often says, "I shall have a nearer view of those "radiant wonders, and shall myself outshine their "glimmering lustre."

You would be glad, Lady Sophia, if I would leave Sally with the angels, and talk to you of Knights of the Garter, blue ribbands, embroidered coats, and other sublunary things. There is such a wide extreme betwixt these subjects and heavenly themes, that I cannot introduce your tender affair with any manner of decorum; the descent is too precipitant. But if I must talk of love, my own amour is somewhat more of the ethereal kind than your's, and the transition will not be so difficult.

Nor will it displease you to hear that my lover continues constant, with the addition of six thousand a-year to his estate: it was left him by one of the Sr family, who lately died without an heir.

My mistress has been a constant advocate for the lovely youth, believing his proposal a vast preferment for me; while my generous lover makes his addresses with greater warmth and assurance than when his estate was less, thinking it now in his power to offer me a reparation for whatever misfortune hath reduced me to a state so unequal to what (he is persuaded) my education has been.

I have not yet accepted his proposal, nor discovered my rank to him; but it is very probable I shall do both. What objection can I, or rather

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what can you, make against it? His descent is every way illustrious, and has vastly the advantage. of mine; nature has distinguished him with an air of grandeur beyond all the borrowed lustre of titles or equipage. There is an elegance in his behaviour superior to the rules of art or imitation; not Paris, when confessed Prince on the plains of Ida, appeared more graceful. He talks of love, not in the strains of dramatic frenzy, but with the sobriety of reason and virtue: Persuasion dwells on his tongue, while he describes the gentle passion, in accents calin as the midnight air. What the consequence will be I cannot yet determine. Dear Lady Sophia, adieu.

LETTER II.

To Lady SOPHIA.

My romance is now finished, the drama is come to a conclusion; I have been married these four months, and, from the sober regular way of life I am now in, you must expect no more adventures. I forgot in my last to inform you, that with the six thousand a-year there was a seat nobly furnished left to what must I call him? not my husband, for fear the awkward domestic found should give you the spleen: and if I should give. him the appellation of my gallant, my lover, of

often says, "I shall have a nearer view of those "radiant wonders, and shall myself outshine their "glimmering lustre."

You would be glad, Lady Sophia, if I would leave Sally with the angels, and talk to you of Knights of the Garter, blue ribbands, embroidered coats, and other sublunary things. There is such a wide extreme betwixt these subjects and heavenly themes, that I cannot introduce your tender affair with any manner of decorum; the descent is too precipitant. But if I must talk of love, my own amour is somewhat more of the ethereal kind than your's, and the transition will not be so difficult.

Nor will it displease you to hear that my lover continues constant, with the addition of six thousand a-year to his estate: it was left him by one of the Sr family, who lately died without an heir.

My mistress has been a constant advocate for the lovely youth, believing his proposal a vast preferment for me; while my generous lover makes his addresses with greater warmth and assurance than when his estate was less, thinking it now in his power to offer me a reparation for whatever misfortune hath reduced me to a state so unequal to what (he is persuaded) my education has been.

I have not yet accepted his proposal, nor discovered my rank to him; but it is very probable I shall do both. What objection can I, or rather

what can you, make against it? His descent is every way illustrious, and has vastly the advantage of mine; nature has distinguished him with an air of grandeur beyond all the borrowed lustre of titles or equipage. There is an elegance in his behaviour superior to the rules of art or imitation; not Paris, when confessed Prince on the plains of Ida, appeared more graceful. He talks of love, not in the strains of dramatic frenzy, but with the sobriety of reason and virtue: Persuasion dwells on his tongue, while he describes the gentle passion, in accents calin as the midnight air. What the consequence will be I cannot yet determine. Dear Lady Sophia, adieu.

My romance is now finished, the drama is come to a conclusion; I have been married these four months, and, from the sober regular way of life am now in, you must expect no more adventures.

I forgot in my last to inform you, that with the six thousand a-year there was a seat nobly furnished left to what must I call him? not my husband, for fear the awkward domestic found should give you the spleen: and if I should give. him the appellation of my gallant, my lover, of

the charming youth, you would think me run mad in romance: but I hope I may call him by his proper name, which is Lucius.

The seat, of which he is now the possessor, looks like the abode of Liberty and guiltless Delight; the situation has something in it so jovial and airy, that it gives an alacrity to the mind. It stands on a gentle rising, with a view of a spacious valley before it, through which a luxuriant river draws its shining train, and blesses the borders with immortal verdure; the wide campaign beyond opens a fair variety of hills, of groves, and fertile plains, which terminate in a distant prospect of the sea. You have this beautiful scene of Nature from every window in the front of the house.

The opposite side of the structure discloses a quite different view; as that seems the triumph of Nature, this appears the insult of Art; the gardens and groves are so exquisitely fine and regular, that I fancy myself in Fairyland; it looks all like the effect of enchantment, and beyond human contrivance.

The Loves and Graces figured in the painted alcoves persuade me I am got among the immortals, who seem to court me to their soft recesses; when through a long visto the smiling forms rise in just proportion before me, I converse with deities, and am charmed with the wonders of the poetical world.