that Mirth, that Ease and Gaiety of Heart which

rendered his Company so universally desireable, and was become peevish and dissatisfied with every thing. I never shall forget what he said to me, as we were sitting together in his Dressing-Room, but a few Weeks before he went Abroad. I think it was the last Conversation we ever had together.
Melmoth (says he) I am Unhappy! I am sick of my Follies, and almost wearied of my Life! I enter into Company without Enjoying it; I frequent public Places, but they are become Indifferent and Irksome to me. Nothing amuses me! I wish I had lived as you have, Melmoth!

To quit a Subject so unpleasant, let me enquire a little into your

Course of Employment at Foxhall. For Instance, how do you spend your Mornings? do you ride, or walk, or sit at Home and read those curious Tracts, which you say Sir Thorobred's Study abounds with? I should think, with a little Application under so excellent a Master, you might soon acquire a very competent Stock of Theoretical Horsemanship; I never presume to expect anything considerable from you in the practical Parts. A few Days ago I received Advices from George, giving such satisfactory Accounts of his amatorial Progresses, that I expect every Newspaper to read Particulars of the Marriage. I am heartily glad to find Matters in so fair a Train with him, because I think he will do a

much wiser Thing in marrying an amiable Girl with a good Fortune, than in returning to live upon Salt-Beef and Honour in America. I have a Wife, Easy, and I want to see all my Friends in the same Situation, which believe me is a much more comfortable one than many silly People imagine. With due Compliments to the Inhabitants of Foxhall in general, and that Centaur Sir Thorobred in particular, I remain,
Yours ever, Charles Melmoth.

WILLIAM EASY to CHARLES MELMOTH.
Foxhall,July,
Dear Melmoth,
YOUR melancholy Account of our Friend's Decease gives me much Concern. Poor Harry, I am sincerely sorry for him! Not that he is Dead, for I do not think Death a Thing to be lamented; nor yet that he died in the Prime of Life. 'Tis not his End, but the Causes and Manner of it, the unhappy Course of Dissipation which occasioned it, and the Stain that may throw upon a Character in itself truly amiable, which I grieve for. But I will not trouble you with a

Detail of Reflexions on this Head, as I have thrown them into