scription of the manners and habits of a flock of sheep; but what truth, what sublimity, what beauty you can see in comparing a crowd of spirits, or ghosts, to them, I cannot conceive. If sheep are such silly imitators of their leader, why are we to suppose a troop of ghosts would all put their eyes and noses to the ground because the first might do so, in the same sort of ambition with which the clown tumbles after Harlequin; and so I can discern no apposition in this vaunted simile, without which, a simile is but on a level with his, who said, even as a wheelbarrow goes rumble rumble, even so that man lends another sixpence."

The imaginary resemblance of a flying spirit to the meteors of night is poetic enough, but not half so sublime as the comparison in the old ballad, William and Margaret, of the corpse, or apparition of a beautiful young woman, to an April morning," clad in a wintry cloud."

Adieu! dear Cary.-May you ascend the eminences of literary fame, by whatever paths you may choose to approach them; and never may you know

So this crowd of spirits stopt at our approach,' &c.-Speaking of the swift motion of a spirit that flew from them, he says, 'I never saw the lighted vapours at the beginning of night cut the air so swiftly, nor when the sun is setting in the clouds of autumn.' Such are the sketches of Dante's pen."-S.

such heart-aches as I now feel to pall and damp your intellectual ardours!

LETTER XLIV.

LADY BLACKISTON.

June 5, 1792.

It is a satisfaction to me, dear Lady B., that the sea no longer divides us. May your new home, in the gay and beautiful * city, increase the health and cheerfulness of yourself and good Colonel Cane!

The sight of your Ladyship's well-known hand at once pleased and reproached me. Alas! frequent ill health, long anxiety, and apprehension for the life of a very dear friend, weighing about my heart, created a great disinclination to my pen. Never have I known so long a depression of spirits. I often fear that the days of cheerfulness and peace will no more return. It concerns me to find that you, too, my amiable friend, have sources of deep anxiety for your heart's second

*Bath.

dearest object. May those clouds which the grasping and injurious avarice of his worthless kinsmen have raised about his destiny soon disperse, and his prosperity restore peace to his affectionate mother's heart!

You inquire after Mrs Mompessan. She has a nephew, Mr Heathcote, envoy from our Court to that of Bon, in Germany, where, some few years since, he married a lady of that country, whose fortune was large, and with whom he now lives in great splendour. Mrs M. had affairs to settle with this gentleman, which required to be adjusted in person. Disappointed, from time to time, by his failing to execute his schemes of visiting England, she took the spirited resolution of going over to him; and to render the expence of the expedition as light as possible, since her generous disposition, and a but competent fortune, allows her no money to lavish, she took not with her either friend, or man-servant, or maid-servant. Alone, at sixty-three, she crossed the sea, and the continent; alone, she returned to her native country, after a three months' residence at Bon. Her pleasant home again receives her, in amended health, and invigorated spirits; charmed with her visit to this beloved nephew, at whose munificent table she conversed with noblemen, VOL. III.

K

with men of letters, with politicians, and philosophers.

Platonic, as you humorously call him, disappoints my expectations, raised by his attachment to amiable Mrs B. I suppose he is one of those many men who, like old Shadrach and his cousins, can walk through fire with an unsinged skin. I hope the lady's is as impenetrable; and then, as he is a good soul, no harm will be done. I had set my heart on permanent good to our friend as the result; but time runs on, and my wish returns to me unfulfilled.

This large mansion still contains me, and the lovely scenes around it are in all the glow of summer beauty; but my heart is heavy, and deprives me of the capacity to enjoy them. Adieu, dear Lady B., adieu !

LETTER XLV.

MISS H. WILLIAMS.

July 26, 1792.

DEPRESSED as my spirits have long been, and

yet remain, by the alarmingly declining health of

one friend, and by the miseries of others, to whose feelings and destiny I cannot be indifferent, my heart will not dispense with addressing you, through my pen, on your return to your native country. I must regret, that it is only on a transient visit that you determine to reside in a kingdom convulsed by fierce and contending factions; but your wishes are with the moderate party; the civic crown and laurels of Fayette are spotless in your eyes.

The flame of liberty must glow in your bosom with no common fervour, to make you choose to be so near a spectator of the struggles of that yet distracted country; while the many who tarried "in her vineyards, and made themselves an home in her cities, now pass through her land like a river."

Her king appears, at last in earnest, to have imitated virtue, "till, seerning good, he grew to what he seemed." The account last week's General Evening Post brought us of those mutual instances of affection and trust, which passed between him and the populace, on the eventful anniversary, filled my eyes with those delicious tears which it is such luxury to shed. I cannot, at least I will not, doubt its reality. If this generous influence continues to increase and spread, without degenerating into insolence in the one, in