towards you as well as preach it to you, and I'll lay a wager you will
approve on't. But I am chiefly of your opinion that contentment (which
the Spanish proverb says is the best paint) gives the lustre to all
one's enjoyment, puts a beauty upon things which without it would have
none, increases it extremely where 'tis already in some degree, and
without it, all that we call happiness besides loses its property. What
is contentment, must be left to every particular person to judge for
themselves, since they only know what is so to them which differs in all
according to their several humours. Only you and I agree 'tis to be
found by us in a true friend, a moderate fortune, and a retired life;
the last I thank God I have in perfection. My cell is almost finished,
and when you come back you'll find me in it, and bring me both the rest
I hope.

I find it much easier to talk of your coming back than your going. You
shall never persuade me I send you this journey. No, pray let it be your
father's commands, or a necessity your fortune puts upon you. 'Twas
unkindly said to tell me I banish you; your heart never told it you, I
dare swear; nor mine ne'er thought it. No, my dear, this is our last
misfortune, let's bear it nobly. Nothing shows we deserve a punishment
so much as our murmuring at it; and the way to lessen those we feel, and
to 'scape those we fear, is to suffer patiently what is imposed, making
a virtue of necessity. 'Tis not that I have less kindness or more
courage than you, but that mistrusting myself more (as I have more
reason), I have armed myself all that is possible against this occasion.
I have thought that there is not much difference between your being at
Dublin or at London, as our affairs stand. You can write and hear from
the first, and I should not see you sooner if you continued still at the
last.

Besides, I hope this journey will be of advantage to us; when your
father pressed your coming over he told you, you needed not doubt either
his power or his will. Have I done anything since that deserves he
should alter his intentions towards us? Or has any accident lessened his
power? If neither, we may hope to be happy, and the sooner for this
journey. I dare not send my boy to meet you at Brickhill nor any other
of the servants, they are all too talkative. But I can get Mr. Gibson,
if you will, to bring you a letter. 'Tis a civil, well-natured man as
can be, of excellent principles and exact honesty.