P. S. As I was going to fold my letter, I heard a second knell.. Asking whose it was, it proved my next neighbour's.-What has man to do but to know the vanity, and avoid the vexation, of human life? Evils fly so near and so thick about us, that I'm half persuaded, my dear friend, that we should aim at little more than negative good here, and positive in another scene- –Escape here, and enjoyment hereafter.

LETTER XL.

DR. YOUNG TO MR. RICHARDSON.

MY VALUED FRIEND, Bullstrode, Nov. 26, 1745. AFTER a very wet journey above and below, I arrived at this family, to arrive at which one would be glad to go through some difficulties. Virtue, prudence, peace, industry, ingenuity, and amiableness, dwell here. You will say I keep very good company-but you must know that anxiety has lately intruded, without the least invitation from folly or vice. The duke* has a considerable estate in and about Carlisle, which must have suffered much; nor can they yet see to the end of the mischief. So that the common calamity makes more than a common impression here. God Almighty send us good news and good hearts.

I was a little struck at my first reading your list of evils in your last letter. Evils they are, but surmountable ones, and not only so, but actually by

Duke of Portland.

you surmounted, not more to the admiration, than the comfort, of all that know you. But granting them worse than they are, there is great difference between middle and old age. Hope is quartered on the middle of life, and fear on the latter end of it; and hope is ever inspiring pleasant dreams, and fear hideous ones. And if any good arises beyond our hope, we have such a diffidence of its stay, that the apprehension of losing it destroys the pleasure of possessing it: it adds to our fears, rather than increases our joys. What shall we do in this case? Help me to an expedient: there is but one that I know of; which is, that since the things of this life, from their mixture, repetition, defectiveness, and, in age, short duration, are unable to satisfy, we must aid their natural by a moral pleasure; we must season them with a spice of religion, to make them more palatable; we must consider that 'tis God's will that we should be content and pleased with them: and thus the thinness of the natural pleasure, by our sense of joining an obedience to Heaven to it, will become much more substantial, and satisfactory.-We shall find great account in considering content, not only as a prudence but as a duty too.

Religion is all; and (happy for us!) it is all-sufficient too in our last extremities; a full proof of which I will steal from yourself. So all-sufficient is religion, that you could not draw, in Clarissa, the strongest object of pity, without giving us in it (thanks to her religion) an object of envy too.

Pray my love and service to all, and to Mr. Groves among the rest, who has lately much obliged, dear sir, &c.

LETTER XLI.

DR. YOUNG TO MR. RICHARDSON.

MY DEAR SIR,

July 17, 1746. AFTER long absence (long I mean to my feeling), I yesterday returned home, as to a pillow, which gives me that joy in rest, of which you will not be able to entertain any idea these twenty years.

You convince me, every day, more and more, of the singularity of your character; your heart is, I find, set on doing good offices, and to those who are least capable of returning them. If there is any such thing as virtue, it consists in such a conduct; and if there is any such thing as wisdom, it consists in virtue! What else can furnish either joy or peace? For when a man has had years, reflection, and experience enough to take off the mask from men and things, it is impossible for him to propose to himself any true peace, but peace of conscience; or any real joy, but joy in the Holy Ghost. This, another might call preaching; but you, sir, must either condemn the whole tenor of your life, or allow it to be common sense.

On his travels a very old man dines with me this day, the rev. Mr. Watty, whose character may be briefly given by comparing him to a frosty night. There are many thoughts in him that glitter through the dominion of darkness. Though it is night, it is a star-light night; and if you (as you have promised) should succeed him in our little hemisphere, I should welcome Richardson as re

turning day. In a word, I love you, and delight in your conversation, which permits me to think of something more than what I see! a favour which the conversation of very few others will indulge to, dear sir, &c.

LETTER XLII.

FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.

Wellwyn, Nov. 11, 1746.

DEAR SIR, I THANK you for enabling me, at my time of day, to think with great pleasure of living another year. A summer bearing such fruits as you kindly give me cause to expect, may excuse me for wishing to see longer days than we at present enjoy. I consider Clarissa as my last amour; I am as tender of her welfare as I am sensible of her charms. This amour differs from all others in one respect -I should rejoice to have all the world my rivals in it.

The waters here are not new things; they were in great vogue fifty years ago; but an eminent physician of this place dying, by degrees they were forgot. We have a physician now near us who drinks them himself all the winter; and a lady comes seven miles every morning for the same purpose. They are the same as Tunbridge; and I myself have found from them just the same effect.

As to the melancholy part of your letter-our Chelsea friend; poor soul!-But God is good; and