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pursuits; she but one, that of pleasing her husband.

CXVII.-TO HIS EXCELLENCY SIR
G-M-.

COXWOULD, Dec. 3, 1767. MY DEAR FRIEND,-For though you are his Excellency, and I still but Parson Yorick, I still must call you so; and were you to be next Emperor of Russia, I could not write to you or speak of you under any other relation. I felicitate you, I don't say how much, because I can't. I always had something like a kind of revelation within me, which pointed out this track for you in which you are so happily advanced: it was not only my wishes for you, which were ever ardent enough to impose upon a visionary brain; but I thought I actually saw you just where you now are, and that is just, my dear Macartney, where you should be. I should long, long ago have acknowledged the kindness of a letter of yours from Petersburgh, but hearing daily accounts you was leaving it-this is the first time I knew well where my thanks would find you: how they will find you I know well, that is, the same I ever knew you. In three weeks I shall kiss your hand, and sooner, if I can finish my Sentimental Journey. The deuce take all sentiments! I wish there was not one in the world! My wife is come to pay me a sentimental visit as far as from Avignon, and the politesse arising from such a proof of her urbanity has robbed me of a month's writing, or I had been in town now. I am going to lie-in, being at Christmas at my full reckoning; and unless what I shall bring forth is not press'd to death by these devils of printers, I shall have the honour of presenting to you a couple of as clean brais as ever chaste brain conceived; they are frolicsome too, mais cela n'empeche pas. I put your name down with many wrong and right honourables, knowing you would take it not well if I did not make myself happy with it. Adieu, my dear friend. Believe me yours, etc.,

L. STERNE. P.S.-If you see Mr. Crawfurd, tell him I greet him kindly.

CXVIII.-TO A- L-E, Esq.

COXWOULD, December 7, 1767. DEAR L-,-I said I would not perhaps write any more, but it would be unkind not to reply to so interesting a letter as yours. I am certain you may depend upon Lord -'s promises; he will take care of you in the best manner he can; and your knowledge of the world, and of languages in particular, will make you useful in any department. If his Lordship's scheme does not succeed, leave the kingdom: go to the east, or to the west, for travelling would be of infinite service to both your body and mind. But

more of this when we meet. Now to my own affairs.-I have had an offer of exchanging two pieces of preferment I hold here, for a living of three hundred and fifty pounds a year in Surrey, about thirty miles from London, and retaining Coxwould and my prebendaryship; the country also is sweet; but I will not, cannot, come to any determination till I have consulted with you and my other friends. I have great offers too in Ireland-the Bishops of C-- and R- are both my friends; but I have rejected every proposal, unless Mrs. S. and my Lydia could accompany me thither. I live for the sake of my girl, and with her sweet light burthen in my arms, I could get up fast the hill of preferment, if I choose it; but without my Lydia, if a mitre was offered me, it would sit uneasy upon my brow. Mrs. S.'s health is insupportable in England; she must return to France, and justice and humanity forbid me to oppose it. I will allow her enough to live comfortably until she can rejoin me. My heart bleeds, L―e, when I think of parting with my child; 'twill be like the separation of soul and body, and equal to nothing but what passes at that tremendous moment; and like it in one respect, for she will be in one kingdom whilst I am in another. You will laugh at my weakness, but I cannot help it, for she is a dear disinterested girl. As a proof of it, when she left Coxwould, and I bade her adieu, I pulled out my purse and offered her ten guineas for her private pleasures. Her answer was pretty, and affected me too much: No, my dear papa, our expenses of coming from France may have straitened you; I would rather put a hundred guineas into your pocket than take ten out of it.' I burst into tears. But why do I practise upon your feelings by dwelling on a subject that will touch your heart? It is too much melted already by its own suffering, L-e, for me to add a pang or cause a single sigh. God bless you! I shall hope to greet you by New-year's Day in perfect health. Adieu, my dear friend; I am most truly and cordially yours, L. STERNE.

