Mrs. Unwin returns you many thanks for your anxiety on her account. Her health is considerably mended upon the whole, so as to afford us a hope that it will be established. Our love attends "ou. Yours, dear madai, W. C. between my right and the remedy the law gives me, where the right is invaded, much less, I apprehend, shall the man himself, who of his own mere motion gives me that right, be suffered to do it. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. Olney, Nov. 9, 1780. I wrote the following last summer. The tragical occasion of it really happened at the next house to ours. I am glad when I can find a subject to work upon; a lapidary, I suppose, accounts it a laborious part of his business to rub away the roughness of the stone; but it is my amusement, and if, after all the polishing I can give it, it discovers some little lustre, I think myself well warded for my pains.* Non equidem invideo, miror magis. I shall charge you a halfpenny a-piece for every copy I send you, the short as well as the long. This is a sort of afterclap you little expected, but I cannot possibly afford them at a cheaper rate. If this method of raising money had occurred to me sooner, I should have made the bargain sooner; but am glad I have hit upon it at last. It will be a considerable encouragement to my Muse, and act as a powerful stimulus to my industry. If the American war should last much longer, I may be obliged to raise my price; but this I shall not do without a real occasion for it-it depends much upon Lord North's conduct in the article of supplies--if he im-fore at this time I suppress it. It is better, poses an additional tax on anything that I on every account, that they who interest deal in, the necessity of this measure on my believe the certainty of it, than that they themselves so deeply in that event should part will be so apparent that I dare say you should not. It is a comfort to them at least, will not dispute it. W. Č. if it is none to me; and as I could not if 1 would, so neither would I if I could, deprive them of it. Your sentiments with respect to me are exactly Mrs. Unwin's. She, like you, is perfectly sure of my deliverance, and often tells me so. I make but one answer, and sometimes none at all. That answer gives her no pleasure, and would give you as little; there TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.† My dear Friend, I am sorry that the bookseller shuffles off the trouble of package upon anybody that belongs to you. I think I could cast him upon this point in an action upon the case, grounded upon the terms of his own undertaking. He engages to serve country customers. Ergo, as it would be unreasonable to expect that, when a country gentleman wants a book, he should order his chaise, and bid the man drive to Exeter Change; and as it is not probable that the book would find the way to him of itself, though it were the wisest that ever was written, I should suppose the law would compel him. For I recollect it is a maxim of good authority in the courts, that there is no right without a remedy. And if another, or third person, should not be suffered to interpose I never made so long an argument upon a law case before. I ask your pardon for doing it now. You have but little need of such entertainment. Yours affectionately, W. C. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON.* Olney, Dec. 21, 1780. I thank you for your anecdote of Judge Carpenter. If it really happened, it is one of the best stories I ever heard; and if not, it has at least the merit of being ben trovato. We both very sincerely laughed at it, and re-think the whole Livery of London must have done the same; though I have known some persons, whose faces, as if they had been cast in a mould, could never be provoked to the least alteration of a single feature; so that you might as well relate a good story to a barber's block. * Verses on a Goldfinch, starved to death in a cage. 1 Private errespondence. I annex a long thought in verse for your perusal. It was produced about last midsummer, but I never could prevail with my self, till now, to transcribe it. You have bestowed some commendations on a certain poem now in the press, and they, I suppose. have at least animated me to the task. It human nature may be compared to a piece of tapestry, (and why not?) then human nature, as it subsists in me, though it is sadly faded on the right side, retains all its color on the wrong. I am pleased with commendation, and though not passionately desirous of indiscriminate praise, or what is generally called popularity, yet when a judicious friend claps me on the back, I own I find it an encouragement At this season of the year, and in this gloomy uncomfortable climate, it is no easy matter for the owner of a mind * Private correspondence. †The Verses alluded to appear to have been separated from the letter. like mine to divert it from sad subjects, and fix it upon such as may administer to its amusement, Poetry, above all things, is useful to me in this respect. While I am held in pursuit of pretty images, or a pretty way of expressing them, I forget everything that is irksome, and, like a boy that plays truant, determine to avail myself of the present opportunity to be amused, and to put by the disagreeable recollection that I must, after all, go home and be whipped again. It will not be long, perhaps, before you will receive a poem called "The Progress of Error." That will be succeeded by another, in due time, called "Truth." Don't be alarmed, I ride Pegasus with a curb. He will never run away with me again. I have even convinced Mrs. Unwin that I can manage him, and make him stop when I please. Yours, W. C. The following letter, to Mr. Hill, contains a poem already printed in the works of Cowper; but the reader will be probably gratified in finding the sportiveness of Cowper's wit presented to him, as it was originally despatched by the author for the amusement of a friend. NOSE, Plaintiff.