to prevent them. These are the chief heads of my Preface, and the whole consists of about twelve

pages.

It is possible when I come to treat with Johnson about the copy, I may want some person to negociate for me, and knowing no one so intelligent as yourself in books, or so well qualified to estimate their just value, I shall beg leave to resort to and rely on you as my negociator. But I will not trouble you unless I should see occasion. My Cousin was the bearer of my мss, to London. He went on pur

pose, and returns to-morrow. Mrs. Unwin's affectionate felicitations, added to my own, conclude me,

Dear friend,

Sincerely yours,

The trees of a colonade will solve

W. C.

my Riddle.

LETTER CXII.

MY DEAR COZ,

my

To Mrs. BODHAM.

1

Weston, Nov. 21, 1790.

Our kindness to your Ne

phew is no more than he must entitle himself to wherever he goes. His amiable disposition and manners will never fail to secure him a warm place in the affection of all who know him. The advice I gave respecting his poem on Audley End, was dictated by love of him, and a sincere desire of his success. It is one thing to write what may please our friends, who, because they are such, are apt to be a little biassed in our favour; and another to write what may please every body; because they who have no connection, or even knowledge of the author, will be sure to find fault if they can. My advice, however salutary and necessary as it seemed to me, was such as I dare not have given to a poet of less diffidence than he. Poets are to a proverb irritable, and he is the only one I ever knew who seems to have no spark of that fire about him. He has left us about a fortnight, and sorry we were to lose him; but had he

been my son, he must have gone, and I could not have regretted him more. If his Sister be still with you, present my love to her, and tell her how much I wish to see them at Weston together.

Mrs. Hewitt probably remembers more of my childhood than I can recollect either of hers or my own; but this I recollect, that the days of that period were happy days compared with most I have seen since. There are few perhaps in the world who have not cause to look back with regret on the days of infancy; yet, to say the truth, I suspect some deception in this. For infancy itself has its cares, and though we cannot now conceive how trifles could affect us much, it is certain that they did. Trifles they appear now, but such they were not then.

I am happy that you have es

caped from the claws of Euclid into the bosom of Jus

tinian. It is useful, I suppose, to every man to be well grounded in the principles of jurisprudence, and I take it to be a branch of science that bids much fairer to enlarge the mind, and give an accuracy of reasoning, than all the mathematics in the world. Mind your studies, and you will soon be wiser than I can hope to be.

We had a visit on Monday from one of the first women in the world; in point of character, I mean, and accomplishments, the dowager Lady Spencer! I may receive, perhaps, some honours hereafter, should my translation speed according to my wishes, and the pains I have taken with it; but shall never receive any that I shall esteem so highly. She is indeed worthy to whom I should dedicate, and may but my Odyssey prove as worthy of her, I shall have nothing to fear from the critics.

Yours,

My dear Johnny,

With much affection,

W. C.

LETTER XCIV.

To SAMUEL ROSE, Esqr.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

The Lodge, Nov. 30, 1790.

I will confess that I thought your Letter somewhat tardy, though, at the same time, I made every excuse for you, except, as it seems, the right. That indeed was out of the reach of all possible conjecture. I could not guess that your silence was occasioned by your being occupied with either thieves or thief-takers. Since, however, the cause was such, I rejoice that your labours were not in vain, and that the free-booters, who had plundered your friend, are safe in limbo. I admire too, as much as I rejoice in your success, the indefatigable spirit, that prompted you to pursue, with such unremitting perseverance, an object not to be reached but at the expence of infinite trouble, and that must have led you into an acquaintance with scenes and characters the most horrible to a mind like yours. I see in this conduct the zeal and firmness of your friendship to whomsoever professed, and though I wanted not a proof of it myself, contemplate so unequivocal an