To Mrs. Pendarves Had I not been engaged almost every hour in an employment which set Aspasia continually before my eyes, His MS., finished on Christmas Eve: see letter of Feb. 13, 1731. I could by no means have satisfied myself so long without saying anything of my obligations to her; I could not have been easy without repeating my acknowledgements for them, particularly for the last, that lovely instance of your condescension, which so opportunely relieved me from the perplexity I was in. Every pleasing reflection it has given me since was a farther reason for me to thank you again; and I have been sometimes afraid that my omitting it so long might give you hard thoughts of my gratitude. But I sincerely ask pardon for that fear, so injurious both to Aspasia and Selima; with whom I should 'by no means presume to converse at all, had I not so often experienced that candor which was ever as unwilling to observe a fault as willing to excuse it when observed. Do not think, good Aspasia, I am yet so vain as to dare to maintain any intercourse with you but upon a full conviction that you are 'always ready to forgive me both when I say amiss, and when I do not so, what your goodness requires. While I am reflecting on this I can't but often observe with pleasure the great resemblance between the emotion I then feel, and that with which my heart frequently overflowed, in the beginning of my intercourse with our dear Varanese. Yet is there a sort of soft melancholy mixed with it, when I perceive that I am making another avenue for grief, that I am laying open another part of my soul, at which the arrows of fortune may enter. Nay, but here will I hold: since the Christian name for fortune is providence, or the hand of God, should it wound me even in the person of my friend there would be goodness in the severity. Should one to whom I was united by the tenderest tie, who was as my own soul, be torn from me, it would be best for me; to me, too, it would, be the stroke of mercy. Though, were it a less good to myself,

I ought doubtless not to grieve because one who deserves so well of me is taken from me to God. Surely if you were called first mine ought not to overflow because all tears were wiped from your eyes. That even in this a regard for your happiness ought to take the place of my regard for my own is most certain; but whether I could do what I ought I have great reason to question. I much doubt whether self-love in so trying a circumstance would not be found too strong for a friendship which I even now find to be less disinterested than I hitherto imagined. I used to flatter myself that I had at least the desire to be some way serviceable to Aspasia and Selima, and that this, unmixed with any meaner motive, was the sole principle of many of my actions; but even with this I perceive another principle is interwoven, a desire of recommending myself to their esteem. And if this be a fault, I am much to blame: it is a fault deeply rooted in my nature. But is it a fault to desire to recommend myself to those who so strongly recommend virtue to me ardently to desire their esteem who are so able and willing to make me in some degree worthy of it Tell me, Aspasia; tell me, Selima, if it be a fault that my heart burns within me when I reflect on the many marks of regard you have already shown Your ever obliged and ever faithful CYRUS.