to heaven. I know not that human life, in its most prosperous state, can present any thing to our wishes half so desirable, as such a close of it.

Not to mingle this subject with others that would ill suit with it, I will add no more at present, than a warm hope that you and your Sister will be able, effectually, to avail yourselves of all the consolatory matter with which it abounds. You gave yourselves, while he lived, to a Father whose life was doubtless prolonged by your attentions, and whose tenderness of disposition made him always deeply sensible of your kindness in this respect, as well as in many others. His old age was the happiest that I have ever known; and I give you both joy of having had so fair an opportunity, and of having so well used it, to approve yourselves equal to the calls of such a duty in the sight of God and man.

W. C.

LETTER C.

To Lady HESKeth.

The Lodge, June 15, 1788.

Although I knew that you must be

very much occupied on the present most affecting occasion, yet not hearing from you, I began to be very uneasy on your account, and to fear that your health might have suffered by the fatigue both of body and spirits that you must have undergone, till a Letter that

VOL. I.

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reached

reached me yesterday, from the General, set my heart at rest, so far as that cause of anxiety was in question. He speaks of my Uncle in the tenderest terms; such as shew how truly sensible he was of the amiableness and excellence of his character, and how deeply he regrets his loss. We have indeed lost one, who has not left his like in the present generation of our family, and whose equal, in all respects, no future of it will probably produce. My memory retains so perfect an impression of him, that had I been painter instead of poet, I could from those faithful traces, have perpetuated his face and form with the most minute exactness. And this I the rather wonder at, because some with whom I was equally coversant five and twenty years ago, have almost faded out of all recollection with me: but he made impression not soon to be effaced; and was in figure, in temper, and manner, and in numerous other respects, such as I shall never behold again. I often think what a joyful interview there has been between him and some of his cotemporaries who went before him. The truth of the matter is, my dear, that they are the happy ones, and that we shall never be such ourselves till we have joined the party. Can there be any thing so worthy of our warmest wishes as to enter on an eternal, unchangeable state, in blessed fellowship and communion with those whose society we valued most, and for the best reasons, while they continued with us? A few steps more through a vain foolish world, and this happiness will be yours: but be not hasty, my dear, to accomplish thy journey! For of all, that live, thou art one,

whom

whom I can least spare, for thou also art one who shall not leave thy equal behind thee.

W. C.

LETTER CI.

To SAMUEL ROSE, Esqr.

Weston, June 23, 1788.

When I tell you that an unanswered

Letter troubles my conscience, in some degree like a crime, you will think me endued with a most heroic patience, who have so long submitted to that trouble on account of yours not answered yet. But the truth is, that I have been much engaged. Homer, (you know) affords me constant employment; besides which I have rather what may be called, considering the privacy in which I have long lived, a numerous correspondence: to one of my friends in particular, a near and much loved relation, I write weekly, and sometimes twice in the week; nor are these my only excuses; the sudden changes of the weather have much affected me, and especially with a disorder most unfavourable to letter-writing, an inflammation in my eyes. With all these apologies I approach you once more, not altogether despairing of forgiveness.

It has pleased God to give us rain, without which this part of our country at least must soon have become a desart. The meadows have been parched to a January brown, and we have foddered our cattle for some time, as in the winter.-The goodness and power

RR 2

of God

God are never (I believe) so universally acknowledged as at the end of a long drought. Man is naturally a self-sufficient animal, and in all concerns that seem to lie within the sphere of his own ability, thinks little or not at all of the need he always has of protection and furtherance from above: but he is sensible that the clouds will not assemble at his bidding, and that though the clouds assemble, they will not fall in showers, because he commands them. When, therefore, at last, the blessing descends, you shall hear, even in the streets, the most irreligious and thoughtless with one voice exclaim, "Thank God!"-confessing themselves indebted to his favour, and willing, at least so far as words go, to give him the glory. I can hardly doubt, therefore, that the earth is sometimes parched, and the crops endangered, in order that the multitude may not want a memento, to whom they owe them, nor absolutely forget the power, on which all depend for all things.

Our solitary part of the year is over. Mrs. Unwin's Daughter and Son-in-law have lately spent some time with us; we shall shortly receive from London our old friends the Newtons, (he was once minister of Olney;) and, when they leave us, we expect, that Lady Hesketh will succeed them, perhaps to spend the summer here, and possibly the winter also. The summer indeed is leaving us at a rapid rate, as do all the seasons, and though I have marked their flight so often, I know not which is the swiftest. Man is never so deluded as when he dreams of his own duration. The answer of the

old

old Patriarch to Pharaoh may be adopted by every man at the close of the longest life. "Few and evil have been the days of the years of my pilgrimage," Whether we look back from fifty, or from twice fifty, the past appears equally a dream; and we can only be said truly to have lived while we have been profitably employed. Alas! then, making the necessary deductions, how short is life! Were men in general to save themselves all the steps they take to no purpose, or to a bad one, what numbers, who are now active, would become sedentary!

Thus I have sermonized through my paper. Living where you live, you can bear with me the better. can bear with me the better. I always follow the

leading of my unconstrained thoughts when I write to a friend, be they grave or otherwise. Homer reminds me of you every day.

I am now in the twenty-first Iliad.

Adieu.

LETTER CII.

W. C.

To Lady HESKETH.

The Lodge, July 28, 1788.

It is in vain that you tell me you have

no talent at description, while in fact you describe better than any body. You have given me a most complete idea of your mansion and its situation; and I doubt not that with your Letter in my hand,

by