same time that I was angry with myself for this, we are the less disappointed. At your being so. A line of Bourne's is very ex-age and mine, biennial visits have such a pressive of the spectacle which this world gap between them, that we cannot promise exhibits, tragi-comical as the incidents of it ourselves upon those terms very numerous are, absurd in themselves, but terrible in future nterviews. But, whether ours are their consequences; to be many or few, you will always be welcome to me for the sake of the comfortable days that are past. In my present state of mind, my friendship for you indeed is as warm as ever: but I feel myself very indifferently qualified to be your companion. Other days than these inglorious and unprofitable ones are promised me, and when I see them I shall rejoice. Sunt res humanæ flebile ludibrium. An instance of this deplorable merriment has occurred in the course of the last week at Olney. A feast gave the occasion to a catastrophe truly shocking.* Yours, my dear friend, W. C. I saw the advertisement of your adversary's book. He is happy at least in this, that, whether he have brains or none, he strikes He could not wish to engage in a controwithout the danger of being stricken again. publication is postponed till Christmas, is reversy upon easier terms. The other, whose solved I suppose to do something. But, do what he will, he cannot prove that you have not been aspersed, or that you have not rethink he will do little to the purpose. futed the charge; which, unless he can do, I Mrs. Unwin thinks of you, and always with Newton's kindness. She has had a nervous a grateful recollection of yours and Mrs. fever lately; but I hope she is better. The weather forbids walking, a prohibition hurtful to us both. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. My dear Friend,-I may perhaps be short, but am not willing that you should go to Lymington without first having had a line from me. I know that place well, having spent six weeks there above twenty years ago. The town is neat and the country delightful. You walk well, and will consequently find a part of the coast, called Hallcliff, within the reach of your ten toes. It was a favorite walk of mine; to the best of my remembrance about three miles distant from Lymington. There you may stand upon the beach and contemplate the Needlerock; at least, you might have done so twenty years ago; but since that time I think it is fallen from its base and is drowned, and is no longer a visible object of contemplation. I wish you may pass your time there happily, as in all probability you will, perhaps usefully too to others, undoubtedly so to yourself. The manner in which you have been previously made acquainted with Mr. Gilpin gives a providential air to your journey, and affords reason to hope that you may be charged with a message to him. I admire him as a biographer. But, as Mrs. Unwin and I were talking of him last night, we could not but wonder that a man should see so much excellence in the lives, and so much glory and beauty in the death, of the martyrs whom he has recorded, and at the same time disapprove the principles that produced the very conduct he admired. It seems however a step towards the truth to applaud the fruits of it; and one cannot help thinking that one step more would put aim in possession of the truth itself. By your means may he be enabled to take it! We are obliged to you for the preference you would have given to Olney, had not Providence determined your course another way. But as, when we saw you last summer, you gave us no reason to expect you of which more partici: ar mention is made in the ing of the letter to the Rev. Mr. Unwin, Aug. 14, 1784. We heartily wish you a good journey, and are affectionately yours, W. C. & M. U TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. Olney, August 14, 1784. My dear Friend, I give you joy of a journey performed without trouble or danger. You have travelled five hundred miles without having encountered either. Some neighbors of ours about a fortnight since, made and brought home with them fractured sculls an excursion only to a neighboring village, and broken limbs, and one of them is dead. For my own part, I seem pretty much exempted from the dangers of the road.Thanks to that tender interest and concern which the legislature takes in my security! Having, no doubt, their fears lest so precious a life should determine too soon and by some untimely stroke of misadventure, they have made wheels and horses so expensive that I am not likely to owe my death to either. Your mother and I continue to visit Wes ton daily, and find in those agreeable bowers such amusement as leaves us but little room to regret that we can go no farther. Having touched that theme, I cannot abstain from the pleasure of telling you that our neighbors in time, and meeting us there but a few evenings that place being about to leave it for some before their departure, entreated us, during their absence, to consider the garden and all its contents as our own, and to gather whatever we liked without the least scruple. We accordingly picked strawberries as often as