CXIX. TO J— H— S—, Esq. [December 1767.] LITERAS vestras lepidissimas, mi consobrine, consobrinis meis omnibus carior, accepi die Veneris; sed posta non rediebat versus Aquilonem eo die, aliter scripsissem prout desideradas. Nescio quid est materia cum me, sed sum fatigatus et ægrotus de meâ uxore plus quam unquam-et sum possessus cum diabolo qui pellet me in urbem-et tu es possessus cum eodem malo spiritu qui te tenet in deserto esse tentatum ancillis tuis, et perturbatum uxore tuâ-crede mihi, mi Antoni, quod isthæc non est via ad salutem sive hodiernam; sive eternam; num tu incipis cogitare de pecuniâ quæ, ut ait Sanctus Paulus, est radix omni malo

rum, et non satis dicis in corde tuo, ego Antonius de Castello Infirmo, sum jam quadraginta et plus annos natus, et explevi octavum meum lustrum, et tempus est me curare, et meipsum Antonium facere hominem felicem et liberum, et mihimet ipsi benefacere, ut exhortatur Solomon, qui dicit quòd nihil est melius in hâc vitâ quàm quòd homo vivat festivè et quòd edat et bibat, et bono fruatur quia hoc est sua portio et dos in hoc mundo.

Nunc te scire vellemus, quòd non debeo esse reprehendi pro festinando eundo ad Londinum, quia Deus est testis, quòd non propero præ gloria, et pro me ostendere; nam diabolus iste qui me intravit, non est diabolus vanus, at consobrinus suus Lucifer-sed est diabolus amabundus, qui non vult sinere me esse solum ; nam cùm non cumbenbo cum uxore meâ, sum mentulatior quàm par est-et sum mortaliter in amore-et sum fatuus; ergo tu me, mi care Antoni, excusabis, quoniam tu fuisti in amore, et per mare et per terras ivisti et festinâsti sicut diabolus eodem te propellente diabolo. Habeo multa ad te scribere-sed scribo hanc epistolam in domo coffeatariâ et plenâ sociorum strepitosorum, qui non permittent me cogitare unam cogitationem.

Saluta amicum Panty meum, cujus literis respondebo-saluta amicos in domo Gisbrosensi, et oro, credas me vinculo consobrinitatis et amoris ad te, mi Antoni, devinctissimum.

L. STERNE.

CXX.-TO MR. AND MRS. J—.

YORK, Dec. 23, 1767.

I WAS afraid that either Mr. or Mrs. J-, or their little blossom, was drooping, or that some of you were ill, by not having the pleasure of a line from you, and was thinking of writing again to inquire after you all, when I was cast down myself with a fever, and bleeding at my lungs, which had confined me to my room near three weeks, when I had the favour of yours, which till to-day I have not been able to thank you both kindly for, as I most cordially now do, as well as for all your professions and proofs of good-will to me. I will not say I have not balanced accounts with you in this. All I know is, that I honour and value you more than I do any good creatures upon earth, and that I could not wish your happiness, and the success of whatever conduces to it, more than I do, was I your brother; but, good God! are we not all brothers and sisters who are friendly, virtuous, and good? Surely, my dear friends, my illness has been a sort of sympathy for your afflictions upon the score of your dear little one. worn down to a shadow; but as my fever has left me, I set off the latter end of next week with my friend Mr. Hall for town. I need not tell my friends in Gerrard Street I shall do myself the honour to visit them before either Lord

I am

or Lord, etc. etc. I thank you, my dear friend, for what you say so kindly about my daughter: it shows your good heart; for as she is a stranger, 'tis a free gift in you, but when she is known to you she shall win it fairly; but, alas! when this event is to happen is in the clouds. Mrs. S. has hired a house ready furnished at York till she returns to France, and my Lydia must not leave her.

What a sad scratch of a letter! but I am weak, my dear friends, both in body and mind; so God bless you! You will see me enter like a ghost, so I tell you beforehand not to be frightened. I am, my dear friends, with the truest attachment and esteem, ever yours, L. STERNE.

CXXI.-TO THE SAME.

OLD BOND STREET, Jan. 1, [1768]. Nor knowing whether the moisture of the weather will permit me to give my kind friends in Gerrard Street a call this morning for five minutes, I beg leave to send them all the good wishes, compliments, and respects I owe them. I continue to mend, and doubt not but this, with all other evils and uncertainties of life, will end for the best. I send all compliments to your firesides this Sunday night-Miss Ascough the wise, Miss Pigot the witty, your daughter the pretty, and so on. If Lord Ois with you, I beg my dear Mrs. J- will present the inclosed to him; 'twill add to the millions of obligations I already owe you. I am sorry that I am no subscriber to Soho this season. It deprives me of a pleasure worth twice the subscription; but I am just going to send about this quarter of the town, to see if it is not too late to procure a ticket, undisposed of, from some of my Solo friends; and, if I can succeed, I will either send or wait upon you with it by half an hour after three to-morrow; if not, my friend will do me the justice to believe me truly miserable. I am half engaged, or more, for dinner on Sunday next, but will try to get disengaged in order to be with my friends. If I cannot, I will glide like a shadow uninvited to Gerrard Street some day this week, that we may eat our bread and meat in love and peace together. God bless you both! I am, with the most sincere regard, your ever obliged, L. STERNE.

