say, O madam! women love not King Logs!—The dear creature, without intending contradiction, is a mistress of it. She is so good as to think me, among men, a tolerably sensible one; but that is only in general; for if we come to particulars, she will always put me right, by the superiority of her own understanding. But I am even with her very often. And how, do you ask, madam? why, by giving up my will to hers; and then the honest soul is puzzled what (in a doubful case) to resolve upon. And, in mere pity to her puzzlings, I have let her know my wishes; and then at once she resolves, by doing the very contrary to what she thinks them to be. And here again, I am now and then, but not often, too hard for her.—And how? -You guess, my lady.-Need I say, that it is by proposing the very contrary to what I wish ;-but so much for-King Log and his frog. How apt are we to bring in our own feelings, by head and shoulders, as the saying is, when we are led to it by cases either similar or opposite to our own!

But one word more of the gentleman, if you please. He may already, if not confoundedly tired of beauty (sameness is a confounded thing to a lover of variety), be growing prudent: since, I am told, that he begins to think of retiring somewhere, in order to save expense.

I was sure your ladyship would be pleased with the generosity of my hero, as shown in the two letters I sent you. You blame me for not thinking of publishing in my life-time. You deny me assistance; you depend upon the poor old woman's blinking light; yet I wish I had had the flash of

your torch to light me. If in boisterous weather a flambeau will not stand it, what can a rushlight do?

Your ladyship asks me if I would publish, if my writing ladies would give me each a letter. "Remember," say you, "that we have you in our power." Well, madam! then you will allow me to stop till you do.

Tell you sincerely, which do I think, upon the whole, men or women, have the greatest trials of patience, and which bears them the best? You mean, you say, from one sex to the other only?— What a question is here! Which? why women, to be sure.

Man is an animal that must bustle in the world, go abroad, converse, fight battles, encounter other dangers of seas, winds, and I know not what, in order to protect, provide for, maintain, in ease and plenty, women. Bravery, anger, fierceness, occasionally are made familiar to them. They buffet, and are buffeted by the world; are impatient and uncontrollable. They talk of honour, and run their heads against stone walls, to make good their pretensions to it; and often quarrel with one another, and fight duels, upon any other silly thing that happens to raise their choler; with their shadows, if you please.

While women are meek, passive, good creatures, who, used to stay at home, set their maids at work, and formerly themselves-get their houses in or der, to receive, comfort, oblige, give joy to, their fierce, fighting, bustling, active protectors, providers, maintainers-divert him with pretty pug's tricks, tell him soft tales of love, and of who and who's together, and what has been done in his

absence-bring to him little master, so like his own dear papa; and little pretty miss, a soft, sweet, smiling soul, with her sampler in her hand, so like what her meek mamma was at her years! And with these differences in education, nature, employments, your ladyship asks, whether the man or the woman bears more from each other? has the more patience? Dearest lady! how can you be so severe upon your own sex, yet seem to persuade yourself that you are defending them?

What you say of a lover's pressing his mistress to a declaration of her love for him, is sweetly pretty, and very just; but let a man press as he will, if the lady answers him rather by her obliging manners than in words, she will leave herself something to declare, and she will find herself rather more than less respected for it: such is the nature of man! A man hardly ever presumes to press a lady to make this declaration, but when he thinks himself sure of her. He urges her, therefore, to add to his own consequence; and hopes to quit scores with her, when he returns love for love, and favour for favour: and thus "draws the tenderbearted soul to professions which she is often upbraided for all her life after," says your ladyship. But these must be the most ungenerous of men. All I would suppose is, that pride and triumph is the meaning of the urgency for a declaration which pride and triumph make a man think unnecessary; and perhaps to know how far he may go, and be within allowed compass. A woman who is brought to own her love to the man, must act accordingly towards him; must be more indulgent to him; must, in a word, abate of her own significance,

and add to his. And have you never seen a man strut upon the occasion, and how tame and bashful a woman looks after she has submitted to make the acknowledgment? The behaviour of each to the other, upon it and after it, justifies the caution to the sex, which I would never have a woman forget-always to leave to herself the power of granting something; yet her denials may be so managed as to be more attractive than her compliances. Women, Lovelace says (and he pretends to know them), are fond of ardours; but there is an end of them when a lover is secure. He can then look about him, and be occasionally, if not indifferent, unpunctual, and delight in being missed, expected, and called to tender account for his careless absences; and he will be less and less solicitous about giving good reasons for them, as she is more and more desirous of his company Poor fool! he has brought her to own that she loves him and will she not bear with the man she loves? She, herself, as I have observed, will think she must act consistently with her declaration; and he will plead that declaration in his favour, le his neglects or slights be what they will. Yourst &c.

LETTER XLVII.

LADY BRADSHAIGH TO MR. RICHARDSON.

January 3, 1752.

I HOPE I shall never be more angry with my valuable correspondent than I appeared to be in my

last letter; though you love to make me angry, and you know how vindictive a heart I have: therefore do not provoke me too far. Remember, a woman is never behind-hand in revenge; and how do you think I mean to complete it? even by keeping my temper. If that does not vex you, I know nothing that will.

You ask, "how could I sting, and be so gracious in the same sentence?" Why, because I expected something in answer that would please me, and I was not disappointed. May I never want a sting to draw such honey from your pen.

Can I, do I, “ engage your delight with your attention?" May I ever do so; and I will take upon me to say, I shall never owe you a grain ou that score.

Do you really think, sir, that "prerogative from your sex to ours, early exerted in the married state, will sink most women into mere humble passive wives?" How is this, "if he sets out right?”—Right! right! do you call it? Much depends upon the various tempers on both sides. Without being a vixen, indeed, a woman may be. have with dignity and with duty, and, at the same time, despise the man who is mean enough to remind her of his prerogative, and that she is his vas

-What is the ugly word?—I do not understand it. Why will you write Greek to the unlearned? And ignorant I may remain; for the man whose happy wife I am, as he never has explained it, would not willingly do it, were I to ask him. Insolent bravery, however, is plain English, and very properly applied. You have "too often observed (too often indeed, if ever) that fear as well as love