And indeed if she had prevailed upon him, it might have been happy for both; as then he would not have fallen in with his cursed Thomasine. But truly this officious brother of hers must interpose. This made a trifling affair important: and what was the issue? Metcalfe challenged; Belton met him; disarmed him; gave him his life; but the fellow, more sensible in his skin than in his head, having received a scratch, was frighted; it gave him first a puke, then a fever, and then he died. That was all. And how could Belton help that?-But sickness, a long tedious sickness, will make a bugbear of any thing to a languishing heart, I see that. And so far was Mowbray à-propos in the verses from Nat. Lee which thou hast transcribed.

Merely to die no man of reason fears; is a mistake, say thou, or say thy author, what ye will. And thy solemn parading about the natural repugnance between life and death, is a proof that it is.

Let me tell thee, Jack, that so much am I pleased with this world in the main; though in some points too, the world (to make a person of it) has been a rascal to me; so delighted am I with the joys of youth; with my worldly prospects as to fortune, and now, newly, with the charming hopes given me by my dear, thrice dear, and for ever dear CLARISSA! that were I even sure that nothing bad would come hereafter, I should be very loth (very much afraid, if thou wilt have it so) to lay down my life and them together; and yet, upon a call of honour, no man fears death less than myself.

But I have not either inclination or leisure to weigh thy leaden arguments, except in the pig, or, as thou wouldest say, in the lump.

If I return thy letters, let me have them again some time hence, that is to say, when I am married, or when poor Belton is half forgotten; or when

time has enrolled the honest fellow among those whom we have so long lost, that we may remember them with more pleasure than pain; and then I may give them a serious perusal, and enter with thee as deeply as thou wilt into the subject.

When I am married, said I?—What a sound has that?

I must wait with patience for a sight of this charming creature, till she is at her father's. And yet, as the but blossoming beauty, as thou tellest me, is reduced to a shadow, I should have been exceedingly delighted to see her now, and every day till the happy one; that I might have the pleasure of beholding how sweetly, hour by hour, she will rise to her pristine glories, by means of that state of ease and contentment, which will take place of the stormy past upon her reconciliation with her friends, and our happy nuptials.

LETTER LXII.

MR. LOVELACE TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. WELL, but now my heart is a little at ease, I will condescend to take brief notice of some other passages in thy letters.

I find, I am to thank thee, that the dear creature has avoided my visit. Things are now in so good a train that I must forgive thee; else thou shouldst have heard more of this new instance of disloyalty to thy general.

Thou art continually giving thyself high praise, by way of opposition, as I may say, to others; gently and artfully blaming thyself for qualities thou wouldst, at the same time, have to be thought, and which generally are thought, praiseworthy.

Thus, in the airs thou assumest about thy servants, thou wouldst pass for a mighty humane mortal; and that at the expense of Mowbray and me, whom thou representest as kings and emperors to our menials. Yet art thou always unhappy in thy attempts of this kind, and never canst make us, who know thee, believe that to be a virtue in thee, which is but the effect of a constitutional phlegm and absurdity.

Knowest thou not, that some men have a native ́dignity in their manner, that makes them more regarded by a look, than either thou canst be in thy low style, or Mowbray in his high?

I am fit to be a prince, I can tell thee; for I reward well, and I punish seasonably and properly; and I am generally as well served as any man.

The art of governing these under-bred varlets, lies more in the dignity of looks than in words; and thou art a sorry fellow, to think humanity consists in acting by thy servants, as men must act who are not able to pay them their wages; or had made them masters of secrets, which, if divulged, would lay them at the mercy of such wretches.

Now to me, who never did any thing I was ashamed to own, and who have more ingenuousness than ever man had; who can call a villany by its right name, though practised by myself, and (by my own readiness to reproach myself) anticipate all reproach from others; who am not such a hypocrite, as to wish the world to think me other or better than I am-it is my part, to look a servant into his duty, if I can: nor will I keep one, who knows not how to take me by a nod, or a wink; and who, when I smile, shall not be all transport; when I frown, all

terror.

If, indeed, I am out of the way a little, I always take care to reward the varlets for patiently bearing

my displeasure. But this I hardly ever am, but when a fellow is egregiously stupid in any plain point of duty, or will be wiser than his master; and when he shall tell me that he thought acting contrary to my orders was the way to serve me best.

One time or other I will enter the lists with thee upon thy conduct and mine to servants: and I will convince thee, that what thou wouldst have pass for humanity, if it be indiscriminately practised to all tempers, will perpetually subject thee to the evils thou complainest of; and justly too; and that he only is fit to be a master of servants, who can command their attention as much by a nod, as if he were to pr'ythee a fellow to do his duty, on one hand, or to talk of faying and horse-whipping, like Mowbray, on the other for the servant, who being used to expect thy creeping style, will always be master of his master, and he who deserves to be treated as the other, is not fit to be any man's servant; nor would I keep such a fellow to rub my horse's heels.

I shall be the readier to enter the lists with thee upon this argument, because I have presumption enough to think, that we have not in any of our dramatic poets, that I can at present call to mind, one character of a servant, of either sex, that is justly hit off. So absurdly wise some, and so sottishly foolish others; and both sometimes in the same person. Foils drawn from the lees or dregs of the people to set off the characters of their masters and mistresses; nay, sometimes, which is still more absurd, introduced with more wit than the poet has to bestow upon their principals.-Mere flints and steels to strike fire with-or, to vary the metaphor, to serve for whetstones to wit, which otherwise could not be made apparent:-or for engines to be made use of like the machinery of the ancient poets (or the

still more unnatural soliloquy) to help on a sorry plot, or to bring about a necessary eclaircissement, to save the poet the trouble of thinking deeply for a better way to wind up his bottoms.

Of this I am persuaded (whatever my practice be to my own servants) that thou wilt be benefited by my theory, when we come to controvert the point. For then I shall convince thee, that the dramatic as well as natural characteristics of a good servant ought to be fidelity, common sense, cheerful obedience, and silent respect: that wit in his station, except to his companions, would be sauciness: that he should never presume to give his advice: that if he ventured to expostulate upon any unreasonable command, or such a one as appeared to him to be so, he should do it with humility and respect, and take a proper season for. it. But such lessons do most of the dramatic performances I have seen, give, where servants are introduced as characters essential to the play, or to act very significant or long parts in it (which, of itself, I think a fault); such lessons, I say, do they give to the footmen's gallery, that I have not wondered we have so few modest or good men-servants among those who often attend their masters or mistresses to plays. Then how miserably evident must that poet's conscious want of genius be, who can stoop to raise or give force to a clap by the indiscriminate roar of the party-coloured gallery.

But this subject I will suspend to a better opportunity; that is to say, to the happy one, when my · nuptials with my Clarissa will oblige me to increase the number of iny servants, and of consequence to enter more nicely into their qualifications.

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Although I have the highest opinion that man can have of the generosity of my dear Miss Har