unless I could have sent her the testimony without the tax, for even howd'yes to invalids, or those who have lately been so, either call to mind what is past or what may return-at least I find it so. I am as happy as a prince, at Coxwould-and I wish you could see in how princely a manner I live -'tis a land of plenty; I sit down alone to venison, fish, wild-fowl, or a couple of fowls or ducks, with curds, and straw-berries, and cream, and all the simple plenty which a rich valley (under Hamilton Hills) can produce-with a clean cloth on my table and a bottle of wine on my right hand to drink your health. I have a hundred hens and chickens about my yard-and not a parishioner catches a hare, or a rabbit, or a trout, but he brings it as an offering to me. If solitude would cure a love-sick heart, I would give you an invitation-but absence and time lessen no attachment which virtue inspires. I am in high spirits-care never enters this cottage-I take the air every day in my post-chaise, with two long-tailed horses —they turn out good ones; and as to myself, I think I am better upon the whole for the medicines and regimen I submitted to in town-May you, dear L want neither the one, nor the

other! Yours truly.

LETTER LVI.

MR. STERNE TO IGNATIUS SANCHO.

Coxwould, June 30, 1767.

I MUST acknowledge the courtesy of my good friend Sancho's letter, were I ten times busier than

I am; and must thank him too for the many expressions of his good-will, and good opinion-Tis all affectation to say a man is not gratified with being praised-we only want it to be sincere-and then it will be taken, Sancho, as kindly as yours. I left town very poorly-and with an idea I was taking leave of it for ever-but good air, a quiet retreat, and quiet reflections along with it, with an ass to milk, and another to ride upon (if I choose it), all together do wonders. I shall live this year at least, I hope, be it but to give the world, before I quit it, as good impressions of me, as you have, Sancho. I would only covenant for just so much health and spirits as are sufficient to carry my pen through the task I have set it this summer. But I am a resigned being, Sancho, and take health and sickness, as I do light and darkness, or the vicissitudes of seasons—that is, just as it pleases God to send them-and accommodate myself to their periodical returns, as well as I can —only taking care, whatever befals me in this silly world-not to lose my temper at it.-This I believe, friend Sancho, to be the truest philosophyfor this we must be indebted to ourselves, but not to our fortunes. Farewell-I hope you will not forget your custom of giving me a call at my lodgings next winter-in the mean time, I am very cordially, my honest friend Sancho, yours.

LETTER LVII.

MR. STERNE TO MISS STERNE.

Coxwould, August 24, 1767.

I AM truly surprised, my dear Lydia, that my last letter has not reached thy mother, and thyself—it looks most unkind on my part, after your having wrote me word of your mother's intention of coming to England, that she has not received my letter to welcome you both-and though in that I said I wished you would defer your journey till March, for before that time I should have published my sentimental work, and should be in town to receive you-yet I will show you more real politeness than any you have met with in France, as mine will come warm from the heart. I am sorry you are not here at the races, but les fêtes champêtres of the marquis de Sade have made you amends. I know B very well, and he is what in France would be called admirable-that would be but so so here -You are right-he studies nature more than any, or rather most, of the French comedians-If the empress of Russia pays him and his wife a pension of twenty thousand livres a year, I think he is very well off. The folly of staying till after twelve for supper-that you two excommunicated beings might have meat!" his conscience would not let it be served before." Surely the marquis thought you both, being English, could not be satisfied without it. I would have given, not my gown and cassock (for I have but one), but my topaz ring, to have seen the petits maîtres et mal.

tresses go to mass, after having spent the night in dancing. As to my pleasures, they are few in compass. My poor cat sets purring beside me— your lively French dog shall have his place on the other side of my fire-but if he is as devilish as when I last saw him, I must tutor him, for I will not have my cat abused-in short I will have nothing devilish about me-a combustion will spoil a sentimental thought.

Another thing I must desire-o not be alarmed -'tis to throw all your rouge pots into the Sorgue before you set out-I will have no rouge put on in England-and do not bewail them as

did her silver feringue or glister equipage which she lost in a certain river-but take a wise resolution of doing without rouge-I have been three days ago bad again-with a spitting of bloodand that unfeeling brute ******* came and drew my curtains, and with a voice like a trumpet, halloo'd in my ear-Z- -ds, what a fine kettle of fish have you brought yourself to, Mr. S! In a faint voice, I bade him leave me, for comfort sure was never administered in so rough a manner.— Tell your mother I hope she will purchase what either of you may want at Paris-'tis an occasion not to be lost-so write to me from Paris, that I may come and meet you in my post-chaise with my long-tailed horses-and the moment you have both put your feet in it, call it hereafter yours.— Adieu, dear Lydia-believe me, what I ever shall be your affectionate father.

I think I shall not write to Avignon any more, but you will find one for you at Paris-Once more, adieu.

LETTER LVIII.

MR. STERNE TO MR. AND MRS. J

Coxwould, November 12, 1767.

FORGIVE me, dear Mrs. J- if I am troublesome in writing something betwixt a letter and a card, to inquire after you and my good friend Mr. J. whom 'tis an age since I have heard a syllable of.. -I think so, however, and never more felt the want of a house I esteem so much, as I do now when I can hear tidings of it so seldom-and have nothing to recompense my desires of seeing its kind possessors, but the hopes before me of doing it by Christmas. I long sadly to see you-and my friend Mr. J- I am still at Coxwouldmy wife and girl here. She is a dear good creature -affectionate, and most elegant in body and mind -she is all Heaven could give me in a daughterbut like other blessings, not given, but lent; for her mother loves France-and this dear part of me must be torn from my arms, to follow her mother, who seems inclined to establish her in France, where she has had many advantageous offers.-Do not smile at my weakness, when I say I don't wonder at it, for she is as accomplished a slut as France can produce. You shall excuse all this-if you won't, I desire Mr. J- to be my advocatebut I know I don't want one.-With what pleasure shall I embrace your dear little pledgewhom I hope to see every hour increasing in stature, and in favour, both with God and man!-I kiss all your hands with a most devout and friendly