and ungracious, so devoid of all courtesy, and all sentiment; the worst of them were like bears, and the

very best like sheep at most. O how I did lift up my joyful voice when, on my return to the Highlands, I drew near the mountains of Perthshire; and at the Pass of Killiecrankie I worshipped the genius of the mountains with devotion the most ardent. This morning I mounted the height above the house,-beheld the sun irradiate so many beautiful wreaths of mist, slowly ascending the aerial mountains ;-nay, more, I had the whole parish in my view at once, and saw the blue smokes of eighteen hamlets at once, slowly rising through the calm, dewy air, every one of which hamlets had some circumstance about it that interested me, or somebody in it that I knew or cared for. How populous, how vital is the strath! And with what a mixture of emotions did I behold it! And all this I must leave, and something that I value more than all this.

There is no saying where this current may carry me; but, before I go quite out of sight, I shall methodically deduce the inference from all this. I have never had so clear a view of the origin and progress of taste, or of its distinct modifications in any other mind, as its gradations and changes in my own have afforded. The result of those changes is what I may call a catholic taste. Notwithstanding my raillery on my native Lowlands, these transitions have only enlarged my capacity of being delighted, as I may very truly style it. I can now repose among the softer scenes of nature, taste the more gentle and elegant beauties of art, and, with equal relish, "mount in the

VOL. II.

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rapid chariot of the soul" to the regions of sublimity, or sink as suddenly among the paper kites of levity, and pass through all poetical gradations, from the Paradise Lost of Milton to the fireside bagatelles of Swift, without missing pleasure or instruction.

Now, do not be angry with me for tiring you, and, in return, I will not be angry with you for being tired. Through what endless interruptions I must write! It was very judicious in the ancients to make Minerva a maiden lady; had she had as numerous and as noisy a family as mine, they would soon have teased her out of her wisdom. Over seven children and seven servants must I extend the sceptre of authority. I cannot describe the sudden palpitation that seized me when I heard you were all at Dunkeld; and Mrs. Brown, too, to come so near without coming nearer. To see me anywhere else than here, would be but seeing my ghost, and that a wandering discontented ghost. Send me a brief account of your travelling occurrences and opinions. You will see that my spirits are much better; but you little know what need I had of this lucid interval. I would not live Tell her whom I

over the last month for the Indies. admire and pity most, that I enter into her present feelings, in a manner in which few others can. The departure of him whom she must ever lament, would make life insupportable, if he did indeed depart. But he must remain mingled with every idea; he is the companion of her solitude-the subject of her meditations-the vision of her slumbers. Long may you remain in happy ignorance. Adieu!

A. G.

My dear Helen,

LETTER LXVI.

TO MISS DUNBAR, BOATH.

Laggan, October 5, 1802.

I

Your return from Aberdeenshire was matter of consolation to me on various accounts; my two great props, the "Book of Books," and Mary, being taken away at once, I fell into a relapse of despondency; the image, which must ever live in my heart, and dwell in my meditations, entirely engrossed me, to the exclusion or diminution of every other concern! never sleep much; but, during this "double gloom of nature and of soul," I knew only the painful transition from deep dejection to severe anxiety; and, when exhausted by the labour of the mind, I sunk into a state that more resembled a heavy torpor than refreshing slumber. I waked with a sudden start before the dawn to horror inexpressible. Yet I never took more pains to soothe a sick infant, than I did to reason down the throbbings of unconquerable anguish. All the singular instances of the Divine goodness, which have shone upon me since I was left alone in the world, I have made to pass in review before me, and reproached myself for sinking while thus supported. Were you ever struck with an affecting instance of the true sublime in the Old Testament?* It is where Moses, encouraged, as it should seem, by being

* Exodus xxxiii. 18, 19.

admitted into so near communion with the Deity, entreats that he would shine forth upon him in full resplendence: "Lord, show me thy glory." "I will make all my goodness to pass before thee." What an answer! How condescending its beneficence—how rich its meaning! How cold must be the heart that does not make the suitable comment on this emphatical definition of true glory.

Confess now that I am not in the habit either of lamenting or preaching to you. "The heart knoweth its own sorrows, and a stranger intermeddleth not therewith." I do not mean to cloud the gayest thoughts of gayest age, where there is so much reason to believe it an innocent and warrantable gaiety; and I know too much of the source from whence you draw your instruction, to believe it in my power to make any valuable addition to it. But, sometimes the overcharged heart will seek in sympathy an alleviation, where there is no hope of cure. Your late indisposition and depression will make all this intelligible to you. I can assure you my concern and apprehension about Anne was one of my morbid terrors; and, through the gloomy medium in which I beheld all objects of fear, you yourself—you were another of my disturbers. Judge, then, whether I was glad when I got your letter, and whether I was grateful when I saw with what alacrity you went in search of Anne; and how determined you were to think the best of her. I do not know whether I remarked to you before, that I never knew a creature who enjoys, in a higher degree than this daughter of mine, that "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind," which Pope gives to

his vestals. She goes on rejoicing in her course all day, and every day; and this without animal spirits,

-mere cheerfulness of heart. I am happy to hear your Aberdeenshire jauntey, as Burns calls it, has been so serviceable to you. You have been quite in high life in Aberdeenshire, where I should not like to have been with you; for early did I say,

"Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate you."

But perhaps you will call this sour grapes. Not quite, neither; I love elegance in sentiment, in language, in manners, though I do not care for the externals and insignia of it, nor can I bear it at all when disjoined from simplicity. Artifice, spleen, vanity, and false refinement, are the demons by which the upper regions of life are haunted. Must I confess that grossness, vulgarity, and indelicacy puddle about like pigs and ducks in the lower world. We made a little world to ourselves here, where ease, simplicity, and a kind of negative elegance, gave an undefinable charm to our cottage. This made people of genuine feeling and uncultured taste like it, without being able to tell why. Sweet cottage! must I leave it? I will tell you, sometime or other, how our poppies and convolvolusses nod into the low windows, and how richly the woodbine clothes the porch, where we have so often sat together, contemplating a mild showery evening, that would let us go no farther. But what does this avail? I do not mean all this to detract from the merits of Miss Frazer's elegance, which, I doubt not, is regulated by her taste, as well as dignified by her virtues. Is Lord Lyttleton son or grandson to the