Reading
2nd July 1773.

As our Mutual good Friend is expected by me this Morning, being up rather earlier than usual, I will prepare a little Pacquet for him to take to town to you.

Miss Man is I hope restor'd by this time. Upon my Honour I hardly know when to promise that I will see London, it will put my whole frame, Spirits, Passions, Affections everything into disorder come when I will. The best tund instrument in the World an easy heart, will be spoiled there. These are glorious Halcyon Days with me indeed. My Day is calm, my Sleep sound and unruffled; And I find the tempers of every body about me, conducive to the serenity of my mind. I am shock'd at the Smoky City; I pity the Men of it. Seriously, I don't think of  returning till this Day fortnight, and if any exception should be taken to that Stay, perhaps I shall remain here sometime, only occasionally come up and enjoy yr. Company for xx a Day, and then return to the Country and trust for Bread to the Blessed Being who feeds the Young Ravens on the Common. You will Satisfie me, my much esteem'd Mr Venn how his pulse beats, and whether the Chepstow Letter satisfied, for I  cannot at all events think of breaking my heart till next Saturday Sennight. My Evenings are pleasantly passed as I could wish them. The Walks are very various & very beautifull. Sometimes we each take a book, and now Creep, now Walk faster and again rest us on a Stile. About 8 Oclock when the Sun is leaving the Western hills. The Country appears to most advantage. Soften'd every Scene, and every Object strikes my senses with double pleasure. Then it is that I often think while my Ear is open'd to the twittering of the Yellow Hammer in a Neighbouring Hedge. The distant warble of the Blackbird. The tinkling of the Sheep bells dying away upon the breeze, The Cuckoos Notes half  heard, and the Song of the Haymakers returning with the bottle and the Scythe, I say Sir when I hear all this, from my inmost heart I pity you, and pity all Men, whom inclination, or obligation, confine to London. It is not the Life of Nature, it is not the Life of learning, of Philosophy, it is not the Life of Heaven, but the sorry existence of  Art, of Fraud, of Misery of Riches, of Trade. And as the Eternal will judge one on the last Day, I think my Soul not safe in it. But for the Advantage of having my two Friends near me, I would carry a pitch fork here, and whistle away the Hours. I protest the longer I stay the more infatuated I grow, and if I don't come soon I shall never be able to leave it.

You are very much my Debtor, for a Circumstantial Reply to two long letters. I fear your Silence proceeds from the doubtfull state of yr. Cousin. I guess you are engaged in it deeply. Only write to me at yr. Convenience, and I shall be happy. We were very near caught last night in a terrible Shower, a Barn however sheltered us and We played at Chuck farthing the Old Gentleman and all, till it was over.

It was an innocent cheerful engagement for the Mind, & I thot full as rational, as fretting over Cash Accounts, and studying to save Money. You see I constantly I revert to former Scenes. I love sometimes to see you all at Dinner in my Fancy, and compare the horrid confusion which prevails in yr. Parlour, with the regularity & order before me. When I meet a poor Woman in my Walk, I directly hear a certain Old Hag, ringing a peal to her Basket Women. The Noise of some surly Hind thrashing his Wife, brings Wright to my Ears immediately. We have prim Toads enough in this town, to remind me of all the Misses you and I know in London, but respecting the large logger head that has lately been set up in the Country House I am obliged to bring him in neck and shoulders, for I'll behang’d if I see one Object here that can give the least Idea of him. Thus my back ground always recommends present Objects and makes them ready to start from the Canvas, Thus I am indebted to Discord for Harmony; to the Town for the Pleasure I hast here. If a Man would be Wise and consider his latter end. The Country is the place for him. If Wise to prize the present time, the Country is the only place for him.  Sweet sweet Scene how do I doat upon your beauties!

I cannot Walk further than the Orchard this morning, in expectation of Thomson. Yesterday I ambled over a lovely Park of Lord Cadogans. Two awful solitary deep glooms of clustering trees, murmuring with hollow Wind. No voice no footstep near me. I stood Collected and was calm; and call’d a levee of reflections, and they bow'd to me. Some spreading Beeches pendant on an hill; and some fallLimes sunk into a Valley, and noble Elms clusterings every where about me, formed a fine effect upon the Eye, and gave one raptures. I sat down upon a bench sometime attentive to the Cawing of the Rooks, and the nimble foot of the Hare, that flew about me. The best Birds sung their best tunes, and the best Prospect flash’d with all its charms. It was a scene for Judgment to have meditated upon. For Genius to gather graces in, for Fancy to have danced upon, and for Passions rude Passions to have slept upon. It has now modul'd me altogether. I am not the Savage that left London about a month since with a Gentleman’s Black breeches but an harmless, careless, quiet, inoffensive poor soul called yr. Affectionate 

Henry Man