will be best of all. She is now (the clock has just struck Eleven) boid endeavouring, I believe, to get a little sleep, for which reason I do not yet let her know that I have received your Letter. . Can I ever honour you enough for your zeal to serve me? Truly I think not: I am however so sensible of the love I owe you on this account, that I every day regret the acuteness of your feelings for me, convinced that they expose you to much trouble, mortification, and disappointment. I have in short a poor opinion of my destiny, as I told you when you were here, and though I believe that if any man living can do me good, you will, I cannot yet persuade myself, that even you will be successful in attempting it. But it is no matter; you are yourself a good, which I can never value enough, and whether rich or poor in other respects, I shall always account myself better provided for than I deserve, with such a friend at my back as you. Let it please God to continue to me my William and Mary, and I will be more reasonable than to grumble.. I rose this morning wrapt round with a cloud of melancholy, and with a heart full of fears, but if I see Mary's amendment a little advanced, when she rises, I shall be better, I have just been with her again. Except that she is fatigued for want of sleep, she seems as well as yesterday. The post brings me a Letter from Hurdis, who is broken-hearted for a dying Sister.. Had we eyes sharp enough, we should see the arrows of Death flying in all directions, and account it a wonder that we, and our friends, escape them but a single day. W.C. LETTER XXVII. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, Esqr, Weston, June 7, 1792. Of what materials can you suppose me made, if after all the rapid proofs that you have given me of your friendship, I do not love you with all my heart, and regret your absence continually? But you must permit me, nevertheless, to be melancholy now and then; or if you will not, I must be so without your permission; for that sable thread is so intermixed with the very thread of my existence as to be inseparable from it, at least while I exist in the body. Be content, therefore, let me sigh and groan, but always be sure that I love you. You will be well assured that I should not have indulged myself in this rhapsody about myself, and my melancholy, had my present mood been of that complexion, or had not our poor Mary seemed still to advance in her recovery. So in fact she docs, and has performed several little feats to-day; such as either she could not perform at all, or very feebly, while you were with us. I shall I shall be glad if you have seen Johnny, as I call him, my Norfolk Cousin; he is a sweet lad, but as shy as a bird. It costs him always two or three days to open his mouth before a stranger; but when he does, he is sure to please by the innocent cheerfulness of his conversation. His Sister too is one of my idols, for the resemblance she bears to my Mother. Mary and you have all my thoughts; and how should it be otherwise? She looks well, is better, and loves you dearly. Adieu my Brother! W. C. LETTER XXVIII. To WILLIAM HAYLEY, Esqr. Weston, June 10, 1792. I do indeed anxiously wish that every thing you do may prosper; and should I at last prosper by your means, shall taste double sweetness in prosperity for that reason. I rose this morning, as I usually do, with a mind all in sables. In this mood I presented myself to Mary's bed-side, whom I found though after many hours lying awake, yet cheerful, and not to be affected with my desponding humour. It is a great blessing to us both, that poor feeble thing as she is, she has a most invincible courage, and a trust in God's goodness that nothing shakes. She is now in the study, and is certainly in some degree better than she was yesterday, but how to measure that little I know not, except by saying that it is just perceptible. I am glad that you have seen my Johnny of Norfolk, because I know it will be a comfort to you to have seen your successor, He arrived, to my great joy, yesterday; and not having bound himself to any particular time of going, will, I hope, stay long with us. You are now once more snug in your retreat, and I give you joy of your return to it, after the bustle in which you have lived since you left Weston.-Weston mourns your absence, and will mourn it till she sees you again. What is to become of Milton I know not; I do nothing but scribble to you, and seem to have no relish for any other employment, I have, however, in pursuit of your idea, to compliment Darwin, put a few Stanzas together, which I shall subjoin; you will easily give them all that you find they want, and match the Song with another. I am now going to walk with Johnny, much cheered since I began writing to you, and by Mary's looks and good spirits. To Dr. DARWIN, Author of the BOTANIC GARDEN, Two Poets (Poets by report Not oft so well agree) Sweet harmonist of Flora's court! Conspire to honour thee. W. C. They They best can judge a Poet's worth, Who oft themselves have known By labours of their own. We, therefore, pleas'd, extol thy song, And learn'd, as it is sweet. No envy mingles with our praise; They would, they must, at thine. And deem the Bard, whoe'er he be Who would not twine a wreath for thee, LETTER XXIX. To WILLIAM HAYLEY, Esqr. June 19, 1792. Thus have I filled a whole page to my dear William of Eartham, and have not said a VOL. II. I syllable |