Mr. George Throckmorton is at the Hall. I thought I had known thefe brothers long enough to have found out all their talents and accomplishments; but I was mistaken. The day before yesterday after having walked with us, they carried us up to the library, (a more accurate writer would have said conducted us) and then they fhewed me the contents of an immenfe port-folio, the work of their own hands. It was furnished with drawings of the architectural kind, executed in a most masterly manner, and among others, contained outside and infide views of the Pantheon, I mean the Roman one. They were all, I believe, made at Rome. Some men may be estimated at a first interview, but the Throckmortons must be seen often and known long, before one can understand all their value.

They often inquire after you, and afk me whether you visit Weston this autumn. I answer, yes; and I charge you, my deareft coufin, to authenticate my information. Write to me, and tell us when we may expect to fee you. We were disappointed that we had no letter from you this morning. You will find me coated and buttoned according to your recommendation.

I write but little, because writing is become new to me; but I fhall come on by degrees. Mrs. Unwin begs to be affectionately remembered to you. She is in tolerable health, which is the chief comfort here that I have to boast of. Yours, my dearest coufin, as ever,

W. C.

LETTER LXXI.

To Lady HESKETH.

THE LODGE, Sept. 4, 1787.

MY DEAREST COZ.

COME when thou canst come, fecure of being always welcome. All that is here is thine, together with the hearts of those who dwell here. I am only

forry that your journey hither is neceffarily poftponed beyond the time when I did hope to have seen you, forry too, that my uncle's infirmities are the occafion of it. But years will have their course, and their effect; they are happiest fo far as this life is concerned, who like him efcape thofe effects the longeft, and who do not grow old before their time. Trouble and anguish do that for fome, which only longevity does for others. A few months fince I was older than your father is now, and though I have lately recovered, as Falstaff says, fome fmatch of my youth, I have but little confidence, in truth none, in fo flattering a change, but expect, when I least expect it, to wither again. The paft is a pledge for the fu

ture.

Mr. G. is here, Mrs. Throckmorton's uncle. He is lately arrived from Italy, where he has refided feveral years, and is fo much the gentleman that it is impoffible to be more fo. Senfible, polite, obliging; flender in his figure, and in manner most engaging, every way worthy to be related to the Throckmortons.-I have read Savary's Travels into Egypt. Memoires du Baron de Tott. Fenn's original Letters, the Letters of Frederic of Bohemia, and am now reading Memoires d' Henri de Lorraine, Duc de Guife. I have alfo read Barclay's Argenis, a Latin Romance, and the best Romance that was ever written. All thefe, together with Madan's Letters to Frieftly, and feveral pamphlets within thefe two months. So I am a great reader.

W. C.

LETTER LXXII.

To Lady HESKETH.

MY DEAREST COUSIN,

your

THE LODGE, Sept. 15, 1787.

ON Monday laft I was invited to meet

friend Mifs J, at the Hall, and there we found

her. Her good nature, her humourous manner, and her good fenfe are charming, infomuch that even I, who was never much addicted to speech-making, and who at prefent find myself particularly indif posed to it, could not help faying at parting, I am glad that I have seen you, and forry that I have seen fo little of you. We were fometimes many in company; on Thursday we were fifteen, but we had not altogether so much vivacity and cleverness as Miss J———, whose talent at mirth-making has this rare property to recommend it, that nobody fuffers by it.

I am making a gravel walk for winter ufe, under a warm hedge in the orchard. It fhall be furnished with a low feat for your accommodation, and if you do but like it, I fhall be fatisfied. In wet weather, or rather after wet weather, when the street is dirty, it will fuit you well, for lying on an eafy declivity, through its whole length, it must of course be immediately dry.

You are very much wifhed for by our friends at the Hall-how much by me I will not tell you till the second week in October. W. C.

MY DEAR COZ.

LETTER LXXIII.

To Lady HESKETH.

THE LODGE, Sept. 29, 1787.

I THANK you for your political intelligence; retired as we are, and feemingly excluded from the world, we are not indifferent to what paffes in it; on the contrary, the arrival of a newf-paper, at the prefent juncture, never fails to furnish us with a theme for discussion, short indeed, but fatisfactory, for we feldom differ in opinion.

I have received fuch an impreffion of the Turks, from the Memoirs of Baron de Tott, which I read lately, that I can hardly help prefaging the conqueft of that empire by the Ruffians. The difciples of Mahomet are fuch babies in modern tactics, and fo enervated by the use of their favourite drug, so fatally secure in their predeftinarian dream, and fo prone to a fpirit of mutiny against their leaders, that nothing less can be expected. In fact, they had not been their own masters at this day, had but the Ruffians known the weakness of their enemies half fo well as they undoubtedly know it now. Add to this, that there is a popular prophecy current in both countries, that Turkey is one day to fall under the Ruffian fceptre. A prophecy, which from whatever authority it be derived, as it will naturally encourage the Ruffians, and difpirit the Turks, in exact proportion to the degree of credit it has obtained on both fides, has a direct tendency to effect its own accomplishment. In the mean time, if I wish them conquered, it is only because I think it will be a bleffing to them to be governed by any other hand than their own. For under Heaven has there never been a throne fo execrably tyrannical as theirs. The heads of the innocent that have been cut off to gratify the humour or caprice of their tyrants, could they be all collected, and discharged against the walls of their city, would not leave one stone

on another.

Oh! that you were here this beautiful day! It is too fine by half to be spent in London. I have a perpetual din in my head, and though I am not deaf, hear nothing aright, neither my own voice nor that of others. I am under a tub, from which tub accept my beft love.

Yours,

W. C.

LETTER LXXIV:

DEAR SIR,

To SAMUEL ROSE, Efq.

WESTON, O&. 19, 1787.

A SUMMONS from Johnfon, which I received yesterday, calls my attention once more to the business of tranflation. Before I begin I am willing to catch, though but a fhort opportunity, to acknowledge your last favour. The neceffity of applying myself with all diligence to a long work that has been but too long interrupted, will make my opportunities of writing rare in future.

Air and exercise are neceffary to all men, but particularly fo to the man whofe mind labours, and to him who has been, all his life, accustomed to much of both, they are neceffary in the extreme. My time, fince we parted, has been devoted entirely to the recovery of health and strength for this fervice, and I am willing to hope with good effect. Ten months have paffed fince I difcontinued my poetical efforts; I do not expect to find the same readiness as before, till exercise of the neglected faculty, fuch as it is, shall have restored it to me.

You find yourself, I hope, by this time, as comfortably fituated in your new abode, as in a new abode one can be. I enter perfectly into all your feelings on occa fion of the change. A fenfible mind cannot do violence even to a local attachment, without much pain. When my father died I was young, too young to have reflected much. He was Rector of Berkhamstead, and there I was born. It had never occurred to me that a parfon has no fee-fimple in the house and glebe he occupies. There was neither tree, nor gate, nor ftile, in all that country, to which I did not feel a relation, and the house itself I preferred to a palace. I was fent for from London to attend him in his last illness, and he di