With my love to your fair sisters, I remain,
Dear Sir, most truly yours,

W. C.

notice of yours, and am much obliged to you good when we are pleased, but she is the for it. We have contrived, or rather my good woman who wants not a fiddle to bookseller and printer have contrived (for sweeten her. If I am wrong, the young they have never waited a moment for me) to ladies will set me right; in the meantime I publish as critically at the wrong time, as if will not tease you with graver arguments on my whole interest and success had depended the subject, especially as I have a hope, that upon it. March, April, and May, said John-years, and the study of the Scripture, and son to me in a letter that I received from him His Spirit whose word it is, will, in due in February, are the best months for publica- time, bring you to my way of thinking. I tion. Therefore now it is determined that am not one of those sages who require that Homer shall come out on the first of July; young men should be as old as themselves that is to say, exactly at the moment when, before they have time to be so. except a few lawyers, not a creature will be left in town who will ever care one farthing about him. To which of these two friends of mine I am indebted for this management, I know not. It does not please, but I would be a philosopher as well as a poet, and therefore make no complaint, or grumble at all about it. You, I presume, have had dealings with them both-how did they manage for you? And, if as they have for me, how did you behave under it? Some who love me complain that I am too passive; and I should be glad of an opportunity to justify myself by your example. The fact is, should I thun-less myself to an uncommon degree, will alder ever so loud, no efforts of that sort will avail me now; therefore, like a good economist of my bolts, I choose to reserve them for more profitable occasions.

I am glad to find that your amusements have been so similar to mine; for in this instance too I seemed in need of somebody to keep me in countenance, especially in my attention and attachment to animals. All the notice that we lords of the creation vouchsafe to bestow on the creatures is generally to abuse them; it is well, therefore, that here and there a man should be found a little womanish, or perhaps a little childish, in this matter, who will make some amends, by kiss ing and coaxing and laying them in one's bosom. You remember the little ewe lamb, mentioned by the prophet Nathan; the prophet perhaps invented the tale for the sake of its application to David's conscience; but it is more probable that God inspired him with it for that purpose. If he did, it amounts to a proof, that he does not overlook, but, on the contrary, much notices such little partialities and kindnesses to his dumb creatures, as we, because we articulate, are pleased to call them.

Your sisters are fitter to judge than I, whether assembly-rooms are the places, of all others, in which the ladies may be studied to most advantage. I am an old fellow, but I had once my dancing days as you have now, yet I could never find that I learned half so much of a woman's real character by dancing with her as by conversing with her at home, where I could observe her behavior at the table, at the fire-side, and in all the trying circumstances of domestic life. We are all

TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ,

The Lodge, June 15, 1791. My dear Friend,-If it will afford you any comfort that you have a share in my affec tions, of that comfort you may avail yourself at all times. You have acquired it by means

which, unless I should have become worth

ways secure you from the loss of it. You are learning what all learn, though few at so early an age, that man is an ungrateful animal; and that benefits, too often, instead of securing a due return, operate rather as provocations to ill-treatment. This I take to be the summum malum of the human heart. Towards God we are all guilty of it more or less; but between man and man, we may thank God for it, there are some exceptions. He leaves this peccant principle to operate, in some degree against himself, in all, for our humiliation, I suppose; and because the pernicious effects of it in reality cannot injure him, he cannot suffer by them; but he knows that, unless he should retain its influence on the dealings of mankind with each other, the bonds of society would be dissolved, and all charitable intercourse at an end amongst us. It was said of Archbishop Cranmer, “Do him an ill turn, and you make him your friend forever;" of others it may be said, "Do them a good one, and they will be forever your enemies." It is the grace of God only that makes the difference.

The absence of Homer (for we have now shaken hands and parted) is well supplied by three relations of mine from Norfolk-my cousin Johnson, an aunt of his,* and his sister. I love them all dearly, and am well content to resign to them the place in my attentions so lately occupied by the chiefs of Greece and Troy. His aunt and I have spent many a merry day together, when we and we were some forty years younger; make shift to be merry together still. His sister is a sweet young woman, graceful,

long published, and that may not therefore yet have reached your country: "The Christian Officer's Panoply, by a marine officer”— "The Importance of the Manners of the Great," and "An Estimate of the Religion of the Fashionable World." The two last are said to be written by a lady, Miss Hannah More, and are universally read by people of that rank to which she addresses them. Your manners, I suppose, may be more pure than ours, yet it is not unlikely that even

or heard.

