Your faithful friend and servant.

Letter 12.

SIR,—­There shall be two posts this week, for my brother sends his groom up, and I am resolved to make some advantage of it.  Pray, what the paper denied me in your last, let me receive by him.  Your fellow-servant is a sweet jewel to tell tales of me.  The truth is, I cannot deny but that I have been very careless of myself, but, alas! who would have been other?  I never thought my life worth my care whilst nobody was concerned in’t but myself; now I shall look upon’t as something that you would not lose, and therefore shall endeavour to keep it for you.  But then you must return my kindness with the same care of a life that’s much dearer to me.  I shall not be so unreasonable as to desire that, for my satisfaction, you should deny yourself a recreation that is pleasing to you, and very innocent, sure, when ’tis not used in excess, but I cannot consent you should disorder yourself with it, and Jane was certainly in the right when she told you I would have chid if I had seen you so endanger a health that I am so much concerned in.  But for what she tell you of my melancholy you must not believe; she thinks nobody in good humour unless they laugh perpetually, as Nan and she does, which I was never given to much, and now I have been so long accustomed to my own natural dull humour that nothing can alter it.  ’Tis not that I am sad (for as long as you and the rest of my friends are well), I thank God I have no occasion to be so, but I never appear to be very merry, and if I had all that I could wish for in the world, I do not think it would make any visible change in my humour.  And yet with all my gravity I could not but laugh at your encounter in the Park, though I was not pleased that you should leave a fair lady and go lie upon the cold ground.  That is full as bad as overheating yourself at tennis, and therefore remember ’tis one of the things you are forbidden.  You have reason to think your father kind, and I have reason to think him very civil; all his scruples are very just ones, but such as time and a little good fortune (if we were either of us lucky to it) might satisfy.  He may be confident I can never think of disposing myself without my father’s consent; and though he has left it more in my power than almost anybody leaves a daughter, yet certainly I were the worst natured person in the world if his kindness were not a greater tie upon me than any advantage he could have reserved.  Besides that, ’tis my duty, from which nothing can ever tempt me, nor could you like it in me if I should do otherwise, ’twould make me unworthy of your esteem; but if ever that may be obtained, or I left free, and you in the same condition, all the advantages of fortune or person imaginable met together in one man should not be preferred before you.  I think I cannot leave you better than with this assurance.  ’Tis very late, and having been abroad all this day, I knew not till e’en now of this messenger.  Good-night to you.  There need be no excuse for the conclusion of your letter.  Nothing can please me better.  Once more good-night.  I am half in a dream already.