we went, and brought home as many bundles of honeysuckles as served to perfume our dwelling till they returned. Once more, by the aid of Lord Dartmouth, I find myself a voyager in the Pacific Ocean. In our last night's lecture we made our acquaintance with the island of Hapaee, where we had never been before. The French and Italians, it seems, have but little cause to plume themselves on account of their achievements in the dancing way, and we may hereafter, without much repining at it, acknowledge their superiority in that art. They are equalled, perhaps excelled, by savages. How wonderful that, without any intercourse with a politer world, and having made no proficiency, in any other accomplishment, they should in this however have made themselves such adepts, that for regularity and grace of motion they might even be our masters! How wonderful too that with a tub and a stick they should be able to produce such harmony, as persons accustomed to the sweetest music cannot but hear with pleasIt is not very difficult to account for the striking difference of character that obtains among the inhabitants of these islands! Many of them are near neighbors to each other; their opportunities of improvement much the same; yet some of them are in a degree polite, discover symptoms of taste, and have a sense of elegance; while others are as rude as we naturally expect to find a people who have never had any communication with the northern hemisphere. These volumes furnish much matter of philosophical speculation, and often entertain me, even while I am not employed in reading them. ure! I am sorry you have not been able to ascertain the doubtful intelligence I have received on the subject of cork shirts and bosoms. I am now every day occupied in giving all the grace I can to my new production and in transcribing it; I shall soon arrive at the passage that censures that folly, which I shall be loath to expunge, but which I must not spare unless the criminals can be convicted. The world, however, is not so unproductive of subjects of censure, but that it may probably supply me with some other that may serve as well. If you know anybody that is writing, or intends to write, an epic poem on the new regulation of franks, you may give him my compliments, and these two lines for a beginningHeu quot amatores nunc torquet epistola rara! Vectigal certum perituraque gratia FRANKI! Yours faithfully, W. C. We have elsewhere stated that the mode originally used in franking, was for the mem. ber to sign his name at the left corner of the letter, with the word "free" attached to it, leaving the writer of the letter to add the su perscription at his own convenience. But instances of forgery having become frequent, by persons erasing the word "free," and using the name of the member for fraudulent purposes, a new regulation was adopted at this time to defeat so gross an abuse. In August, 1784, under the act of the 24th of George III., chap. 37, a new enactment passed, prescribing the mode of franking for the future as it is now practised. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. Olney, August 16, 1784. My dear Friend,-Had you not expressed a desire to hear from me before you take leave of Lymington, I certainly should not have answered you so soon. Knowing the place and the amusements it affords, I should have had more modesty than to suppose myself capable of adding anything to your present entertainments worthy to rank with them. I am not, however, totally destitute of such pleasures as an inland country may pretend to. If my windows do not command a view of the ocean, at least they look out upon a profusion of mignonette; which, if it be not so grand an object, is, however, quite as fragrant; and, if I have not an hermit 'n a grotto, I have, nevertheless, myself in a greenhouse, a less venerable figure perhaps, but not at all less animated than he nor are we in this nook altogether unfurnished with such means of philosophical experiment and speculation as at present the world rings with. On Thursday morning last, we sent up a balloon from Emberton meadow.Thrice it rose and as oft descended, and in the evening it performed another flight at Newport, where it went up and came down no more. Like the arrow discharged at the pigeon in the Trojan games, it kindled in the air and was consumed in a moment. I have not heard what interpretation the soothsayers have given to the omen, but shall wonder a little if the Newton shepherd prognosticate anything less from it than the most bloody war that was ever waged in Europe. I am reading Cook's last Voyage, and am much pleased and amused with it. It seems that in some of the Friendly Isles they exce. so much in dancing, and perform that opera tion with such exquisite delicacy and grace, that they are not surpassed even upon our European stages. Oh! that Vestris had been in the ship, that he might have seen himself outdone by a savage! The paper indeed tells us, that the queen of France has clapped this king of capers up in prison, for declining to dance before her on a pretence of sickness, when, in fact, he was in perfect health. If this be true, perhaps