TO LADY HESKETH.

Huntingdon, Sept. 14, 1765. My dear Cousin,-The longer I live here, the better I like the place, and the people who belong to it. I am upon very good terms with no less than five families, besides two or three odd scrambling fellows like myself. The last acquaintance I made here is with the race of the Unwins, consisting of father

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often disappointed of its benevolent intention, and that men despise the chastening of the Almighty. Fevers and all diseases are accidents, and long life, recovery at least from sickness, is the gift of the physician. No man can be a greater friend to the use of means upon these occasions than myself, for it were presumption and enthusiasm to neg.ect them. God has endued them with salutary properties on purpose that we might avail ourselves of them, otherwise that part of his creation were in vain. But to impute our recovery to the medicine, and to carry our views no further, is to rob God of his honor, and is saying in effect that he has parted with the keys of life and death, and, by giving to a drug the power to heal us, has placed our lives out of his own reach. He that thinks thus, may as well fall upon his knees at once, and return thanks to the medicine that cured him, for it was certainly more instrumental in his recovery than either and mother, son and daughter, the most comthe apothecary or the doctor. My dear cous-fortable, social folks you ever knew. The in, a firm persuasion of the superintendence son is about twenty-one years of age, one of of Providence over all our concerns is abso- the most unreserved and amiable young men lutely necessary to our happiness. Without I ever conversed with. He is not yet arrived it, we cannot be said to believe in the Scrip- at that time of life when suspicion recomture, or practise anything like resignation to mends itself to us in the form of wisdom his will. If I am convinced that no affliction and sets everything but our own dear selves can befall me without the permission of God, at an immeasurable distance from our esteem I am convinced likewise that he sees and and confidence. Consequently, he is known knows that I am afflicted; believing this, almost as soon as seen, and, having nothing must, in the same degree, believe that if I in his heart that makes it necessary for him pray to him for deliverance he hears me; I to keep it barred and bolted, opens it to the must needs know likewise, with equal assur- perusal even of a stranger. The father is a ance, that if he hears he will also deliver me, clergyman, and the son is designed for orders. if that will upon the whole be most condu- The design however is quite his own, proceedcive to my happiness; and, if he does not de- ing merely from his being, and having always liver me, I may be well assured that he has been, sincere in his belief and love of the Gosnone but the most benevolent intention in pel. Another acquaintance I have lately made declining it. He made us, not because we is with a Mr. Nicholson, a north-country dicould add to his happiness, which was always vine, very poor, but very good, and very perfect, but that we might be happy ourselves; happy. He reads prayers here twice a-day, and will he not, in all his dispensations to all the year round, and travels on foot to wards us, even in the minutest, consult that serve two churches every Sunday through end for which he made us? To suppose the the year, his journey out and home again contrary, is (which we are not always aware being sixteen miles. I supped with him last of) affronting every one of his attributes; night. He gave me bread and cheese, and a and, at the same time, the certain conse- black jug of ale of his own brewing, and quence of disbelieving his care for us is that doubtless brewed by his own hands. Anwe renounce utterly our dependence upon other of my acquaintance is Mr. ———————, a thin, him. In this view it will appear plainly that tall, old man, and as good as he is thin. He the line of duty is not stretched too tight, drinks nothing but water, and eats no flesh, when we are told that we ought to accept partly (I believe) from a religious scruple everything at his hands as a blessing, and to (for he is very religious), and partly in the be thankful even while we smart under the spirit of a valetudinarian. He is to be met rod of iron, with which he sometimes rules with every morning of his life, at about six Without this persuasion, every bless- o'clock, at a fountain of very fine water. ng, however we may think ourselves happy about a mile from the town, which is reckin it, loses its greatest recommendation, and oned extremely like the Bristol spring. Being every affliction is intolerable. Death itself both early risers, and the only early walkers must be welcome to him who has this faith, in the place, we soon became acquainted. and he who has it not must aim at it, if he is His great piety can be equalled by nothing not a madman. You cannot think how glad

us.

* Freemantle, a villa near Southampton.

