You are very kind, dear Sir, in giving me an account of your health and occupations, and inquiring after mine.  I am very sorry you are not as free from gout, as I have been ever since February; but I trust it will only keep you from other complaints, and never prevent your amusing yourself, which you are one of those few happy beings that can always do; and your temper is so good, and your mind so naturally philosophic, composed, and contented, that you neither want the world, care about it, nor are affected by any thing that occurs in it.  This is true wisdom, but wisdom which nothing can give but constitution.  Detached amusements have always made a great part of my own delight, and have sown my life with some of its best moments.  My intention was, that they should be the employments of my latter years, but fate seems to have chalked out a very different scene for me!  The misfortune of my nephew has involved me in business, and consequently care, and opens a scene of disputes, with which I shall not molest your tranquillity.

The dangerous situation in which his Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester has been, and out of which I doubt he is scarce yet emerged, though better, has added more thorns to my uneasy mind.  The Duchess’s daughters are at Hampton-court, and partly under my care.  In one word, my whole summer has been engrossed by duties, which has confined me at home, without indulging myself in a single pursuit to my taste.

In short, as I have told you before, I often wish myself a monk at Cambridge.  Writers on government condemn, very properly, a recluse life, as contrary to Nature’s interest, who loves procreation; but as Nature seems not very desirous that we should procreate to threescore years and ten, I think convents very suitable retreats for those whom our Alma Mater does not emphatically call to her Opus Magnum.  And though, to be sure, gray hairs are fittest to conduct state affairs, yet as the Rehoboams of the world (Louis XVI. excepted) do not always trust the rudder of government to ancient hands, old gentlemen, methinks, are very ill placed [when not at the council-board] any where but in a cloister.  As I have no more vocation to the ministry than to carrying on my family, I sigh after a dormitory; and as in six weeks my clock will strike sixty, I wish I had nothing more to do with the world.  I am not tired of living, but-what signifies sketching visions?  One must take one’s lot as it comes; bitter and sweet"are poured into every cup.  To-morrow may be pleasanter than to-day.  Nothing lasts of one colour.  One must embrace the cloister, or take the chances of the world as they present themselves; and since uninterrupted happiness would but embitter the certainty that even that must end, rubs and crosses should be softened by the same consideration.  I am not so busied, but I shall be very glad of a sight of your manuscript, and will return it carefully.  I will thank you, too, for the print of Mr. Jenyns, which I have not, nor have seen.’  Adieu!  Yours most cordially.