Lysander has written to me out of the country, and tells me, after many other circumstances, that he had passed a great deal of time with much pleasure and tranquillity, till his happiness was interrupted by an indiscreet flatterer, who came down into those parts to visit a relation. With the circumstances in which he represents the matter, he had no small provocation to be offended, for he attacked him in so wrong a season, that he could not have any relish of pleasure in it; though, perhaps, at another time, it might have passed upon him without giving him much uneasiness. Lysander had, after a long satiety of the town, been so happy as to get to a solitude he extremely liked, and recovered a pleasure he had long discontinued, that of reading. He was got to the bank of a rivulet, covered by a pleasing shade, and fanned by a soft breeze, which threw his mind into that sort of composure and attention in which a man, though with indolence, enjoys the utmost liveliness of his spirits, and the greatest strength of his mind at the same time. In this state, Lysander represents that he was reading Virgil's "Georgics"; when on a sudden the gentleman above-mentioned surprised him, and, without any manner of preparation, falls upon him at once. "What! I have found you out at last, after searching all over the wood. We wanted you at cards after dinner, but you are much better employed. I have heard indeed that you are an excellent scholar: but at the same time, is it not a little unkind to rob the ladies, who like you so well, of the pleasure of your company? But that is indeed the misfortune of you great scholars, you are seldom so fit for the world as those who never trouble themselves with books. Well, I see you are taken up with your learning there, and I'll leave you." Lysander says, he made him no answer, but took a resolution to complain to me.