I am to hear you are going to commence lady, and mistress of Freemantle.* I know it well, and could go to it from Southampton blindfold. You are kind to invite me to it, and I shall be so kind to myself as to accept the invitation, though I should not, for a slight consideration, be prevailed upon to quit my beloved retirement at Huntingdon. Yours ever, W. C.

but his great regularity; for he is the most perfect timepiece in the world. I have received a visit likewise from Mr. He is very much a gentleman, well-read, and sensible. I am persuaded, in short, that if I had had the choice of all England where to fix my abode, I could not have chosen better for myself, and most likely I should not have chosen so well.

You say, you hope it is not necessary for salvation to undergo the same afflictions that I have undergone. No! my dear cousin, God deals with his children as a merciful father; he does not, as he himself tells us, afflict willingly the sons of men. Doubtless there are many, who, having been placed by his good providence out of the reach of any great evil and the influence of bad example, have, from their very infancy, been partakers of the grace of his Holy Spirit, in such a manner as never to have allowed themselves in any grievous offence against him. May you love him more and more, day by day, as every day, while you think upon him, you will find him more worthy of your love; and may you be finally accepted by him for his sake whose intercession for all his faithful servants cannot but prevail ! Yours ever, W. C.

I commend you, with earnest wishes for your welfare, and remain your ever affectionate W. C.

Huntingdon, Oct. 18, 1765.

I wish you joy, my dear cousin, of being safely arrived in port from the storms of Southampton. For my own part, who am but as a Thames wherry, in a world full of tempest and commotion, I know so well the value of the creek I have put into, and the snugness it affords me, that I have a sensible spmpathy with you in the pleasure you find in being once more blown to Droxford. I know enough of Miss Morley to send her my compliments, to which, if I had never seen her, her affection for you would sufficiently entitle her. If I negiected to do it sooner, it is only because I am naturally apt to neglect what I ought to do; and if I was as genteel as I am negligent, I should be the most delightful creature in the universe. I am glad you think so favorably of my Huntingdon acquaintance; they are indeed a nice set of folks, and suit me exactly. I should have been more particular in my account of Miss Unwin, if I had had materials for a minute description. She is about eighteen years f age, rather handsome and genteel. In her mother's company she says little, not because her mother requires it of her, but because she seems glad of that excuse for not talking, being somewhat inclined to bashfulness. There is the most remarkable cordiality between all the parts of the family, and the mother and daughter seem to doat upon each other. The first time I went to the house, I was introduced to the daughter alone; and sat with her near half an hour before her brother came in, who had appointed me to call upon him. Talking is necessary in a tete-a-tete, to distinguish the persons of the drama from the chairs they sit on: accordingly, she talked a great deal, and extremely well; and, like the rest of the family, behaved with as much ease and address as if we had been old acquaintance. She resembles her mother in her great piety, who is one of the most remarkable instances of it I have ever seen. They are altogether the cheerfullest and most engaging family-piece it is possible to conceive. Since

I thank God for your friendship, and for every friend I have; for all the pleasing circumstances here; for my health of body, and perfect serenity of mind. To recollect the past, and compare it with the present, is all II wrote the above, I met Mrs. Unwin in the have need of to fill me with gratitude; and street, and went home with her. She and I to be grateful is to be happy. Not that I walked together near two hours in the garthink myself sufficiently thankful, or that I den, and had a conversation which did me ever shall be so in this life. The warmest more good than I should have received from heart perhaps only feels by fits, and is often an audience of the first prince in Europe. as insensible as the coldest. This at least is That woman is a blessing to me, and I never frequently the case with mine, and oftener see her without being the better for her comthan it should be. But the mercy that can pany. I am treated in the family as if I was forgive iniquity will never be severe to mark a near relation, and have been repeatedly inur frailties; to that merey, my dear cousin, vited to call upon them at all times. You

TO LADY HESKETH.
Huntingdon, Oct. 10, 1765.

My dear Cousin,-I should grumble at your long silence, if I did not know that one may love one's friends very well, though one is not always in a humor to write to them. Besides, I have the satisfaction of being perfectly sure that you have at least twenty times recollected the debt you owe me, and as often resolved to pay it: and perhaps, while you remain indebted to me, you think of me twice as often as you would do if the account was clear. These are the reflections with which I comfort myself under the affliction of not hearing from you; my temper does not incline me to jealousy, and, if it did, I should set all right by having recourse to what I have already received from you.

