TO THE REV. JOHN JOHNSON. MY DEAREST JOHNNY, that, after all, the transcript of alterations, which TO WILLIAM HALEY, ESQ. Weston, Sept. 6, 1793. TƆ do a kind thing, and in a kind manner, is a double kindness, and no man is more addicted to both than you, or more skilful in contriving them. Your plan to surprise me agreeably succeeded to admiration. It was only the day before yesterday that, while we walked after dinner in the orchard, Mrs. Unwin between Sam and me, hearing the hall clock, I observed a great difference between that and ours, and began immediately to lament as I had often done, that there was not a sun-dial in Non sum quod simulo, my dearest brother! I all Weston to ascertain the true time for us. My seem cheerful upon paper sometimes, when I am complaint was long, and lasted till having turned absolutely the most dejected of all creatures. Deinto the grass walk, we reached the new building sirous however to gain something myself by my at the end of it; where we sat awhile and reposed own letters, unprofitable as they may and must be ourselves. In a few minutes we returned by the to my friends, I keep melancholy out of them as way we came, when what think you was my as- much as I can, that I may, if possible, by assuming tonishment to see what I had not seen before, a less gloomy air, deceive myself, and, by feigning though I had passed close by it, a smart sun-dial with a continuance, improve the fiction into reality. mounted on a smart stone pedestal! I assure you So you have seen Flaxman's figures, which I it seemed the effect of conjuration. I stopped intended you should not have seen till I had spread short, and exclaimed,—" Why, here is a sun-dial, them before you. How did you dare to look at and upon our ground! How is this? Tell me them? You should have covered your eyes with Sam, how came it here? Do you know any thing both hands. I am charmed with Flaxman's Peabout it?" At first I really thought (that is to say, nelope, and though you don't deserve that I should, as soon as I could think at all) that this factotum will send you a few lines, such as they are, with of mine, Sam Roberts, having often heard me de- which she inspired me the other day, while I was plore the want of one, had given orders for the taking my noon-day walk. supply of that want himself, without my know- I know not that you will meet any body here, ledge, and was half pleased and half offended. But when we see you in October, unless perhaps my he soon exculpated himself by imputing the fact Johnny should happen to be with us. If Tom is to you. It was brought up to Weston (it seems) charmed with the thoughts of coming to Weston, about noon: but Andrews stopped the cart at the we are equally so with the thoughts of seeing him blacksmith's, whence he sent to inquire if I was here. At his years, I should hardly hope to make gone for my walk. As it happened, I walked not his visit agreeable to him, did I not know that he till two o'clock. So there it stood waiting till I is of a temper and disposition that must make him should go forth, and was introduced before my happy every where. Give our love to him. If return. Fortunately too I went out at the church Romney can come with you, we have both room end of the village, and consequently saw nothing to receive him, and hearts to make him most welof it. How I could possibly pass it without seeing come. it, when it stood in the walk, I know not, but it is certain that I did. And where I shall fix it now, I know as little. It cannot stand between the two gates, the place of your choice, as I understand from Samuel, because the hay-cart must pass that Sept. 15, 1795. way in the season. But we are now busy in wind- A THOUSAND thanks, my dearest Catharina, for ing the walk all round the orchard, and in doing your pleasant letter; one of the pleasantest that I so shall doubtless stumble at last upon some open have received since your departure. You are very spot that will suit it. good to apologize for your delay, but I had not There it shali stand, while I live, a constant flattered myself with the hopes of a speedier a inonument of your kindness. swer. Knowing full well your talents for enter TO MRS. COURTENA W.C. I have this moment finished the twelfth book taining your friends who are present, I was sure of the Odyssey; and I read the Iliad to Mrs. Un- you would with difficulty find half an hour that win every evening. you could devote to an absent one. The effect of this reading is, that I still spy I am glad that you think of your return. Poor blemishes, something at least that I can mend, so Weston is a desolation without you. In the mean 1 C suspose, just in time not to see you. Him we expect on the twentieth. I trust however, that thou wilt so order thy pastoral matters, as to make thy stay here as long as possible. time I amuse myself as well as I can, thrumming Here you will meet Mr. Rose, who comes on