CXXII.-TO THE SAME.

OLD BOND STREET, Monday. MY DEAR FRIENDS,-I have never been a moment at rest since I wrote yesterday about this Soho ticket. I have been at a Secretary of State to get one; have been upon one knee to my friend Sir G- M-, Mr. Lascelles, and Mr. Fitzmaurice, without mentioning five more. I believe I could as soon get you a place at Court, for everybody is going; but I will go out

LETTERS.

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Thursday, OLD BOND STREET.

A THOUSAND thanks, and as many excuses, my
dear friends, for the trouble my blunder has
given you. By a second note I am astonished I
could read Saturday for Sunday, or make any
mistake in a card wrote by Mrs. J-s, in
as unrivalled, as in a
which my friend

hundred greater excellencies.
I am now tied down neck and heels (twice
over) by engagements every day this week, or
most joyfully would have trod the old pleasing
road from Bond to Gerrard Street. My books
will be to be had on Thursday, but possibly on
Wednesday in the afternoon. I am quite well,
but exhausted with a room full of company
every morning till dinner. How do I lament
cannot eat my morsel (which is always sweet)
with such kind friends! The Sunday following
I will assuredly wait upon you both, and will
come a quarter before four, that I may have
both a little time and a little daylight, to see
Mrs. J's picture. I beg leave to assure my
friends of my gratitude for all their favours,
with my sentimental thanks for every token of
their good-will. Adieu, my dear friends. I am
L. STERNE.
truly yours,

CXXIV.-FROM DR. EUSTACE, IN AME

RICA, TO THE REV. MR. STERNE,
WITH A WALKING-STICK.

SIR,-When I assure you that I am a great
admirer of Tristram Shandy, and have, ever
since his introduction into the world, been one
of his most zealous defenders against the re-
peated assaults of prejudice and misapprehen-
sion, I hope you will not treat this unexpected
appearance in his company as an intrusion.

You know it is an observation, as remarkable for its truth as for its antiquity, that a similitude of sentiments is the general parent of friendship. It cannot be wondered at that I should conceive an esteem for a person whom nature had most indulgently enabled to frisk and curvet with ease through all these intricacies of sentiments, which, from irresistible propensity, she had impelled me to trudge through without merit or distinction.

The only reason that gave rise to this address to you is my accidentally having met with a piece of true Shardean statuary, I mean, according to vulgar opinion, for to such judges both appear equally destitute of regularity or design. It was made by a very ingenious gentleman of this province, and presented to the late Governor Dobbs; after his death Mrs. Its singularity made many D. gave it me. desirous of procuring it; but I had resolved at first not to part with it, till, upon reflection, I thought it would be a very proper, and probably not an unacceptable, compliment to my favourite author, and in his hands might prove as ample a field for meditation as a button-hole or a broom-stick. I have the honour to be, etc. etc.

CXXV.-MR. STERNE'S ANSWER.

LONDON, February 9, 1768. SIR,-I this moment received your obliging letter, and Shandean piece of sculpture along with it, of both which testimonies of your regard I have the justest sense, and return you, dear sir, my best thanks and acknowledgment. Your walking-stick is in no sense more Shan daick than in that of its having more handles than one: the parallel breaks, only in this, that, in using the stick, every one will take the handle which suits his convenience. In Tristram Shandy, the handle is taken which suits their passions, their ignorance, or their sensi. bility. There is so little true feeling in the herd of the world, that I wish I could have got an act of parliament, when the books first appeared, that none but wise men should look into them. It is too much to write books, and find heads to understand them. The world, however, seems to come into a better temper about them, the people of genius here being to a man on its side; and the reception it has met with in France, Italy, and Germany, has engaged one part of the world to give it a second reading. The other, in order to be on the strongest side, has at length agreed to speak well of it too. A few hypocrites and Tartuffes, whose approbation could do it nothing but dishonour, remain unconverted.

I am very proud, sir, to have had a man like you on my side from the beginning; but it is not in the power of every one to taste humour, however he may wish it; it is the gift of God;and, besides, a true feeler always brings half the entertainment along with him: his own ideas are only called forth by what he reads, and the vibrations within him entirely correspond with those excited. "Tis like reading himself, and not the book.

In a week's time I shall be delivered of two volumes of the Sentimental Travels of Mr. Yorick through France and Italy; but alas! the

ship sails three days too soon, and I have but to lament it deprives me of the pleasure of presenting them to you.

