Thomas Gray to Horace Walpole, [c. December 1734]

As you take a great deal of pleasure in concluding that I am dead, & resolve not to let me live any longer; methinks you ought to be good to my Ashes, & give 'em leave to rest in peace: but instead of that, whereas I ought to be divested of all human Passions, & forget the Pleasures of your World; you must needs be diverting me, so that I made every nail in my Coffin start with laughing: it happen'd, that on the 26th Instant at twelve of the clock at midnight, being a hard frost; I had wrapt myself up in my Shroud very snugg & warm; when in comes your Letter, which (as I told you before) made me stretch my Skeleton-jaws in such a horse-laugh, that all the dead pop'd up their heads & stared: but to see the frowzy Countenances of the Creatures especially one old Lady-Carcase, that made most hideous Grimaces, & would needs tell me, that I was a very uncivil Person to disturb a Woman of her Quality, that did me the honour to lie so near me: & truly she had not been in such a Surprise, this threescore & ten Year, come next March: besides her Commode was discomposed, & in her hurry she had lost her Wedding Ring, which she was buried in; nay, she said, she believed she should fall in fits, & certainly, that would be her Death: but I gave her a Rowland for her Oliver, 'i'gad: I told her Ladyship the more she stirred, the more she'd stink & that to my knowledge, tho' she put a good face upon the matter; she was not sound: so she lay'd her down very quietly, and crept under her Winding-Sheet for fear of Spirits. now your Arrival only can deliver me from such a state of Separation; for, as your Soul is large enough to serve for both of us, it will be ill-natured of you, if you don't reanimate my Corps: at least I hope for a place in your heart, as formerly: tho', by your last letter, but one; it seems, you have either forgot yourself, or entertain a less favourable Opinion of me, than that; with which you once honoured