’Sept. 4. [Concerning a private transaction, in which his opinion was asked, and after giving it he makes the following reflections, which are applicable on other occasions.] Nothing deserves more compassion than wrong conduct with good meaning; than loss or obloquy suffered by one who, as he is conscious only of good intentions, wonders why he loses that kindness which he wishes to preserve; and not knowing his own fault, if, as may sometimes happen, nobody will tell him, goes on to offend by his endeavours to please.  I am delighted by finding that our opinions are the same.  You will do me a real kindness by continuing to write.  A post-day has now been long a day of recreation.’

Nov. 1.  ’Our correspondence paused for want of topicks.  I had said what I had to say on the matter proposed to my consideration; and nothing remained but to tell you, that I waked or slept; that I was more or less sick.  I drew my thoughts in upon myself, and supposed yours employed upon your book.  That your book[1117] has been delayed I am glad, since you have gained an opportunity of being more exact.  Of the caution necessary in adjusting narratives there is no end.  Some tell what they do not know, that they may not seem ignorant, and others from mere indifference about truth.  All truth is not, indeed, of equal importance; but, if little violations are allowed, every violation will in time be thought little; and a writer should keep himself vigilantly on his guard against the first temptations to negligence or supineness.  I had ceased to write, because respecting you I had no more to say, and respecting myself could say little good.  I cannot boast of advancement, and in cases of convalescence it may be said, with few exceptions, non progredi, est regredi.  I hope I may be excepted.  My great difficulty was with my sweet Fanny[1118], who, by her artifice of inserting her letter in yours, had given me a precept of frugality[1119] which I was not at liberty to neglect; and I know not who were in town under whose cover I could send my letter[1120].  I rejoice to hear that you are all so well, and have a delight particularly sympathetick in the recovery of Mrs. Burney.’

To MR. LANGTON:—­

Aug. 25.  ’The kindness of your last letter, and my omission to answer it, begins to give you, even in my opinion, a right to recriminate, and to charge me with forgetfulness for the absent.  I will, therefore, delay no longer to give an account of myself, and wish I could relate what would please either myself or my friend.  On July 13, I left London, partly in hope of help from new air and change of place, and partly excited by the sick man’s impatience of the present.  I got to Lichfield in a stage vehicle, with very little fatigue, in two days, and had the consolation[1121] to find, that since my last visit my three old acquaintance are all dead.  July 20, I went to Ashbourne, where I have been till now; the house in which we live is