that pond and that hedge will always bring to my remembrance and this is a fort of Memoria technica, which I would recommend to you, if I did not know that you have no occafion for it. I am reading Sir John Hawkins, and still hold the fame opinion of his book as when you were here. There are in it undoubtedly fome awkwardneffes of phrase, and, which is worse, here and there fome unequivocal indications of a vanity not easily pardonable in a man of his years; but on the whole I find it amufing, and to me at least, to whom every thing that has paffed in the liter-. ary world within these five and twenty years, is new, fuf ficiently replete with information. Mr. Throckmorton told me about three days fince, that it was lately recommended to him by a sensible man, as a book that would give him great infight into the history of modern literature and modern men of letters; a commendation which I really think it merits. Fifty years hence, perhaps, the world will feel itself obliged to him. W. C. MY DEAR SIR, LETTER CIX. To SAMUEL ROSE, Efq. THE LODGE, Jan. 24, 1789. WE have heard from my coufin in Norfolk-street; fhe reached home fafely, and in good time. An obfervation fuggefts itself, which, though I have but little time for observation making, I must allow myself time to mention. Accidents, as we call them, generally occur when there feems leaft reason to expect them; if a friend of ours travels far in indifférent roads, and at an unfavourable feason, we are reasonably alarmed for the fafety of one in whom we take fo much intereft; yet how seldom do we hear a tragical account of fuch a journey! It is on the contrary, at home, in our yard or garden, perhaps in our parlour, that difafter finds us : in any place, in fhort, where we feem perfectly out of the reach of danger. The lesson inculcated by fuch a procedure on the part of Providence towards us, feems to be that of perpetual dependence. Having preached this fermon, I must haften to a clofe; you know that I am not idle, nor can I afford to be fo; I would gladly spend more time with you, but by fome means or other this day has hitherto proved a day of hindrance and confusion. W. C. MY DEAR SIR, LETTER CX. To SAMUEL ROSE, Efq. THE LODGE, May 20, 1789. FINDING myself between twelve and one, at the end of the feventeenth book of the Odyssey, I give the interval between the present moment and the time of walking, to you. If I write letters before I fit. down to Homer, I feel my fpirits too flat for poetry, and too flat for letter-writing if I addrefs myself to Homer firft; but the laft I choofe as the leaft evil, because my friends will pardon my dulnefs, but the public will not. I had been fome days uneafy on your account when yours arrived. We fhould have rejoiced to have feen you, would your engagements have permitted; but in the autumn I hope, if not before, we fhall have the pleasure to receive you. At what time we may expect Lady Hesketh at present I know not; but imagine that at any time after the month of June you will be sure to find her with us, which I mention, knowing that to meet you will add a relish to all the pleasures fhe can find at Wefton. When I wrote those lines on the Queen's vifit, I thought I had performed well; but it belongs to me, as I have told you before, to diflike whatever I write when it has been written a month. The performance was, therefore, finking in my esteem, when your approbation of it arriving in good time, buoyed it up again. It will now keep poffeffion of the place it holds in my good opinion, because it has been favoured with yours; and a copy will certainly be at your service whenever you choose to have one. Nothing is more certain than that when I wrote the line, God made the country, and man made the town, I had not the leaft recollection of that very fimilar one, which you quote from Hawkins Brown. It convinces me that critics (and none more than Warton, in his Notes on Milton's minor Poems) have often charged authors with borrowing what they drew from their own fund. Brown was an entertaining companion when he had drank his bottle, but not before; this proved a fnare to him, and he would fometimes drink too much; but I know not that he was chargeable with any other irregu larities. He had those among his intimates, who would not have been fuch, had he been otherwife viciously inclined; the Duncombs, in particular, father and fon, who were of unblemished morals. W. C. ON THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO LONDON, The Night of 17th March, 1789. WHEN long fequefter'd from his throne. By right of worth, not blood alone, Entitled here to reign! Then loyalty, with all her lamps New trimm'd, a gallant fhow! 'Twas hard to tell, of streets, or fquares, Bright fhone the roofs, the domes, the spires, Amid the vault of heaven. So, fire with water to compare, Had all the pageants of the world In one proceffion join'd, And all the banners been unfurl'd For no fuch fight had England's Queen Where George recover'd made a scene Yet glad fhe came that night to prove A witness undefcried, How much the object of her love Darkness the skies had mantled o'er In aid of her design Darkness, O Queen! ne'er call'd before To veil a deed of thine ! On borrow'd wheels away fhe flies, Refolv'd to be unknown, Arriv'd, a night like noon fhe fees, Pleas'd fhe beheld aloft portray'd Emblems of health, and heav'nly aid, Unlike the enigmatic line, So difficult to spell ! Which fhook Belfhazzar, at his wine, The night his city fell. Soon, watery grew her eyes, and dim, It was a scene in every part And feem'd by some magician's art But other magic there she knew Had been exerted, none, That cordial thought her fpirit cheer'd, |