-EYES, Defendants. Nose, And the Nose was as plainly intended for them.” TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. My dear Friend,-Weary with rather a long walk in the snow, I am not likely to write a very sprightly letter, or to produce anything that may cheer this gloomy season, unless I have recourse to my pocket-book, where, perhaps, I may find something to transcribe; something that was written before the sun had taken leave of our hemisphere, and when I was less fatigued than I am at present. Dec., 1780. Happy is the man who knows just so much of the law as to make himself a little merry now and then with the solemnity of juridical proceedings. I have heard of common law judgments before now; indeed have been present at the delivery of some, that, according to my poor apprehension, while they paid My dear Friend,-Poetical reports of lawcases are not very common, yet it seems to mo desirable that they should be so. Many advantages would accrue from such a measure. They would, in the first place, be more commonly deposited in the memory, just as linen, grocery, or other such matters, when neatly the utmost respect to the letter of the stat-packed, are known to occupy less room, and to lie more conveniently in any trunk, chest, or box, to which they may be committed. In the next place, being divested of that infinite circumlocution, and the endless embar rassment in which they are involved by it, they would become surprisingly intelligible, in comparison with their present obscurity. And, lastly, they would by this means be rendered susceptible of musical embellishment; and, instead of being quoted in the country, with that dull monotony which is sc wearisome to by-standers, and frequently lulls even the judges themselves to sleep might be rehearsed in recitation; which ute, have departed widely from the spirit of it, and, being governed entirely by the point of law, have left equity, reason, and common sense behind them, at an infinite distance. You will judge whether the following report of a case, drawn up by myself, be not a proof and illustration of this satirical as sertion. So his lordship decreed, with a grave, solemn ton, shut!" Yours affectionately, W. C. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. would have an admirable effect, in keeping the attention fixed and lively, and could not fail to disperse that heavy atmosphere of sadness and gravity, which hangs over the jurisprudence of our country. I remember, many years ago, being informed by a relation of mine, who, in his youth, had applied himself to the study of the law, that one of his fellow-students, a gentleman of sprightly parts, and very respectable talents of the poetical kind, did actually engage in the prosecution of such a design; for reasons, I suppose, somewhat similar to, if not the same, with those I have now suggested. He began with Coke's Institutes; a book so rugged in its style, that an attempt to polish it seemed an Herculean labor, and not less arduous and difficult than it would be to give the smoothness of a rabbit's fur to the prickly back of a hedgehog. But he succeeded to admiration, as you will perceive by the following specimen, which is all that my said relation could recollect of the performance. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON.† My dear Sir, I am glad that the "Pro gress of Error" did not err in its progress, as I feared it had, and that it has reached you safe; and still more pleased that it has met with your approbation; for, if it had not, I should have wished it had miscarried, and have been sorry that the bearer's memory ad served him so well uper the occasion. I knew him to be that sort cf genius, which, being much busied in making excursions of the imaginary kind, is not always present to its own immediate concerns, much less to those of others; and, having reposed the trust in him, began to regret that I had done so when it was too late. But I did it to This letter concluded with the poetical law-case of Nose, plaintiff-Eyes, defendants, already inserted. † Private correspondence. save a frank, and as the affair has turned out that end was very well answered. This i committed to the hands of a less volatile person, and therefore more to be depended on. As to the poem called "Truth," which is already longer than its elder brother, and is yet to be lengthened by the addition of perhaps twenty lines, perhaps more, I shrink from the thought of transcribing it at present. But as there is no need to be in any hurry about it, I hope that, in some rainy season, which the next month will probably bring with it, when