seen at Vienna, and not only beautiful but genteel, witty, and agreeable, of a great family, and who had been the admiration of the town.  I could not forbear shewing my surprise at seeing a Nun like her.  She made me a thousand obliging compliments, and desired me to come often.  It will be an infinite pleasure to me, (said she, sighing) but I avoid, with the greatest care, seeing any of my former acquaintance, and whenever they come to our convent, I lock myself in my cell.  I observed tears come into her eyes, which touched me extremely, and I began to talk to her in that strain of tender pity she inspired me with; but she would not own to me, that she is not perfectly happy.  I have since endeavoured to learn the real cause of her retirement, without being able to get any other account, but that every body was surprised at it, and no body guessed the reason.  I have been several times to see her; but it gives me too much melancholy to see so agreeable a young creature buried alive.  I am not surprised that Nuns have so often inspired violent passions; the pity one naturally feels for them, when they seem worthy of another destiny, making an easy way for yet more tender sentiments.  I never in my life had so little charity for the Roman Catholick (sic) religion, as since I see the misery it occasions; so many poor unhappy women! and then the gross superstition of the common people, who are some or other of them, day and night, offering bits of candle to the wooden figures that are set up almost in every street.  The processions I see very often, are a pageantry, as offensive, and apparently contradictory to common sense, as the pagods (sic) of China.  God knows whether it be the womanly spirit of contradiction that works in me; but there never before was such zeal against popery in the heart of,
                                                  Dear madam, &c. &c.

LET.  XIII.

TO MR ——.

Vienna, Oct.  O. S. 1716.

I DESERVE not all the reproaches you make me.  If I have some time without answering your letter, it is not, that I don’t know how many thanks are due to you for it; or that I am stupid enough to prefer any amusements to the pleasure of hearing from you; but after the professions of esteem you have so obligingly made me, I cannot help delaying, as long as I can, shewing you that you are mistaken.  If you are sincere, when you say you expect to be extremely entertained by my letters, I ought to be mortified at the disappointment that I am sure you will receive when you hear from me; though I have done my best endeavours to find out something worth writing to you.  I have seen every thing that was to be seen with a very, diligent curiosity.  Here are some fine villas, particularly the late prince of Litchtenstein’s (sic); but the statues are all modern, and the pictures not of the first hands.  ’Tis true, the emperor has some of great value.  I was yesterday to see the repository, which they