old Homer's lyre, and turning the premises upside the eighth, and brings with him Mr. Lawrence, down. Upside down indeed, for so it is literally the painter, you may guess for what purpose. that I have been dealing with the orchard, almost Lawrence returns when he has made his copy of ever since you went, digging and delving it around me, but Mr. Rose will remain perhaps as long as to make a new walk, which now begins to assume you will. Hayley on the contrary will come, I the shape of one, and to look as if some time or other it may serve in that capacity. Taking my usual exercise there the other day with Mrs. Unwin, a wide disagreement between your clock and ours, occasioned me to complain much, as I have often done, of the want of a dial. Guess my surprise, when at the close of my complaint I saw one-saw one close at my side; a smart one, glittering in the sun, and mounted on a pedestal of stone. I was astonished. "This," I exclaimed, winter sociable enough. "is absolute conjuration!" It was a most mysterious affair, but the mystery was at last explained. This scribble I presume will find you just arrived at Bucklands. I would with all my heart that since dials can be thus suddenly conjured from one place to another, I could be so too, and could start up before your eyes in the middle of some walk or lawn, where you and Lady Frog are wandering. Lady Hesketh, in her last letter, inquires very kindly after you, asks me for your address, and purposes soon to write to you. We hope to see her in November-so that after a summer without company, we are likely to have an autumn and a W. C. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. Weston, Oct. 5, 1793. My good intentions towards you, my dearest brother, are continually frustrated; and which is most provoking, not by such engagements and avocations as have a right to my attention, such as While Pitcairne whistles for his family estate those to my Mary, and to the old bard of Greece, in Fifeshire, he will do well if he will sound a few but by mere impertinences, such as calls of civility notes for me. I am originally of the same shire, from persons not very interesting to me, and letand a family of my name is still there, to whom ters from a distance still less interesting, because perhaps he way whistle on my behalf, not alto- the writers of them are strangers. A man sent gether in vain. So shall his fife excel all my po- me a long copy of verses, which I could do no etical efforts, which have not yet, and I dare say less than acknowledge. They were silly enough, never will, effectually charm one acre of ground and cost me eighteen pence, which was seventeen into my possession. pence halfpenny farthing more than they were Remember me to Sir John, Lady Frog, and worth. Another sent me at the same time a plan, your husband-tell them I love them all. She requesting my opinion of it, and that I would lend told me once she was jealous, now indeed she him my name as editor; a request with which I seems to have some reasons, since to her I have shall not comply, but I am obliged to tell him so, not written, and have written twice to you. But and one letter is all that I have time to despatch bid her be of good courage, in due time I will give in a day, sometimes half a one, and sometimes I her proof of my constancy. W. C. TO THE REV. JOHN JOHNSON. Weston, Sept. 29, 1793. am not able to write at all. Thus it is that my time perishes, and I can neither give so much of it as I would to you or to any other valuable purpose. On Tuesday we expect company, Mr. Rose and Lawrence the painter. Yet once more is my MY DEAREST JOHNNY, patience to be exercised, and once more I am You have done well to leave off visiting, and made to wish that my face had been moveable, being visited. Visits are insatiable devourers of to put on and take off at pleasure, so as to be portime, and fit only for those who, if they did not table in a bandbox, and sent to the artist. These that, would do nothing. The worst consequence however will be gone, as I believe I told you, beof such departures from common practice is to be fore you arrive, at which time I know not that termed a singular sort of a fellow, or an odd fish; a sort of reproach that a man might be wise enough to condemn, who had not half your understanding. any body will be here, except my Johnny, whose presence will not at all interfere with our readings-you will not, I believe, find me a very slashing critic-I hardly indeed expect to find any I look forward with pleasure to October the thing in your life of Milton that I shall sentence eleventh, the day which I expect will be Albo no-to amputation. How should it be too long? A tandus lapillo, on account of your arrival here. well written work, sensible and spirited, such as yours was, when I saw it, is never so. But how-| Your hint concerning the subject for this year's ever we shall see. I promise to spare nothing that copy is a very good one, and shall not be neI think may be lopped off with advantage. I began this letter yesterday, but could not finish it till now. I have risen this morning like an infernal frog out of Acheron, covered with the ooze and mud of melancholy. For this reason I am not sorry to find myself at the bottom of my paper, for had I more room perhaps I might fill it all with croaking, and make an heart ache at Eartham, which I wish to be always cheerful. Adieu. My poor sympathizing Mary is of course sad, but always mindful of you. W. C. