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collected of a power in the court to do what

is now prayed.

I am, &c.

Prince Adam Czartoryski to Sir W. Jones.

Sept. 20, 1788.

It is but a fortnight ago fince the gentleman, to whom the most flattering proof

of

your kind remembrance was committed, delivered it into my hand. I received it with a joined fentiment of gratitude and of vanity. It will be an easy task for you to find out why I am grateful, and every body, but yourself, will foon hit upon the reasons, why your ing thought of me makes me vain.

hav

The letter, the idea of the man who wrote it, the place from whence it came, the language of Hafez, all that put together, fet my imagination at once in a blaze, and wafted me over in a wifh from the Pole to the Indies. It has awakened a train of ideas, which lay dormant for a while, and rekindled my fomewhat forgotten heat for the Oriental mufes, which is not however to be put on the

account of inconftancy, but to my having been croffed in my love for them, very near as much as Sir Roger de Coverly is faid to have been, in his addreffes to his unkind widow. The war, broke out of late, deprived me of my last refource, which was a dervifh native of Samercand, who was just come to live with me in the capacity of munfhi, his religious zeal would not allow him to continue out of fight of the Sangiale Sheriff, fo he haftened back to his brethren. After the reception of your letter I grieved ftill more in feeing myself deprived of proper and eafy means to cultivate fo interefting a branch of learning, and could not forbear casting an impatient reflection on that warlike fpirit, whofe influence leaves nothing happy, nothing undisturbed. The acquifition of a language will always appear to me much more valuable than that of a defert.

The

fudden departure of my dervish has, I find, foured my temper against conqueft and conquerors. I wished it was in my power to fweeten it again by the charms of your intercourse, under the benign influence of the cli

mate you inhabit. How happy should I think myself in the enjoyment of your leifure hours, in perufing a country where every object is worth dwelling upon, in paying a vifit to the Rajah of Kifnagoor, with a letter of recommendation from your hand! But, whilst, with a heated fancy, I am expatiating on those delightful fubjects, I find myself in reality circling in a round of things as little fuiting with my inclination, as the roughness of the heaven does with my conftitution; for, quid frigore farmatico pejus? which becomes still more intolerable, if you add to it the in arcto et inglorius labor, to which we are unfortunately doomed. I cannot finish this letter without repeating to you the warmeft acknowledgment of your kind remembrance. I fhall be

certain to preserve it for ever, if the highest degree of efteem for your eminent qualities and talents, and the moft fincere regard for your person, are fufficient titles to ensure it. I am invariably, &c.

Sir William Jones to Sir Jofeph Banks.

Sept. 17, 1789.

DEAR SIR JOSEPH,

The feafon for paying my annual epiftolary rents being returned with the rough gales of the autumnal equinox, I am eager to offer my tribute, where it is most due, to my beft landlord, who, inftead of claiming, like the India company, fixteen fhillings in the pound for the neat profits of my farm (I speak correctly, though metaphorically) voluntarily offers me indulgences, even if I should run in

arrears.

You have received, I truft, the pods of the fineft Dacca cotton, with which the commercial refident at that ftation fupplied me, and which I sent by different conveyances, fome inclofed to yourself, fome to Sir George Young, and fome by private hands. But I have always found it fafer to fend letters and fmall parcels by the public packet, than by carelefs and inconfiderate individuals. I am not partial to the pryangu, which I now find

is its true name; but Mr. Shore found benefit from it, and procured the fresh plants from Arracan, which died unluckily in their way to Calcutta. But ferioufly, it deferves a longer trial before its tonic virtues, if it have any, can be afcertained. It is certainly not fo fine a bitter as camomile or columbo root.

I wish politics at the devil, but hope that, when the King recovered, fcience revived. It gives me great pain to know, that party as it is called (I call it faction, because I hold party to be grounded on principles, and faction on felf-intereft, which excludes all principle) has found its way into a literary club, who meet reciprocally to impart and receive new ideas. I have deep rooted political principles, which the law taught me: but I should never think of introducing them among men of science, and if, on my return to Europe ten or twelve years hence, I fhould not find more fcience than politics in the club, my feat in it will be at the fervice of any politician who may wish to be one of the party.

An intimate friend of Mr. Blane has writ,

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