182 LETTERS TO GILBERT WHITE 



a little more what we profess. I beg you to get as much this 

 Winter as possible into ye gay World ; for it will be of Prejudice 

 to your Health & Spirits to employ a Winter in putting on Wood 

 in a Country Village. At all Events, & wherever, write to me 

 often : for when ye Mind alone expatiates, the Body is something 

 ye better for it. And You will really befriend Mrs Mulso & me 

 in giving yourself this Exercise. I have little at present to add, 

 but Mrs M's & my best wishes for ye Health & Success of You 

 & Your's. 



I am, dear Gil, Ever sincerely & affectely Your's, 



J. Mulso. 



Letter 109. 



Thornhill. 



Deer : 7, 1763. 

 Dear Gil : 



By looking at ye date of your Lr I find that ye Tables 

 are somewhat turned, & that you are like to be ye Complainant, 

 & I ye person complained of as a bad Correspondent. But to say 

 ye Truth, I was not in a Hurry to write an answer to your last 

 which contained bad new8,''= which affected you so much ; & 

 indeed I thought it likely that you would take ye first oppor- 

 tunity to quit Selborne, & take up your Kesidence in some of ye 

 many places, where you are & ought to be welcome. I am very 

 glad to address myself to you in Rathbone place ; a little of ye 

 Bustle, and Talk, & Variety of London is absolutely necessary 

 for you, and if you should have any further Knowledge of ye 

 Miss B's : it might have rather a salutary than a dangerous 

 Effect ; for it is my Notion that they may be very safely taken 

 either full or fasting. I hope ye Town does not disagree wth you 

 after so long an Absence fm it ; I know you used to be sorely 

 beset about bread and Beer in London. We sit at a Distance 

 & are but little troubled here about Things that wear a grave 

 face wth You ; but perhaps a little of ye wiser Business of 

 London may not be disagreable to you, after having been so far 

 from it as Arcadia. How very different ! and how many people 

 did you make happy last Summer I Some indeed bear some 

 Scars ; for even ye sweet Rose-bush has it's Thorns. I en- 

 deavoured to laugh at some of them as meer Scratches, but 

 alass poor King Leart was mad in his last Lr, ye Paroxysm was 

 upon him & he complained that He was cut to ye Brain; so I 

 have not dared to say a word yet, 'till ye heated Imagination is 



* The death of Mrs. Thomas White, a fortnight after her confinement, 

 t Ned Mulso. 



