cious observations upon this popular and original performance. After a slight sketch of the story, she observes,

missed glowing with the conscious triumphs of virtue.-Introd. pp. lxxxiii. lxxxiv.

nigh estimation in which this work was once held by all ranks of people, Mrs. Barbauld subjoins some very acute and judicious observations both on its literary merits and its "The plot, as we have seen, is simple, and no moral tendency. We cannot find room for the underplots interfere with the main design-no diwhole of this critique; but there is so much gressions, no episodes. It is wonderful that, without good sense and propriety in the following pas- these helps of common writers, he could support a sage, that we cannot refrain from inserting it. work of such length. With Clarissa it begins,with Clarissa it ends. We do not come upon un"So long as Pamela is solely occupied in schemes expected adventures and wonderful recognitions, by to escape from her persecutor, her virtuous resist- quick turns and surprises: We see her fate from ance obtains our unqualified approbation; but from afar, as it were through a long avenue, the gradual the moment she begins to entertain hopes of mar- approach to which, without ever losing sight of the rying him, we admire her guarded prudence, rather object, has more of simplicity and grandeur than the than her purity of mind. She has an end in view, most cunning labyrinth that can be contrived by an interested end; and we can only consider her as art. In the approach to the modern country seat, the conscious possessor of a treasure, which she is we are made to catch transiently a side-view of it wisely resolved not to part with but for its just price. through an opening of the trees, or to burst upon it Her staying in his house a moment after she found from a sudden turning in the road; but the old herself at liberty to leave it, was totally unjustifiable: mansion stood full in the eye of the traveller, as he her repentant lover ought to have followed her to drew near it, contemplating its turrets, which grew her father's cottage, and to have married her from larger and more distinct every step that he adthence. The familiar footing upon which she con- vanced; and leisurely filling his eye and his imagindescends to live with the odious Jewkes, shows ation with still increasing ideas of its magnificence. also, that her fear of offending the man she hoped As the work advances, the character rises; the to make her husband, had got the better of her distress is deepened; our hearts are torn with pity delicacy and just resentment; and the same fear and indignation; bursts of grief succeed one another, leads her to give up her correspondence with honest till at length the mind is composed and harmonized Mr. Williams, who had generously sacrificed his with emotions of milder sorrow; we are calmed interest with his patron in order to effect her deliv-into resignation, elevated with pious hope, and diserance. In real life, we should, at this period, consider Pamela as an interesting girl: but the author says, she married Mr. B. because he had won her affection: and we are bound, it may be said, to believe an author's own account of his characters. But again, it is quite natural that a girl, who had such a genuine love for virtue, should feel her heart attracted to a man who was endeavouring to destroy that virtue? Can a woman value her honour infi- "In one instance, however, Clarissa certainly nitely above her life, and hold in serious detestation sins against the delicacy of her character, that is, every word and look contrary to the nicest purity, in allowing herself to be made a show of to the and yet be won by those very attempts against her loose companions of Lovelace. But, how does her honour to which she expresses so much repugnance? character rise, when we come to the more distress-His attempts were of the grossest nature; and ful scenes; the view of her horror, when, deluded previous to, and during those attempts, he endeav-by the pretended relations, she re-enters the fatal oured to intimidate her by sternness. He puts on house; her temporary insanity after the outrage, in the master too much, to win upon her as the lover. which she so affectingly holds up to Lovelace the liCan affection be kindled by outrage and insult?cence he had procured, and her dignified behaviour Surely, if her passions were capable of being awawhen she first sees her ravisher, after the perpetra. kened in his favour, during such a persecution, the tion of his crime! What finer subject could be precircumstance would be capable of an interpretation sented to the painter, than the prison scene, where very little consistent with that delicacy the author she is represented kneeling amidst the gloom and meant to give her. The other alternative is, that horror of that dismal abode; illuminating, as it were, the dark chamber, her face reclined on her she married him for crossed arms, her white garments floating round "The gilt coach and dappled Flanders mares.' her in the negligence of woe; Belford contemplating Indeed, the excessive humility and gratitude ex- her with respectful commiseration: Or, the scene pressed by herself and her parents on her exaltation, of calmer but heart-piercing sorrow, in the interview shews a regard to rank and riches beyond the just Colonel Morden has with her in her dying momeasure of an independent mind. The pious good-ments! She is represented fallen into a slumber, in man Andrews should not have thought his virtuous daughter so infinitely beneath her licentious master, who, after all, married her to gratify his own passions. Introd. pp. lxiii.-lxvi.