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. MY DEAR BROTHER, Oct. 18, 1792. I HAVE not at present much that is necessary to say here, because I shall have the happiness of seeing you so soon; my time, according to custom, is a mere scrap, for which reason such must be my letter also. You will find here more than I have hitherto given you reason to expect, but none who will not be happy to see you. These however stay with us but a short time, and will leave us in full possession of Weston on Wednesday next. I look forward with joy to your coming, heartily wishing you a pleasant journey, in which my poor Mary joins me. Give our best love to Tom; without whom, after being taught to look for him, we should feel our pleasure in the interview much diminished. Læti expectamus te puerumque tuum. W. C. TO THE REV. J. JEKYLL RYE. glected. I remain, sincerely yours, W. C. TO MRS. COURTENAY. Weston, Nov. 4, 1793. I SELDOM rejoice in a day of soaking rain like this; but in this, my dearest Catharina, I do re joice sincerely, because it affords me an opportunity of writing to you, which if fair weather had invited us into the orchard walk at the usual hour, I should not easily have found. I am a most busy man, busy to a degree that sometimes half distracts me; but if complete distraction be eccasioned by having the thoughts too much and too long attached to a single point, I am in no danger of it, with such a perpetual whirl are mine whisked about from one subject to another. When two poets meet there are fine doings I can assure you. My Homer finds work for Hayley, and his Life of Milton work for me, so that we are neither of us one moment idle. Poor Mrs. Unwin in the mean time sits quiet in her corner, occasionally laughing at us both, and not seldom interrupting us with some question or remark, for which she is constantly rewarded by me with a "Hush-hold your peace." Bless yourself, my dear Catharina, that you are not connected with a poet, especially that you have not two to deal with; ladies who have, may be bidden indeed to hold their peace, but very little peace have they. How should they in fact have any, continually enjoined as they are to be silent? * The same fever that has been so epidemic there, has been severely felt here likewise; some have died, and a multitude have been in danger. Two under our own roof have been infected with it, and I am not sure that I have perfectly escaped my self, but I am now well again. MY DEAR SIR, Weston, Nov. 3, 1793. SENSIBLE as I am of your kindness in taking such a journey, at no very pleasant season, merely to serve a friend of mine, I can not allow my thanks to sleep till I may have the pleasure of seeing you. I have persuaded Hayley to stay a week longer, I hope never to show myself unmindful of so great and again my hopes revive, that he may yet have a favour. Two lines which I received yesterday an opportunity to know my friends before he refrom Mr. Hurdis, written hastily on the day of turns into Sussex. I write amidst a chaos of indecision, informed me that it was made in Lis fa- terruptions, Hayley on one hand spouts Greek, and vour, and by a majority of twenty. I have great on the other hand, Mrs. Unwin continues talking, satisfaction in the event, and consequently hold my-sometimes to us, and sometimes, because we are self indebted to all who at my instance have contributed to it. both too busy to attend to her, she holds a dialogue with herself.-Query, is not this a bulland ought I not instead of dialogue to have said soliloquy? You may depend on me for due attention to the honest clerk's request. When he called, it was not possible that I should answer your obliging Adieu. With our united love to all your party, letter; for he arrived here very early, and if I suf- and with ardent wishes soon to see you all at Wesfered any thing to interfere with my morning ton, I remain, my dearest Catharina, studies I should never accomplish my labours. Ever yours, W. C. