gine. I have often wondered that the same Poet who wrote the Dunciad, should have written these lines, The mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me. Alas! for Pope, if the mercy he showed to others, was the measure of the mercy he received! he was the less pardonable too, because experienced in all the difficulties of composition. I scratch this between dinner and tea; a time when I cannot write much without disordering my noddle, and bringing a flush into my face. You will excuse me, therefore, if through respect for the two important considerations of health and beauty, I conclude myself, Ever yours, LETTER CXVI.. To SAMUEL ROSE, Esqr. MY DEAR FRIEND, W. C. Weston, Sept. 24, 1784. You left us exactly at the wrong time. Had you stayed till now, you would have had the pleasure of hearing even my Cousin say—"I am cold "—And the still greater pleasure of of being warm yourself; for I have had a fire in the study ever. since you went. It is the fault of our summers that they are hardly ever warm or cold enough. Where they warmer we should not want a fire, and were they colder we should have one, I have twice scen and conversed with Mr. J. He is witty, intelligent, and agreeable beyond the common measure of men who are so. But it is the constant effect of a spirit of party to make those hateful to each other, who are truly amiable in themselves. Beau sends his love; he was melancholy the whole day after your departure, LETTER CXVII. W.C. To SAMUEL ROSE, Esqr. Weston, Sept. 11, 1788. MY DEAR FRIEND, The hamper is come, and come safe; and the contents I can affirm on my own knowledge, are excellent. It chanced that another hamper and a box came by the same conveyance, all which I unpacked and expounded in the hall; my Cousin sitting mean time on the stairs, spectatress of the business. We VOL. I. X x diverted diverted ourselves with imagining the manner in which Homer. would have described the scene. Detailed in his circumstantial way, it would have furnished materials for a paragraph of considerable length in an Odyssey. The straw-stuff'd hamper with his ruthless steel Forth came The rustling package first, bright straw of wheat, Of the fair mother of his friend-the Rose. And so on. I should rejoice to be the hero of such a tale in the hands of Homer. You will remember, I trust, that when the state of your health or spirits calls for rural walks and fresh air, you have always a retreat at Weston. We are all well, all love you, down to the very dog; and shall be glad to hear that you have exchanged languor for alacrity, and the debility that you mention, for indefatigable vigour. Mr. Throckmorton has made me a handsome present; Vil loisson's loisson's edition of the Iliad, elegantly bound by Edwards. If I live long enough, by the contributions of my friends, I shall once more be possessed of a library. MY DEAR FRIEND, LETTER CXVIII. To JOSEPH HILL, Esqr. W. C. Dec. 18, 1789. The present appears to me a wonderful period in the history of mankind. That nations so long contentedly slaves should on a sudden become enamoured of liberty, and undersand, as suddenly, their own natural right to it, feeling themselves at the same time inspired with resolution to assert it, seems difficult to account for from natural causes. With respect to the final issue of all this, I can only say, that if, having discovered the value of liberty, they should next discover the value of peace, and lastly, the value of the word of God, they will be happier than they ever were since the rebellion of the first pair, and as happy as it is possible they should be in the present life. LETTER CXIX. To SAMUEL ROSE, Esqr. The Lodge, Jan. 3, 1790. MY DEAR SIR, I have been long silent, but you have had the charity I hope, and believe, not to ascribe my silence to a wrong cause. The truth is, I have been too busy to write to any body, having been obliged to give my early mornings to the revisal and correction of a little volume of Hymns for Children, written by I know not whom. This task I finished but yesterday, and while it was in hand, wrote only to my Cousin, and to her rarely. From her, however, I knew that you would hear of my well being, which made me less anxious about my debts to you than I could have been otherwise. I am almost the only person at Weston, known to you, who have enjoyed tolerable health this winter. In your next Letter give us some account of your own state of health, for I have had my anxieties about you. The winter has been mild; but our winters are in general such, that when a friend leaves us in the beginning of that season, I always feel in my heart a perhaps, importing that we have possibly met for the last time, and that the Robins may whistle on the grave of one of us before the return of summer. I am still thrumming Homer's lyre; that is to say, I am still employed in my last revisal; and to give you some idea of the in tenseness |