rse
of love ran by no means smooth. Attention was first drawn to
her letters, and some of them were partly printed, in
Courtenay's _Life_ of her husband--a book which was reviewed
by Macaulay in a famous essay, not overlooking Dorothy. But
as a body, they waited till some half century later, when
they were published by Judge Parry and received with joy by
all fit folk. They were written between 1652 and 1654. The
first passage is in her pleasant mood and touches on a
subject--aviation--which interested that day and interests
this. The second strikes some people as one of the most
charming specimens of the love-letter--written neither in
the violent delight that has violent end, nor in namby-pamby
fashion.[101]

14. TO SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE

Sir,--

You say I abuse you; and Jane says you abuse me when you say you are not
melancholy: which is to be believed? Neither, I think; for I could not
have said so positively (as it seems she did) that I should not be in
town till my brother came back: he was not gone when she writ, nor is
not yet; and if my brother Peyton had come before his going, I had
spoiled her prediction. But now it cannot be; he goes on Monday or
Tuesday at farthest. I hope you did truly with me, too, in saying that
you are not melancholy (though she does not believe it). I am thought
so, many times, when I am not at all guilty on't. How often do I sit in
company a whole day, and when they are gone am not able to give an
account of six words that was said, and many times could be so much
better pleased with the entertainment my own thoughts give me, that 'tis
all I can do to be so civil as not to let them see they trouble me. This
may be your disease. However, remember you have promised me to be
careful of yourself, and that if I secure what you have entrusted me
with, you will answer for the rest. Be this our bargain then; and look
that you give me as good an account of one as I shall give you of
t'other. In earnest I was strangely vexed to see myself forced to
disappoint you so, and felt your trouble and my own too. How often I
have wished myself with you, though but for a day, for an hour: I would
have given all the time I am to spend here for it with all my heart.

You could not but have laughed if you had seen me last night. My brother
and Mr. Gibson were talking by the fire; and I sat by, but as no part of
the company. Amongst othe