you provided for yourselves may do well enough here, but pray send it soon. I wish you would give a body more early warning; but you must blame yourselves. Delany says he will come in the evening; and for aught I know Sheridan may be here at dinner which of you was it that undertook this frolick? Your letter hardly explained your meaning, but at last I found it. Pray do not serve me these tricks often. You may be sure, if there be a good bottle shall have it. I am sure I never refused you, and therefore that reflection might have been spared. Pray be more positive in your answer to this. you Deanery-house, Sunday morning, April 30, 1721. Margoose, and not Mergoose, it is spelt with an a, simpleton. No, I am pretty well after my walk. I am glad the archdeacon got home safe, and I hope you took care of him. It was his own fault; how could I know where he was? and he could have easily overtaken me; for I walked softly on purpose, I told Delany I would. The name of a species of strong wine. A similar word is used in an epilogue, ascribed to the dean, in the Gulliveriana, p. 64. "And with richest margoux to wash down a titbit." Dr. Bramston, in his "Crooked Sixpence," talks of "Chatteau, margout, or the renown'd pontack." And Dr. Dunkin, vol. II, p. 211, after deprecating bumpers, adds, "O raise not the fury of potent margouze!” + Archdeacon Walls. ΤΟ SIR, TO THE REV. MR. WALLIS. DUBLIN, MAY 18, 1721. I HAD your letter, and the copy of the bishop's circular enclosed, for which I thank you; and yet I will not pretend to know any thing of it, and hope you have not told any body what you did. I should be glad enough to be at the visitation, not out of any love to the business or the person, but to do my part in preventing any mischief. But in truth my health will not suffer it; and you, who are to be my proxy, may safely give it upon your veracity. I am confident the bishop would not be dissatisfied with wanting my company, and yet he may give himself airs when he finds I am not there. I now employ myself in getting you a companion to cure your spleen. I am Your faithful humble servant, TO THE BISHOP OF MEATH. MY LORD, J. S. JULY 5, 1721. I HAVE received an account of your lordship's refusing to admit my proxy at your visitation, with several circumstances of personal reflections on myself, although my proxy attested my want of health; to confirm which, and to lay before you the justice and christianity of your proceeding, above a hundred E 3 dred persons of quality and distinction can witness, that since Friday the 26th of May, I have been tormented with an ague, in as violent a manner as possible, which still continues, and forces me to make use of another hand in writing to you. At the same time, I must be plain to tell you, that if this accident had not happened, I should have used all endeavours to avoid your visitation, upon the publick promise I made you three years ago, and the motives which occasioned it; because I was unwilling to hear any more very injurious treatment and appellations given to my brethren, or myself; and by the grace of God, I am still determined to absent myself on the like occasion, as far as I can possibly be dispensed with by any law, while your lordship is in that diocese, and I a member of it. In which resolution I could not conceive but your lordship would be easy; because, although my presence might possibly contribute to your real (at least future) interest, I was sure it could not to your present satisfaction. If I had had the happiness to have been acquainted with any one clergyman in the diocese, of your lordship's principles, I should have desired him to represent me, with hopes of better success: but I wish you would sometimes think it convenient to distinguish men, as well as principles; and not to look upon every person, who happens to owe you canonical obedience, as if I have the honour to be ordinary over a consider. able number of as eminent divines as any in this kingdom, who owe me the same obedience, as I owe to your lordship, and are equally bound to attend my visitation; yet neither I, nor any of my prede cessors, cessors, to my knowledge, did ever refuse a regular proxy. I am only sorry that you, who are of a country famed for good nature, have found a way to unite the hasty passion of your own countrymen*, with the long, sedate resentment of a Spaniard: but I have an honourable hope, that this proceeding has been more owing to party, than complexion. I am, My lord, your lordship's most humble servant. TO VANESSA. Gallstown, near Kinnegad, July 5, 1721. IT was not convenient, hardly possible, to write to you before now, though I had a more than ordinary desire to do it, considering the disposition I found you in last; though I hope I left you in a better. I must here beg you to take more care of your health by company and exercise, or else the spleen will get the better of you, than which there is not a more foolish or troublesome disease, and what you have no pretences to in the world, if all the advantages of life can be any defence against it. Cadenus assures me, he continues to esteem, and love, and value you above all things, and so will do to the end of his life; but at the same time entreats that you would not make yourself or him unhappy by imaginations. The wisest men of all ages have thought it the best course to seize the * The bishop was a Welshman; his name Evans. you minutes as they fly, and to make every innocent action an amusement. If knew how I struggle for a little health, what uneasiness I am at in riding and walking, and refraining from every thing agreeable to my taste, you would think it but a small thing to take a coach now and then, and to converse with fools or impertinents, to avoid spleen and sickness. Without health you will lose all desire of drinking coffee, and be so low as to have no spirits. Pray write to me cheerfully, without complaints or expostulations, or else Cadenus shall know it, and punish you. What is this world without being as easy in it as prudence and fortune can make us? I find it every day more silly and insignificant, and I conform myself to it for my own ease. I am here as deeply employed in other folks plantations and ditches, as if they were my own concern; and think of my absent friends with delight, and hopes of seeing them happy, and of being happy with them. Shall you, who have so much honour and good sense, act otherwise, to make Cad- and yourself miserable? Settle your affairs, and quit this scoundrel island, and things will be as you desire. I can say no more, being called away. Mais soyez assurée que jamais personne au monde n'a été aimée, honorée, estimée, adorée par votre ami que vous. I have drunk no coffee since I left you, nor intend it till I see you again there is none worth drinking but yours, if myself may be the judge. Adieu, FROM |