he may, by this time, be prepared to second such a wish as mine, and to think, that the durance he suffers would be well exchanged for a dance at Annamooka. I should, however, as little have expected to hear that these islanders had such consummate skill in an art that quires so much taste in the conduct of the person, as that they were good mathematicians and astronomers. Defective as they are in every branch of knowledge, and in every other species of refinement, it seems wonderful that they should arrive at such perfection in the dance, which some of our English gentlemen, with all the assistance of French instruction, find it impossible to learn. We must conclude, therefore, that particular nations have a genius for particular feats, and that our neighbors in France, and our friends in the South Sea, have minds very nearly akin, though they inhabit countries so very remote from each other. the most. I know that you will lose no time in reading it, but I must beg you likewise to lose none in conveying it to Johnson, that if he chooses to print it, it may go to the press immediately; if not, that it may be offered directly to your friend Longman, or any other. Not that I doubt Johnson's acceptance of it, for he will find it more ad captum populi than the former. I have not re-numbered the lines, except of the four first books, which amount to three thousand two hundred and seventy-six. I imagine, therefore, that the whole contains about five thou sand. I mention this circumstance now, be cause it may save him some trouble in casting the size of the book, and I might possibly forget it in another letter. About a fortnight since, we had a visit from Mr., whom I had not seen many years. He introduced himself to us very politely, with many thanks on his own part, and on the part of his family, for the amusement which my book has afforded them. He said he was sure that it must make its way, and hoped that I had not laid down the pen. I only told him, in general terms, that the use of the pen was necessary to my well being, but gave him no hint of this last production. He said that one passage in particular had absolutely electrified him, meaning the description of the Briton in Table Talk. He seemed, indeed, to emit some sparks, when he mentioned it. I was glad to have that picture noticed by a man of a cultivated mind, because I had always thought well of it myself, and had never heard it distinguished before. Assure yourself, my William, that though I would not write thus freely on the subject of me or mine, to any but yourself, the pleasure I have in doing it is a most innocent one, and partakes not in the least degree, so far as my conscience is to be credited, of that vanity with which authors are in general so justly chargeable. Whatever I do, I confess that I most sincerely wish to do it well; and when I have reason to hope that I have succeeded, am pleased indeed, but not proud; for He who has placed everything out of the reach of man, except what he freely gives him, has made it impossible for a reflecting mind that knows this, to indulge so silly a passion for a moment. W. C. Yours, Mrs. Unwin remembers to have been in company with Mr. Gilpin at her brother's. She thought him very sensible and polite, and consequently very agreeable. We are truly glad that Mrs. Newton and yourself are so well, and that there is reason to hope that Eliza is better. You will learn from this letter that we are so, and that for my own part I am not quite so low in spirits as at some times. Learn too, what you knew before, that we love you all, and that I am yourAffectionate friend, W. C. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. Olney, Sept. 11, 1784. My dear Friend, You have my thanks for the inquiries you have made. Despairing, however, of meeting with such confirmation of that new mode as would warrant a general stricture, I had, before the receipt of your last, discarded the passage in which I had censured it. I am proceeding in my transcript with all possible despatch, having nearly finished the fourth book, and hoping, by the end of the month, to have completed the work. When finished, that no time may be lost, I purpose taking the first opportunity to transmit it to Leman Street, but must beg that you will give me in your next an exact direction, that it may proceed to the mark without any hazard of a miscarriage. A second transcript of it would be a labor I should very reluctantly undertake; for, though I have kept copies of all the material alterations, there are many minutiæ of which I have made none; it is besides slavish work, and of all occupations that which I dislike TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. Olney, Sept. 11, 1784. My dear Friend,-I have never seen Doctor Cotton's book, concerning which your sisters question me, nor did I know, till you mentioned it, that he had written anything newer than his Visions; I have no doubt that it is so far worthy of him as to be pious and sensible, and I believe no man living is better qualified to write on such subjects as his title seems to announce. Some years have passed since I heard from him, and considering his great age it is probable that I shall hear from him no more; but I shall always respect him. He is truly a philosopher, according to my judgment of the character, every tittle of his knowledge in natural subjects being connected in his mind with the firm belief of an Omnipotent agent. Yours, &c., W. C. