forry place after twelve years refidence in a happier climate. He is a very agreeable man, and speaks no Scotch.

Keep Mafter to his diet, and tell him that his illwillers are very unwilling to think that he can ever fit more in parliament, but by caution and refolution he may fee many parliaments. Pay my refpects to Queeney and Burney. Living fo apart we shall get no credit by our ftudies; but I hope to see you all again some time. Do not let feparation make us forget one another.

You

felf to travel in fuch pretty company, and leave every thing fafe behind you, and find every thing well when you arrive; and yet I queftion if you are quite contented,

though

though every body envies you. Keep my mafter tight in his geers, for if he breaks loose the mischief will be very extensive.

Your account of Mr. S and of Mifs O is very melancholy; I wish them both their proper relief from their feveral maladies. But I am glad that Queeney continues well; and hope fhe will not be too rigorous with the young ones, but allow them to be happy their own way; for what better way will they ever find?

C'eft que l'enfant toujours eft homme;

C'eft que l'homme eft tôujours enfant.

I have not seen or done much fince I had the misfortune of feeing you go away. I was one night at Burney's. There were Pepys, and there were Mrs. Ord, and Paradise, and Hoole, and Dr. Dunbar of Aberdeen, and I know not how many more. And Pepys and

I had all the talk.

To-day called on me the Dean of Hereford, who says that the barley-harvest is likely to be very abundant. There is fomething for our confolation. Don't forget that I am,

Dear Madam,
Your, &c.

LETTER CCXLVIII.

To Mrs. THRAL E.

DEAR MADAM,

London, July 10, 1780,

IF

F Mr. Thrale eats but half his usual quantity, he can hardly eat too much. It were better however to have fome rule, and some fecurity. Laft week I faw flesh but twice, and I think fish once, the reft was pease.

You are afraid, you fay, left I extenuate myself too fast, and are an enemy to violence: but did you never hear nor read, dear Madam, that every man has his genius, and that the great rule by which all excellence is attained, and all fuccefs procured, is, to follow genius; and have you not observed in all our converfations that my genius is always in extremes; that I am very noify, or very silent; very gloomy, or very merry; very four, or very kind? And would you have me crofs my genius, when it leads me fometimes to voracity and fometimes to abftinence? You know

that

that the oracle faid follow your genius. When we get together again, (but when alas will that be?) you can manage me, and spare me the folicitude of managing myself.

Poor Mifs O- called on me on Saturday, with that fond and tender application which is natural to mifery, when it looks to every body for that help which nobody can give. I was melted; and foothed and counfelled her as well as I could, and am to visit her to-morrow.

She gave a very honourable account of my dear Queeney; and fays of my master, that the thinks his manner and temper more altered than his looks, but of this alteration fhe could give no particular account; and all that fhe could fay ended in this, that he is now fleepy in the morning. I do not wonder at the scantiness of her narration, she is too busy within to turn her eyes abroad.

I am glad that Pepys is come, but hope that refolute temperance will make him unneceffary. I doubt he can do no good to poor Mr. Scrafe.

I ftay at home to work, and yet do not work diligently; nor can tell when I fhall have done, nor perhaps does any body but myself with me to have done; for what can they hope I shall do better? yet I wish the work was over, and I was at liberty. And what would I do if I was at liberty? Would I go to Mrs. Afton and Mrs. Porter, and fee the old places, and figh to find that my old friends are gone? Would I recal plans of life which I never brought into practice, and hopes of excellence which I once presumed, and never have attained? Would I compare what I now am with what I once expected to have been? Is it reasonable to wish for fuggeftions of fhame, and opportunities of forrow?

If you please, Madam, we will have an end of this, and contrive fome other wishes. I wish I had you in an evening, and I wish I had you in a morning; and I wish I could have a little talk, and fee a little frolick, For all this I must stay, but life will not ftay.

I will