TO LADY HESKETH.

of those I was acquainted with when you were here. Their name is Unwin-the most Agreeable people imaginable; quite sociable, and as free from the ceremonious civility of country gentle-folks as any I ever met with. They treat me more like a near relation than a stranger, and their house is always open to me. The old gentleman carries me to Cambridge in his chaise. He is a man of learning and good sense, and as simple as Parson Adams. His wife has a very uncommon understanding, has read much, to excellent purpose, and is more polite than a duchess. The son, who belongs to Cambridge, is a most amiable young man, and the daughter quite of a piece with the rest of the family. They see but little company, which suits me exactly; go when I will, I find a house full of peace and cordiality in all its parts, and am sure to hear no scandal, but such discourse instead of it as we are all better for. You remember Rousseau's description of an English morning;* such are the mornings I spend with these good people, and the evenings differ from them in nothing, except that they are still more snug and quieter. Now I know them, I wonder that I liked Huntingdon so well before I knew them, and am apt to think I should find every place disagreeable that had not an Jnwin belonging to it.

This incident convinces me of the truth of an observation I have often made, that when we circumscribe our estimate of all that is clever within the limits of our own acquaintance (which I at least have been always apt to do) we are guilty of a very uncharitable censure upon the rest of the world, and of a narrowness of thinking disgraceful to ourselves. Wapping and Redriff may contain some of the most amiable persons living, and such as one would go to Wapping and Redriff to make acquaintance with. You remember Gray's stanza,

Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The deep unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a rose is born to blush unseen,
And waste its fragrance on the desert air.

Yours, dear Joe,

W. C.

I shall be obliged to you if you will tell me whether my exchequer is full or empty, and whether the revenue of last year is yet come in, that I may proportion my payments to the exigencies of my affairs.

My dear 'Sephus, give my love to your family, and believe me much obliged to you for your invitation. At present I am in such an unsettled condition, that I can think of nothing but laying the foundation of my future abode at Unwin's. My being admitted

Nov. 5, 1765.

Dear Joe,- wrote to you about ten days there is the effect of the great good nature

#go,

and friendly turn of that family, who, I have great reason to believe, are as desirous to do me service as they could be after a much longer acquaintance. Let your next, if it becomes a week hence, be directed to me there

The greatest part of the law-books are * Private correspondence.

†The office of readership to this society had been of fered to Cowper, but was declined by him.

.“ JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.†

I find it impossible to proceed any longer in my present course without danger of bankruptcy. I have therefore entered into an agreement with the Rev. Mr. Unwin to lodge and board with him. The family are the most agreeable in the world. They live in a special good house, and in a very genteel way. They are all exactly what I would wish them to be, and I know I shall be as happy with them as I can be on this side of the sun. I did not dream of this matter till about five days ago: but now the whole is settled. I shall transfer myself thither as soon as I have satisfied all de. mands upon me here. Yours ever,

W. C

Soliciting a quick return of gold, To purchase certain horse that likes me well. Either my letter or your answer to it, I fear, nas miscarried. The former, I hope; cause a miscarriage of the latter might be attended with bad consequences.

See his Emilius.

† Private correspondence.

TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.* Nov. 8, 1765. Dear 'Sephus,-Notwithstanding it is so agreeable a thing to read law lectures to the students of Lyons' Inn,† especially to the reader himself, I must beg leave to waive it. Danby Pickering must be the happy man: and I heartily wish him joy of his deputy ship. As to the treat, I thinl. if it goes be fore the lecture, it will be apt to blunt the apprehension of the student, and, if it comes after, it may erase from their memowish therefore, that, for their benefit and be ries impressions so newly made. I could hoof, this circumstance were omitted. Sut if it be absolutely necessary, I hope Mr Salt, or whoever takes the conduct of it w see that it be managed with the frugality and temperance becoming so learned a body. I shall be obliged to you if you will present my respects to Mr. Treasurer Salt, and exhad the trouble of sending me two letters press my concern at the same time that he upon this occasion. The first of them never came to hand.