TO WILLIAM HALEY, ESQ. living in hopes meanwhile that I shall be able to do it soon. But some little time must necessarily intervene. Our Mary must be able to walk alone, Weston, July 15, 1792. to cut her own food, to feed herself, and to wear THE progress of the old nurse in Terence is very her own shoes, for at present she wears mine. much like the progress of my poor patient in the All things considered, my friend and brother, you road of recovery., I can not indeed say that she will see the expediency of waiting a litle before moves, but advances not, for advances are cerwe set off to Eartham. We mean indeed before tainly made, but the progress of a week is hardly that day arrives to make a trial of the strength of perceptible. I know not therefore at present what her head, how far it may be able to bear the mo- to say about this long postponed journey. The tion of a carriage, a motion that it has not felt utmost that it is safe for me to say at this moment these seven years. I grieve that we are thus cir- is this-You know that you are dear to us both; cumstanced, and that we can not gratify ourselves true it is that you are so, and equally true that in a delightful and innocent project without all the very instant we feel ourselves at liberty we these precautions; but when we have leaf-gold to will fly to Eartham. I have been but once within handle, we must do it tenderly. the Hall door since the Courtenays came home, I thank you, my brother, both for presenting much as I have been pressed to dine there, and my authorship to your friend Guy, and for the ex- have hardly escaped giving a little offence by decellent verses with which you have inscribed your clining it; but though I should offend all the world present. There are none neater or better turned by my obstinacy in this instance, I would not leave -with what shall I requite you? I have nothing my poor Mary alone. Johnny serves me as a reto send you but a gimcrack, which I have pre- presentative, and him I send without scruple. As pared for my bride and bridegroom neighbours, to the affair of Milton, I know not what will bewho are expected to-morrow. You saw in my come of it. I wrote to Johnson a week since, to book a poem entitled Catharina, which concluded tell him that the interruption of Mrs. Unwin's with a wish that we had her for a neighbour; this illness still continuing, and being likely to contherefore is called Catharina; the second part, tinue, I knew not when I should be able to proOn her marriage to George Courtenay, Esq.* TO WILLIAM HALEY, ESQ. Weston, July 4, 1792. ceed. The translations (I said) were finished, except the revisal of a part. God bless your dear little boy and poet! I thank him for exercising his drawing genius upon me, and shall be still happier to thank him in person. Abbot is painting me so true That (trust me) you would stare, I KNOW not how you proceed in your life of Milton, but I suppose not very rapidly, for while you were here, and since you left us, you have had I have sat twice; and the few, who have seen the no other theme but me. As for myself, except copy of me, are much struck with the resem. my letters to you, and the nuptial song I inserted blance. He is a sober, quiet man, which, consiin my last, I have literally done nothing since I dering that I must have him at least a week saw you. Nothing I mean in the writing way, longer for an inmate, is a great comfort to me. though a great deal in another; that is to say, in My Mary sends you her best love. She can attending my poor Mary, and endeavouring to walk now, leaning on my arm only, and her nurse her up for a journey to Eartham. In this speech is certainly much improved. I long to see I have hitherto succeeded tolerably well, and had you. Why can not you and dear Tom spend the rather carry this point completely, than be the remainder of the summer with us? We might most famous editor of Milton that the world has then all set off for Eartham merrily together. ever seen, or shall see. But I retract this, conscious that I am unreasonaYour humorous descant upon my art of wish-ble. It is a wretched world, and what we would, ing made us merry, and consequently did good to is almost always what we can not. Adieu! Love me, and be sure of a return. us both. I sent my wish to the Hall yesterday. • See Poems. W. C. