an improvident family may not be com pared to the prudent ants, a nation at variance in itself is not so happily amicable as the community of bell animals who so worthily require a microscopical attention; but however individuals may seem to thwart the end of their being, in general all contribute to the universal good. If we saw only the wheel part of the animal, how should we laugh at a creature made but to turn? and ask, to what purpose so much motion? But it is a subject of which we can discover the whole, and we see a heart whose blood is fed from the little milk, and limbs nourished by it. And thus it is with the whole body of human-kind; classes of people make up the members; some are the wheels, and some the claws; we rail at these as restless, at those as rapacious, and so on. Could we see the entire economy we should then declare how all conspire to the great end, and learn not to despise any part of so excellent a constitution. It is not possible almighty wisdom can make any thing that does

not tend to a wise end, and it is a good way to reconcile oneself to those we think fools, to look upon them as some way to be a part of wisdom, though unhappily the connection be invisible to us. So instead of a microscope, that considers only minute objects, take a moral and physical telescope, look over the whole creation of intelligent beings, and you will be reconciled to every part of them. Your Grace frequently complains of the conversation of a certain person who is not wise; I own the conversation of a simpleton is a grievance, but there the disparity of a wise man and a fool often ends. When passions have their sway (too often strongest in the brightest minds), Dame Reason's fundamental laws are as much broken by the one as the other: there is nothing stable in human nature. Folly sometimes has a fit of prudence, Wisdom often a fit of folly; but I own there is great difference in the conversation of the different sorts of persons; and though it may sound imprudently, I think a fool is almost better to

be trusted as an agent for our business in the world, than to be endured as a companion in our solitude, for we see unwise people grow very rich, even at the expence of the ingenious. But if I have weakly defended these unhappy dull people, pray let me enjoy that charity I would procure for them. I am, with the most affectionate wishes, and sincere and grateful regard, your

Grace's most obedient,

MADAM,

To the Same.

E. MONTAGU.

Nov. 19th, 1745.

I AM at a loss what to say in excuse for myself, and fear your Grace has condemned me as very idle. While my mother was with me, I was unwilling to leave her alone, even for a moment; and since she left me I have been in a con

tinual hurry of visits. The learned faculty have given us better hopes of my mother's case than I could have expected; they say it is not yet cancerous, and that it may be many years before it hurts her. Your Grace was excessively good in sending me the receipts, which I have sent her, and also the walnut medicine. I wish I had any agreeable news to send your Grace, but really we hear none that can rejoice us. Carlisle is surrendered to the rebels, who, I hear, behave civilly, and not as conquerors. Their success, no doubt, has raised their spirits. A party of Marshal Wade's took their quarter-master prisoner; who behaved with great spirit, said they might hang him as soon as they pleased; the Marshal asked him if the Pretender designed to fight them; to which he answered, yes, and to beat them too. Ligonier is still ill; the Dukes of Richmond and Bedford are set out. Lord Sandwich is aide-de-camp to the Duke of Richmond. I pity poor Lady Sandwich, she endeavours to bear up, but certainly she is in an uneasy situation; I saw her

on Sunday, and she is to dine here tomorrow. Her ladyship enquired after your Grace. I suppose you know Sir Francis Dashwood is upon the brink of matrimony. I see him sometimes with his intended bride, Lady Ellis; he is really very good company. She is ill at present, but, I imagine, as soon as the writings are finished, and she recovers her health, they will be joined in wedlock's holy bands. Lord Rockingham has been extremely ill, but, it is hoped, he is something better this afternoon. He has gone through all the severities of physic. There is a new poem come out called Harmony; I would have sent it your Grace, but that I do not think it would entertain you; the poet seems to have the machinery of poetry but not the spirit of it; he forgets no poetic fable, but intermixes them with his philosophy, so that he contrives to make his system obscure, and his work very tedious. I think this is not a season for the Muses; those delicate ladies will not visit us in such turbulent times; Bellona's trumpet