I AM neither ignorant nor suffer in the opinion of seve character by the study and

Although there may seem son for the present contemp

A part of our modern writers,

ously, declare against that o is declaring against the most the most exalting force of th of sentiment; in a word, ag ing and politeness. It is a mankind, and declaring aga ening world from Moses o even declaring against the s writings themselves, and language of Heaven.

The truth of the case is men cannot bear the strong more amusing scene of thi

lars therefore, whom Heaven

eye, shut it to keep them e

* Prefixed to the secon

and the reader feel, unwarranted by reason, or followed by repentant disgust. To be able to write on a dry, barren theme, is looked upon by some as the sign of a happy, fruitful genius,-fruitful indeed! like one of the pendent gardens in Cheapside, watered every morning by the hand of the alderman himself. And what are we commonly entertained with on these occasions, save forced, unaffecting fancies, little, glittering prettinesses, mixed turns of wit and expression, which are as widely different from native poetry as buffoonery is from the perfection of human thinking? A genins fired with the charms of truth and nature is tuned to a sublimer pitch, and scorns to associate with such subjects. I cannot more emphatically recommend this poetical ambition than by the four following lines from Mr. Hill's poem, called "the Judgment Day," which is so singular an

instance of it :

"For me, suffice it to have taught my Muse

The tuneful triflings of her tribe to shun;

And raised her warmth such heavenly themes to choose,
As, in past ages, the best garlands won."

I know no subject more elevating, more amusing, more ready to awake the poetical enthusiasm, the philosophical reflection, and the moral sentiment, than the works of Nature.

Where can we meet with such variety, such beauty, such magnificence? all that enlarges and transports the soul? What more inspiring than a calm, wide survey of them? In every dress Nature is greatly charming; whether she puts on the crimson robes of the morning, the strong effulgence of noon, the sober suit of the evening, or the deep sables of blackness and tempest! How gay looks the Spring! how glorious the Summer! how pleasing the Autumn! and how venerable the Winter!-But there is no thinking of these things without breaking out into poetry, which is, by the by, a plain and undeniable argument of their superior excellence.

For this reason, the best, both ancient and modern, poets have been passionately fond of retirement and solitude. The wild romantic country was their delight. And they seem never to have been more happy than when, lost in unfrequented fields, far from the little busy world, they were at leisure to meditate, and sing the works of Nature.

The Book of Job, that noble and ancient poem, which even strikes so forcibly through a mangling translation, is

16

freed

mentforma

It reflect

ing u

nobler

favour

flowin

of his

how to Ever

most gentle power of poetry in the lines with which Mira has graced my poem.

It perhaps might be reckoned vanity in me, to say how richly I value the approbation of a gentleman of Mr. Malloch's fine and exact taste, so justly dear and valuable to all those that have the happiness of knowing him; and who, to say no more of him, will abundantly make good to the world the early promise his admired piece of "William and Margaret" has given.

I only wish my description of the various appearance of Nature in Winter, and, as I purpose, in the other Seasons, may have the good fortune to give the reader some of that true pleasure which they, in their agreeable succession, are always sure to inspire into my heart.

LETTER TO MR. PATERSON."

The notes appended to this interesting letter were written by the Earl of Buchan.

DEAR PATERSON,

In the first place, and previously to my letter, I must recommend to your favour and protection Mr. James Smith, searcher in St. Christopher's; and I beg of you, as occasion shall serve, and as you find he merits it, to advance him in the business of the Customs. He is warmly recommended to me by Sargent, who in verity turns out one of the best men of our youthful acquaintance, honest, honourable, friendly, and generous.-If we are not to oblige one another, life becomes a paltry selfish affair, a pitiful morsel in a corner! Sargent is so happily married, that I could almost say, "The same case happen to us all!"

That I have not answered several letters of yours, is not owing to the want of friendship, and the sincerest regard for you; but you know me well enough to account for my silence, without my saying any more upon that head; besides, I have very little to say, that is worthy to be transmitted over the great ocean. The world either futilizes so much, or we grow so dead to it, that its transactions make but a feeble impression on us. Retirement and nature are

* Mr. Paterson, a companion of Thomson, afterwards his deputy as surveyor-general of the Leeward Islands, and his successor in the office, used to write out fair copies of his works, several of which are in my collection.