There is some hope, I find, that the Chancellor may continue in office, and I shall be glad if he does; because we have no single man worthy to succeed him.

I

open my Letter again to thank you, my dearest Coz. for yours just received. Though happy, as you well know to see you at all times, we have no need, and I trust shall have none, to trouble you with a journey made on purpose; yet once again, I am willing and desirous to believe, we shall be a happy trio at Weston; but unless necessity dictates a journey of charity, I wish all yours hither to be made for pleasure. Farewell.-Thou shalt know how we go on.

To Dr. AUSTIN,

OF CECIL STREET, LONDON.

Austin! accept a grateful Verse from me!
The Poet's treasure! no inglorious fee !·
Lov'd by the Muses, thy ingenuous mind
Pleasing requital in a Verse may find;
Verse oft has dash'd the scythe of Time aside,
Immortalizing names, which else had died:

VOL. II.

H

And

And Oh! could I command the glittering wealth,
With which sick kings are glad to purchase health;
Yet, if extensive fame, and sure to live,.

Were in the power of Verse like mine to give,
I would not recompence his art with less,
Who, giving Mary health, heals my distress.

Friend of my friend! I love thee, tho' unknown,
And boldly call thee, being his, my own.

insensible animal, as to have neglected you thus long without a

I cannot say that I am sorry that our dear Jolinny finds the pulpit door shut against him at present. He is young, and can afford to wait another year; neither is it to be regretted, that his time of preparation for an office of so much importance as that of a Minister of God's word, should have been a little protracted. It is easier to direct the movements of a great army, than to guide a few souls to Heaven; the way is narrow, and full of snares, and the guide

himself

himself has the most difficulties to encounter. But I trust he will do well. He is single in his views, honest-hearted, and desirous by prayer and study of the Scripture, to qualify himself for the service of his great Master, who will suffer no such man to fail for want of his aid and protection.

Which words I place as conspicuously

as possible, and prefix them to my Letter, to save you the pain, my Friend and Brother, of a moment's anxious speculation. Poor Mary proceeds in her amendment still, and improves, I think, even at a swifter rate than when you left her. The stronger she grows, the faster she gathers strength, which is perhaps the natural course of recovery. She walked so well this morning, that she told me at: my first visit, she had entirely forgot her illness, and she spoke so distinctly, and had so much her usual countenance, that had it, been possible, she would have made me forget it too.

Returned from my walk, blown to tatters found two dear things in the study, your Letter, and my Mary! She is bravely

well, and your beloved epistle does us both good. I found your kind pencil-note in my song-book, as soon as I came down on the morning of your departure, and Mary was vexed to the heart, that the simpletons who watched her, supposed her asleep, when she was not, for she learned soon after you were gone, that you would have peeped at her, had you known her to have been awake: I perhaps might have had a peep too, and therefore was as vexed as she: but if it please God, we shall make ourselves large amends for all lost peeps by and by at Eartham.

LETTER XXVI.

上

TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, Esqr.

W.C.

Weston, June 5, 1792.

Yesterday was a noble day with us

speech almost perfect-eyes open almost the whole day, without any effort to keep them so; and the step wonderfully improved. But the night has been almost a sleepless one, owing partly I believe to her having had as much sleep again as usual the night before: for even when she is in tolerable health, she hardly ever sleeps well two nights together. I found her accordingly a little out of spirits this morning, but still insisting on it, that she is better. Indeed she always tells me so, and will probably die with those very words upon her lips. They will be true then at least, for then she

will be best of all.

She is now (the clock has just struck Eleven) endeavouring, I believe, to get a little sleep, for which reason I do not yet let her know that I have received your Letter.

Can I ever honour you enough for your zeal to serve me? Truly I think not: I am however so sensible of the love I owe you on this account, that I every day regret the acuteness of your feelings for me, convinced that they expose you to much trouble, mortification, and disappointment.. I have in short a poor opinion of my destiny, as I told you when you were here, and though I believe that if any man living can do me good, you will, I cannot yet persuade myself, that even you will be successful in attempting it. But it is no matter; you are yourself a good, which I can never value enough, and whether rich or poor in other respects, I shall always account myself better provided for than I deserve, with such a friend at my back as you. Let it please God to continue to me my William and Mary, and I will be more reasonable than to grumble.

I rose this morning wrapt round with a cloud of melancholy, and with a heart full of fears, but if I see Mary's amendment a little advanced, when she rises, I shall be better.

I have just been with her again. Except that she is fatigued for want of sleep, she seems as well as yesterday. The post brings me a Letter from Hurdis, who is broken-hearted for a dying Sister.

Had