but it is easily intelligible to such as are used to her. Is not this something extraordinary at seventy seven? I met Mason at York, and passed that evening with him.1 has absolutely no support at present but his Fellowship; yet he looks more like a hero, than ever I knew him, like one that can stare poverty in the face without being frighted, and instead of growing little and humble before her, has fortified his spirit and elevated his brow to meet her like a man. In short if he can hold it, I shall admire him, for I always maintained, that nobody has occasion for pride but the poor, and that everywhere else it is a sign of folly. My journey was not so bad as usual in a stage-coach. There was a Lady Swinburne, a Roman Catholick, not young, that had been much abroad, seen a great deal, knew a great many people, very chatty and communicative, so that I passed my time very well; and on the third day left them at Stilton, and got to Cambridge that night. As I know, and have heard mighty little to entertain you with, I can only tell you my observations on the face of the country and the season in my way hither, that you may compare them with what you see at Durham. Till I came to York I thought the face of everything rather altered for the worse, certainly not better than that corner of the Bishoprick about Darlington. At Topcliff I saw a large vine full of black grapes, that seemed ripe. At Helperby met a flock of geese in 1 A line and a half have been cut out of the MS.-[Ed.] full song. If their person had not betrayed them, one might have taken them for nightingales. At York walnuts ripe, twenty for a penny. From thence, especially south of Tadcaster, I thought the country extremely beautiful, broke into fine hills covered with noble woods (particularly towards the east), and everything as verdant almost, as at midsummer. This continued to Doncaster. The hazle and whitethorn were turning yellow in the hedges, the sycamore, lime, and ash (where it was young, or much exposed), were growing rusty, but far greener than in your county. The old ash, the oak, and other timber, shewed no signs of winter. Some few of the lands were in stubble, but for the most part they were ploughed up, or covered with turnips. I find Mr. Evelyn in his book of forest trees, published in Queen Anne's time, takes notice "That Shropshire, and several other counties, and rarely any beyond Stamford to Durham, have the vernacular (or French Elm), or the Mountain Elm (which is what you call the English Elm), growing for many miles together." I cannot say I saw any, but about Scrubey in Nottinghamshire, and they were young ones newly planted near a hedgerow. He also mentions the elm of a more scabrous leaf, harsh and very large, which becomes a huge tree; mentioned in the Statue Books under the name of the1 Wych-Hayle. For my part, I could find no sort but the last, at least of any size, 1 These words in Italics are supplied; one and a half lines of MS. being cut out.-[Ed.] or growing in a wild way, till I came into Northamptonshire. I thought the winter more advanced in Lincolnshire, and so on, till I had passed Huntingdon, than it was in the West Riding of Yorkshire. In Northamptonshire I first observed the appearances of a long drought, which continued quite hither. The turf is everywhere brown and burnt up, as in Italy; even the low meadows want their usual verdure. At Cambridge the finest grapes I ever saw there; the lime trees were only changing colour, but had dropped few of their leaves. In the smoke of London they had almost lost their old leaves, but made fresh shoots, as green as in April. And here before my window are two young sycamores, which have done the same, but still retain all their old leaves too without any change of colour. At Trompington the new rye was green in the fields, and three inches high. It is the same in this county. We are here upon a loam with a bed of gravel below, and rag-stone beneath that. The hay is usually all in by Old Midsummer, this year it was all cut by New Midsummer, but a great deal of it lost for want of rain, which likewise spoiled the tares and peas. In the beginning of August was rain for near three weeks, which saved the corn. Oats were in some places cut before the wheat, which was all got in by the 20th of August. Barley, beans, etc., by the 7th of September. I came hither the 6th of October, and they had then within a mile of the Thames (where the soil is better, than here) begun to sow wheat. For six weeks before my arrival it had been continued fine weather, and the air till sunset was like July. Never almost was such a year known for fruit. The nectarines and best peaches had been all gathered three weeks before. The grapes were then perfectly ripe, and still continue the best I ever eat in England. October 9th, it began to rain, and we have had showers every day since, with brisk winds in the S. and S. W.; to-day it is in the North, clear sunshine, but cold and a little wintry and so ends my Georgick in prose. Excuse me, if I had nothing better to send you. It is partly from my own eyesight, and partly from the report of such as have no prejudices in favour of their county, because they hardly know, there is any other. : I write chiefly to draw on a letter from you, for I am impatient to know many things; but remember, this election-time letters are apt to be opened at the offices. Pray, make my sincere acknowledgements to my kind Hostess: I trust she was not the worse for her journey. I hope, you know, that I am ever yours, T. G. At Mrs. Rogers's, of Stoke, near Windsor, Bucks. P.S.-Everything resounds with the wood-lark, and robin; and the voice of the sparrow is heard in our land. Remember me to all, that remember there is such a person. Adieu! C.-TO THE REV. WILLIAM MASON. MY DEAR MASON-I am not in a way of leaving this place yet this fortnight, and consequently shall hardly see you in town. I rejoice in the meantime to think that you are there, and have left, I hope, a part of your disagreeable reflections in the place where they grew. Stoke1 has revived in me the memory of many a melancholy hour that I have passed in it, and, though I have no longer the same cause for anxiety, I do not find myself at all the happier for thinking that I have lost it, as my thoughts now signify nothing to any one but myself. I shall wish to change the scene as soon as ever I can. I am heartily glad to hear Mr. Hutton 2 is so reasonable, but am rather sorry to find that design is known to so many. Dr. Wharton, who, I suppose, heard it from Avison, mentions it in a letter to me. Were I you, I should have taken some pleasure in observing people's faces, and perhaps in putting their kindness a little to the trial; it is a very useful experiment, and very possibly you will never have it 1 Gray had hastened to Stoke early in October, on being informed that Mrs. Rogers, his aunt, had had a stroke of the palsy. His mother had died March 11, 1753.-[Ed.] 2 Mr. John Hutton, of Marsk, in Yorkshire, who persuaded his cousin Hutton, Archbishop of York, to give the prebend of Holme, in York Cathedral, to Mason, and who on his death in 1758 left Mason an estate. -[Ed.] |