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. Weston, July 22, 1792. THIS important affair, my dear brother, is at last decided, and we are coming. Wednesday se'n night, if nothing occur to make a later day neces-der much more that I still courageously persevere sary, is the day fixed for our journey. Our rate in my resolution to undertake it. Fortunately for of traveling must depend on Mary's ability to bear my intentions, it happens that as the day approachit. Our mode of traveling will occupy three days es my terrors abate; for had they continued to be unavoidably, for we shall come in a coach. Ab- what they were a week since, I must after all have bot finishes my picture to-morrow; on Wednesday disappointed you; and was actually once on the he returns to town, and is commissioned to order one down for us, with four steeds to draw it; "Hellow pamper'd jades of Asia, That can not go but forty miles a day." Send us our route, for I am as ignorant of it almost as if I were in a strange country. We shall reach St. Alban's I suppose the first day; say where we must finish our second day's journey, and at what inn we may best repose? As to the end of the third day, we know where that will find us, viz. in the arms, and under the roof of our beloved Hayley. verge of doing it. I have told you something of my nocturnal experiences, and assure you now that they were hardly ever more terrific than on this occasion. Prayer has, however, opened my passage at last, and obtained for me a degree of confidence that I trust will prove a comfortable viaticum to me all the way. On Wednesday, therefore, we set forth. The terrors that I have spoken of would appear ridiculous to most; but to you they will not, for you are a reasonable creature, and know well that to whatever cause it be owing (whether to constiGeneral Cowper, having heard a rumour of this tution, or by God's express appointment) I am intended migration, desires to meet me on the road, hunted by spiritual hounds in the night season. I that we may once more see each other. He lives can not help it. You will pity me, and wish it at Ham, near Kingston. Shall we go through were otherwise; and though you may think that Kingston, or near it? For I would give him as there is much of the imaginary in it, will not deem little trouble as possible, though he offers very kind-it for that reason an evil less to be lamentedly to come as far as Barnet for that purpose. Nor So much for fears and distresses: Soon I hope must I forget Carwardine, who so kindly desired they shall all have a joyful termination, and I, my to be informed what way we should go. On what Mary, my Johnny, and my dog, be skipping with point of the road will it be easiest for him to find delight at Eartham! us? On all these points you must be my oracle. Well! this picture is at last finished, and wel My friend and brother, we shall overwhelm you finished, I can assure you. Every creature that with our numbers; this is all the trouble that I has seen it has been astonished at the resemblance have left. My Johnny of Norfolk, happy in the Sam's boy bowed to it, and Beau walked up to it, thought of accompanying us, would be broken-wagging his tail as he went, and evidently showhearted to be left behind. ing that he acknowledged its likeness to his mas In the midst of all these solicitudes I laugh to ter. It is a half length, as it is technically, but think what they are made of, and what an impor-absurdly called; that is to say, it gives all but the tant thing it is for me to travel. Other men steal foot and ankle. To-morrow it goes to town, and away from their homes silently, and make no dis- will hang some months at Abbot's, when it will be turbance; but when I move, houses are turned sent to its due destination in Norfolk. upside down, maids are turned out of their beds, I hope, or rather wish, that at Eartham I may all the counties through which I pass appear to be recover that habit of study, which, inveterate as it in an uproar-Surry greets me by the mouth of once seemed, I now seem to have lost-lost to such the General, and Essex by that of Carwardine. a degree that it is even painful to me to think of How strange does all this seem to a man who has seen no bustle, and made none, for twenty years together. Adieu. W. C. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. Weston, July 29, 1792. Through floods and flames to your retreat, I win my desp❜rate way, And when we meet, if e'er we meet, what it will cost me to acquire it again. Adieu! my dear, dear Hayley; God give us a happy meeting. Mary sends ber love-She is in pretty good plight this morning, having slept well, and for her part has no fears at all about the jourEver yours, W. C. ney. You will wonder at the word desp'rate in the HAVING first thanked you for your affectionate second line, and at the if in the third; but could and acceptable letter, I will proceed, as well as I you have any conception of the fears I have had can, to answer your equally affectionate request to battle with, of the dejection of spirits that I have that I would send you early news of our arrival at suffered concerning this journey, you would won- Eartham. Here we are in the most elegant man sion that I have ever inhabited, and surrounded by suffering as we went all that could be suffered the most delightful pleasure grounds that I have from excessive heat and dust, we found