It was so tender as to force the tears in rivers down my cheeks, during the first half hour in which he talked to me. And now, lest your rigid decorum should induce you to censure, without mercy, emotions, at once so rapid and ungovernable, I must whisper to you the age of their inspirer; he is ninety-onemy father's old friend, Mr Ashby, who preserves, at so late a period, his intellects and sensibility in wonderful power, and with the most attentive politeness; but the sunk mouth of extreme old age, the glazed eye, the hesitating feebleness of accent, the cold clammy hand that pressed mine with affectionate earnestness, all contributed to produce a resemblance to my poor father, so striking as to occasion those emotions I mentioned. He inquired after generations at Lichfield, long passed away, who were his contemporaries, and with whose names my mother had, in childhood, familiarized me, though they had then ceased to exist. He told me that he had often had my mother on his knee, the most beautiful infant of three years old, he said, he ever beheld. You will imagine how interesting all this to me, who look back upon the years that are fled with all the enthusiasm, though not with the science of an antiquarian; yet, however interest ed, gratified, and amused, by the politeness, vivacity, and intelligence of the Derby gentlemen and ladies, I found the heats dreadfully oppressive. Mrs Hayley's tea-room, and the bed-chamber I occupied, are full west. Accustomed to slumber amidst the profoundest silence, and unable, through the sultriness, to shut down my sashes, the street-noises, excessive and incessant, kept me awake two whole nights. I felt the torture of being startled into wakefulness every time the balmy power weighed down my eye-lids, and thought of the denunciation against Macbeth. I was never more sensible of its force, and of the misery of being forbid to taste the "chief nourishment at life's feast," "Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care, The stock of health I had acquired in your peaceful village began to vanish fast beneath such fatigue. I sighed for the cool book-room-the hermitage the shaded lawns, and gurgling waters of Woodhouse. It was with the utmost difficulty that I could retain my purpose of going to Burton, so pressing were the solicitations, on all hands, to prolong my stay in a town whose inhabitants had proved so long pleasant to me but I did keep my appointment with my friend Mrs Dalrymple, and arrived at Burton by nine in the evening. Four days passed agreeably away in that visit, except that, during one of them, Mrs D. was seized with a violent stomach and bowel complaint, but it went off the next day, and I had the satisfaction of leaving her perfectly recovered. It was then that I could jestingly tell her she fell ill on purpose to show off her husband's tender attention, more animated and incessant than I had ever observed in the creation's lords to sick wives. So she sent me home half inclined to bewail my virginity, like Jephtha's daughter. This good couple long to be acquainted with. you, and you would like them. She has intelligence, cheerfulness, and droll humour, in which you so much delight—he has sense, worth, and character, resulting from pleasant oddity and shrewd simplicity of accent and language. You would like him some degrees superadded to your esteem for his good qualities, when you shall know that he lost an estate of 1500l. per annum, by his uncle Colonel Dalrymple's attachment to the fallen house of Stuart, in the year 1745. Mr and Mrs D. wish you to pass a day or two with them in some of your journies through Burton, and I wish you would so far oblige and indulge them. I came home late on Sunday night, and the next morning found the cathedral bowers and lawns in full bloom and beauty, with the addition of four more houses round the area being white-roughcast. It is now completely the milky-way, a white zone round the verdant lawn sweetly contrasting the lavish foliage of the scene. As yet I have seen few of its inhabitants, except dear Lady Gresley and her engaging daughters, and old Mr Green, to whom I made a point of carrying your good wishes yesterday. That benevolent and industrious collector of antique curiosities breaks fast: "His lamp of life is almost spent and done." Lichfield, or rather the strangers who visit her, will have a great loss if his museum should not survive him, or not be shewn con amore, when he shall no longer be found amidst the vestiges of former days. Your kind message cheered his drooping spirits, and he blessed you with moist eyes. You remember my observing to you how much our language had become, even in common con versation, Latinized, since Dr Johnson's writings were familiar to people, and since his fine style had been so generally adopted by ingenious writ·ers. I heard some ladies at Burton, who neither have, nor pretend to bookish knowledge, use the following words with prompt spontaneity in conversing on common topics, viz. "literature, literary, hilarity, stipulate, excruciating, delusive, juvenile, temerity, contemporary, phenomenon, popular, conservatory," &c. &c. Twenty years ago, scarce one of those words would have been understood, much less used by the generality of private gentlewomen. I like this growing Latinity—it rids us of a number of those hissing s's that deform our language, which becomes more harmonious and full for their dismission. Adieu, my dear friend! LETTER XXIV. MRS KNOWLES. May 19, 1791. My dear Mrs K.'s kind letter, and obliging present of the pretty work-basket, arrived a few days after I had taken wing for Nottinghamshire. |