- I

Bath, April 6, 1765.

I SCALP you! my dear Garrick! my dear friend! foul befal the man who hurts a hair of your head! and so full was I of that very sentiment that my letter had not been put into the post-office ten minutes, before my heart smote me; and I sent to recal it but failed you are sadly to blame, Shandy! for this, quoth I, leaning with my head on my hand, as I recriminated upon my false delicacy in the affair Garrick's nerves (if he has any left) are as fine and delicately spun as thy own his sentiments as honest and friendly thou knowest, Shandy, that he loves thee why wilt thou hazard him a moment's pain? Puppy! fool, coxcomb, jack-ass, &c. &c. and so I balanced the account to your favour, before I received it drawn up in your way I say your way for it is not stated so much to your honour and credit as I had passed the account before for it was a most lamented truth that I never received one of the letters your friendship meant me, except whilst in Paris. — Oh! how I congratulate you for the anxiety the world has, and continues to be under, for your return Return, return, to the few who love you, and the thousands who admire you. The moment you set your foot upon yon stage mark! I tell it you by some magic irresistible power, every fibre about your heart will vibrate afresh, and as strong and feelingly as ever- Nature, with glory at her back, will light up the torch within you — and there is enough of it left to heat and enlighten the world these many, many, many years.

Heaven be praised! (I utter it from my soul) that

your lady, and my Minerva, is in a condition to walk to Windsor full rapturously will I lead the graceful pilgrim to the temple, where I will sacrifice with the purest incense to her but you may worship with me,

or not

'twill make no difference either in the truth or warmth of my devotion still (after all I have seen) I still maintain her peerless.

Powel! good Heaven! give me some one with less smoke and more fire. There are who, like the Pharisees, still think they shall be heard for much speaking Come come away, my dear Garrick, and teach

us another lesson.

Adieu! I love you dearly

and your lady better not hobbyhorsically but most sentimentally and affectionately for I am yours (that is, if you never say another word about) with all the sentiments of love and friendship you deserve from me,

LVII. TO MR. FOLEY.

MY DEAR FOLEY,

L. STERNE.

Bath, April 15, 1765.

My wife tells me she has drawn for one hundred pounds, and 'tis fit that you should be paid it that minute the money is now in Becket's hands send me, my dear Foley, my account, that I may discharge the balance to this time, and know what to leave in your hands. I have made a good campaign of it this year in the field of the literati my two volumes of Tristram, and two of Sermons, which I shall print very soon, will bring me a considerable sum. Almost all the nobility in England honour me with their names, and 'tis thought it will be the largest and most splendid

list which ever pranced before a book, since subscriptions came into fashion. Pray present my most sincere compliments to Lady H-, whose name I hope to insert with many others. As so many men of genius favour me with their names also, I will quarrel with Mr. Hume, and call him Deist, and what not, unless I have his name too. My love to Lord W Your name, Foley, I have put in as a free-will offering of my labours, your list of subscribers you will send 'tis but a crown for sixteen sermons

Dog cheap! but I am in quest of honour, not money. Adieu, adieu, believe me, dear Foley,

Yours truly,

L. STERNE.

of my Uncle Toby's but my Sermons

Ar this moment I am sitting in my summerhouse with my head and heart full, not amours with the Widow Wadman, and your letter has drawn me out of a pensive mood the spirit of it pleaseth me, but, in this solitude, what can I tell or write to you but about myself? I am glad that you are in love, 'twill cure you at least of the spleen, which has a bad effect both on man and woman I myself must ever have some Dulcinea in my head, it harmonizes the soul and in those cases

I first endeavour to make the lady believe so, rather I begin first to make myself believe that I am in love, but I carry on my affairs quite in the French way, sentimentally "l'amour," (say they) "n'est rien sans sentiment." Now notwithstanding they make such a

pother about the word, they have no precise idea annexed to it And so much for that same subject called love. I must tell you how I have just treated a French gentleman of fortune in France, who took a liking to my daughter. Without any ceremony (having got my direction from my wife's banker) he wrote me word that he was in love with my daughter, and desired to know what fortune I would give her at present, and how much at my death by the bye, I think there was very little sentiment on his side. My answer was, "Sir, I shall give her ten thousand pounds on the day of marriage my calculation is as follows she is not eighteen, you are sixty-two there goes five thousand pounds then, Sir, you at least think her not ugly she has many accomplishments, speaks Italian, French, plays upon the guitar, and as I fear you play upon no instrument whatever, I think you will be happy to take her at my terms, for here finishes the account of the ten thousand pounds." I do not suppose but he will take this as I mean, that is, a flat refusal. I have had a parsonage-house burnt down by the carelessness of my curate's wife; as soon as I can I must rebuild it, I trow, but I lack the means at present yet I am never happier than when I have not a shilling in my pocket-for when I have I can never call it my own. Adieu, my dear friend, may you enjoy better health than me, though not better spirits, for that is impossible.

Yours sincerely,

My compliments to the Colonel.

L. STERNE.

I WROTE, some time in spring, to beg you would favour me with my account. I believe you was set out from Paris, and that Mr. Garrick brought the letter with him which possibly he gave you. In the hurry of your business you might forget the contents of it; and in the hurry of mine in town (though I called once) I could not get to see you. I decamp for Italy in September, and shall see your face at Paris, you may be sure but I shall see it with more pleasure when I am out of debt, which is your own fault, for Becket has had money left in his hands for that purpose. Do send Mrs. Sterne her two last volumes of Tristram; they arrived with yours in Spring, and she complains she has not got them My best services to Mr. Panchaud. I am busy composing two volumes of Sermons they will be printed in September, though I fear not time enough to bring them with me. name is amongst the list of a few of my honorary subscribers who subscribe for love. If you see Baron d'Holbach, and Diderot, present my respects to them If the Baron wants any English books he will let me know, and I will bring them with me. Adieu,

I am truly yours,

LX. TO THE SAME.

DEAR SIR,

Your

L. STERNE.

London, October 7, 1765.

It is a terrible thing to be in Paris without a perriwig on a man's head! In seven days from the date