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. MY DEAR FRIEND, laurel, and so much the more for the credit of those who have favoured him with their suffrages. I am entirely of your mind respecting this conWeston, Nov. 5, 1793. flagration by which all Europe suffers at present, In a letter from Lady Hesketh, which I received and is likely to suffer for a long time to come. not long since, she informed me how very pleasant- The same mistake seems to have prevailed as in ly she had spent some time at Wargrave. We the American business. We then flattered ournow begin to expect her here, where our charms selves that the colonies would prove an easy conof situation are perhaps not equal to yours, yet by quest: and when all the neighbour nations armed no means contemptible. She told me she had themselves against France, we imagined I believe spoken to you in very handsome terms of the that she too would be presently vanquished. But country round about us, but not so of our house, we begin already to be undeceived, and God only and the view before. The house itself however knows to what a degree we may find we have is not unworthy some commendation; small as it erred, at the conclusion. Such however is the is, it is neat, and neater than she is aware of; for state of things all around us, as reminds me conmy study and the room over it have been repaired tinually of the Psalmist's expression-" He shall and beautified this summer, and little more was break them in pieces like a potter's vessel.”—And wanting to make it an abode sufficiently commo- I rather wish than hope in some of my melanchodious for a man of my moderate desires. As ly moods that England herself may escape a fracto the prospect from it, that she misrepresented ture. I remain truly yours, W. C. strangely, as I hope soon to have an opportunity to convince her by ocular demonstration. She told you, I know, of certain cottages opposite to us, or rather she described them as poor houses and hovels that effectually blind our windows. MY DEAR SIR, Weston, Nov. 24, 1793. But none such exist. On the contrary, the oppo- THOUGH my congratulations have been delayed, site object, and the only one, is an orchard, so well you have no friend, numerous as your friends are, planted, and with trees of such growth, that we who has more sincerely rejoiced in your success seem to look into a wood, or rather to be sur- than I! It was no small mortification to me to rounded by one. Thus, placed as we are in the find that three out of the six, whom I had enmidst of a village, we have none of the disagreea-gaged, were not qualified to vote. You have prebles that belong to such a position, and the village vailed, however, and by a considerable majority; itself is one of the prettiest I know; terminated at one end by the church tower, seen through trees, and at the other, by a very handsome gateway, opening into a fine grove of elms, belonging to our neighbour Courtenay. How happy should I be to show it instead of describing it to you! Adieu, my dear friend, W. C. MY DEAR FRIEND, TO THE REV. MR. HURDIS. there is therefore no room left for regret. When your short note arrived, which gave me the agreeable news of your victory, our friend of Eartham was with me, and shared largely in the joy that I felt on the occasion. He left me but a few days since, having spent somewhat more than a fortnight here; during which time we employed all our leisure hours in the revisal of his Life of Milton. It is now finished, and a very finished work TO THE REV. WALTER BAGOT. it is; and one that will do great honour, I am persuaded, to the biographer, and the excellent man, Weston, Nov. 10, 1793. of injured memory, who is the subject of it. As You are very kind to consider my literary en- to my own concern, with the works of this first of gagements, and to make them a reason for not poets, which has been long a matter of burtheninterrupting me more frequently with a letter; but some contemplation, I have the happiness to find though I am indeed as busy as an author or an at last that I am at liberty to postpone my labours. editor can well be, and am not apt to be overjoyed While I expected that my commentary would be at the arrival of letters from uninteresting quar- called for in the ensuing spring, I looked forward ters, I shall always I hope have leisure both to to the undertaking with dismay, not seeing a shaperuse and to answer those of my real friends, and dow of probability that I should be ready to anto do both with pleasure. swer the demand. For this ultimate revisal of my I have to thank you much for your benevolent Homer, together with the notes, occupies comaid in the affair of my friend Hurdis. You have pletely at present (and will for some time longer) doubtless learned ere now, that he has succeeded, all the little leisure that I have for study: leisure and carried the prize by a majority of twenty. He which I gain at this season of the year by rising Is well qualified for the post he has gained. So long before day-light. much the better for the honour of the Oxonian You are now become a nearer neighbour, and, as your professorship, I hope, will not engross side out for the inspection of all who choose to inyou wholly, will find an opportunity to give me spect it, to make a secret of his face seems but lityour company at Weston. Let me hear from tle better than a self contradiction. At the same you soon, tell me how you like your new office, time, however, I shall be best pleased if it be kept, and whether you perform the duties of it with according to your intentions, as a rarity pleasure to yourself. With much pleasure to others you will, I doubt not, and with equal advantage. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. W. C. I have lost Hayley, and begin to be aneasy at not hearing from him: tell me about him when you write. I should be happy to have a work of mine embellished by Lawrence, and made a companion for a work of Hayley's. It is an event to which I look forward with the utmost complacence. I can not tell you what a relief I feel it, not to be pressed for Milton. W. C. MY DEAR FRIEND, Weston, Nov. 29, 1793. I HAVE risen while the owls are still hooting, to pursue my accustomed labours in the mine of Homer; but before I enter upon them, shall give the first moment of daylight to the purpose of thanking you for your last letter, containing many pleasant| articles of intelligence, with nothing to abate the MY DEAR FRIEND, pleasantness of them, except the single circum- In my last I forgot to thank you for the box TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. Weston, Dec. 8, 1793. of books, containing also the pamphlets. We have read, that is to say, my cousin has, who reads to us in an evening, the history of Jonathan Wild, and found it highly entertaining. The satire on great men is witty, and I believe perfectly just: we have no censure to pass on it, unless that we think the character of Mrs. Heart free not well sustained; not quite delicate in the latter part of it; and that the constant effect of her charms upon every man who sees her has a sameness in it that is tiresome, and betrays either much carelessness, or idleness, or lack of invention. It is possible indeed that the author might intend by this circumstance a satirical glance at novelists, whose heroines are generally all bewitching; but it is a fault that he had better have noticed in another manner, and not have exemplified in his own. stance that we are not likely to see you here so soon as I expected. My hope was, that the first frost would bring you, and the amiable painter with you. If however you are prevented by the business of your respective professions, you are well prevented, and I will endeavour to be patient. When the latter was here, he mentioned one day the subject of Diomede's horses, driven under the axle of his chariot by the thunderbolt which fell at their feet, as a subject for his pencil. It is certainly a noble one, and therefore worthy of his study and attention. It occurred to me at the moment, but I know not what it was that made me forget it again the next moment, that the horses of Achilles flying over the foss, with Patroclus and Automedon in the chariot, would be a good companion for it. Should you happen to recollect this, when you next see him, you may submit it, if you please, to his consideration. I stumbled yesterday on another subject, which reminded me of said excellent artist, as likely to afford a fine opportunity to the expression that he could give it. It is found in the shooting match in the twenty-third book of the Iliad, between Meriones and Teucer. The former ment, and knowledge both of books and men. cuts the string with which the dove is tied to the Adieu, inast-head, and sets her at liberty; the latter standing at his side, in all the eagerness of emulation, points an arrow at the mark with his right hand, while with his left he snatches the bow from his competitor. He is a fine poetical figure, but Mr. Lawrence himself must judge whether or not he promises as well for the canvass. The first volume of Man as he is, has lain unread in my study window this twelvemonth, and would have been returned unread to its owner, had not my cousin come in good time to save it from that disgrace. We are now reading it, and find it excellent: abounding with wit, and just senti W. C. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. Weston, Dec. 8, 1793. I HAVE waited, and waited impatiently, fer a line from you, and am at last determined to send you one, to inquire what is become of you, and why you are silent so much longer than usual. He does great honour to my physiognomy by his intention to get it engraved; and though I think I foresee that this private publication will grow in I want to know many things which only you time into a publication of absolute publicity, I find can tell me, but especially I want to know what it impossible to be dissatisfied with any thing that has been the issue of your conference with Nichol. seems eligible both to him and you. To say the Has he seen your work? I am impatient for the truth, when a man has once turned his mind in- appearance of it, because impatient to have the |