The first part of this work, which concludes with the marriage of the heroine, was written in three months; and was founded, it seems, on a real story which had been related to Richardson by a gentleman of his acquaintance. It was followed by a second part, confessedly very inferior to the first, and was ridiculed by Fielding in his Joseph Andrews; an offence for which he was never forgiven.

Within eight years after the appearance of Pamela, Richardson's reputation may be said to have attained its zenith, by the successive publication of the volumes of his Clarissa. We have great pleasure in laying before our readers a part of Mrs. Barbaul ''s very judi

She then makes some excellent remarks on the conduct of the story, and on the characters that enliven it; on that of the heroine, she observes,

her elbow-chair, leaning on the widow Lovick, whose left arm is around her neck: one faded cheek resting on the good woman's bosom, the kindly warmth of which had overspread it with a faintish flush, the other pale and hollow, as if already iced over by death; her hands, the blueness of the veins contrasting their whiteness, hanging lifeless before her-the widow's tears dropping unfelt upon her face-Colonel Morden, with his arms folded, gazing on her in silence, her coffin just appearing behind a screen. What admiration, what reverence, does the author inspire us with for the innocent sufferer, the sufferings too of such a peculiar nature!

There is something in virgin purity, to which the imagination willingly pays homage. In all ages, something saintly has been attached to the idea of unblemished chastity; but it was reserved for Richardson to overcome all circumstances of dis. honour and disgrace, and to throw a splendour around the violated virgin, more radiant than she possessed in her first bloom. Ile has drawn tho

triumph of mental chastity; he has drawn it uncontaminated, untarnished, and incapable of mingling with pollution.-The scenes which follow the death of the heroine, exhibit grief in an affecting variety of forms, as it is modified by the characters of different survivors. They run into considerable length, but we have been so deeply interested, that we feel it a relief to have our grief drawn off, as it were, by a variety of sluices, and we are glad not to be dismissed till we have shed tears, even to satiety."-Introd. pp. xciii.-xcvii.

This criticism we think is equally judicious and refined; and we could easily prolong this extract, in a style not at all inferior. With regard to the morality of the work, Mrs. Barbauld is very indignant at the notion of its being intended to exhibit a rare instance of female chastity.

She objects with some reason, to the number of interviews which Clarissa is represented to have had with Lovelace after the catastrophe; and adds, "If the reader, on casually opening the book, can doubt of any scene between them, whether it passes before or after the outrage, that scene is one too much.". The character of Lovelace, she thinks, is very much of a fancy piece; and affirms, that our national manners do not admit of the existence of an original. If he had been placed in France, she observes, and his gallantries directed to married women, it might have been more natural; "but, in England, Lovelace would have been run through the body, long before he had seen the face either of Clarissa or Colonel Morden."

Mrs. Barbauld gives us a copious account of the praise and admiration that poured in upon the author from all quarters, on the publication of this extraordinary work: he was overwhelmed with, complimentary letters, messages, and visits. But we are most gratified with the enthusiasm of one of his female correspondents, who tells him that she is very sorry, that he was not a woman, and blest with the means of shining as Clarissa did; for a person capable of drawing such a character, would certainly be able to act in the same manner, if in a like situation!"'

man whose study it is to avoid fighting is not quite
so likely as another to be the best."
Introd. pp. cxxvii. cxxviii.

Besides his great works, Richardson published only a paper in the Rambler (the 97th); an edition of Æsop's Fables, with Reflections; and a volume of Familiar Letters for the use of persons in inferior situations. It was this latter work which gave occasion to Pamela : it is excellently adapted to its object, and we think may be of singular use to Mr. Wordsworth and his friends in their great scheme of turning all our poetry into the language of the common people. In this view, we recommend it very earnestly to their consideration.

There is little more to be said of the transactions or events of Richardson's life. His books were pirated by the Dublin booksellers: at which he was very angry, and could obtain no redress. He corresponded with a great number of females; and gradually withdrew himself from the fatigues of business to his country residence at Parson's Green; where his life was at last terminated in 1761, by a stroke of apoplexy, at the age of seventy-two.

