I shall wait for summer before I make you a visit.  Though I dare to say that you have converted your smoke-kilns into a manufacture of balloons, pray do not erect a Strawberry castle in the air for my reception, if it will cost a pismire a hair of its head.  Good night!  I have ordered my bed to be heated as hot as an oven, and Tonton and I must go into it.

(524) See vol. i. p. 379, letter 143.-E.(525) “Lunardi’s nest,” says Hannah More, " when I saw it yesterday, looking like a pegtop, seemed, I assure you, higher than the moon, ’riding towards her highest noon.’"-E.

Letter 277 To The Earl Of Strafford.  Strawberry Hill, August 6, 1784. (page 349)

I am very sorry, my dear lord, that I must answer your lordship’s letter by a condolence.  I had not the honour Ur of being acquainted with Mrs. Vyse, but have heard so much good of her, that it is impossible not to lament her.  Since this month began we have had fine weather; and ’twere great pity if we had not, when the earth is covered with Such abundant harvests!  They talk of an earthquake having been felt in London.  Had Sir William Hamilton been there, he would think the town gave itself great airs.  He, I believe, is putting up volcanos in his own country.  In my youth, philosophers were eager to ascribe every uncommon discovery to the Deluge; now it is the fashion to solve every appearance by conflagrations.  If there was such an inundation upon the earth, and such a furnace under it, I am amazed that Noah and company were not boiled to death.  Indeed, I am a great sceptic about human reasonings; they predominate only for a time, like other mortal fashions, and are so often exploded after the mode is passed, that I hold them little more serious, though they call themselves wisdom.  How many have I lived to see established and confuted!  For instance, the necessity of a southern continent as a balance was supposed to be unanswerable; and so it was, till Captain Cook found there was no such thing.  We are poor silly animals:  we live for an instant upon a particle of a boundless universe, and are much like a butterfly that should argue about the nature of the seasons and what creates their vicissitudes, and does not exist itself to see one annual revolution of them!

Adieu! my dear lord!  If my reveries are foolish, remember, I give them for no better, If I depreciate human wisdom, I am sure I do not assume a grain to myself; nor have any thing to value myself upon more than being your lordship’s most obliged humble servant.

Letter 278 To Mr. Dodsley.(526) Strawberry Hill, August 8, 1784. (page 350)