resort to magnificent entertainments given by the officers, &c. The Scythian ladies that dwelt in the waggons of war, were not more closely attached to the luggage. The matrons, like those of Sparta, attend their sons to the field, to be the witnesses of their glorious deeds; and the maidens, with all their charms displayed, provoke the spirit of the soldiers. Tea and coffee supply the place of Lacedemonian black broth. This camp seems crowned with perpetual victory, for every sun that rises in the thunder of cannon, sets in the music of violins. Nothing is yet wanting but the constant presence of the Princess, to represent the Mater Exercitus.

At Twickenham the world goes otherwise. There are certain old people who take up all my time, and will hardly allow me to keep any other company. They were introduced here by a man of their own sort, who

9 Such has been the rapid improvement in every thing relating to general and public utility, in the course of much less than a hundred years, that what Pope and Bathurst considered as "such things as dreams are made of," the junction of the Thames and Severn, has actually taken place; and the "admiration" is, that it could be so long before it was effected.Bowles.

has made me perfectly rude to all contemporaries, and would not so much as suffer me to look upon them. The person I complain of is the Bishop of Rochester. Yet he allows me (from something he has heard of your character and that of your family, as if you were of the old sect of moralists) to write three or four sides of paper to you, and to tell you (what these sort of people never tell but with truth and religious sincerity) that I am, and ever will be, Your, &c.

LETTER XIII.

TO MR. DIGBY.

THE same reason that hindered your writing, hindered mine, the pleasing expectation to see you in town. Indeed, since the willing confinement I have lain under here with my mother, (whom it is natural and reasonable I should rejoice with, as well as grieve,) I could the better bear your absence from London, for I could hardly have seen you there; and it would not have been quite reasonable to have drawn you to a sick room hither, from the first embraces of your friends. My mother is now (I thank God) wonderfully recovered, though not so much as yet to venture out of her chamber, but enough to enjoy a few particular friends, when they have the good nature to look upon her. I may recommend to you the room we sit in, upon one (and that a favourite) account, that it is the very warmest in the house; we and our fires will equally smile upon your face. There is a Persian proverb that says (I think very prettily), "The conversation of a friend brightens the eyes." This I take to be a splendour still more agreeable than the fires you so delightfully describe.

That you may long enjoy your own fire-side in the metaphorical sense; that is, all those of your family

who make it pleasing to sit and spend whole wintry months together; a far more rational delight, and better felt by an honest heart, than all the glaring entertainments, numerous lights, and false splendours, of an Assembly of empty heads, aching hearts, and false faces; this is my sincere wish to you and yours.

You say you propose much pleasure in seeing some new faces about town, of my acquaintance. I guess you mean Mrs. Howard's and Mrs. Blount's. And I assure you, you ought to take as much pleasure in their hearts, if they are what they sometimes express with regard to you.

Believe me, dear Sir, to you all, a very faithful

servant.

LETTER XIV.

FROM MR. DIGBY.

Sherborne, August 14, 1723.

I CANNOT return from so agreeable an entertainment as yours in the country, without acknowledging it. I thank you heartily for the new agreeable idea of life you there gave me; it will remain long with me, for it is very strongly impressed upon my imagination. I repeat the memory of it often, and shall value that faculty of the mind now more than ever, for the power it gives me of being entertained, in your villa, when absent from it. As you are possessed of all the pleasures of the country, and, as I think, of a right mind, what can I wish you but health to enjoy them? This I so heartily do, that I should be even glad to hear your good old mother might lose all her present pleasures in her unwearied care of you, by your better health convincing them it is unnecessary.

I am troubled, and shall be so, till I hear you have received this letter: for you gave me the greatest pleasure imaginable in yours, and I am impatient to acknowledge it. If I any ways deserve that friendly warmth and affection with which you write, it is, that I have a heart full of love and esteem for you: so truly, that I should lose the greatest pleasure of my life if I lost your good opinion. It rejoices me very much to be reckoned by you in the class of honest men: for though I am not troubled over much about the opinion most may have of me, yet, I own, it would grieve me not to be thought well of by you and some few others. I will not doubt my own strength, yet I have this further security to maintain my integrity, that I cannot part with that, without forfeiting your esteem with it.

Perpetual disorder and ill health have for some years so disguised me, that I sometimes fear I do not to my best friends enough appear what I really am. Sickness is a great oppressor; it does great injury to a zealous heart, stifling its warmth, and not suffering it to break out into action. But I hope I shall not make this complaint much longer. I have other hopes that please me too, though not so well grounded: these are, that you may yet make a journey westward with Lord Bathurst; but of the probability of this I do not venture to reason, because I would not part with the pleasure of that belief. It grieves me to think how far I am removed from you, and from that excellent Lord, whom I love! Indeed, I remember him, as one that has made sickness easy to me, by bearing with my infirmities in the same manner that you have always done. I often too consider him in other lights that make him valuable to me. With him, I know not by what connexion, you never fail to come into my mind, as if you were inseparable. I have, as you guess, many philosophical

reveries in the shades of Sir Walter Raleigh', of which you are a great part. You generally enter there with me, and like a good genius, applaud and strengthen all my sentiments that have honour in them. This good office, which you have often done me unknowingly, I must acknowledge now, that my own breast may not reproach me with ingratitude, and disquiet me when I would muse again in that solemn scene. I have not room now left to ask you many questions I intended about the Odyssey. I beg I may know how far you have carried Ulysses on his journey, and how you have been entertained with him on the I desire I may hear of your health, of Mrs. Pope's, and of every thing else that belongs to you.

way.

How thrive your garden plants? How look the trees? How spring the brocoli and the fenochio? Hard names to spell! How did the poppies bloom? And how is the great room approved? What parties have you had of pleasure? What in the grotto? What upon the Thames? I would know how all your hours pass, all you say, and all you do; of which I should question you yet farther, but my paper is full and spares you. My brother Ned2 is wholly yours, so my father desires to be, and every soul here whose name is Digby. My sister will be yours in particular. What can I add more? I am, &c.

1 Sherborne Castle was granted by Elizabeth, to the amiable, brave, learned, and most injured Sir Walter Raleigh; all things considered, perhaps, the greatest character on English record.

About three miles from the eastern entrance to the park, in the great western road, between Shaftesbury and Sherborne, there is an inn, at the village of Henstridge, called the "Virginia Inn;" so called from the discovery of Virginia in America by Raleigh. It is a fact, that when in this inn tobacco, at this time unknown in England, was smoked, the gentleman, from whose mouth the smoke appeared issuing, was supposed to deal with the Devil, or to be the Devil himself!! This is the tradition of Henstridge at this time,—1804.— Bowles.

Edward Digby, third son of William, Lord Digby. After the death of his brother, he supplied his seat in Parliament, and married Charlotte, daughter of Sir Stephen Fox.-Bowles.