His moral character was in the highest degree exemplary and amiable. He was temperate, industrious, and upright; punctual and honourable in all his dealings; and with a kindness of heart, and a liberality and generosity of disposition, that must have made him a very general favourite, even if he had never acquired any literary distinction.-He had a considerable share of vanity, and was observed to talk more willingly on the subject of his own works than on any other. The lowness of his original situation, and the lateness of his introduction into polite society, had given to his manners a great shyness and reserve; and a consciousness of his awkwardness and his merit together, rendered him somewhat jealous in his intercourse with persons in more conspicuous situations, and made him require more courting and attention, than every one was disposed to pay. He had high notions of parental authority, and does not seem always quite satisfied with the share of veneration which his wife could be prevailed on to show for him. He was particularly partial to the society of females; and lived, indeed, as Mrs. Barbauld has expressed it, in a flower-garden of ladies. Mrs. Barbauld will have it, that this was in the way of his profession as an author; and that he frequented their society "Sir Charles, as a Christian, was not to fight a to study the female heart, and instruct himduel; yet he was to be recognised as the finished self in all the niceties of the female characgentleman, and could not be allowed to want the ter. From the tenor of the correspondence most essential part of the character, the deportment now before us, however, we are more inclinof a man of honour, courage, and spirit. And, in ed to believe, with Dr. Johnson, that this parorder to exhibit his spirit and courage, it was neces- tiality was owing to his love of continual sary to bring them into action by adventures and superiority, and that he preferred the converrencounters. His first appearance is in the rescue of Miss Byron, a meritorious action, but one which sation of ladies, because they were more must necessarily expose him to a challenge. How lavish of their admiration, and more easily enmust the author untie this knot? He makes him gaged to descant on the perplexities of Sir so very good a swordsman, that he is always capa- Charles, or the distresses of Clarissa. His ble of disarming his adversary without endangering close application to business, and the sedeneither of their lives. But are a man's principles to depend on the science of his fencing-master? tary habits of a literary life, had materially Every one cannot have the skill of Sir Charles; injured his health: He loved to complain, as every one cannot be the best swordsman; and the most invalids do who have any hope of being

After Clarissa, at an interval of about five years, appeared his Sir Charles Grandison. Upon this work, also, Mrs. Barbauld has made many excellent observations, and pointed out both its blemishes and beauties, with a very delicate and discerning hand. Our limits will not permit us to enter upon this disquisition: we add only the following acute paragraph.

listened to, and scarcely writes a letter with- | in question, will be at no loss to comprehend out some notice of his nervous tremors, his the reasons of the unqualified reprehension giddiness and catchings. "I had originally we are inclined to bestow on their publicaa good constitution," he says, in one place, tion. For the information of those who have "and hurt it by no intemperance, but that of not had an opportunity of seeing them, we application." may observe that, so far from containing any În presenting our readers with this imper-view of the literature, the politics, or manners fect summary of Mrs. Barbauld's biographical of the times-any anecdotes of the eminent dissertation, we have discharged by far the and extraordinary personages to whom the most pleasing part of our task; and proceed author had access or any pieces of elegant to the consideration of the correspondence composition, refined criticism, or interesting which it introduces, with considerable heavi- narrative, they consist almost entirely of comness of spirit, and the most unfeigned reluct-pliments and minute criticisms on his novels, ance. The letters are certainly authentic; a detail of his ailments and domestic conand they were bought, we have no doubt, for cerns, and some tedious prattling disputations a fair price from the legal proprietors: but with his female correspondents, upon the their publication, we think, was both im- duties of wives and children; the whole so proper and injudicious, as it can only tend to loaded with gross and reciprocal flattery, as lower a very respectable character, without to be ridiculous at the outset, and disgusting communicating any gratification or instruction in the repetition. Compliments and the novels to others. We are told, indeed, in the pre-form indeed the staples of the whole corresface, "that it was the employment of Mr. pondence: we meet with the divine Clarissa, Richardson's declining years, to select and and the more divine Sir Charles, in every arrange the collection from which this publi-page, and are absolutely stunned with the cation has been made; and that he always clamorous raptures and supplications with looked forward to their publication at some distant period;" nay, "that he was not without thoughts of publishing them in his lifetime; and that, after his death, they remained in the hands of his last surviving daughter, upon whose decease they became the property of his grandchildren, and were purchased from them at a very liberal price by Mr. Phillips." We have no doubt that what Mrs. Barbauld has here stated to the public, was stated to her by her employers: But we cannot read any one volume of the letters, without being satisfied that the idea of such a publication could only come into the mind of Richardson, after his judgment was impaired by the infirmities of "declining years;" and we have observed some passages in those which are now published, that seem to prove sufficiently his own consciousness of the impropriety of such an exposure, and the absence of any idea of giving them to the world. In the year 1755, when nine-tenths of the whole collection must have been completed, we find him expressing himself in these words to his friend Mr. Edwards:

"I am employing myself at present in looking over and sorting and classing my correspondences and other papers. This, when done, will amuse me, by reading over again a very ample correspondence, and in comparing the sentiments of my correspondents, at the time, with the present, and improving from both. The many letters and papers I shall destroy will make an executor's work the easier; and if any of my friends desire their letters to be returned, they will be readily come at for that purpose. Otherwise they will amuse and direct my children, and teach them to honour their father's friends in their closets for the favours done him."