Dear Sir,-Your letter and obliging present from so great a distance deserved a speedier acknowledgment, and should not have wanted one so long, had not circum-among you may be found some to whom her strictures are applicable. I return you my stances so fallen out since I received them thanks, sir, for the volumes you sent me, two as to make it impossible for me to write of which I have read with pleasure, Mr. Edsooner. It is indeed within this day or two wards's* book, and the Conquest of Canaan. that I have heard how, by the help of my The rest I have not had time to read, except bookseller, I may transmit an answer to you. Dr. Dwight's Sermon, which pleased me alMy title-page, as it well might, misled you. most more than any that I have either seen It speaks me of the Inner Temple; and so I am, but a member of that society only, not as an inhabitant. I live here almost at the distance of sixty miles from London, which I have not visited these eight-and-twenty years, and probably never shall again. it fell out that Mr. Morewood had sailed again for America before your parcel reached me, nor should I (it is likely) have received it at all, had not a cousin of mine, who lives in the Temple, by good fortune received it first, and opened your letter; finding for

Thus

whom it was intended, he transmitted to me both that and the parcel. Your testimony of approbation of what I have published, coming from another quarter of the globe, could not but be exceedingly flattering, as was your obliging notice that "The Task" had been reprinted in your city. Both volumes, I hope, have a tendency to discountenance vice, and promote the best interests of mankind. But how far they shall be effectual to these invaluable purposes depends altogether on His blessing, whose truths I have endeavored to inculcate. In the meantime I have sufficient proof, that readers may be pleased, may approve, and yet lay down

the book unedified.

During the last five years I have been occupied with a work of a very different nature, a translation of the Iliad and Odyssey into blank verse, and the work is now ready for publication. I undertook it, partly because Pope's is too lax a version, which has lately occasioned the learned of this country to call aloud for a new one; and partly because I could fall on no better expedient to amuse a mind too much addicted to melancholy.

I send you, in return for the volumes with which you favored me, three on religious subjects, popular productions that have not been

* Mrs. Hewitt fully merited this description. She departed a few years before her brother, the late Dr. Johnson. Their remains lie in the same vault, at Yaxham, near Dereham, Norfolk.

I shall account a correspondence with you an honor, and remain, dear sir,

Your obliged and obedient servant,

TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON.†

W. C.

Weston, June 24, 1791.

My dear Friend,-Considering the multiplicity of your engagements, and the impor

tance, no doubt, of most of them, I am bound instead of grumbling that they come seldom, to set the higher value on your letters, and, You are now going into the country, where, to be thankful to you that they come at all.

I

rid of Homer. Let us try, therefore, if, in
presume, you will have less to do, and I am
the interval between the present hour and
the next busy season (for I, too, if I live,
shall probably be occupied again), we can
than for some time past.
continue to exchange letters more frequently

when you assure yourself that to hear of
You do justice to me and Mrs. Unwin,
your health will give us pleasure: I know
not, in truth, whose health and well-being
could give us more. The years that we have
brance; and, so long as we remember them,
seen together will never be out of our remem-
the pulpit, and out of the pulpit, you have la-
we must remember you with affection. In
bored in every possible way to serve us; and
kindness of a friend, could we by any means
we must have a short memory indeed for the
become forgetful of yours. It would grieve
of the effects of time, were not I also myself
me more than it does to hear you complain
the subject of them. While he is wearing
out you and other dear friends of mine, he
spares not me; for which I ought to account

*The celebrated American Edwards, well known for his two great works on "The Freedom of the Human Will," and on Religious Affections." Dr. Dwight's Sermons are a body of sound and excellent theology.