Believe me, dear sir, with great thanks for the honour you have done me, with true esteem, your obliged humble servant,

LAURENCE STERNE.

CXXVI.-TO L- S-N, Esq.

OLD BOND STREET, Wednesday. DEAR SIR,-Your commendations are very flattering. I know no one whose judgment I think more highly of; but your partiality for me is the only instance in which I can call it in question. Thanks, my good sir, for the prints I am much your debtor for them. If I recover from my ill state of health, and live to revisit Coxwould this summer, I will decorate my study with them, along with six beautiful pic- | tures I have already of the sculptures on poor Ovid's tomb, which were executed on marble at Rome. It grieves one to think such a man should have died in exile, who wrote so well on the art of love. Do not think me encroaching if I solicit a favour; 'tis either to borrow or beg (to beg if you please) some of those touched with chalk which you brought from Italy. I believe you have three sets; and if you can spare the imperfect one of cattle on coloured paper, 'twill answer my purpose, which is namely this, to give a friend of ours. You may be ignorant she has a genius for drawing, and whatever she excels in she conceals, and her humility adds lustre to her accomplishments. I presented her last year with colours, and an apparatus for painting, and gave her several lessons before I left town. I wish her to follow this art, to be a complete mistress of it; and it is singular enough, but not more singular than true, that she does not know how to make a cow or a sheep, though she draws figures and landscapes perfectly well; which makes me wish her to copy from good prints. If you come to town next week, and dine where I am engaged next Sunday, call upon me and take me with you. I breakfast with Mr. Beauclerc, and am engaged for an hour afterwards with Lord O-; so let our meeting be either at your house or my lodgings. Do not be late, for we will go, half an hour before dinner, to see a picture executed by West, most admirably: he has caught the character of our friend-such goodness is painted in that face, that when one looks at it, let the soul be ever so much unhar monized, it is impossible it should remain so. I will send you a set of my books. They will take with the generality. The women will read this book in the parlour, and Tristram in the bed-chamber. Good night, dear sir. I am going to take my whey, and then to bed. Believe me yours most truly, L. STERNE.

CXXVII. TO MISS STERNE.

Feb. 20, OLD BOND STREET. MY DEAREST LYDIA,-My Sentimental Journey, you say, is admired in York by every one, and 'tis not vanity in me to tell you that it is no less admired here; but what is the gratification of my feelings on this occasion? The want of health bows me down, and vanity harbours not in thy father's breast. This vile influenza-be not alarmed, I think I shall get the better of it, and shall be with you both the first of May; and if I escape, 'twill not be for a long period, my child, unless a quiet retreat and peace of mind can restore me. The subject of my letter has astonished me. She could but know little of my feelings to tell thee that, under the supposition I should survive thy mother, I should bequeath thee as a legacy to - No, my Lydia! 'tis a lady whose virtues I wish thee to imitate that I shall entrust my girl to-I mean that friend whom I have so often talked and wrote about. From her you will learn to be an affectionate wife, a tender mother, and a sincere friend; and you cannot be intimate with her without her pouring some part of the milk of human kindness into your breast, which will serve to check the heat of your own temper, which you partake in a small degree of. Nor will that amiable woman put my Lydia under the painful necessity to fly to India for protection, whilst it is in her power to grant her a more powerful one in England. But I think, my Lydia, that thy mother will survive me: do not deject her spirits with thy apprehensions on my account. I have sent you a necklace, buckles, and the same to your mother. My girl cannot form a wish that is in the power of her father, that he will not gratify her in; and I cannot in justice be less kind to thy mother. I am never alone. The kindness of my friends is ever the same. I wish, though, I had thee to nurse me; but I am denied that. Write to me twice a week, at least. God bless thee, my child, and believe me ever, ever, thy affectionate father, L. S.

CXXVIII.-TO MRS. J—.

Tuesday.

YOUR poor friend is scarce able to write; he has been at death's door this week with a pleurisy. I was bled three times on Thursday, and blis tered on Friday. The physician says I am better. God knows, for I feel myself sadly wrong, and shall, if I recover, be a long while of gaining strength. Before I have gone through half this letter, I must stop to rest my weak hand above a dozen times. Mr. J was so good to call upon me yesterday. I felt emotions not to be described at the sight of him, and he overjoyed me by talking a great deal of you. Do, dear

