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<h2> To Dr LEWIS. </h2>
<h3> DEAR DICK, </h3>
<p>Since the last trouble I gave you, I have met with a variety of incidents,
some of them of a singular nature, which I reserve as a fund for
conversation; but there are others so interesting, that they will not keep
in petto till meeting.</p>
<p>Know then, it was a thousand pounds to a sixpence, that you should now be
executing my will, instead of perusing my letter! Two days ago, our coach
was overturned in the midst of a rapid river, where my life was saved with
the utmost difficulty, by the courage, activity, and presence of mind of
my servant Humphry Clinker—But this is not the most surprising
circumstance of the adventure—The said Humphry Clinker proves to be
Matthew Loyd, natural son of one Matthew Loyd of Glamorgan, if you know
any such person—You see, Doctor, that notwithstanding all your
philosophy, it is not without some reason that the Welchmen ascribe such
energy to the force of blood—But we shall discuss this point on some
future occasion.</p>
<p>This is not the only discovery which I made in consequence of our disaster—We
happened to be wrecked upon a friendly shore—The lord of the manor
is no other than Charles Dennison, our fellow-rake at Oxford—We are
now happily housed with that gentleman, who has really attained to that
pitch of rural felicity, at which I have been aspiring these twenty years
in vain. He is blessed with a consort, whose disposition is suited to his
own in all respects; tender, generous, and benevolent—She, moreover,
possesses an uncommon share of understanding, fortitude, and discretion,
and is admirably qualified to be his companion, confidant, counsellor, and
coadjutrix. These excellent persons have an only son, about nineteen years
of age, just such a youth as they could have wished that Heaven would
bestow to fill up the measure of their enjoyment—In a word, they
know no other allay to their happiness, but their apprehension and anxiety
about the life and concerns of this beloved object.</p>
<p>Our old friend, who had the misfortune to be a second brother, was bred to
the law, and even called to the bar; but he did not find himself qualified
to shine in that province, and had very little inclination for his
profession—He disobliged his father, by marrying for love, without
any consideration of fortune; so that he had little or nothing to depend
upon for some years but his practice, which afforded him a bare
subsistence; and the prospect of an increasing family, began to give him
disturbance and disquiet. In the mean time, his father dying, was
succeeded by his elder brother, a fox-hunter and a sot, who neglected his
affairs, insulted and oppressed his servants, and in a few years had well
nigh ruined the estate, when he was happily carried off by a fever, the
immediate consequence of a debauch. Charles, with the approbation of his
wife, immediately determined to quit business, and retire into the
country, although this resolution was strenuously and zealously opposed by
every individual, whom he consulted on the subject. Those who had tried
the experiment, assured him that he could not pretend to breathe in the
country for less than the double of what his estate produced; that, in
order to be upon the footing of a gentleman, he would be obliged to keep
horses, hounds, carriages, with a suitable number of servants, and
maintain an elegant table for the entertainment of his neighbours; that
farming was a mystery, known only to those who had been bred up to it from
the cradle, the success of it depending not only upon skill and industry,
but also upon such attention and oeconomy as no gentleman could be
supposed to give or practise; accordingly, every attempt made by gentlemen
miscarried, and not a few had been ruined by their prosecution of
agriculture—Nay, they affirmed that he would find it cheaper to buy
hay and oats for his cattle, and to go to market for poultry, eggs,
kitchen herbs, and roots, and every the most inconsiderable article of
house-keeping, than to have those articles produced on his own ground.</p>
<p>These objections did not deter Mr Dennison, because they were chiefly
founded on the supposition, that he would be obliged to lead a life of
extravagance and dissipation, which he and his consort equally detested,
despised, and determined to avoid—The objects he had in view, were
health of body, peace of mind, and the private satisfaction of domestic
quiet, unallayed by actual want, and uninterrupted by the fears of
indigence—He was very moderate in his estimate of the necessaries,
and even of the comforts of life—He required nothing but wholesome
air, pure water, agreeable exercise, plain diet, convenient lodging, and
decent apparel. He reflected, that if a peasant without education, or any
great share of natural sagacity, could maintain a large family, and even
become opulent upon a farm, for which he payed an annual rent of two or
three hundred pounds to the landlord, surely he himself might hope for
some success from his industry, having no rent to pay, but, on the
contrary, three or four hundred pounds a year to receive. He considered,
that the earth was an indulgent mother, that yielded her fruits to all her
children without distinction. He had studied the theory of agriculture
with a degree of eagerness and delight; and he could not conceive there
was any mystery in the practice, but what he should be able to disclose by
dint of care and application. With respect to houshold expence, he entered
into a minute detail and investigation, by which he perceived the
assertions of his friends were altogether erroneous—He found he
should save sixty pounds a year in the single article of house-rent, and
as much more in pocket-money and contingencies; that even butcher's-meat
was twenty per cent cheaper in the country than in London; but that
poultry, and almost every other circumstance of house-keeping, might be
had for less than one-half of what they cost in town; besides, a
considerable saving on the side of dress, in being delivered from the
oppressive imposition of ridiculous modes, invented by ignorance, and
adopted by folly.</p>
<p>As to the danger of vying with the rich in pomp and equipage, it never
gave him the least disturbance. He was now turned of forty, and, having
lived half that time in the busy scenes of life, was well skilled in the
science of mankind. There cannot be in nature a more contemptible figure
than that of a man, who, with five hundred a year, presumes to rival in
expence a neighbour who possesses five times that income—His
ostentation, far from concealing, serves only to discover his indigence,
and render his vanity the more shocking; for it attracts the eyes of
censure, and excites the spirit of inquiry. There is not a family in the
county nor a servant in his own house, nor a farmer in the parish, but
what knows the utmost farthing that his lands produce, and all these
behold him with scorn or compassion. I am surprised that these reflections
do not occur to persons in this unhappy dilemma, and produce a salutary
effect; but the truth is, of all the passions incident to human nature,
vanity is that which most effectually perverts the faculties of the
understanding; nay, it sometimes becomes so incredibly depraved, as to
aspire at infamy, and find pleasure in bearing the stigmas of reproach.</p>
<p>I have now given you a sketch of the character and situation of Mr
Dennison, when he came down to take possession of this estate; but as the
messenger, who carries the letters to the next town, is just setting off,
I shall reserve what further I have to say on this subject, till the next
post, when you shall certainly hear from</p>
<p>Yours always, MATT. BRAMBLE Oct. 8.</p>
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