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"Since thus ye have combin'd," he said,
"My fav'rite nymph to slight,
"Adorning May, that peevish maid!
"With June's undoubted right;

"The minx shall for your folly's sake,
"Still prove herself a shrew:

"Shall make your scribbling fingers ache,
"And pinch your noses blue."

MY DEAREST COZ.

LETTER CXXXV.

To Lady HESKETH.

The Lodge, May 27, 1791.

I, who am neither dead, nor sick, nor idle, should have no excuse, were I as tardy in answering, as you in writing. I live indeed where leisure abounds, and you, where leisure is not; a difference that accounts sufficiently both for your silence and my loquacity.

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same time what will not happen, and therefore not a truth. There is a medium between truth and falsehood; and (I believe) the word mistake, expresses it exactly. I will therefore say, that you were mistaken. If instead of May you had mentioned June, I flatter myself that you would have hit the mark. For in June there is every probability that we shall publish. You will say, "hang the printer!-for it is his fault!" But stay, my dear, hang him not just now! For to execute him, and find another, will cost us time, and so much too, that I question, if in that case, we should publish sooner than in August. To say truth, I am not perfectly sure that there will be any necessity to hang him at all; though that is a matter which I desire to leave entirely at your discretion, alledging only in the mean time, that the man does not appear to me during the last half-year to have been at all in fault. His remittance of sheets in all that time has been punctual, save and except, while the easter holidays lasted, when (I suppose) he found it impossible to keep his devils to their business. I shall however receive the last sheet of the Odyssey to-morrow, and have already sent up the Preface, together with all the needful. You see therefore, that the publication of this famous work cannot be delayed much longer.

As for politics, I reck not, having no room in my head for any thing but the Slave-bill. That is lost; and all the rest is a trifle. I have not seen Payne's book, but refused to see it, when it was offercd to me. No man shall convince me, that I am improperly governed, while I feel the contrary.

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If it will afford you any comfort that you have a share in my affections, of that comfort you may avail yourself at all times. You have acquired it by means which, unless I should become worthless myself, to an uncommon degree, will always secure you from the loss of it. You are learning what all learn, though few at so early an age, that man is an ungrateful animal; and that benefits too often, instead of securing a due return, operate

To

rather as provocations to ill treatment. This I take to be the summum malum of the human heart. wards God we are all guilty of it more or less; but between man and man, we may thank God for it, there are some exceptions. He leaves this peccant principle to operate, in some degree against himself, in all, for our humiliation, I suppose; and because the pernicious effects of it in reality cannot injure him, he cannot suffer by them; but he knows, that unless he should restrain its influence on the dealings of mankind with each other, the bonds of society would be dissolved, and all charitable intercourse at an end amongst us. It was said of Archbishop Cranmer, "Do him an ill-turn, and you make him your friend for ever;" of others it may be said, "Do them a good one, and they will be for ever your enemies. It is the Grace of God only, that makes the difference.

The absence of Homer, (for we have now shaken hands and parted) is well supplied by three relations of mine from Norfolk. My Cousin Johnson, an Aunt of his, and his Sister. I love them all dearly, and am well contented to resign to them the place in my attentions, so lately occupied by the chiefs of Greece and Troy. His Aunt and I have spent many a merry day together, when we were some forty

years younger; and we make shift to be merry together still. His Sister is a sweet young woman, graceful, good natured, and gentle, just what I had imagined her to be before I had seen her.

Farewell.

W. C.

LETTER CXXXVII.

To Dr. JAMES COGSWELL, New-York.

Weston-Underwood, near Olney, Bucks,

June 15, 1791.

DEAR SIR.

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Your Letter and obliging

present from so great a distance deserved a spcedier acknowledgment, and should not have wanted one so long, had not circumstances so fallen out since I received them as to make it impossible for me to write sooner. It is indeed but within this day or two that

I have heard how, by the help of my bookseller, I may transmit an answer to you.

My title-page, as it well might, misled

you. It

speaks me of the Inner-Temple, and so I am, but a

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