Vol. iii. pp. 113, 114.

Accordingly, they remained in the closet till the death of the last of his children; and then the whole collection is purchased by a bookseller, and put into the hands of an editor, who finds it expedient to suppress twothirds of it!

Those who have looked into the volumes

which the female train demand the conversion of Lovelace, and the death or restoration of Clementina. Even when the charming books are not the direct subject of the correspondence, they appear in eternal allusions, and settle most of the arguments by an authoritative quotation. In short, the Clarissa and Grandison are the scriptures of this congregation; and the members of it stick as close to their language upon all occasions, as any of our sectaries ever did to that of the Bible. The praises and compliments, again, which are interchanged among all the parties, are so extremely hyperbolical as to be ludicrous, and so incessant as to be excessively fatiguing. We shall trouble our readers with but a very few specimens.

The first series of letters is from Aaron Hill, a poet of some notoriety, it seems, in his day; but, if we may judge from these epistles, a very bad composer in prose. The only amusing things we have met with in this volume of his inditing, are his prediction of his own great fame, and the speedy downfal of Pope's; and his scheme for making English wine of a Of Pope he says, that he died "in the wane superior quality to any that can be imported. of his popularity; and that it arose originally only from meditated little personal assiduities, and a certain bladdery swell of management." And a little after

"But rest his memory in peace! It will very rarely be disturbed by that time he himself is ashes. It is pleasant to observe the justice of forced fame; she lets down those, at once, who got themselves pushed upward; and lifts none above the fear of falling, but a few who never teased her.

"What she intends to do with me, the Lord knows!"-Vol. i. p. 107.

In another place he adds, "For my part, I am afraid to be popular; I see so many who write to the living, and deserve not to live, that I content myself with a resurrection when dead:" And after lamenting the unpopularity of some of his writings, he says

"But there will arise a time in which they | no sort of relation to Richardson or his writwill be seen in a far different light. I know ings), and sets off in this manner:

it on a surer hope than that of vanity." The wine project, which is detailed in many pages, requires no notice. As a specimen of the adulation with which Richardson was incensed by all his correspondents, we may add the following sentences.

"Where will your wonders end? or how could I be able to express the joy it gives me to discern your genius rising with the grace and boldness of a pillar! &c. Go on, dear sir (I see you will and must), to charm and captivate the world, and force a scribbling race to learn and practise one rare virtue-to be pleased with what disgraces them." "There is a manner (so beyond the matter, extraordinary too as that is) in whatever you say or do, that makes it an impossibility to speak those sentiments which it is equally impossible not to conceive in reverence and affection for your good

ness."

In allusion to the promise of Sir Charles, he says

"I am greatly pleased at the hint you gave of a design to raise another Alps upon this Appenine: we can never see too many of his works who has no equal in his labours."

These passages, we believe, will satisfy most readers; but those who have any desire to see more, may turn up any page in the volume: It may be of some use, perhaps, as a great commonplace for the materials of "soft dedication."

The next series of letters is from Miss Fielding, who wrote David Simple, and Miss Collier, who assisted in writing The Cry. What modern reader knows any thing about the Cry, or David Simple? And if the elaborate performances of these ladies have not been thought worthy of public remembrance, what likelihood is there that their private and confidential letters should be entitled to any notice? They contain nothing, indeed, that can be interesting to any description of readers; and only prove that Richardson was indulgent and charitable to them, and that their gratitude was a little too apt to degenerate into flattery.

him

"Thou frolicsome farce of fortune! What! Is

there another act of you to come then? I was afraid, some time ago, you had made your last exit. Well! but without wit or compliment, I am glad to hear you are so tolerably alive," &c.

