and fet as they will; I know not whether it is day or whether it is

night; the whole world is now nothing to me.

LETTER XIII.

Y days are as happy as those

MY

which are reserved for the Elect; and whatever may be my

1

fate hereafter, I will never fay that I have not tafted happiness, and the purest happiness of life. You know Walheim; I am now entirely fettled there: there I am but half a league from Charlotte; there I enjoy my

9

felf,

felf, and all the pleasure that a mortal

is capable of. When I chofe Walheim for the end of my walks, I little thought that all heaven was fo near it. How many times, in my long rambles, have I feen this hunting-lodge, which now contains the object of all my vows, fometimes from the top of the hill, fometimes from the meadow on the oppofite fide of the river.

I have often reflected on the defire men have to extend themselves, and to make new discoveries; and upon that fecret impulfe, which afterwards inclines them to return to their circle, to conform to the laws

of custom, and to embarrass themfelves no longer with what paffes either to the right or to the left.

When I firft came hither, and

from the top of the hill contemplated the beauties of this vale, you 'cannot imagine how I was attracted by every thing I faw round me. The little wood oppofite, how delightful to fit under its fhade! how fine the view from that point of rock! How agreeably might one wander in those close valleys, and amongst thofe broken hills! I went and came without having found what I wifhed. Diftance, my dear friend, is like futurity; a darkness is placed

before

before us, and the perceptions of

our mind are as obfcure as diftant objects are to our fight. We ardently with for a warm and noble energy which might take poffeffion of our fouls; we would facrifice our whole being to be filled with fuch a fentiment.

So the most determined traveller returns at length to his country, and finds in his own cottage, in the arms of his wife, in the fociety of his children, and in the labour neceffary to maintain them, all the happiness which he fought in vain in the vaft deferts of the world.

When I go to Walheim at funrife, gather my own peafe, and fit

in a corner to fhell them, and read Homer; when I go into the little kitchen and make a foup of them, I figure to myself the illuftrious lovers of Penelope killing and dreffing their own meat. All defcriptions of the patriarchal life give me the most calm and agreeable ideas; and now, thank Heaven, I can compare to it the life I lead myself. Happy it is for me that my heart is capable of feeling the fame fimple and innocent pleasure, as the peasant who fees on his table the cabbage he has raised with his own hand; and who not only enjoys his meal, but remembers also, with delight, the