to learn
without a master; I am not certain (and dare hardly hope) I shall make
any great progress; but I find the study so diverting I am not only
easy, but pleased with the solitude that indulges it. I forget there is
such a place as London, and wish for no company but yours. You see, my
dear, in making my pleasures consist of these unfashionable diversions,
I am not of the number who cannot be easy out of the mode. I believe
more follies are committed out of complaisance to the world, than in
following our own inclinations--Nature is seldom in the wrong, custom
always; it is with some regret I follow it in all the impertinencies of
dress; the compliance is so trivial it comforts me; but I am amazed to
see it consulted even in the most important occasions of our lives; and
that people of good sense in other things can make their happiness
consist in the opinions of others, and sacrifice every thing in the
desire of appearing in fashion. I call all people who fall in love with
furniture, clothes, and equipage, of this number, and I look upon them
as no less in the wrong than when they were five years old, and doated
on shells, pebbles, and hobby-horses: I believe you will expect this
letter to be dated from the other world, for sure I am you never heard
an inhabitant of this talk so before. I suppose you expect, too, I
should conclude with begging pardon for this extreme tedious and very
nonsensical letter; quite contrary, I think you will be obliged to me
for it. I could not better show my great concern for your reproaching me
with neglect I knew myself innocent of, than proving myself mad in three
pages."

"August 21, 1709.

"I am infinitely obliged to you, my dear Mrs. Wortley, for the wit,
beauty, and other fine qualities, you so generously bestow upon me. Next
to receiving them from Heaven, you are the person from whom I would
chuse to receive gifts and graces: I am very well satisfied to owe them
to your own delicacy of imagination, which represents to you the idea of
a fine lady, and you have good nature enough to fancy I am she. All this
is mighty well, but you do not stop there; imagination is boundless.
After giving me imaginary wit and beauty, you give me imaginary
passions, and you tell me I'm in love: if I am, 'tis a perfect sin of
ignorance, for I don't so much as know the man's name: I have been
studying these three hours, and cannot guess who you mean. I passed the
days of Nottingham races, [at] Th