FROM THE EARL OF ORRERY.
IF I were to tell you who inquire for you, and what they say of you, it would take up more paper than I have in my lodgings, and more time than I stay in town. Yet London is empty: not dusty, for we have had rain: not dull, for Mr. Pope is in it: not noisy, for we have no cars[1]: not troublesome, for a man may walk quietly about the streets: in short, it is just as I would have it till Monday, and then I quit St. Paul's, for my little church at Marston.
Your commands are obeyed long ago. Dr. King has his cargo[2], Mrs. Barber her conversation[3], and Mr. Pope his letters. To morrow I pass with him at Twickenham: the olim meminisse will be our feast. Leave Dublin, and come to us. Methinks there are many stronger reasons for it than heretofore; at least I feel them: and I will say with Macbeth, Would thou could'st!
My health is greatly mended; so, I hope, is yours: write to me when you can, in your best health, and utmost leisure; never break through that rule. Can friendship increase by absence?
- ↑ Alluding to the Irish cars.
- ↑ The MS. of "The History of the Four Last Years."
- ↑ The treatise on "Polite Conversation," which the dean sent to Mrs. Barber as a present, and which she sold for a good sum.
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