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. My dear Friend,-Following your good example, I lay before me a sheet of my largest paper. It was this moment fair and unblemished, but I have begun to blot it, and having begun, am not likely to cease till I have spoiled it. I have sent you many a sheet that, in my judgment of it, has been very unworthy of your acceptance, but my conscience was in some measure satisfied by reflecting that, if it were good for nothing, at the same time it cost you nothing, except the trouble of reading it. But the case is altered now.* You must pay a solid price for frothy matter, and though I do not absolutely pick your pocket, yet you lose your money, and, as the saying is, are never the wiser. My greenhouse is never so pleasant as when we are just upon the point of being turned out of it. The gentleness of the autumnal suns, and the calmness of this latter season, make it a much more agreeable retreat than we ever find it in the summer; when, the winds being generally brisk, we cannot cool it by admitting a sufficient quantity of air, without being at the same time incommoded by it. But now I sit with all the windows and the door wide open, and am regaled with the scent of every flower, in a garden as full of flowers as I have known how to make it. We keep no bees, but if I lived in a hive, I should hardly hear more of their music. All the bees in the neighborhood resort to a bed of mignonette, opposite to the window, and pay me for the honey they get out of it by a hum, which, though rather monotonous, is as agreeable to my ear as the whistling of my linnets. All the sounds that nature utters are delightful, at least in this country. I should not perhaps find the roaring of lions in Africa or of bears in Russia very pleasing, but I know no beast in England whose voice I do not account musical, save and except always the braying of an ass. The notes of all our birds and fowls please me without one exception. I should not indeed think of keeping a goose in a cage, that I might hang him up in the *He alludes to the new mode of franking. parlor for the sake of his melody, but a goose upon a common or in a farmyard is no bad performer: and as to insects, if the black beetle, and beetles indeed of all hues, will keep out of my way, I have no objection to any of the rest; on the contrary, in whatever key they sing, from the gnat's fine treble to the bass of the humble bee, I admire them all. Seriously, however, it strikes me as a very observable instance of providential kindness to man, that such an exact accord has been contrived between his ear and the sounds with which, at least in a rural situation, it is almost every moment visited. All the world is sensible of the uncomfortable effect that certain sounds have upon the nerves, and consequently upon the spirits. And if a sinful world had been filled with such as would have curdled the blood, and have made the sense of hearing a perpetual inconvenience, I do not know that we should have had a right to complain. But now the fields, the woods, the gardens, have each their concert, and the ear of man is forever regaled by creatures who seem only to please themselves. Even the ears that are deaf to the Gospel are continually entertained, though without knowing it, by sounds for which they are solely indebted to its Author. There is somewhere in infinite space a world that does not roll within the precincts of mercy; and as it is reasonable, and even scriptural, to suppose that there is music in heaven, in those dismal regions perhaps the reverse of it is found; tones so dismal, as to make woe itself more insupportable, and to acuminate even despair. But my paper admonishes me in good time to draw the reins, and to check the descent of my fancy into deeps with which she is but too familiar. Our best love attends you both. Yours, TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. Olney, Oct. 2, 1784. time for prose. The truth is, I am in haste My dear William,-A poet can but ill spare to finish my transcript, that you may receive it time enough to give it a leisurely reading before you go to town; which, whether I shall be able to accomplish, is at present uncertain. I have the whole punctuation to settle, which in blank verse is of the last importance, and of a species peculiar to that composition; for I know no use of points, unless to direct the voice, the management of which, in the reading of blank verse, being more difficult than in the reading of any other poetry, requires perpetual hints and notices to regulate the inflexions, cadences, and pauses. This however is an affair that, in spite of grammarians, must be left pretty much ad libitum scriptoris. For, I suppose, ery author points according to his own I ading. If I can send the parcel to the agon by one o'clock