↑ Private correspondence,

myself obliged to him, since I should otherwise be in danger of surviving all that I have ever loved the most melancholy lot that can befall a mortal. God knows what will be my doom hereafter; but precious as life necessarily seems to a mind doubtful of its future happiness, I love not the world, I trust, so much as to wish a place in it when all my beloved shall have left it.

you

You speak of your late loss in a manner that affected me much; and when I read that part of your letter, I mourned with you and for you. But surely, I said to myself, no man had ever less reason to charge his conduct to a wife with anything blameworthy. Thoughts of that complexion, however, are no doubt extremely natural on the occasion of such a loss; and a man seems not to have valued sufficiently, when he possesses it no longer, what, while he possessed it, he valued more than life. I am mistaken, too, or you can recollect a time when you had fears, and such as became a Christian, of loving too much; and it is likely that you have even prayed to be preserved from doing so. I suggest this to you as a plea against those self-accusations, which I am satisfied that do not deserve, and as an effectual answer to them all. You may do well too to consider, that had the deceased been the survivor she would have charged herself in the same manner, and, I am sure you will acknowledge, without any sufficient reason. The truth is, that you both loved at least as much as you ought, and, I dare say, had not a friend in the world who did not frequently observe it. To love just enough, and not a bit too much, is not for creatures who can do nothing well. If we fail in duties less arduous, how should we succeed in this, the most arduous of all? I am glad to learn from yourself that you are about to quit a scene that probably keeps your tender recollections too much alive. Another place and other company may have their uses; and, while your church is undergoing repair, its minister may be repaired also.

TO MRS. BODHAM, SOUTH GREEN, MATTISHALL,
NORFOLK.

Weston-Underwood, July 7, 1791.

My dearest Cousin,-Most true it is, however strange, that on the 25th of last month I wrote you a long letter, and verily thought I sent it; but, opening my desk the day before yesterday, there I found it. Such a memory have I-a good one never, but at present worse than usual, my head being filled with the cares of publication,* and the bargain that I am making with my bookseller.

I am sorry that through this forgetfulness of mine you were disappointed, otherwise should not at all regret that my letter never reached you; for it consisted principally of such reasons as I could muster to induce you to consent to a favorite measure to which you have consented without them. Your kindness and self-denying disinterestedness on this occasion have endeared you to us all, if possible, still the more, and are truly worthy of the Rosef that used to sit smiling on my knee, I will not say how many years ago.

Make no apologies, my dear, that thou dost not write more frequently;-write when As to Homer, I am sensible that, except as thou canst, and I shall be satisfied. I am an amusement, he was never worth my med- sensible, as I believe I have already told you, dling with; but, as an amusement, he was to that there is an awkwardness in writing to me invaluable. As such he served me more those with whom we have hardly ever conthan five years; and, in that respect, I know versed; in consideration of which, I feel mynot where I shall find his equal. You oblige self not at all inclined either to wonder at or me by saying, that you will read him for my to blame your silence. At the same time, be sake. I verily think that any person of a it known to you, that you must not take enspiritual turn may read him to some advan-couragement from this my great moderation, tage. He may suggest reflections that may lest, disuse increasing the labor, you should not be unserviceable even in a sermon: for I at last write not at all. know not where we can find more striking exemplars of the pride, the arrogance, and the insignificance of man; at the same time that, by ascribing all events to a divine interposition, he indicates constantly the belief of a providence; insists much on the duty of

That I should visit Norfolk at present is not possible. I have heretofore pleaded my engagement to Homer as the reason, and a reason it was, while it subsisted, that was ab *The publication of the translation of Homer. †The name he gave to Mrs. Bodham when a child.

solutely insurmountable. But there are still other impediments, which it would neither be pleasant to me to relate, nor to you to know, and which could not well be comprised in a letter. Let it suffice for me to say that, could they be imparted, you would admit the force of them. It shall be our mutual consolation, that, if we cannot meet at Mattishall, at least we may meet at Weston, and that we shall meet here with double satisfaction, being now so numerous.

own comfortable lodging and our gratifica tion were concerned, that you did not; for our house is brimful, as it has been all the summer, with my relations from Norfolk. We should all have been mortified, both you and we, had you been obliged, as you must have been, to seek a residence elsewhere.

