men best like the ugliest fellows, as the most admirable productions of nature, and look upon deformities as the signatures of divine favour. But (so romantic as I am) I should scarce take these rambles, without greater encouragement than I fancy any one who has been long married can expect. You see what danger I shall be in, if ever I find a fair one born under the same planet with Astolfo's wife. If, instead of Hungary, you passed through Italy, and I had any hopes that lady's climate might give a turn to your inclinations, it is but your sending me the least notice, and I will certainly meet you in Lombardy, the scene of those celebrated amours between the fair princess and her dwarf. From thence, how far you might draw me, and I might run after you, I no more know than the spouse in the song of Solomon : this I know, that I could be so very glad of being with you in any pleasure, that I could be content to be with you in any danger. Since I am not to partake either, adieu: but may God, by hearing my prayers and preserving you, make me a better Christian than any modern poet is at present. I am, Madam, Your, &c.

LETTER X.

TO LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU.

MADAM,

February 3, (1717).

I WISH I Could write any thing to divert you, but it is impossible in the very unquiet state I am put into by your letter. It has grievously afflicted me, without affectation; and I think you would hardly have writ it in so strong terms, had you known to what a degree I feel the loss of those I value (it is only decency that hinders me from saying, of her I value). From this instant you are doubly dead to me; and all the vexation and concern I endured at your parting from England, was nothing to what I suffer the moment I hear you have left Vienna. Till now, I had some small hopes in God, and in fortune; I waited for accidents, and had at least the faint comfort of a wish, when I thought of you; I am now-I cannot tell what-I will not tell what, for it would grieve you. This letter is a piece of madness that throws me after you in a distracted manner. do not know which way to write, which way to send it, or if ever it will reach your hands: if it does, what can you infer from it, but what I am half afraid and half willing you should know,how very much I was yours, how unfortunately well I knew you, and with what a miserable constancy I shall ever remember you?

I

If this falls into any other hands, it will say

nothing I shall be ashamed to own, when either distance or death (for ought I can tell) shall have removed you for ever from the scandal of so mean an admirer.

What you say of your illness frightens me with a prospect I can never so much as dream of without horror. Though I am never to see you again, may you live to please other eyes, and improve other minds than mine; may you appear to distant worlds like a sun that is sunk out of the sight of our hemisphere, to gladden the other. It is no figure of speech when I tell you, that those mountains of snow, and woods laid in ashes, you describe, are what I could wish to traverse with you. I find I flattered myself when I thought Italy had pleasures that could allure me to have met you there; I see it was only the view of meeting you that made that country appear charming to me; and I now envy the deserts and devastations of Hungary more than any parts of the polite world. It is seriously true, that I have not, since your last letter, the least inclination to see Italy, though, before I received it, I longed for your summons thither :-but it is foolish to tell you this;-did I say foolish? It is a thousand times worse, it is in vain!

You touch me very sensibly, in saying you think so well of my friendship; in that you do me too much honour. Would to God you would (even at this distance) allow me to correct this period, and change these phrases according to the real

truth of my heart. I am foolish again; and methinks I am imitating, in my ravings, the dreams of splenetic enthusiasts and solitaires, who fall in love with saints, and fancy themselves in the favour of angels and spirits, whom they can never see or touch. I hope indeed that you, like one of those better beings, have a benevolence towards me; and I, on my part, really look up to you with zeal and fervour, not without some faint expectation of meeting hereafter, which is something between piety and madness.

Madam, I beg you to be so just to my impatience and anxiety for your sake, as to give me the first notice possible of your health and progress. This letter takes its chance from Mr. Stanhope's office. Though you direct me to the merchant-ships bound for Constantinople, I could not stay so long as till one of those sets out. Whether you receive letters from me or not, you may depend upon my having writ, as the consequence of my thinking so often and so warmly of you. May Providence overshadow you, and that virtue and spirit which exposes you to dangers, protect you from them. I am the most earnest of your well-wishers, and was going to say, your most faithful servant, but am angry at the weakness of all the terms I can use to Yours. express myself,

LETTER XI.

FROM LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU.

Vienna, October 10, 1716.

I

DESERVE not all the reproaches you make me. If I have been some time without answering your letter, it is not, that I do not know how many thanks are due to you for it; or that I am stupid enough to prefer any amusements to the pleasure of hearing from you; but after the professions of esteem you have so obligingly made me, I cannot help delaying, as long as I can, shewing you that you are mistaken. If you are sincere, when you say you expect to be extremely entertained by my letters, I ought to be mortified at the disappointment that I am sure you will receive, when you hear from me; though I have done my best endeavours to find out something worth writing to you.

I have seen every thing that was to be seen with a very diligent curiosity. Here are some fine villas, particularly the late prince of Litchtenstein's; but the statues are all modern, and the pictures not of the first hands. It is true, the emperor has some of great value. I was yesterday to see the repository, which they call his treasure, where they seem to have been more diligent in amassing a great quantity of things, than in the choice of them. I spent above five hours there, and yet