We went every evening regularly to meet them, and they yet contrive to grow higher and higher in our best opinions and affections; they force that last word; none other is adequate to such regard as they excite.

M. de Lally read us a pleading for émigrés of all descriptions, to the people and government of France, for their re-instalment in their native land, that exceeds in eloquence, argument, taste, feeling, and every power of oratory and truth united, anything I ever remember to have read. It is so affecting in many places, that I was almost ill from restraining my nearly convulsive emotions. My dear and honoured partner gives me, perhaps, an interest in such a subject beyond what is its mere natural due and effect, therefore I cannot be sure such will be its universal success; yet I shall be nothing less than surprised to live to see his statue erected in his own country, at the expense of his own restored exiles. 'Tis, indeed, a wonderful performance. And he was so easy, so gay, so unassuming, yet free from condescension, that I almost worshipped him. M. d'Arblay cut me off a bit of the coat in which he read his pleading, and I shall preserve it, labelled!

The Princess was all that was amiable and attractive, and she loves my Susanna so tenderly, that her voice was always caressing when she named her. She would go to Ireland, she repeatedly said, on purpose to see you, were her fortune less miserably cramped. The journey, voyage, time, difficulties, and sea-sickness, would be nothing for obstacles. You have made, there, that rare and exquisite acquisition-an ardent friend for life.

I have not heard very lately of my dearest father; all accounts speak of his being very much lower in spirits

than when I left him. I sometimes am ready to return to him, for my whole heart yearns to devote itself to him; but the babe, and the babe's father-and there is no going en famille uninvited--and my dear father does not feel equal to making the invitation.

One of the Tichfield dear girls seems to be constantly with Sally, to aid the passing hours; but our poor father wants something more than cheerfulness and affection, though nothing without them could do; he wants some one to find out pursuits-to entice him into reading, by bringing books, or starting subjects; some one to lead him to talk of what he thinks, or to forget what he thinks of, by adroitly talking of what may catch other attention. Even where deep sorrow is impossible, a gloomy void must rest in the total breaking up of such a long and such a last connexion.

I must always grieve at your absence at such a period. Our Esther has so much to do in her own family, and fears so much the cold of Chelsea, that she can be only of day and occasional use, and it is nights and mornings that call for the confidential companion that might best revive him. He is more amiable, more himself, if possible, than ever. God long preserve him to bless us

all!

Our new house is stopped short in actual building, from the shortness of the days, &c., but the master surveyor has still much to settle there, and three workmen to aid preparing the ground for agricultural purposes. The foundation is laid, and on the 1st of March the little dwelling will begin to be run up. The well is just finished; the water is a hundred and odd feet deep, and it costs near 227. which, this very morning, thank Heaven! has been paid.

has been passing

Your old acquaintance, Miss ten days in this neighbourhood. She is become very pleasingly formed in manners, wherever she wishes to oblige, and all her roughnesses and ruggednesses are worn off. I believe the mischief done by her education, and its wants, not cured, if curable, au fond; but much amended to all, and apparently done away completely to~ many. What really rests is a habit of exclusively consulting just what she likes best, not what would be or prove best for others. She thinks, indeed, but little of anything except with reference to herself, and that gives her an air, and will give her a character, for inconstancy, that is in fact the mere result of seeking her own gratification alike in meeting or avoiding her connexions. If she saw this, she has understanding sufficient to work it out of her; but she weighs nothing sufficiently to dive into her own self. She knows she is a very clever girl, and she is neither well contented with others, nor happy in herself, but where this is evidently acknowledged.

We spent an evening together at Norbury Park; she was shown all Mr. William's pictures and drawings. I knew her expectations of an attention she had no chance of exciting, and therefore devoted myself to looking them over with her; yet, though Mr. Lock himself led the way to see them, and explained several, and though Amelia addressed her with the utmost sweetness, and Mrs. Lock with perfect good breeding, I could not draw from her one word relative to the evening, or the family, except that she did not think she had heard Mr. William's voice once. A person so young, and with such good parts, that can take no pleasure but in personal distinction, which is all her visit can have wanted, will soon cut all real improvement short, by confining her

self to such society alone as elevates herself. There she will always make a capital figure, for her conversation is sprightly and entertaining, and her heart and principles are both good: she has many excellent qualities, and various resources in herself; but she is good enough to make me lament that she is not modest enough to be yet better.

*

F. D'A.

Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.

Bookham, Nov. 29, 1796.

OUR cottage-building stops now, from the shortness of the days, till the beginning of March. The foundation is laid, and it will then be run up with great speed. The well, at length, is finished, and it is a hundred and odd feet deep. The water is said to be excellent, but M. d'Arblay has had it now stopped to prevent accidents from hazardous boys, who, when the field is empty of owners, will be amusing themselves there. He has just completed his grand plantations; part of which are in evergreens, part in firewood for future time, and part in an orchard.

But, my dearest sir, I think I would risk my new cottage against sixpence, that I have guessed the author of The Pursuits of Literature.' Is it not Mr. Mason? The verses I think equal to anybody; those on Shakspeare, "His pen he dipt in mind," are demidivine. And who else could so well interweave what

concerns music?-could so well attack Dr. Parr for his severity against Dr. Hurd, who had to himself addressed his Essay on the marks of imitation?-Who be so interested, or so difficult to satisfy, about the exquisite Gray? Who know so well how to appreciate works upon gardening?--Who, so singularly, be for the sovereign-the government, yet, palpably, not for George the Third, nor for William Pitt? And then, the lines which form his sort of epitaph seem for him (Mason) alone designed. How wickedly he has flogged all around him, and how cleverly!

But I am very angry about the excellent Marchioness of Buckingham. The fear of popery in these days seems to me most marvellous; the fears of infidelity seem a thousand times more rational. 'Tis, however, a very first-rate production. The hymns, in his open name, are most gratefully accepted by my excellent neighbour, Mr. Cooke.

We have not yet read Le Vaillant. We are not much struck with The Creole:' it is too full of trite observations introduced sententiously. Clarentine' is written with much better taste. We have just been lent Caleb Williams, or Things as they are.' Mr. Lock, who says its design is execrable, avers that one little word is omitted in its title, which should be thus -"or Things as they are NOT."

Adieu, most dear sir; I shall be very unquiet till I have some news of your health.

Most dutifully and affectionately,

Ever yours,

F. D'A.