My dear friend, a word or two

in answer to two or three questions of yours, which I have hitherto taken no notice of. I am not in a scribbling mood, and shall therefore make no excursions to amuse either myself or you. The needful will be as much as I can manage at present-the playful must wait another opportunity.

I thank you for your offer of Robertson, but I have more reading upon my hands at this present writing, than I shall get rid of in a twelvemonth; and this moment recollect, that I have seen it already, He is an author that I admire much, with one exception, that I think his style is too laboured. Hume, as an historian, pleases me more.

I have read just enough of the Biographia Bri tannica, to say, that I have tasted it, and have no doubt but I shall like it. I am pretty much in the garden at this season of the year, so read but little. In summer-time I am as giddy-headed as a boy, and can settle to nothing. Winter condenses me, and makes me lumpish, and sober; and then I can read all day long.

For the same reasons, I have no need of the landscapes at present; when I want them I will renew my my application, and repeat the description, but it will hardly be before October,

Before I rose this morning, I composed the three following Stanzas; I send them because I like them pretty well myself; and if you should not, you must accept this handsome compliment as an amends for their deficiencies. You may print the lines, if you judge them worth it.*

I have only time to add love, &c. and my two initials.

LETTER LIV.

To the Revd. JOHN NEWTON.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

June 23, 1780.

Your reflections upon the

state of London, the sins and enormities of that great city, while you had a distant view of it from Greenwich, seem to have been prophetic of the heavy stroke that fell upon it just after. Man often prophecies without knowing it-a spirit speaks by him, which is not his own, though he does not at that time suspect, that he is under the influence of any other Did he forsee, what is always foreseen by him. who dictates, what he supposes to be his own, he would suffer by anticipation, as well as by consequence; and wish perhaps as ardently for the happy ignorance, to which he is at present so much indebted, as some have foolishly, and inconsiderately done, for a knowledge, that would be but another name for misery.

And why have I said all this? especially to you, who have hitherto said it to me-Not because I had the least desire of informing a wiser man than myself, but because the observation was naturally suggested by the recollection of your Letter, and

that Letter, though not the last, happened to be uppermost in my mind. I can compare this mind of mine to nothing that resembles it more, than to a board that is under the carpenter's plane, (I mean while I am writing to you) the shavings are my uppermost thoughts; after a few strokes of the tool, it acquires a new surface, this again upon a repetition of his task, he takes off, and a new surface still succeeds whether the shavings of the present day, will be worth your acceptance, I know not, I am unfortunately made neither of cedar, nor of mahogany, but Truncus ficulnus, inutile lignum-consequently, though I should be planed, 'till I am as thin as a wafer, it will be but rubbish to the last.

It is not strange that you should be the subject of a false report, for the sword of slander, like that of war, devours one as well as another; and a blameless character is particularly delicious to its unsparing appetite. But that you should be the object of such a report, you who meddle less with the designs of government, than almost any man that lives under it, this is strange indeed. It is well however, when they, who account it good sport to traduce the reputation of another, invent a story that refutes itself. I won

der they do not always endeavour to accommodate their fiction, to the real character of the person; their tale would then, at least, have an air of probability, and it might cost a peaceable good man much more trouble to disprove it. But, perhaps, it would not be easy to discern, what part of your conduct lies more open to such an attempt, than another, or what it is that you either say or do, at any time, that presents a fair opportunity to the most ingenious slanderer, to slip in a falsehood between your words, or actions, that shall seem to be of a piece with either. You hate compliment, I know, but by your leave, this is not one-it is a truthworse and worse now I have praised you indeedwell you must thank yourself for it, it was absolutely done without the least intention on my part, and proceeded from a pen, that as far as I can remember, was never guilty of flattery, since I knew how to hold it. He that slanders me, paints me blacker than I am, and he that flatters me, whiter-they both daub me, and when I look in the glass of conscience, I see myself disguised by bothI had as lief my taylor should sew ginger-bread-nuts on my coat instead of buttons, as that any man should call my Bristol stone a diamond. The taylor's trick would not at all em