but I maintain, at the same time, that if she can find better milk elsewhere, she ought to prefer it without hesitation.  I don’t see why she should have more scruple to do this, than her husband has to leave the clear fountain which nature gave him, to quench his thirst, for stout october, port, or claret.  Indeed, if Mrs ——­ was a buxom, sturdy woman, who lived on plain food, took regular exercise, enjoyed proper returns of rest, and was free from violent passions (which you and I know is not the case) she might be a good nurse for her child; but, as matters stand, I do verily think, that the milk of a good comely cow, who feeds quietly in her meadow, never devours ragouts, nor drinks ratifia, nor frets at quadrille, nor sits up till three in the morning, elated with gain, or dejected with loss; I do think, that the milk of such a cow, or of a nurse that came as near it as possible, would be likely to nourish the young squire much better than hers.  If it be true that the child sucks in the mother’s passions with her milk, this is a strong argument in favour of the cow, unless you may be afraid that the young squire may become a calf; but how many calves are there both in state and church, who have been brought up with their mother’s milk.

I PROMISE faithfully, to communicate to no mortal the letter you wrote me last.—­What you say of two of the rebel lords, I believe to be true; but I can do nothing in the matter.—­If my projects don’t fail in the execution, I shall see you before a month passes.  Give my service to Dr Blackbeard.—­He is a good man, but I never saw in my life, such a persecuting face cover a humane and tender heart.  I imagine (within myself) that the Smithfield priests, who burned the protestants in the time of Queen Mary, had just such faces as the doctor’s.  If we were papists, I should like him very much for my confessor; his seeming austerity would give you and I a great reputation for sanctity; and his good, indulgent heart, would be the very thing that would suit us, in the affair of penance and ghostly direction.  Farewell, my dear lady, &c. &c.

LET.  LIV.

TO THE ABBOT ——.

Vienna, Jan. 2.  O. S. 1717.

I AM really almost tired with the life of Vienna.  I am not, indeed, an enemy to dissipation and hurry, much less to amusement and pleasure; but I cannot endure, long, even pleasure, when it is fettered with formality, and assumes the air of system.  ’Tis true I have had here some very agreeable connections; and what will perhaps surprise you, I have particular pleasure in my Spanish acquaintances, count Oropesa and general Puebla.  These two noblemen are much in the good graces of the emperor, and yet they seem to be brewing mischief.  The court of Madrid cannot reflect, without pain, upon the territories that were cut off from the Spanish monarchy by the peace of Utrecht, and it seems to be looking wishfully out, for an opportunity of getting them back again.