perhaps I may be glad of employment, the undertaking will appear less formidable. You need not withhold from us any intelligence relating to yourselves, upon an ap prehension that Mr. R- has been beforehand with you upon those subjects, for we could get nothing out of him. I have known such travellers in my time, and Mrs. Newton is no stranger to one of them, who keep all their observations and discoveries to themselves, till they are extorted from them by mere dint of examination and cross-examination. He told us, indeed, that some invisible agent supplied you every Sunday with a coach, which we were pleased with hearing; and this, I think, was the sum total of his information. We are much concerned for Mr. Barham's loss;* but it is well for that gentleman, that those amiable features in his character, which most incline one to sympathize with him, are the very graces and virtues that will strengthen him to bear it with equanimity and patience. People that have neither his light nor experience will wonder that a disaster, which would perhaps have broken their hearts, is not heavy enough to make any abatement in the cheerfulness of his. Your books came yesterday. I shall not repeat to you what I said to Mrs. Unwin, after having read two or three of the letters. I admire the preface, in which you have given an air of novelty to a worn-out topic, and have actually engaged the favor of the reader by saying those things in a delicate and uncommon way, which in general are disgusting. I suppose you know that Mr. Scott will be in town on Tuesday. He is likely to *The loss of his excellent wife. Mr. Barham was the intimate friend of Newton, and Cowper, and of the pious Lord Dartmouth, whose name is occasionally introduced in these letters in connexion with Olney, where his lordship's charity was liberally dispensed. Mr. Barham suggested the subject of many of the hymns that are inserted in the Olney collection, and particularly the one entitled "What think ye of Christ ?" He was father of the late Jos. Foster Barham, Esq., many years M.P. for the borough of Stockbridge. The editor is happy in dearing virtues of a man, with whose family he became here bearing testimony to the profound piety and ensubsequently connected. He afterwards married the widow of Sir Rowland Hill, Bart., and lived at Hawke stone in Shropshire. The late Rev. Thomas Scott, so well known and dis tinguished by his writings. take possession of the vicarage at last, with TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN.* old, and discovers many symptoms of decline. My dear Friend,-Much good may your humanity do you, as it does so much good to others.† You can nowhere find objects more entitled to your pity than where your pity seeks them. A man whose vices and irregularities have brought his liberty and life into danger will always be viewed with an eye of compassion by those who understand what human nature is made of. And, while we acknowledge the severity of the law to be founded upon principles of necessity and justice, and are glad that there is such a barrier provided for the peace of so-ject. Who knows but that while a thousand ciety, if we consider that the difference be- and ten thousand tongues are employed in tween ourselves and the culprit is not of our adjusting the scale of our national concerns, own making, we shall be, as you are, tender- in complaining of new taxes, and funds loadly affected with the view of his misery, and ed with a debt of accumulating millions, the not the less so because he has brought it consummation of all things may discharge it upon himself. I look upon the worst man in a moment, and the scene of all this bustle in Chelmsford gaol with a more favorable disappear, as if it had never been? Charles eye than upon , who claims a servant's Fox would say, perhaps, he thought it very wages from one who never was his master. unlikely. I question if he could prove even that. I am sure, however, he could not prove it to be impossible. 66 Yours, W. C. I give you joy of your own hair. No doubt you are a considerable gainer in your appearance by being disperiwigged. The best wig is that which most resembles the natural hair; why then should he that has hair enough of his own have recourse to imitation? I have little doubt but that, if an arm or a leg could have been taken off with as little pain as attends the amputation of a curl or a lock of hair, the natural limb would have been thought less becoming or less convenient by some men than a wooden one, and been disposed of accordingly. W C. Yours ever, TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.* Olney, Feb. 8, 1781. My dear Friend, It is possible that Mrs. Hill may not be herself a sufferer by the late terrible catastrophe in the Islands; but I should suppose, by her correspondence with those parts, she may be connected with some that are. In either case, I condole with her; for it is reasonable to imagine that, since the first tour that Columbus made into the Western world, it never before experienced such a tonvulsion, perhaps never since the foundation of the globe. You say the state grows *Private correspondence. †This alludes to his attendance on a condemned male actor in the jail at Chelmsford. This season was remarkable for the most destructive Burricanes ever remembered in the West Indies. