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My best compliments to Mrs. Wharton and the family. Our weather till Christmas continued mild and open; 28 Dec. some snow fell, but did not lie. The 4th of January was stormy and snowy, which was often repeated during that month. And yet the latter half of it was warm and gentle. 18th Feb. was snow again, the rest of it mostly fine. Snow again on 15 March; from 20th to 30th of March was cold and dry, wind East, or North East; on the 31st rain, from thence till within a week past, wind North West, or North East, with much hail and sleet; and on 4th April, a thunder-storm. It is now fine spring weather.

1 March. First Violet appeared. Frogs abroad.

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1 April.

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Almond blowed; and Gooseberry spread its leaves.

Apricot blowed.

Violets in full bloom, and double Daffodils.

Wren singing. Double Jonquils.

LETTER XII.

MR. GRAY TO MR. BONSTETTEN.

April 19, 1770.

ALAS! how do I every moment feel the truth of what I have somewhere read, "Ce n'est pas le voir, que de s'en "souvenir;" and yet that remembrance is the only satisfaction I have left. My life now is but a conversation with your shadowthe known sound of your voice still rings in my ears—there, on the corner of the fender, you are standing, or tinkling on

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the piano-forte, or stretched at length on the sofa. Do you reflect, my dearest friend, that it is a week or eight days before I can receive a letter from you, and as much more before you can have my answer; that all that time I am employed, with more than Herculean toil, in pushing the tedious hours along, and wishing to annihilate them; the more I strive, the heavier they move, and the longer they grow. I cannot bear this place, where I have spent many tedious years within less than a month since you left me. I am going for a few days to see poor Nicholls, invited by a letter, wherein he mentions you in such terms as add to my regard for him, and express my own sentiments better than I can do myself. I am concerned," says he, "that I cannot pass my life with him; I never met "with any one who pleased and suited me so well: the miracle "to me is, how he comes to be so little spoiled: and the "miracle of miracles will be, if he continues so in the midst " of every danger and seduction, and without any advantages "but from his own excellent nature and understanding. I own I am very anxious for him on this account, and perhaps your inquietude may have proceeded from the same cause. I hope

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"I am to hear when he has passed that cursed sea, or will "he forget me thus in insulam relegatum? If he should it is "out of my power to retaliate."

Surely you have written to him, my dear Bonstetten, or surely you will! he has moved me with these gentle and sensible expressions of his kindness for you; are you untouched by them?

You do me the credit, and false or true it goes to my heart, of ascribing to me your love for many virtues of the highest rank. Would to heaven it were so! but they are indeed the fruits of your own noble and generous understanding,

which has hitherto struggled against the stream of custom, passion, i company, even when you were but a child; and will you now give way to that stream when your strength is increased? Shall the jargon of French sophists, the allurements of painted women comme il faut, or the vulgar caresses of prostitute beauty, the property of all who can afford to purchase it, induce you to give up a mind and body by nature distinguished from all others, to folly, idleness, disease, and vain remorse. Have a care, my ever amiable friend, of loving what you do not approve. Know me for your most faithful and most humble despote.

LETTER XIII.

MR. GRAY TO MR BONSTETTEN.

May 9th, 1770.

I AM returned, my dear Bonstetten, from the little journey I made into Suffolk, without answering the end proposed. The thought that you might have been with me there, has embittered all my hours. Your letter has made me happy, as happy as so gloomy, so solitary a being as I am, is capable of being made. I know, and have too often felt, the disadvantages I lay myself under; how much I hurt the little interest I have in you, by this air of sadness so contrary to your nature and present enjoyments: but sure you will forgive, though you cannot sympathize with me. It is impossible for me to dissemble with you; such as I am I expose my heart to

your view, nor wish to conceal a single thought from your penetrating eyes. All that you say to me, especially on the subject of Switzerland, is infinitely acceptable. It feels too pleasing

ever to be fulfilled, and as often as I read over your truly kind letter, written long since from London, I stop at these words: La mort qui peut glacer nos bras avant qu'ils soient 'entrelacées.'

LETTER XIV.

MR. GRAY TO MR. BEATTIE.

Pembroke Hall, July 2, 1770.

I REJOICE to hear that you are restored to better state of health, to your books, and to your muse once again. That forced dissipation and exercise we are obliged to fly to as a remedy, when this frail machine goes wrong, is often almost as bad as the distemper we would cure; yet I too have been constrained of late to pursue a like regimen, on account of certain pains in the head, (a sensation unknown to me before) and of great dejection of spirits. This, Sir, is the only excuse I have to make you for my long silence, and not (as perhaps you may have figured to yourself) any secret reluctance I had to tell you my mind concerning the specimen you so kindly sent me of your new Poem*: On the contrary, if I had seen any thing

* This letter was written in answer to one that inclosed only a part of the first book of the Minstrel in manuscript, and I believe a sketch of Mr. Beattie's plan for the whole.-Mason.

of importance to disapprove, I should have hastened to inform you, and never doubted of being forgiven. The truth is, I greatly like all I have seen, and wish to see more. The design is simple, and pregnant with poetical ideas of various kinds, yet seems somehow imperfect at the end. Why may not young Edwin, when necessity has driven him to take up the harp, and assume the profession of a Minstrel, do some great and singular service to his country? (what service I must leave to your invention) such as no General, no Statesman, no Moralist could do without the aid of music, inspiration, and poetry. This will not appear an improbability in those early times, and in a character then held sacred, and respected by all nations: Besides, it will be a full answer to all the Hermit has said, when he dissuaded him from cultivating these pleasing arts; it will show their use, and make the best panegyric of our favourite and celestial science. And lastly, (what weighs most with ine) it will throw more of action, pathos, and interest into your design, which already abounds in reflection and sentiment. As to description, I have always thought that it made the most graceful ornament of poetry, but never ought to make the subject. Your ideas are new, and borrowed from a mountainous country, the only one that can furnish truly picturesque scenery. Some trifles in the language or versification you will permit me to remark. (See Forbes's Life of Beattie, vol. I.

p. 197. Let. xlv. 4to.)

I will not enter at present into the merits of your Essay on Truth, because I have not yet given it all the attention it deserves, though I have read it through with pleasure; besides I am partial, for I have always thought David Hume a perni

A few paragraphs of particular criticism are here omitted. Published in Beattie's Life, by Forbes.

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