crime, or so entirely worthless, that they are of no use at all.  I am afraid you will doubt the truth of this account, which, I own, is very different from our common notions in England; but it is no less truth for all that.—­Your whole letter is full of mistakes, from one end to the other.  I see you have taken your ideas of Turkey, from that worthy author Dumont, who has wrote with equal ignorance and confidence.  ’Tis a particular pleasure to me here, to read the voyages to the Levant, which are generally so far removed from truth, and so full of absurdities, I am very well diverted with them.  They never fail giving you an account of the women, whom, ’tis certain, they never saw, and talking very wisely of the genius of the men, into whose company they are never admitted; and very often describe mosques, which they dare not even peep into.  The Turks are very proud, and will not converse with a stranger they are not assured is considerable in his own country.  I speak of the men of distinction; for, as to the ordinary fellows, you may imagine what ideas their conversation can give of the general genius of the people.

AS to the balm of Mecca, I will certainly send you some; but it is not so easily got as you suppose it, and I cannot, in conscience, advise you to make use of it.  I know not how it comes to have such universal applause.  All the ladies of my acquaintance at London and Vienna, have begged me to send pots of it to them.  I have had a present of a small quantity (which, I’ll assure you, is very valuable) of the best sort, and with great joy applied it to my face, expecting some wonderful effect to my advantage.  The next morning, the change indeed was wonderful; my face was swelled to a very extraordinary size, and all over as red as my lady H——­’s.  It remained in this lamentable state three days, during which, you may be sure, I passed my time very ill.  I believed it would never be otherways (sic); and to add to my mortification, Mr W——­y reproached my indiscretion, without ceasing.  However, my face is since in statu quo; nay, I am told by the ladies here, that it is much mended by the operation, which, I confess, I cannot perceive in my looking-glass.  Indeed, if one was to form an opinion of this balm from their faces, one should think very well of it.  They all make use of it, and have the loveliest bloom in the world.  For my part, I never intend to endure the pain of it again; let my complexion take its natural course, and decay in its own due time.  I have very little esteem for medicines of this nature, but do as you please, madam; only remember, before you use it, that your face will not be such as you will care to shew in the drawing-room for some days after.  If one was to believe the women in this country, there is a surer way of making one’s self beloved, than by becoming handsome; though, you know that’s our method.  But they pretend to the knowledge of secrets, that, by way of inchantment (sic), give