LETTERXXVIII.TO MISS. L——.
Sept. 12, 1775.
THERE is nothing in nature more vexatious than contributing to the uneasiness of those, whose partiality renders them anxious for our well-doing—the honest heart dilates with rapture when it can happily contribute pleasure to its friends. You see by this that I am coxcomb enough to suppose me and mine of consequence!—but if it is so—it is such as you whose partial goodness have grafted that folly on my natural trunk of dulness.—I am, in truth, in a very unfit mood for writing—for poor Lydia is very so, so—Mrs. Sancho not very stout;—and for me, I assure you, that of my pair of feet—two are at this instant in pain! This is the worst side—but courage! Hope! delusive cheating Hope! beckons Self-love, and enlists himof her side—and, together, use their friendly eloquence to persuade me that better times are coming.—Your beloved wife (cries Self-love) will have a happy time, and be up soon, strong and hearty.—Your child (cries Hope) will get the better of her illness—and grow up a blessing and comfort to your evening life—and your friend will soon be in town, and enliven your winter prospects.—Trust, trust in the Almighty—his providence is your shield—’tis his love, ’tis his mercy, which has hitherto supported and kept you up.—See, see! cries Hope! look where Religion, with Faith on her right, and Charity on her left, and a numerous train of blessings in her rear, come to thy support.—Fond foolish mortal, leave complaining—all will be right—all is right.—Adieu, my good friend—write me something, to chase away idle fears, and to strengthen hope.—Too true it is, that where the tender passions are concerned, our sex are cowards.
Yours sincerely,
I. SANCHO.
Mrs. Sancho sends her best wishes.