I am sorry that Mr. Venn's labors below are so near to a conclusion. I have seen few men whom I could have loved more, had opportunity been given me to know him better. So, at least, I have thought as often as I have seen him. But when I saw him last, which is some years since, he appeared then so much broken that I could not have imagined that he would last so long. Were I capable of envying, in the strict sense of the word, a good man, I should envy him, and Mr. Berridge, and yourself, who have spent, and while they last, will continue to spend, your lives in the service of the only Master worth serving; laboring always for the souls of men, and not to tickle their ears, as I do. But this I can say-God knows how much rather I would be the obscure

Your sister is well; Kitty,* I think, better than when she came; and Johnnyt ails nothing, except that if he eat a little more supper than usual, he is apt to be riotous in his sleep. We have an excellent physician at Northampton, whom our dear Catharine wishes to consult, and I have recommended it to Johnny to consult him at the same time. His nocturnal ailment is, I dare say, within the reach of medical advice; and, because it may happen some time or other to be very hurtful to him, I heartily wish him cured of it. Light suppers and early rising perhaps might alone be effectual-but the latter is a difficulty that threatens not to be easily sur-tenant of a lath-and-plaster cottage, with a mounted.

We are all of one mind respecting you; therefore I send the love of all, though I shall see none of the party till breakfast calls us together. Great preparation is making in the empty house. The spiders have no rest, and hardly a web is to be seen where lately there were thousands.

I am, my dearest cousin, with the best respects to Mr. Bodham, most affectionately yours, W. C.

TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON.

Weston, July 22, 1791. My dear Friend,—I did not foresee, when I challenged you to a brisker correspondence, that a new engagement of all my leisure was at hand: a new and yet an old one. An interleaved copy of my Homer arrived soon after from Johnson, in which he recommended it to me to make any alterations that might yet be expedient, with a view to another impression. The alterations that I make are indeed but few, and they are also short; not more, perhaps, than half a line in two thousand. But the lines are, I suppose, nearly forty thousand in all, and to revise them critically must consequently be a work of labor. I suspend it, however, for your sake, till the present sheet be filled, and that I may not seem to shrink from my own offer.

Mr. Bean has told me that he saw you at Bedford, and gave us your reasons for not coming our way. It is well, so far as your

* Miss Johnson, afterwards Mrs. Hewitt. ↑ Mr. Johnson.

Private correspondence.

lively sense of my interest in a Redeemer, than the most admired object of public notice without it. Alas! what is a whole poem, even one of Homer's, compared with a single aspiration that finds its way imme diately to God, though clothed in ordinary language, or perhaps not articulated at all! These are my sentiments as much as ever they were, though my days are all running to waste among Greeks and Trojans. The night cometh when no man can work; and, if I am ordained to work to better purpose, that desirable period cannot be very distant. My day is beginning to shut in, as every man's must who is on the verge of sixty.

All the leisure that I have had of late for thinking, has been given to the riots at Birmingham. What a horrid zeal for the church, and what a horrid loyalty to government, have manifested themselves there!

How

little do they dream that they could not have
dishonored their idol, the Establishment,
more, and that the great Bishop of souls
himself with abhorrence rejects their ser-
vice! But I have not time to enlarge;
breakfast calls me; and all my post-break-
fast time must be given to poetry. Adieu!
Most truly yours,
W. C.

*The Rev. Henry Venn, successively vicar of Huddersfield, Yorkshire, and rector of Yelling, Huntingdon shire, eminent for his piety and usefulness. He was the author of "The Complete Duty of Man," the design of which was to correct the deficiencies so justly imputable to "The Whole Duty of Man," by laying the foundation of moral duties in the principles inculcated by the g pel. There is an interesting and valuable memoir of this grandson, which we recommend to the notice of the excellent man, edited by the Rev. Henry Venn, B.D., his

reader.

† Mr. Berridge was vicar of Everton, Beds; a most zealous and pious minister.