the effect of an ambitious thirst after knowledge, which we are not formed to enjoy.  All we get by it, is a fruitless desire of mixing the different pleasures and conveniencies which are given to the different parts of the world, and cannot meet in any one of them.  After having read all that is to be found in the languages I am mistress of, and having decayed my sight by midnight studies, I envy the easy peace of mind of a ruddy milk-maid, who, undisturbed by doubt, hears the sermon, with humility, every Sunday, not having confounded the sentiments of natural duty in her head by the vain-inquiries of the schools, who may be more learned, yet, after all, must remain as ignorant.  And, after having seen part of Asia and Africa, and almost made the tour of Europe, I think the honest English squire more happy, who verily believes the Greek wines less delicious than March beer; that the African fruits have not so fine a flavour as golden pippins; that the Beca figuas of Italy are not so well tasted as a rump of beef; and that, in short, there is no perfect enjoyment of this life out of Old England.  I pray God I may think so for the rest of my life; and, since I must be contented with our scanty allowance of day-light, that I may forget the enlivening sun of Constantinople.  I am, &c. &c.

LET.  LII.

TO MR P——.

Dover, Nov. 1.  O. S. 1718.

I Have this minute received a letter of yours, sent me from Paris.  I believe and hope I shall very soon see both you and Mr Congreve; but as I am here in an inn, where we stay to regulate our march to London, bag and baggage, I shall employ some of my leisure time, in answering that part of yours, that seems to require an answer.

I MUST applaud your good nature, in supposing, that your pastoral lovers (vulgarly called hay-makers) would have lived in everlasting joy and harmony, if the lightning had not interrupted their scheme of happiness.  I see no reason to imagine, that John Hughes and Sarah Drew, were either wiser or more virtuous than their neighbours.  That a well-set man of twenty-five should have a fancy to marry a brown woman of eighteen, is nothing marvellous; and I cannot help thinking, that had they married, their lives would have passed in the common track with their fellow parishioners.  His endeavouring to shield her from a storm, was a natural action, and what he would have certainly done for his horse, if he had been in the same situation.  Neither am I of opinion, that their sudden death was a reward of their mutual virtue.  You know the Jews were reproved for thinking a village destroyed by fire, more wicked than those that had escaped the thunder.  Time and chance happen to all men.  Since you desire me to try my skill in an epitaph, I think the following lines perhaps more just, tho’ not so poetical as yours.