The time of the year, for I hope the fault is rather in the weather than in me, has been very hard upon me.  The muscles of my breast are much convulsed.  Dr. Heberden recommends opiates, of which I have such horrour, that I do not think of them but in extremis.  I was, however, driven to them, last night, for refuge, and, having taken the usual quantity, durst not go to bed, for fear of that uneasiness to which a supine posture exposes me, but rested all night in a chair, with much relief, and have been, to-day, more warm, active, and cheerful.

You have more than once wondered at my complaint of solitude, when you hear that I am crowded with visits.  “Inopem me copia fecit.”  Visitors are no proper companions in the chamber of sickness.  They come, when I could sleep or read, they stay till I am weary, they force me to attend, when my mind calls for relaxation, and to speak, when my powers will hardly actuate my tongue.  The amusements and consolations of languor and depression are conferred by familiar and domestick companions, which can be visited or called at will, and can, occasionally, be quitted or dismissed, who do not obstruct accommodation by ceremony, or destroy indolence by awakening effort.

Such society I had with Levet and Williams; such I had where—­I am never likely to have it more.

I wish, dear lady, to you and my dear girls, many a cheerful and pious Christmas.  I am, your, &c.

LIV.—­To MRS. Piozzi.

London, July 8, 1784.

DEAR MADAM,—­What you have done, however I may lament it, I have no pretence to resent, as it has not been injurious to me; I, therefore, breathe out one sigh more of tenderness, perhaps useless, but at least sincere.

I wish that God may grant you every blessing, that you may be happy in this world, for its short continuance, and eternally happy in a better state; and whatever I can contribute to your happiness, I am very ready to repay, for that kindness which soothed twenty years of a life radically wretched.

Do not think slightly of the advice which I now presume to offer.  Prevail upon Mr. Piozzi to settle in England; you may live here with more dignity than in Italy, and with more security; your rank will be higher, and your fortune more under your own eye.  I desire not to detail all my reasons; but every argument of prudence and interest is for England, and only some phantoms of imagination seduce you to Italy.

I am afraid, however, that my counsel is vain, yet I have eased my heart by giving it.

When queen Mary took the resolution of sheltering herself in England, the archbishop of St. Andrew’s, attempting to dissuade her, attended on her journey; and when they came to the irremeable stream, that separated the two kingdoms, walked by her side into the water, in the middle of which he seized her bridle, and with earnestness, proportioned to her danger and his own affection, pressed her to return.  The queen went forward.—­If the parallel reaches thus far, may it go no farther.—­The tears stand in my eyes.