sister will tell you. Should any accident happen, or should you change your mind at Paris, you may return easily, and I will bear all your expenses back. We shall go from Dover to Calais, but this is a secret. If I die in America, you may return with Paradise, who would treat you as a friend and a gentleman. Let me add, that, if I should be named a commissioner for peace, you will be better qualified to act as my secretary by knowing French, so well as you will know it, by conversing with the French officers on board, and by having been in America. I trust you are in perfect health: the journey and voyage will confirm it; and, if you should again be ill, you may have as good advice and assistance on board a French ship of war as in London. Neither you nor I should fear to engage our enemies; but we should not fight our countrymen; and, in case of an engagement (which is not likely to happen), we should be employed in assisting the wounded, and following the directions of the surgeon. I have stated the good and the bad of this reasonable scheme; but wish we could converse about it for an hour or two. If you reject it, and choose rather to risque the haughty behaviour of some noble or wealthy master, I will leave my opinion of your excellent character (as far as I have been able to discover it) with my friend Mr. Poyntz, who knows how much I value you; and, on my return, I will retain my resolution of contributing all in my power to your advancement and fortune here or in India. Write to me soon with all that frank

ness, spirit, and manliness, which I love, and which we both possess in a high degree. You know my opinion, that all honest men are equal, and the prince and peasant on a level; therefore as I am not a prince, nor you a peasant, I could wish that you would put yourself wholly on a footing with me, and write without form and stiffness. I reckon you will receive this next Friday, and I shall be anxious to know that you have received it. The manuscript which you were to copy has been packed up this month, but my incessant hurry has prevented my sending it. Adieu! and believe that no man has a firmer friendship for another than that which is sincerely professed for you, my dear Arthur, by yours ever,

W. JONES,

Could not your little gray carry you un beau matin to Midgham, and, after such a stay at Mr. Poyntz's as you might think discreet, could he not either make a visit to my little gray at Oxford, or bring you to London, while Mrs. N. stays here, that you might accompany her to Ranelagh? We shall not set out this fortnight; but lose no time in considering my proposal; and be sure, that you will be of infinite use to Mr. Paradise and me. Observe, that as a will is always revocable, I would readily give you a bond (which would bind my heirs) to leave you a thousand pounds stock in case of my death during the voyage or journey; but I do not hold out this as a lure, for I repeat that, though I

wish you to be of the party, yet I have no pretensions to persuade you, and I know your contempt of gain. Mr. Paradise and I shall want some one, who understands farming, to direct in leaving orders for the management of the land, if recovered.

WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ. TO THE REV.

WILLIAM UNWIN.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

July, -79.

WHEN I was at Margate, it was an excursion of pleasure to go to see Ramsgate. The pier, I remember, was accounted a most excellent piece of stone work, and as such I found it. By this time, I suppose, it is finished, and surely it is no small advantage, that you have an opportunity of observing how nicely those great stones are put together, as often as you please, without either trouble or expense.

* *** * *

There was not, at that time, much to be seen in the Isle of Thanet, besides the beauty of the country, and the fine prospects of the sea, which are no where surpassed except in the Isle of Wight, or upon some parts of the coast of Hamp shire. One sight, however, I remember, engaged my curiosity, and I went to see it. A fine piece of ruins, built by the late Lord Holland, at a great expense, which, the day after I saw it, tumbled down for nothing. Perhaps, therefore, it is still a ruin; and if it is, I would advise you by all means to visit it, as it must have been much improved by this fortunate incident. It is

hardly possible to put stones together with that air of wild and magnificent disorder which they are sure to acquire by falling of their own accord.

I remember (the last thing I mean to remember upon this occasion) that Sam Cox, the counsel, walking by the seaside, as if absorbed in deep contemplation, was questioned about what he was musing on. He replied, "I was wondering that such an almost infinite and unwieldly element should produce a sprat."

Our love attends your whole party. Yours affectionately,

W. C.

WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ. TO MRS. NEWTON.

DEAR MADAM, June, 1780. WHEN I write to Mr. Newton, he answers me by letter; when I write to you, you answer me in fish. I return you many thanks for the mackerel and lobster. They assured me in terms as intelligible as pen and ink could have spoken, that you still remember Orchard-side; and though they never spoke in their lives, and it was still less to be expected from them that they should speak being dead, they gave us an assurance of your affection that corresponds exactly with that which Mr. Newton expresses towards us in all his letters. For my own part, I never in my life began a letter more at a venture than the present. It is possible that I may finish it, but perhaps more than probable that I shall not. I have had

several indifferent nights, and the wind is easterly; two circumstances so unfavourable to me in all my occupations, but especially that of writing, that it was with the greatest difficulty I could even bring myself to attempt it.

You have never yet perhaps been made acquainted with the unfortunate Tom F's misadventure. He and his wife, returning from Haslope fair, were coming down Weston Lane; to wit, themselves, their horse, and their great wooden panniers, at ten o'clock at night. The horse, having a lively imagination and very weak nerves, fancied he either saw or heard something, but has never been able to say what. A sudden fright will impart activity, and a momentary vigour, even to lameness itself. Accordingly, he started, and sprang from the middle of the road to the side of it, with such surprising alacrity, that he dismounted the gingerbread baker, and his gingerbread wife, in a moment. Not contented with this effort, nor thinking himself yet out of danger, he proceeded as fast as he could to a full gallop, rushed against the gate at the bottom of the lane, and opened it for himself, without perceiving that there was any gate there. Still he galloped, and with a velocity and momentum continually increasing, till he arrived at Olney. I had been in bed about ten minutes, when I heard the most uncommon and unaccountable noise that can be imagined. It was, in fact, occasioned by the clattering of tin pattypans and a Dutch-oven against the sides of the panniers. Much gingerbread was picked up in the street, and Mr. Lucy's windows were broken all to