correspondence is carried on. Some think it treasonable, others lewd
(don't tell Lady Fanny); but all agree there was something very odd and
unaccountable in such sudden likings. I confess, as I said before, it is
witchcraft. You won't wonder I do not sign (notwithstanding all my
impudence) such dangerous truths: who knows the consequence? The devil
is said to desert his votaries."

To SIR JAMES STEUART

"Venice, January 13, 1759.

"I have indulged myself some time with day-dreams of the happiness I
hope to enjoy this summer in the conversation of Lady Fanny and Sir
James S.; but I hear such frightful stories of precipices and hovels
during the whole journey, I begin to fear there is no such pleasure
allotted me in the book of fate: the Alps were once molehills in my
sight when they interposed between me and the slightest inclination; now
age begins to freeze, and brings with it the usual train of melancholy
apprehensions. Poor human-kind! We always march blindly on; the fire of
youth represents to us all our wishes possible; and, that over, we fall
into despondency that prevents even easy enterprises: a store in winter,
a garden in summer, bounds all our desires, or at least our undertakings.
If Mr. Steuart would disclose all his imaginations, I dare swear he has
some thoughts of emulating Alexander or Demosthenes, perhaps both:
nothing seems difficult at his time of life, everything at name. I am
very unwilling, but am afraid I must submit to the confinement of my
boat and my easy-chair, and go no farther than they can carry me. Why
are our views so extensive and our powers so miserably limited? This
is among the mysteries which (as you justly say) will remain ever
unfolded to our shallow capacities. I am much inclined to think we are
no more free agents than the queen of clubs when she victoriously takes
prisoner the knave of hearts; and all our efforts (when we rebel against
destiny) as weak as a card that sticks to a glove when the gamester is
determined to throw it on the table. Let us then (which is the only true
philosophy) be contented with our chance, and make the best of that bad
bargain of being born in this vile planet; where we may find, however
(God be thanked), much to laugh at, though little to approve.

"I confess I delight extremely in looking on men in that light. How many
thousands trample under foot honour, ease, and pleasure, in pursuit of
ribands of certain colours, dabs of embroidery on t