next Wednesday, you will have it on Saturday the ninth. But this is more than I expect. Perhaps I shall not be able to despatch it till the eleventh, in which case it will not reach you till the thirleenth. I the rather think that the latter of these two periods will obtain, because, besides the punctuation, I have the argument of each book to transcribe. Add to this that, in writing for the printer, I am forced to write my best, which makes slow work. The motto of the whole is Fit surculus arbor. If you can put the author's name under it, do so, if not, it inust go without one; for I know not to whom to ascribe it. It was a motto taken by a certain prince of Orange, in the year 1733, but not to a poem of his own writing, or indeed to any poem at all, but, as I think, to a medal. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. Olney, Oct. 9, 1784. My dear Friend, The pains you have taken to disengage our correspondence from the expense with which it was threatened, convincing me that my letters, trivial as they are, are yet acceptable to you, encourage me to observe my usual punctuality. You complain of unconnected thoughts. I believe there is not a head in the world but might utter the same complaint, and that all would do so, were they all as attentive to their own vagaries and as honest as yours. The description of your meditations at least suits mine; perhaps I can go a step beyond you, upon the same ground, and assert with the strictest truth that I not only do not think with connexion, but that I frequently do not think at all. I am much mistaken if I do not often catch myself napping in this way; for, when I ask myself, what was the last idea (as the ushers at Westminster ask an idle boy what was the last word,) I am not able to answer, but, like the boy in Mr. is a Cornish member; but for question, am obliged to stare and say nothing. what place in Cornwall I know not. All I This may be a very unphilosophical account know of him is, that I saw him once clap his of myself, and may clash very much with the two hands upon a rail, meaning to leap over general opinion of the learned, that, the soul, it. But he did not think the attempt a safe being an active principle, and her activity conone, and therefore took them off again. He sisting in thought, she must consequently was in company with Mr. Throckmorton. always think. But pardon me, messieurs les With that gentleman we drank chocolate, philosophes, there are moments when, if I since I wrote last. The occasion of our visit think at all, I am utterly unconscious of doing was, as usual, a balloon. Your mother in- so, and the thought and the consciousness of vited her, and I him, and they promised to it seem to me at least, who am no philosoreturn the visit, but have not yet performed. pher, to be inseparable from each other. PerTout le monde se trouvoit là, as you may sup-haps, however, we may both be right; and, if pose, among the rest Mrs. W. She was you will grant me that I do not always think, driven to the door by her son, a boy of seven-I will in return concede to you the activity teen, in a phaeton, drawn by four horses from you contend for, and will qualify the differLilliput. This is an ambiguous expression, ence between us by supposing that, though and, should what I write now be legible a the soul be in herself an active principle, the thousand years hence, might puzzle commen- influence of her present union with a princitators. Be it known therefore to the Alduses ple that is not such makes her often dormant, and the Stevenses of ages yet to come, that suspends her operations, and affects her with I do not mean to affirm that Mrs. W- a sort of deliquium, in which she suffers a herself came from Lilliput that morning, or temporary loss of all her functions. I have indeed that she ever was there, but merely related to you my experience truly and with to describe the horses, as being so diminu-out disguise; you must therefore either adtive, that they might be with propriety said mit my assertion, that the soul does not neto be Lilliputian. cessarily always act, or deny that mine is a human soul: a negative, that I am sure you will not easily prove. So much for a dispute which I little thought of being engaged in to-day. The privilege of franking having been so cropped, I know not in what manner I and my bookseller are to settle the conveyance of proof sheets hither and back again. They must travel I imagine by coach, a large quantity of them at a time; for, like other authors, I find myself under a poetical necessity of being frugal. We love you all, jointly and separately, as usual. W. C. Last night I had a letter from Lord Dartmouth. It was to apprise me of the safe arrival of Cook's last Voyage, which he was so kind as to lend me, in Saint James's Square. The reading of these volumes afforded me much amusement, and I hope some instruction. No observation however forced itself I have not seen, nor shall see, the Dissent-upon me with more violence than one, that er's answer to Mr. Newton, unless you can I could not help making on the death of Cap furnish me with it. tain Cook. God is a jealous God, and at |