What you tell me of Mrs. Johnson, I have long expected, with great oppression and heaviness of heart. We have been perfect friends these thirtyfive years. Upon my advice they both came to Ireland, and have been ever since my constant companions; and the remainder of my life will be a very melancholy scene, when one of them is gone, whom I most esteemed upon the score of every good quality that can possibly recommend a human creature. I have these two months seen through Mrs. Dingley's disguises*. And indeed, ever since I left you, my heart has been so sunk, that I have not been the same man, nor ever shall be again; but drag on a wretched life, till it shall please God to call me away. I must tell you, as a friend, that if you have reason to believe Mrs. Johnson cannot hold out till my return, I would not think of coming to Ireland; and in that case, I would expect of you, in the beginning of September, to renew my license for another half year; which time I will spend in some retirement far from London, till I can be in a disposition of appearing after an accident, that must be so fatal to my quiet. I wish it could be brought about that she might make her will. Her intentions are to leave the interest of all her fortune to her mother and sister, during their lives, and afterward to Dr. Stephens's hospital, to purchase lands for such uses there as she designs. Think how I am disposed while I write this, and forgive the inconsistencies. I would not for the universe be present at such a

Probably endeavouring to conceal Mrs. Johnson's danger, in tenderness to the dean.

trial

trial of seeing her depart. She will be among friends, that upon her own account and great worth, will tend her with all possible care, where I should be a trouble to her, and the greatest torment to myself. In case the matter should be desperate, I would have you advise, if they come to town, that they should be lodged in some airy healthy part, and not in the deanery; which besides, you know, cannot but be a very improper thing for that house to breathe her last in. This I leave to your discretion, and I conjure you to burn this letter immediately, without telling the contents of it to any person alive. Pray write to me every week, that I may know what steps to take; for I am determined not to go to Ireland, to find her just dead, or dying. Nothing but extremity could make me so familiar with those terrible words, applied to such a dear friend. Let her know, I have bought her a repeating gold watch, for her ease in winter nights. I designed to have surprised her with it; but now I would have her know it, that she may see how thoughts are always to make her easy.

my

I am of opinion, that there is not a greater folly than to contract too great and intimate a friendship, which must always leave the survivor miserable.

On the back of Burton's note there was written the account of Mrs. Johnson's sickness. Pray, in your next, avoid that mistake, and leave the backside blank.

When you have read this letter twice, and retain what I desire, pray burn it; and let all I have said lie only in your breast.

Pray write every week. I have (till I know far

ther)

ther) fixed on August the fifteenth to set out for Ireland. I shall continue or alter my measures according to your letters. Adieu.

Direct your letter still to Mrs. Rice, &c.

Pray tell Mr. Dobbs of the college, that I received his letter; but cannot possibly answer it, which I certainly would, if I had materials.

As to what you say about promotion, you will find it was given immediately to Maule*, as I am told; and I assure you I had no offers, nor would accept them. My behaviour to those in power has been directly contrary, since I came here. I would rather have good news from you than Canterbury, though it were given me upon my own terms.

FROM LORD BOLINGBROKE TO THE THREE YAHOOS OF TWICKENHAM.

JONATHAN, Alexander, John†, most excellent triumvirs of Parnassus, though you are probably very indifferent where I am, or what I am doing; yet I resolve to believe the contrary. I persuade myself, that you have sent at least fifteen times

* Dr. Henry Maule, promoted to the bishoprick of Cloyne, Sept. 6, 1726; translated to Dromore, March 20, 1731; and to Meath, May 24, 1744. This most worthy man was one of the first promoters of the protestant charter schools in Ireland for the reception and education of children of papists, which have met with great success.

+ John Gay.

within this fortnight to Dawley farm, and that you are extremely mortified at my long silence. To relieve you therefore from this great anxiety of mind, I can do no less than write a few lines to you; and I please myself beforehand with the vast pleasure which this epistle must needs give you. That I may add to this pleasure, and give you farther proofs of my beneficent temper, I will likewise inform you, that I shall be in your neighbourhood again by the end of next week; by which time I hope that Jonathan's imagination of business, will be succeeded by some imagination more becoming a professor of that divine science, la bagatelle. Adieu, Jonathan, Alexander, John! Mirth be with you. From the banks of the Severn, July 23, 1726.

TO DR. SHERIDAN.

JULY 27, 1726†.

I HAVE yours just now of the 19th, and the ac

count you give me, is nothing but what I have some time expected with the utmost agonies; and there is one aggravation of constraint, that where I am,

forced to put on an easy countenance. It was at this time the best office your friendship could do, not to deceive me. I was violently bent all last year, as I believe you remember, that she should go to Montpellier, or Bath, or Tunbridge. I entreated,

* The country residence of lord Bolingbroke, near Cranford in Middlesex.

+ This was written from Mr. Pope's at Twickenham.

if there was no amendment, they might both come to London. But there was a fatality, although I indeed think her stamina could not last much longer, when I saw she could take no nourishment. I look upon this to be the greatest event that can ever happen to me; but all my preparations will not suffice to make me bear it like a philosopher, nor altogether like a christian. There hath been the most intimate friendship between us from her childhood, and the greatest merit on her side, that ever was in one human creature toward another. Nay if I were now near her, I would not see her; I could not behave myself tolerably, and should redouble her sorrow. -Judge in what a temper of mind I write this.The very time I am writing, I conclude the fairest soul in the world hath left its body.-Confusion! that I am this moment called down to a visitor, when I am in the country, and not in my power to deny myself. I have passed a very constrained hour, and now return to say I know not what. I have been long weary of the world, and shall for my small remainder of years be weary of life, having for ever lost that conversation, which could only make it tolerable. I fear while you are reading this, you will be shedding tears at her funeral: she loved you well, and a great share of the little merit I have with is owing to her solicitations.

I writ to you about a week ago

you,

* Soon after the date of this letter the dean went back to Ireland, but Mrs. Johnson recovering a moderate state of health, he returned again to England the beginning of the year 1727.