ourselves ever seen; but which, dissipated as my powers of late in the evening at the door of our friend Haythought are at present, I will not undertake to de- ley. In every other respect the journey was exscribe. It shall suffice me to say that they occu-tremely pleasant. At the Mitre in Barnet, where py three sides of a hill, which in Buckinghamshire we lodged the first evening, we found our friend might well pass for a mountain, and from the sum- Mr. Rose, who had walked thither from his house mit of which is beheld a most magnificent landscape in Chancery-lane to meet us; and at Kingston, bounded by the sea, and in one part of it by the where we dined the second day, I found my old Isle of Wight, which may also be seen plainly from and much valued friend General Cowper, whom I the window of the library in which I am writing. had not seen in thirty years, and but for this jourIt pleased God to carry us both through the journey should never have seen again. Mrs. Unwin, ney with far less difficulty and inconvenience than on whose account I had a thousand fears before we I expected. I began it indeed with a thousand set out, suffered as little from fatigue as myself fears, and when we arrived the first evening at and begins I hope already to feel some beneficial Barnet, found myself oppressed in spirit to a de-effects from the air of Eartham, and the exercise gree that could hardly be exceeded. I saw Mrs. that she takes in one of the most delightful pleaUnwin weary, as she might well be, and heard sure-grounds in the world. They occupy three such a variety of noises, both within the house and sides of a hill, lofty enough to command a view of without, that I concluded she would get no rest. the sea, which skirts the horizon to a length of But I was mercifully disappointed. She rested, many miles, with the Isle of Wight at the end of it. though not well, yet sufficiently; and when we The inland scene is equally beautiful, consisting finished our next day's journey at Ripley, we were of a large and deep valley well cultivated, and enboth in better condition, both of body and mind, closed by magnificent hills, all crowned with wood. than on the day preceding. At Ripley we found I had, for my part, no conception that a poet could a quiet inn, that housed, as it happened, that night, be the owner of such a Paradise; and his house is no company but ourselves. There we slept well, as elegant as his scenes are charming. and rose perfectly refreshed. And except some But think not, my dear Catharina, that amidst terrors that I felt at passing over the Sussex hills all these beauties I shall lose the remembrance of by moonlight, met with little to complain of till we the peaceful, but less splendid Weston. Your arrived about ten o'clock at Eartham. Here we precincts will be as dear to me as ever, when I reare as happy as it is in the power of terrestrial turn; though when that day will arrive I know good to make us. It is almost a Paradise in which not, our host being determined, as I plainly see, to we dwell; and our reception has been the kindest keep us as long as possible. Give my best love to that it was possible for friendship and hospitality your husband. Thank him most kindly for his to contrive. Our host mentions you with great attention to the old bard of Greece, and pardon me respect, and bids me tell you that he esteems you that I do not send you now an epitaph for Fop. I highly. Mrs. Unwin, who is, I think, in some am not sufficiently recollected to compose even a points, already the better for her excursion, unites bagatelle at present; but in due time you shall rewith mine her best compliments both to yourself ❘ceive it. and Mrs. Greatheed. I have much to see and enjoy before I can be perfectly apprised of all the delights of Eartham, and will therefore now subscribe myself, Yours, my dear sir, with great sincerity, W.C. Hayley, who will some time or other I hope see you at Weston, is already prepared to love you both, and being passionately fond of music, longs much to hear you. Adieu! W. C. TO MRS. COURTENAY. Eartham, August 12, 1792. MY DEAREST CATHARINA, TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESA MY DEAR FRIEND, Eartham, Aug. 14, 1792. ROMNEY is here; it would add much to my hap piness if you were of the party; I have prepared THOUGH I have traveled far, nothing did I see Hayley to think highly, that is justly of you, and in my travels that surprised me half so agreeably the time I hope will come, when you will supersede as your kind letter; for high as my opinion of your all need of my recommendation. good-nature is, I had no hopes of hearing from you Mrs. Unwin gathers strength. I have indeed till I should have written first. A pleasure which great hopes from the air and exercise which this I intended to allow myself the first opportunity. fine season affords her