rain their powers for efforts of gaiety; some
write news, and some write secrets; but to make a letter without
affection, without wisdom, without gaiety, without news, and without a
secret, is, doubtless, the great epistolick art.

In a man's letters, you know, madam, his soul lies naked, his letters
are only the mirror of his breast; whatever passes within him, is shown,
undisguised, in its natural process; nothing is inverted, nothing
distorted: you see systems in their elements; you discover actions in
their motives.

Of this great truth, sounded by the knowing to the ignorant, and so
echoed by the ignorant to the knowing, what evidence have you now before
you? Is not my soul laid open in these veracious pages? Do not you see
me reduced to my first principles? This is the pleasure of corresponding
with a friend, where doubt and distrust have no place, and every thing
is said as it is thought. The original idea is laid down in its simple
purity, and all the supervenient conceptions are spread over it,
"stratum super stratum," as they happen to be formed. These are the
letters by which souls are united, and by which minds, naturally in
unison, move each other, as they are moved themselves. I know, dearest
lady, that in the perusal of this, such is the consanguinity of our
intellects, you will be touched, as I am touched. I have, indeed,
concealed nothing from you, nor do I expect ever to repent of having
thus opened my heart. I am, &c.

XXXVIII.--To MRS. THRALE.

November 10, 1777.

DEAR MADAM,--And so, supposing that I might come to town, and neglect to
give you notice, or thinking some other strange thought, but certainly
thinking wrong, you fall to writing about me to Tom Davies, as if he
could tell you anything that I would not have you know. As soon as I
came hither, I let you know of my arrival; and the consequence is, that
I am summoned to Brighthelmstone, through storms, and cold, and dirt,
and all the hardships of wintry journeys. You know my natural dread of
all those evils; yet, to show my master an example of compliance, and to
let you know how much I long to see you, and to boast how little I give
way to disease, my purpose is to be with you on Friday.

I am sorry for poor Nezzy, and hope she will, in time, be better; I hope
the same for myself. The rejuvenescency of Mr. Scrase gives us both
reason to hope, and, therefore, both of us rejoice in his recovery. I
wish him well, besides, as a friend t