We can scarcely conceive that this pitiful slang could appear to Mrs. Barbauld like the pleasantry of a man of fashion. His letters to Richardson are, if any thing, rather more despicable. After reading some of the proof sheets of Sir Charles, he writes,

"Z-ds! I have not patience, till I know what has become of her. Why, you-I do not know what to call you!-Ah! ah! you may laugh if you please: but how will you be able to look me in the face, if the lady should ever be able to show hers again? What piteous, dd, disgraceful pickle have you plunged her in? For God's sake send me the sequel; or—I dont know what to say!—' The following is an entire letter:

"The delicious meal I made of Miss Byron on Sunday last has given me an appetite for another slice of her, off from the spit, before she is served up to the public table. If about five o'clock tomorrow afternoon will not be inconvenient, Mrs. Brown and I will come and piddle upon a bit more of her but pray let your whole family, with Mrs. Richardson at the head of them, come in for their share. This, sir, will make me more and more yours," &c.

After these polite effusions, we have a correspondence with Mr. Edwards, the author of the Canons of Criticism, a good deal of which is occupied as usual with flattery and mutual compliments, and the rest with consultations about their different publications. Richardson exclaims, "O that you could resolve to publish your pieces in two pretty volumes!" And Mr. Edwards sends him long epistles in exaltation of Sir Charles and Clarissa. It is in this correspondence that we meet with the first symptom of that most absurd and illiberal prejudice which Richardson indulged against all the writings of Fielding. He writes to Mr. Edwards

he thought he had vogue enough, from the success his spurious brat Tom Jones so unaccountably met with, to write down, but who have turned his own artillery against him, and beat him out of the field, and made him even poorly in his Court of Criticism give up his Amelia, and promise to write no more on the like subjects."-Vol. iii. pp. 33-34.

"Mr. Fielding has met with the disapprobation The letters of Mrs. Pilkington and of Colley you foresaw he would meet with, of his Amelia. Cibber appear to us to be still less worthy of He is, in every paper he publishes under the title publication. The former seems to have been of the Common Garden, contributing to his own a profligate, silly actress, reduced to beggary overthrow. He has been overmatched in his own in her old age, and distressed by the miscon-way by people whom he had despised, and whom duct of her ill-educated children. The compassionate heart of Richardson led him to pity and relieve her; and she repays with paltry adulation, interlarded, in the bombastic style of the green room, with dramatic misquotations misapplied. Of the letters of Cibber, Mrs. B. says that "they show in This, however, is but a small specimen of every line the man of wit and the man of the his antipathy. He says to his French transworld." We are sorry to dissent from so re-lator, "Tom Jones is a dissolute book. Its run spectable an opinion; but the letters appear is over, even with us. Is it true that France to us in every respect contemptible and dis-had virtue enough to refuse to license such a gusting; without one spark of wit or genius profligate performance?" But the worst of of any sort, and bearing all the traces of all is the followingvanity, impudence, affectation, and superannuated debauchery, which might have been expected from the author. His first epistle is to Mrs. Pilkington (for the editor has more than once favoured us with letters that have

"I have not been able to read any more than the first volume of Amelia. Poor Fielding! I could not help telling his sister, that I was equally sur. prised at, and concerned for, his continued lowness Had your brother, said I, been born in a stable, or

been a runner at a sponging house, we should have thought him a genius, and wished he had had the advantage of a liberal education, and of being admitted into good company; but it is beyond my conception, that a man of family, and who had some learning, and who really is a writer, should descend so excessively low in all his pieces. Who can care for any of his people? A person of honour asked me, the other day, what he could mean, by saying, in his Covent Garden Journal, that he had followed Homer and Virgil in his Amelia? I answered, that he was justified in saying so, because he must mean Cotton's Virgil Travestied, where the women are drabs, and the men Scoundrels."-Vol. vi. pp. 154, 155.

It is lamentable that such things should have been written confidentially; it was surely unnecessary to make them public.

happy as I am in love, so happy am I in friendship, in my mother, two elder sisters, and five other women. How rich I am!"-Vol. iii. pp. 146-149. One of the best letters is dated from Tunbridge in 1751. We shall venture on an extract.

"But here, to change the scene, to see Mr. Walsh at eighty (Mr. Cibber calls him papa), and Mr. Cibber at seventy-seven, hunting after new faces; and thinking themselves happy if they can obtain the notice and familiarity of a fine woman!-How ridiculous!