opportunity to use, that ere After three days' confinement in a coach, and we return she will be herself again. W.C TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. Eartham, August 18, 1792. WISHES in this world are generally vain, and in the next we shall make none. Every day I wish you were of our party, knowing how happy you would be in a place where we have nothing to do but enjoy beautiful scenery, and converse agreeably. Mrs. Unwin's health continues to improve; and even I, who was well when I came, find myself still Yours, W. C. better. TO MRS. COURTENAY. Eartham, August 25, 1792. WITHOUT Waiting for an answer to my last, I send my dear Catharina the epitaph she desired, composed as well as I could compose it in a place where every object, being still new to me, distracts my attention, and makes me as awkward at verse as if I had never dealt in it. Here it is.* add in the way of news, except that Romney has TO LADY HESKETH. Eartham, August 26, 1792. I KNOW not how it is, my dearest Coz, but in a new scene, and surrounded by strange objects, I find my powers of thinking dissipated to a degree that makes it difficult to me even to write a letter, and even a letter to you; but such a letter as I can, I will, and have the fairest chance to succeed this morning, Hayley, Romney, Hayley's son, and Beau, being all gone together to the sea for bathing. The sea, you must know, is nine miles off, so that unless stupidity prevent, I shall have an opportunity to write not only to you, but to poor Hurdis also, who is broken-hearted for the loss of his favourite sister, lately dead: and whose letter, giving an account of it, which I received yesterday, drew tears from the eyes of all our party. My only I am here, as I told you in my last, delightfully comfort respecting even yourself is, that you write situated, and in the enjoyment of all that the most in good spirits, and assure me that you are in a friendly hospitality can impart; yet do I neither state of recovery; otherwise I should mourn not forget Weston, nor my friends at Weston; on the only for Hurdis, but for myself, lest a certain event contrary, I have at length, though much and should reduce me, and in a short time too, to a kindly pressed to make a longer stay, determined situation as distressing as his; for though nature on the day of our departure on the seventeenth designed you only for my cousin, you have had a of September we shall leave Eartham; four days sister's place in my affections ever since I knew will be necessary to bring us home again, for I am you. The reason is, I suppose, that having no under a promise to General Cowper to dine with sister, the daughter, of my own mother, I thought him on the way, which can not be done comforta- it proper to have one, the daughter of yours. Cerbly, either to him or to ourselves, unless we sleep tain it is, that I can by no means afford to lose that night at Kingston. you; and that unless you will be upon honour with The air of this place has been, I believe, bencfi- me, to give me always a true account of yourself, cial to us both. I indeed was in tolerable health at least when we are not together, I shall always be before I set out, but have acquired since I came unhappy, because always suspicious that you deboth a better appetite, and a knack of sleeping al- ceive me. most as much in a single night as formerly in two. Now for ourselves. I am, without the least disWhether double quantities of that article will be simulation, in good health; my spirits are about as favourable to me as a poet, time must show. About good as you have ever seen them; and if increase myself however I care little, being made of mate- of appetite and a double portion of sleep be advanrials so tough, as not to threaten me even now, at tageous, such are the advantages that I have rethe end of so many lustrums, with any thing like ceived from this migration. As to that gloominess a speedy dissolution. My chief concern has been about Mrs. Unwin, and my chief comfort at this moment is, that she likewise has received I hope considerable benefit by the journey. of mind, which I have had these twenty years, it cleaves to me even here; and could I be translated to Paradise, unless I left my body behind me, would cleave to me even there also. It is my companion for life, and nothing will ever divorce us. So much for myself. Mrs. Unwin is evidently the better for her jaunt, though by no means as she was before this last attack; still wanting help when she would rise from her seat, and a support in Tell my dear George that I begin to long to behold him again; and did it not savour of ingratitude to the friend, under whose roof I am so happy at present, should be impatient to find myself once more under yours. Adieu, my dear Catharina. I have nothing to walking; but she is able to use more exercise than she could at home, and moves with rather a less * Epitaph on Fop, a dog belonging to Lady Throckmorton. tottering step. God knows what he designs for me; but when I see those, who are dearer to me Bee Poems. than myself, distempered and enfeebled, and my-pany as I have no doubt would suit you; all cheerself as strong as in the days of my youth, I tremble ful, but not noisy; and all alike disposed to love for the solitude in which a few years may place you: you and I seem to have here a fair opportume. 