To Miss Johnson () COLCHESTER March 20, 1759. My wife, Miss , surprised me last night by informing me you are left mistress of a large fortune. Shall I say, agreeably surprised me! I cannot tell; because I believe there is another world, and I do not know what influence this change may have on your condition. Therefore I am in fear and in hope. You may be hereby far more happy or far more miserable in eternity! O make a stand! Consider the situation you are in; perhaps never before were you in so great danger. You know a little of your natural tempers: now you have means of indulging and thereby inflaming them to the uttermost. And how many will incite you so to do! How few will dare to warn you against it! Now what food will you have for pride! what infinite temptations to think more highly than you ought to think! You do so already. But O where will you stop! The good Lord arrest the storm in mid career! How impetuously now, unless God interpose, must self-will whirl you along! How deeply, unless He help, will you shortly be immersed in practical Atheism! as ten thousand things will concur to drive God out of your thoughts, as much as if He were not in the world. But, above all, how will you escape from being swallowed up in idolatry! love of the world, such as you never knew before!

Hitherto you have been greatly superior to every delicacy in food; but even this may assault you now, and perhaps raise in you other desires which you are now a stranger to. At present you are above the follies of dress; but will you be so a twelvemonth hence! May you not easily slide into the pride of life, in this as well as other instances! especially considering how your vanity will be gratified thereby! For who will not admire and applaud your admirable taste! It will only remain for you to marry some agreeable person that has much wit and sense with little or no religion; then it is finished! Either you will be throughly miserable in this world or miserable to eternity. 'But what business is this of yours! Cannot you let me alone! What have I to do with you!' Believe me, I could very easily let you alone, if I had not a real and tender goodwill toward you, and if I did not know (what perhaps you do not) that you have need even of me. You want friends who understand you well, and who dare tell you the whole, plain truth; and yet not in a surly, imperious manner, for then you could not receive it. I have endeavoured to do this once more. Will not you forgive me! I cannot but think, if you do not thank, you will at least excuse Your affectionate servant.