is, in plain English, stark naked, without any beauty or defect concealed.  Yet there was not the least wanton smile or immodest gesture amongst them.  They walked and moved with the same majestic grace, which Milton describes our general mother with.  There were many amongst them, as exactly proportioned as ever any goddess was drawn by the pencil of a Guido or Titian,—­and most of their skins shiningly white, only adorned by their beautiful hair divided into many tresses, hanging on their shoulders, braided either with pearl or ribbon, perfectly representing the figures of the Graces.

I WAS here convinced of the truth of a reflection I have often made, That if it were the fashion to go naked, the face would be hardly observed.  I perceived, that the ladies of the most delicate skins and finest shapes had the greatest share of my admiration, though their faces were sometimes less beautiful than those of their companions.  To tell you the truth, I had wickedness enough, to wish secretly, that Mr Gervais could have been there invisible.  I fancy it would have very much improved his art, to see so many fine women naked, in different postures, some in conversation, some working, others drinking coffee or sherbet, and many negligently lying on their cushions, while their slaves (generally pretty girls of seventeen or eighteen) were employed in braiding their hair in several pretty fancies.  In short, ’tis the women’s coffee-house, where all the news of the town is told, scandal invented, &c.—­They generally take this diversion once a-week (sic), and stay there at least four or five hours, without getting cold by immediate coming out of the hot bath into the cold room, which was very surprising to me.  The lady, that seemed the most considerable among them, entreated me to sit by her, and would fain have undressed me for the bath.  I excused myself with some difficulty.  They being however all so earnest in persuading me, I was at last forced to open my shirt, and shew them my stays; which satisfied them very well; for, I saw, they believed I was locked up in that machine, and that it was not in my own power to open it, which contrivance they attributed to my husband,—­I was charmed with their civility and beauty, and should have been very glad to pass more time with them; but Mr W——­ resolving to pursue his journey next morning early, I was in haste to see the ruins of Justinian’s church, which did not afford me so agreeable a prospect as I had left, being little more than a heap Of stones.

ADIEU, madam, I am sure I have now entertained you with an account of such a sight as you never saw in your life, and what no book of travels could inform you of, as ’tis no less than death for a man to be found in one of these places.

LET.  XXVII.

TO THE ABBOT ——.

Adrianople, April 1.  O. S. 1717.