Mrs. J-, entreat him to come to-morrow or
next day, for perhaps I have not many days or
hours to live. I want to ask a favour of him, if
I find myself worse-that I shall beg of you, if
in this wrestling I come off conqueror. My
spirits are fled-'tis a bad omen. Do not weep,
my dear lady-your tears are too precious to
shed for me. Bottle them up, and may the cork
never be drawn. Dearest, kindest, gentlest, and
best of women! may health, peace, and happi-
ness prove your handmaids! If I die, cherish
the remembrance of me, and forget the follies
which you so often condemned-which my heart,
not my head, betrayed me into. Should my
child, my Lydia, want a mother, may I hope you
will (if she is left parentless) take her to your
bosom. You are the only woman on earth I can
depend upon for such a benevolent action. I
wrote to her a fortnight ago, and told her what
I trust she will, find in you.' Mr. J-will be
a father to her; he will protect her from every
insult, for he wears a sword which he has served
his country with, and which he would know how
to draw out of the scabbard in defence of inno-
cence. Commend me to him, as I now commend
you to that Being who takes under his care the
good and kind part of the world. Adieu. All
grateful thanks to you and Mr. J-. Your
poor affectionate friend,
L. STERNE.

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flown on the wings of friendship, of regard, of affection, and rescued the lovely innocent from the hands of the spoiler. Be not alarmed at my declaration. I have been long bound to her in the reciprocal bonds of affection; but it is of a more delicate stamp than the gross materials nature has planted in us for procreation. I hope ever to retain the idea of innocence, and love her still: I would love the whole sex were they equally deserving.

taking her by the hand-the other thrown round her waist-after an intimacy allowing such freedoms-with a look deceitfully pleasing, the villain poured out a torrent of protestations; and, though oaths are sacred, swore with all the fortitude of a conscientious man, the depth of his love-the height of his esteem-the strength of his attachment. By these and other artful means to answer his abandoned purpose (for which you know he is but too well qualified)-gained on the open inexperienced heart of the generous Harriot, and robbed her of her brightest jewel. Oh England! where are your senators? where are your laws? Ye heavens! where rests your deadly thunder? why are your bolts restrained from overwhelming with vengeance this vile seducer?-I, my friend-I was the minister sent by justice to revenge her wrongs-Revenge! I disclaim it-to redress her wrongs. The news of affliction flies-I heard it, and posted to ****, where, forgetting my character-this is the style of the enthusiast-it most became my character-I saw him in his retreat-I flew out of the chaise

passion demanded-sure, if anger is excusable, it must be when it is excited by a detestation of vice-I demanded him to restore-alas! what was not in his power to return. Vengeance !and shall these vermin-these spoilers of the fair-these murderers of the mind-lurk and creep about in dens secure to themselves, and pillage all around them? Distracted with my rage, I charged him with his crime-exploded his baseness-condemned his villany -- while coward guilt sat on his sullen brow, and, like a criminal conscious of his deed, tremblingly pro

-I BEHELD her tender look- her pathetic eye petrified my fluids-the liquid dissolution drowned those once bright orbs-the late sym--caught him by the collar-and in a tumult of pathetic features, so pleasing in their harmony, are now blasted-withered-and are dead; her charms are dwindled into a melancholy which demands my pity. Yes, my friend, our once sprightly and vivacious Harriot is that very object that must thrill your soul. How abandoned is that heart which bulges the tear of innocence, and is the cause-the fatal cause-of overwhelming the spotless soul, and plunging the yet untainted mind into a sea of sorrow and repentance! Though born to protect the fair, does not man act the part of a demon?-first alluring by his temptations, and then triumph-nounced his fear. He hoped means might be ing in his victory. When villany gets the ascendency, it seldom leaves the wretch till it has thoroughly polluted him.-T*******, once the joyous companion of our juvenile extravagances, by a deep-laid scheme, so far ingratiated himself into the good graces of the old man, that even he, with all his penetration and experience (of which old folks generally pique themselves), could not perceive his drift, and, like the goodness of his own heart, believed him honourable. Had I known his pretensions, I would have

1 From this circumstance it may be conjectured that this letter was written on Tuesday, the 8th of March 1768, ten days before Mr. Sterne died.

found for a sufficient atonement - offered a tender of his hand as a satisfaction, and a life devoted to her service as a recompense for his error. His humiliation struck me-'twas the only means he could have contrived to assuage my anger. I hesitated-paused-thought-and still must think on so important a concern. Assist me-I am half afraid of trusting my Harriot in the hands of a man whose character I too well know to be the antipodes of Harriot's: he all fire and dissipation-she all meekness and sentiment! Nor can I think there is any hope of reformation: the offer proceeds more from surprise or fear, than justice and sincerity. The world-the world will exclaim, and my Harriot

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