’Twas a strange caprice, as you say, of Mrs. Harrison, but there is fate as well as love in those things.  The Queen took the greatest pains to persuade her from it that could be; and (as somebody says, I know not who) “Majesty is no ill orator;” but all would not do.  When she had nothing to say for herself, she told her she had rather beg with Mr. Howard than live in the greatest plenty that could be with either my Lord Broghill, Charles Rich, or Mr. Nevile,—­for all these were dying for her then.  I am afraid she has altered her opinion since ’twas too late, for I do not take Mr. Howard to be a person that can deserve one should neglect all the world for him.  And where there is no reason to uphold a passion, it will sink of itself; but where there is, it may last eternally.—­I am yours.

Letter 26.

SIR,—­The day I should have received your letter I was invited to dine at a rich widow’s (whom I think I once told you of, and offered my service in case you thought fit to make addresses there); and she was so kind, and in so good humour, that if I had had any commission I should have thought it a very fit time to speak.  We had a huge dinner, though the company was only of her own kindred that are in the house with her and what I brought; but she is broke loose from an old miserable husband that lived so long, she thinks if she does not make haste she shall not have time to spend what he left.  She is old and was never handsome, and yet is courted a thousand times more than the greatest beauty in the world would be that had not a fortune.  We could not eat in quiet for the letters and presents that came in from people that would not have looked upon her when they had met her if she had been left poor.  I could not but laugh to myself at the meanness of their humour, and was merry enough all day, for the company was very good; and besides, I expected to find when I came home a letter from you that would be more a feast and company to me than all that was there.  But never anybody was so defeated as I was to find none.  I could not imagine the reason, only I assured myself it was no fault of yours, but perhaps a just punishment upon me for having been too much pleased in a company where you were not.

After supper my brother and I fell into dispute about riches, and the great advantages of it; he instanced in the widow that it made one respected in the world.  I said ’twas true, but that was a respect I should not at all value when I owed it only to my fortune.  And we debated it so long till we had both talked ourselves weary enough to go to bed.  Yet I did not sleep so well but that I chid my maid for waking me in the morning, till she stopped my mouth with saying she had letters for me.  I had not patience to stay till I could rise, but made her tie up all the curtains to let in light; and among some others I found my dear letter that was first to be read, and which made all the rest not worth the reading.  I could