"Mr. Cibber was over head and ears in love with Miss Chudleigh. Her admirers (such was his happiness!) were not jealous of him; but, pleased with that wit in him which they had not, were always for calling him to her. She said pretty things-for she was Miss Chudleigh. He said pretty things— for he was Mr. Cibber; and all the company, men After the dismissal of Mr. Edwards, we and women, seemed to think they had an interest meet with two or three very beautiful and in what was said, and were half as well pleased as interesting letters from Mrs. Klopstock, the if they had said the sprightly things themselves; first wife of the celebrated German poet. hand repeaters of the pretty things. But once I and mighty well contented were they to be secondThey have pleased us infinitely beyond any faced the laureate squatted upon one of the benches, thing else in the collection; but how far they with a face more wrinkled than ordinary with dis are indebted for the charm we have found in appointment. 'I thought,' said I, you were of the them to the lisping innocence of the broken party at the tea treats-Miss Chudleigh is gone into English in which they are written, or to their the tea-room.'- Pshaw!' said he, there is no coming at her, she is so surrounded by the toupets.' intrinsic merit, we cannot pretend to deter-And I left him upon the fret-But he was called mine. We insert the following account of her courtship and marriage.

to soon after; and in he flew, and his face shone again, and looked smooth.

"After having seen him two hours, I was obliged here, but of a very different turn; the noted Mr. "Another extraordinary old man we have had to pass the evening in a company, which never had Whiston, showing eclipses, and explaining other been so wearisome to me. I could not speak, I phenomena of the stars, and preaching the millencould not play; I thought I saw nothing but Klop-nium and anabaptism (for he is now, it seems, of stock. I saw him the next day, and the following that persuasion) to gay people, who, if they have and we were very seriously friends. But the fourth white teeth, hear him with open mouths, though day he departed. It was an strong hour the hour of his departure! He wrote soon after, and from perhaps shut hearts; and after his lecture is over, not a bit the wiser, run from him the more eagerly that time our correspondence began to be a very to C-r and W-sh, and to flutter among the louddiligent one. I sincerely believed my love to be laughing young fellows upon the walks, like boys friendship. I spoke with my friends of nothing and girls at a breaking up."-Vol. iii. p. 316-319. but Klopstock, and showed his letters. They raillied at me, and said I was in love. I raillied them again, and said that they must have a very friendshipless heart, if they had no idea of friend ship to a man as well as to a woman. Thus it continued eight months, in which time my friends found as much love in Klopstock's letters as in me. I perceived it likewise, but I would not believe it. At the last Klopstock said plainly that he loved; and I startled as for a wrong thing. I answered, that it was no love, but friendship, as it was what I felt for him; we had not seen one another enough

As Richardson was in the habit of Hattering his female correspondents, by asking their advice (though he never followed it) as to the conduct of his works, he prevailed on a certain Lady Echlin to communicate a new catastrophe which she had devised for his Clarissa. She had reformed Lovelace, by means of a Dr. Christian, and made him die of remorse, though the last outrage is not to love (as if love must have more time than friend- supposed to be committed. How far Lady ship!) This was sincerely my meaning, and I had Echlin's epistles are likely to meet with this meaning till Klopstock came again to Ham-readers, in this fastidious age, may be conburg. This he did a year after we had seen one jectured, from the following specimen. another the first time. We saw, we were friends, "I heartily wish every Christain would read and we loved; and we believed that we loved: and, a short time after, I could even tell Klopstock that I wisely consider Mr. Skelton's fine and pious lesloved. But we were obliged to part again, and man's zeal; it is laudable and necessary, especially I admire the warmth of this learned gentlewait two years for our wedding. My mother in an age like this, which, for its coldness (he obwould not let me marry a stranger. I could marry then without her consentment, as by the death of serves) may be called the winter of Christianity.' my father my fortune depended not on her; but A melancholy truth, elegantly expressed! I have this was an horrible idea for me; and thank Hea-only perused a small part of this divine piece, and ven that I have prevailed by prayers! At this am greatly delighted with what I have read. I am also very fond time knowing Klopstock, she loves him as her Surely he is a heavenly man. lifely son, and thanks God that she has not per- of Dr. Clark: and excellent good Seed! I thank sisted. We married, and I am the happiest wife you, sir, for introducing another wise charmer, not in the world. In some few months it will be four less worthy of every body's regard. He merits attenyears that I am so happy, and still I dote upon tion, and religiously commands it."—Vol. v. p. 40. Klopstock as if he was my bridegroom.

"If you knew my husband, you would not wonder. If you knew his poem, I could describe him very briefly, in saying he is in all respects what he is as a poet. This I can say with all wifely modesty. But I dare not to speak of my husband; I am all raptures when I do it. And as

sons.

Next come several letters from the Reverend Mr. Skelton, mostly on the subject of the Dublin piracy, and the publication of some works of his own. He seems to have been a man of strong, coarse sense, but extremely irritable. Some delay in the publication of