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wrinkled, wan creature, who is fo far right to difregard the world, that the world totally difregards her; an antiquated fcold, who affects to be learned, pretends to examine the canonical books, lends her affiftance towards the new reformation, moral and critical, of the Chriftian religion, and fhrugs up her fhoulders at the mention of Lavater's enthufiafm. Her health is deftroyed, and hinders her from having any enjoyment here below. Such a being only could have cut down my walnut-trees. No, I cannot get over it. Would you hear her reafons? the leaves which fell from them made the

VOL. II.

F

court

court wet and dirty; the trees obftructed the lights little boys threw ftones at the nuts, and the noise af

fected her nerves, and disturbed her profound meditations when fhe was weighing in the balance Kennicott, Semler, and Michaelis. When I found that all the parish was difpleased, and particularly the old people, I asked them why they suffered it?" Ah! Sir," they faid,

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when the fteward orders, what

can we poor peasants do ?" However one thing has happened very well; the steward and the vicar (who for once thought to reap fome advantage from the caprices of his

wife) intended to divide the trees between them. The revenue-office being informed of it, took poffeffion of the trees, and fold them to the best bidder, There they still lie on the ground. Oh! if I was a fovereign prince, how I would deal with the vicar, the steward, and the revenueoffice!-But if I was a prince, what fhould I care for the trees that grew

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is to me happiness. What

grieves me is, that Albert does not

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feem so happy as he expected to beas I fhould have been.-If-I don't much love fufpenfions; but here I cannot express myself any otherwise. -Heavens and am I not explicit enough?

LETTER LXI.

October 12.

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SSIAN has taken the place

of Homer in my heart and imagination. To what a world does the illuftrious bard carry me! To wander in heaths and wilds, furrounded by impetuous whirlwinds,

in which, by the feeble light of the moon, we discover the fpirits of our ancestors;-to hear from the top of the mountains, amidst the roaring of the waters, their plaintive founds iffuing from deep caverns, and the forrowful lamentations of a maiden who fighs and dies on the moffy tomb of the warrior by whom she was adored! I meet this bard with filver hair; he wanders in the valley, he feeks the footsteps of his fathers. Alas! he finds only their tombs! Then contemplating the pale moon as she finks beneath the waves of the foaming fea, the memory of time past strikes the mind

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