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. Olney, Feb. 15, 1781. My dear Friend,-I am glad you were pleased with my report of so extraordinary a case. If the thought of versifying the decisions of our courts of justice had struck me while I had the honor to attend them, it would perhaps have been no difficult matter to have compiled a volume of such amusing and interesting precedents; which, if they wanted the eloquence of the Greek or Roman oratory, would have amply compensated that deficiency by the harmony of rhyme and metre. Your account of my uncle and your mother gave me great pleasure. I have long been afraid to inquire after some in whose welfare I always feel myself interested, lest the question should produce a ¡ainful answer. Longevity is the lot of so few, and is so seldom rendered comfortable by the associations of good health and good spirits, that I could not very reasonably suppose either your relations or mine so happy in those respects as it seems they are. May they continue to enjoy those blessings so long as the * He alludes to the humorous verses in the Nose an the Eyes, inserted in a preceding letter. date of life shall last. I do not think that in these costermonger days, as I have a notion Falstaff calls them, an antediluvian age is at all a desirable thing, but to live comfortably while we do live is a great matter, and comprehends in it everything that can be wished for on this side the curtain that hangs between Time and Eternity! Farewell, my better friend than any I have to boast of, either among the Lords or gentlemen of the House of Commons. W. C. ! TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON.* Olney, Feb. 18, 1781. My dear Friend,-I send you "Table Talk." It is a medley of many things, some that may be useful, and some that, for aught I know, may be very diverting. I am merry that I may decoy people into my company, an grave that they may be the better for it. Now and then I put on the garb of a philosopher, and take the opportunity that disguise procures me to drop a word in favor of religion. In short, there is some froth, and here and there a bit of sweatmeat, which seems to entitle it justly to the name of a certain dish the ladies call a trifle. I do not choose to be more facetious, lest I should consult the taste of my readers at the expense of my own approbation; nor more serious than I have been, lest I should forfeit theirs. A poet in my circumstances has a difficult part to act: one minute obliged to bridle his humor, if he has any; and the next, to clap a spur to the sides of it: now ready to weep from a sense of the importance of his subject, and on a sudden constrained to laugh, lest his gravity should be mistaken for dulness. If this be not violent exercise for the mind, I know not what is; and if any man doubt it, let him try. Whether all this management and contrivance be necessary I do not know, but am inclined to suspect that if my Muse was to go forth clad in Quaker color, without one bit of riband to enliven her appearance, she might walk from one end of London to the other as little noticed as if she were one of the sisterhood indeed. You had been married thirty-one years last Monday. When you married I was eighteen years of age, and had just left Westminster school. At that time, I valued a man accord ing to his proficiency and taste in classical literature, and had the meanest opinion of all other accomplishments unaccompanied by that. I lived to see the vanity of what I had made my pride, and in a few years found that there were other attainments which would earry a man more handsomely through life than a mere knowledge of what Homer and * Private correspondence. Virgil had left behind them. In measure a my attachment to these gentry wore off, 1 found a more welcome reception among those whose acquaintance it was more my interest to cultivate. But all this time was spent in painting a piece of wood that had no life in it. At last I began to think indeed; I found myself in possession of many baubles, but not one grain of solidity in all my treasures. Then I learned the truth, and then I lost it, and there ends my history. I would no more than you wish to live such a life over again, but for one reason. He that is carried to execution, though through the roughest road, when he arrives at the destined spot would be glad, notwithstanding the many jolts he met with, to repeat his journey. Yours, my dear Sir, with our joint love, TO MRS. HILL.* Olney, Feb. 19, 1781. Dear Madam,-When a man, especially a man that lives altogether in the country, undertakes to write to a lady he never saw, he is the awkwardest creature in the world. He begins his letter under the same sensations he would have if he was to accost her in person, only with this difference, that he may take as much time as he pleases for consideration, and need not write a single word that he has not well weighed and pondered_beforehand, much less a sentence that he does not think supereminently clever. In every other respect, whether he be engaged in an interview or in a letter, his behavior is, for the most part, equally constrained and unnatural. He resolves, as they say, to set the best leg foremost, which often proves to be what Hudibras calls |