is an
Ease, a natural Air, a dignified Simplicity, and MEASURED FULLNESS in
it, that RESEMBLING LIFE, OUT-GLOWS IT. The Author hath reconciled
the _pleasing_ to the _proper_; the Thought is every where exactly
cloathed by the Expression; and becomes its Dress as _roundly_ and as
close as _Pamela_ her Country Habit; or _as she doth her no Habit_,
when modest Beauty seeks to hide itself, by casting off the Pride of
Ornament, and displays itself without any Covering;" which it
frequently doth in this admirable Work, and presents Images to the
Reader, which the coldest Zealot cannot read without Emotion.

For my own Part (and, I believe, I may say the same of all the Clergy
of my Acquaintance) "I have done nothing but read it to others, and
hear others again read it to me, ever since it came into my Hands;
and I find I am like to do nothing else, for I know not how long yet
to come: because if I lay the Book down _it comes after me_. When it
has dwelt all Day long upon the Ear, it takes Possession all Night of
the Fancy. It hath Witchcraft in every Page of it.----Oh! I feel an
Emotion even while I am relating this: Methinks I see _Pamela_ at
this Instant, with all the Pride of Ornament cast off.

"Little Book, charming _Pamela_, get thee gone; face the World, in
which thou wilt find nothing like thyself." Happy would it be for
Mankind, if all other Books were burnt, that we might do nothing but
read thee all Day, and dream of thee all Night. Thou alone art
sufficient to teach us as much Morality as we want. Dost thou not
teach us to pray, to sing Psalms, and to honour the Clergy? Are not
these the whole Duty of Man? Forgive me, O Author of _Pamela_,
mentioning the Name of a Book so unequal to thine: But, now I think
of it, who is the Author, where is he, what is he, that hath hitherto
been able to hide such an encircling, all-mastering Spirit, "he
possesses every Quality that Art could have charm'd by: yet hath lent
it to and concealed it in Nature. The Comprehensiveness of his
Imagination must be truly prodigious! It has stretched out this
diminutive mere Grain of Mustard-seed (a poor Girl's little, _&c._)
into a Resemblance of that Heaven, which the best of good Books has
compared it to."

To be short, this Book will live to the Age of the Patriarchs, and
like them will carry on the good Work many hundreds of Years hence,
among our Posterity, who will not HESITATE their Esteem with
Restraint. If the _Romans_ granted