、 I wish her and you to die before me, indeed, nity of meeting. It were a pity we should be in but not till I am more likely to follow immediately. the same county, and not come together. I am Enough of this! here till the seventeenth of September, an interval Romney has drawn me in crayons, and in the that will afford you time to make the necessary opinion of all here, with his best hand, and with arrangements, and to gratify me at last with an the most exact resemblance possible. interview which I have long desired. Let me hear The seventeenth of September is the day on from you soon, that I may have double pleasure, which I intend to leave Eartham. We shall then the pleasure of expecting as well as that of seeing have been six weeks resident here; a holiday time long enough for a man who has much to do. And now farewell! W. C. P. S. Hayley, whose love for me seems to be truly that of a brother, has given me his picture, drawn by Romney about fifteen years ago; an admirable likeness. TO THE REV. MR. HURDIS. MY DEAR SIR, you. Mrs. Unwin, I thank God, though still a sufferer by her last illness, is much better, and has received considerable benefit by the air of Eartham. She adds to mine her affectionate compliments, and joins me and Hayley in this invitation. Mr. Romney is here, and a young man, a cousin of mine. I tell you who we are, that you may not be afraid of us. Adieu! May the Comforter of all the afflicted who seek him, be yours. God bless you. W. C. TO LADY HESKETH. MY DEAREST COUSIN, Eartham, Sept. 9, 1792. Eartham, August 26, 1790. Your kind but very affecting letter found me not at Weston, to which place it was directed, but in a bower of my friend Hayley's garden at Eartham, where I was sitting with Mrs. Unwin. We both knew the moment we saw it from whom it came; and observing a red seal, both comforted ourselves that all was well at Burwash: but we soon felt that we were called not to rejoice, but to mourn with you-we do indeed sincerely mourn with you; and if it will afford you any consolation to know it, you may be assured that every eye here has testified what our hearts have suffered more beautiful scenery I have never beheld, nor for you. Your loss is great, and your disposition expect to behold; but the charms of it, uncommon I perceive such as exposes you to feel the whole as they are, have not in the least alienated my weight of it; I will not add to your sorrow by a affections from Weston. The genius of that place vain attempt to assuage it; your own good sense suits me better, it has an air of snug concealment, and the piety of your principles will, of course, in which a disposition like mine feels itself pecusuggest to you the most powerful motives of acqui- liarly gratified; whereas here I see from every winescence in the will of God. You will be sure to dow, woods like forests, and hills like mountains, a recollect that the stroke, severe as it is, is not the wildness, in short, that rather increases my natural stroke of an enemy, but of a father; and will find melancholy, and which, were it not for the agreeI trust hereafter that like a father he has done you ables I find within, would soon convince me that good by it. Thousands have been able to say, and mere change of place can avail me little. Accordmyself as loud as any of them, it has been good for ingly I have not looked out for a house in Sussex, me that I was afflicted; but time is necessary to nor shall. work us to this persuasion, and in due time it shall The intended day of our departure continues to be yours. Mr. Hayley, who tenderly sympathises be the seventeenth. I hope to reconduct Mrs. Unwith you, has enjoined me to send you as pressing win to the Lodge with her health considerably an invitation as I can frame, to join me at this mended: but it is in the article of speech chiefly, place. I have every motive to wish your consent. and in her powers of walking, that she is sensible Both your benefit and my own, which I believe of much improvement. Her sight and her hand would be abundantly answered by your coming, still fail her, so that she can neither read nor work; ought to make me eloquent in such a cause. Here mortifying circumstances both to her, who is never you will find silence and retirement in perfection, willingly idle. when you would seek them; and here such com On the eighteenth I purpose to dine with the |