Letters to His Son 1759-65 | Page 9

your head aches. If the latter, why has not the bark, in substance and
large doses, been administered? for if it had, it must have stopped it by
this time. Next post, I hope, will set me quite at ease. Surely you have
not been so regular as you ought, either in your medicines or in your
general regimen, otherwise this fever would not have returned; for the
Doctor calls it, YOUR FEVER RETURNED, as if you had an
exclusive patent for it. You have now had illnesses enough, to know the
value of health, and to make you implicitly follow the prescriptions of
your physician in medicines, and the rules of your own common sense
in diet; in which, I can assure you, from my own experience, that
quantity is often worse than quality; and I would rather eat half a pound
of bacon at a meal, than two pounds of any the most wholesome food.
I have been settled here near a week, to my great satisfaction; 'c'est ma
place', and I know it, which is not given to everybody. Cut off from
social life by my deafness, as well as other physical ills, and being at
best but the ghost of my former self, I walk here in silence and solitude
as becomes a ghost: with this only difference, that I walk by day,
whereas, you know, to be sure, that other ghosts only appear by night.
My health, however, is better than it was last year, thanks to my almost
total milk diet. This enables me to vary my solitary amusements, and
alternately to scribble as well as read, which I could not do last year.
Thus I saunter away the remainder, be it more or less, of an agitated
and active life, now reduced (and I am not sure that I am a loser by the

change) to so quiet and serene a one, that it may properly be called still
life.
The French whisper in confidence, in order that it may be the more
known and the more credited, that they intend to invade us this year, in
no less than three places; that is England, Scotland, and Ireland. Some
of our great men, like the devils, believe and tremble; others, and one
little one whom I know, laugh at it; and, in general, it seems to be but a
poor, instead of a formidable scarecrow. While somebody was at the
head of a moderate army, and wanted (I know why) to be at the head of
a great one, intended invasions were made an article of political faith;
and the belief of them was required, as in the Church the belief of some
absurdities, and even impossibilities, is required upon pain of heresy,
excommunication, and consequently damnation, if they tend to the
power and interest of the heads of the Church. But now that there is a
general toleration, and that the best subjects, as well as the best
Christians, may believe what their reasons find their consciences
suggest, it is generally and rationally supposed the French will threaten
and not strike, since we are so well prepared, both by armies and fleets,
to receive and, I may add, to destroy them. Adieu! God bless you.

LETTER CCXLV
BLACKHEATH, June 15, 1759
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your letter of the 5th, which I received yesterday,
gave me great satisfaction, being all in your own hand; though it
contains great, and I fear just complaints of your ill state of health. You
do very well to change the air; and I hope that change will do well by
you. I would therefore have you write after the 20th of August, to Lord
Holderness, to beg of him to obtain his Majesty's leave for you to return
to England for two or three months, upon account of your health. Two
or three months is an indefinite time, which may afterward insensibly
stretched to what length one pleases; leave that to me. In the meantime,
you may be taking your measures with the best economy.
The day before yesterday, an express arrived from Guadaloupe which
brought an account of our being in possession of the whole island. And
I make no manner of doubt but that, in about two months, we shall have
as good news from Crown-point, Quebec, etc. Our affairs in Germany,
I fear, will not be equally prosperous; for I have very little hopes for the

King of Prussia or Prince Ferdinand. God bless you.

LETTER CCXLVI
BLACKHEATH, June 25, 1759
MY DEAR FRIEND: The two last mails have brought me no letter
from you or your secretary. I will take this as a sign that you are better;
but, however, if you thought that I cared to know, you should have
cared to