where destroy the grandeur, there are in the chief front two semicircles of a lower structure than the rest, that cut off the angles, and look as if they were purposely designed to hide a loftier and nobler piece of building, the top of which appears above them. In a word, the whole is a most expensive absurdity; and the Duke of Shrewsbury gave a true character of it, when he said, it was a great quarry of stones above ground.

We paid a visit to the Spring where Rosamond bathed herself; on a hill, where remains only a piece of a wall of the old palace of Henry II. We toasted her shade in the cold water, not without a thought or two, scarce so cold as the liquor we drank it in. I dare not tell you what they were, and so hasten to conclude,

Your, &c.

MADAM,

LETTER XXI.

TO MRS. TERESA BLOUNT.

Aug. 7, 1716.

I HAVE SO much esteem for you, and so much of the other thing, that, were I a handsome fellow, I should do you a vast deal of good: but as it is, all I am good for, is to write a civil letter, or to make a fine speech. The truth is, that considering how often and how openly I have declared love to you, I am astonished (and a little affronted) that you have not forbid my correspondence, and directly said, See my face no more.

It is not enough, Madam, for your reputation, that have your you hands pure from the stain of such ink as might be shed to gratify a male correspondent: alas! while your heart consents to encourage him in this lewd liberty of writing, you are not (indeed you are not) what you would so fain have me think you,-a prude! I am vain enough to conclude (like most young fellows), that a fine lady's silence is consent, and so I write on.

But, in order to be as innocent as possible in this epistle, I will tell you news. You have asked me news a thousand times, at the first word you spoke to me; which some would interpret as if you expected nothing better from my lips and truly it is not a sign two lovers are together, when they can be so impertinent as to inquire what the world does. All I mean by this is, that either you or I cannot be in love with the other: I leave you to guess which of the two is that stupid and insensible creature, so blind to the other's excellences and charms.

But to my news.-My Lord Burlington's and my journey to the north is put off till September. Mr. Gay has had a fall from his horse, and broken his fine snuff-box. Your humble servant has lost his blue cloak. Mr. Edmund Curll has been exercised in a blanket, and whipped at Westminster school by the boys, whereof the common prints have given some account.* If you have seen a

*This circumstance fixes the date of the year which we have given to this Letter. Curll's well-earned whipping took place in

late advertisement, you will know that I have not told a lie (which we both abominate), but equivocated pretty genteelly: you may be confident it was not done without leave from my spiritual director. My next news is a trifle. I will wait upon you at Whiteknight's in a fortnight or three weeks, unless you send me word to the contrary; which I beg you to do if I shall not find you there. Would to God you could go to Grinstead or the Bath, I would attend you to either.

As I always am impertinent in my questions concerning you, to every body that has seen or heard from you, so I have lately received much gladness, in the belief that you might do so, from the late entertainments of the Lord Cadogan in your neighbourhood. I heartily wish many times you led the same course of life which I here partly enjoy and partly regret; for I am not a day without what they call elegant company. I have not dined but at great entertainments these ten days, in pleasant villas about the Thames, whose banks are now more populous than London, through the neighbourhood of Hampton-Court

[A part of this letter torn off]

-Upon the whole, I am melancholy, which, to say truth, is (all one) gets by pleasures themselves. Yet as I believe melancholy (hurts) me as little as any one, so I sincerely wish much (rather to) be so

the beginning of August, 1716, as appears by a humorous letter, copied by Mr. Nichols in "Atterbury's Correspondence," from the St. James's Chronicle, and dated Aug. 3. C. Bowles.

myself, than that those I value should partake (of it). In particular, your ease and happiness would be a great part (of my) study, were I your guardian angel: as I am, a poor ****, it is one of my most earnest wishes. Believe me, dear Madam,

Your most faithful humble servant, &c.

Pray tell Miss Patty, that, though she will not write to me, I hear she writes for me, which I ought to take as kindly: this I was informed of by Mr. Caryll.

LETTER XXII.

TO MARTHA AND TERESA BLOUNT.

DEAR LADIES,

Oakley Bower, Oct. 8, (1716).

NOTHING but your having bid me write to you often, would make me do it again without an apology. I do not know where you are, or whether you have received my letters; but conclude this cannot be disagreeable to you, unless you have altered your minds,-a thing which in women I take to be impossible. It will serve, if for nothing else, to give my services to Mr. Caryl, supposing you with him; if not, keep them yourselves: for services (you know) are of that nature, that, like certain other common things, they will fit every body.

I am with Lord Bathurst, at my bower;* in

* Pope's seat at Cirencester is still shewn. Bowles.

whose groves we had yesterday a dry walk of three hours. It is the place that of all others I fancy; and I am not yet out of humour with it, though I have had it some months: it does not cease to be agreeable to me so late in the season; the very dying of the leaves adds a variety of colours that is not unpleasant. I look upon it, as upon a beauty I once loved, whom I should preserve a respect for in her decay; and as we should look upon a friend, with remembrance how he pleased us once, though now declined from his gay and flourishing condition.

I write an hour or two every morning, then ride out a hunting upon the Downs, eat heartily, talk tender sentiments with Lord B., or draw plans for houses and gardens, open avenues, cut glades, plant firs, contrive water-works, all very fine and beautiful in our own imagination. At night we play at commerce, and play pretty high: I do more, I bett too; for I am really rich, and must throw away my money if no deserving friend will use it. I like this course of life so well, that I am resolved to stay here till I hear of somebody's being in town that is worth coming after.

Since you are so silent in the country, I cannot expect a word from you when you get to London. The first week must needs be wholly employed in making new gowns, the second in shewing them, the third in seeing other people's, and fourth, fifth, and so on, in balls, plays, assemblies, operas, &c. How can a poor translator and hare-hunter hope