sing of that day's commemoration through an awful perspective, even through the valley and shadow of death, whose thorny paths it can smooth, whose darkness it can illuminate; that we were called upon to rejoice in it for the dead as for the living, since the grave is not for the soul, and since for all that gives the capacity of happiness, in a purer existence, we are indebted to the influence of the Holy Spirit. I chose the text from the 7th chapter of Job;-a verse than which I think there is nothing in Scripture more sublime. "The eyes of them that have seen me, shall see me no more—thine eyes are upon me—and I am not."

The young preacher spoke this oration with solemn earnestness, and unaffected sensibility.

While I employed myself in this mournful task, I sickened of the same disease which had been fatal to her whose memory I was endeavouring to consecrate a violent cough, and inflammation upon my lungs. Mine, however, was in a much milder degree-and, being a frequent complaint with me, I am not alarmed.

So Mr seems to think you ran a risk of disgusting the minister, by the warm glow of your praise—but if, where sincerity is not doubted, the ardour of deserved commendation does not cheer the spirit, and is not welcome to it, there

must be a comfortless intrenchment of ice about the heart.

I seem to feel some of those cold gales blowing about the integrity and the abilities which sustain and adorn your friend's sentiments and language—but it surprises me that an Englishman, writing to an Englishman, should disgrace his own rich language with the frippery of French phrases. Mr

is a very perfect character, and one is inclined to worship the full of days. Adieu.

LETTER XXIII.

WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ.

Lichfield, June 1, 1788.

INDEED, dear Mr Hayley, my heart bleeds for the intelligence your letter brings-mournful, bitter disappointment!-I, who on this occasion grieve infinitely for you, grieve not inconsiderably for myself. I had taken the most lively interest in the destiny of that gallant, accomplished, grateful young man, whom you had so generously adopted, and so admirably instructed. I had

nourished the hope of one day being honoured and happy in his friendship, through your kind interposition.

Almost two years since he committed so precious a freight to "that fatal, that perfidious bark!"-Were you not alarmed by so long a silence?--You probably formed some method of accounting for it, that preserved you from the rack of terrified suspense ;-more agonizing than even that certainty, which, alas! must have been yours from the instant you knew how long it is since he sailed for England. Giovanni is not less shocked than myself-O! my dear Mr H. that I could have been with you at Eartham, to have softened your griefs, by sharing them!-the only possible consolation in so deep a sorrow.

I once tasted this bitter cup of apprehension, which you are drinking to the dregs. In the winter 1770, I passed three miserable days and nights in well-founded alarm, for my sweet Honora's safety, then on a journey home through perilous floods-O! that your present sorrows could be rewarded with rapture, such as succeeded to mine, when I heard the dear creature's voice in the hall!

I have often said that the delights of that evening, recompensed all the many woes of my lifebut forgive the vain, the tantalizing wish!—I am

afraid there can be no possibility you have great, great trials, my dear Mr Hayley-God Almighty support you under them, and prevent their utterly destroying your precious health! The sweet boy-he would be a comfort to you. May you find in his talents, his affection, his virtues, and his prosperity, that happiness denied you from so many sources whence you had a right to expect

it.

What a similarity in your fate to Milton's-the visual powers pained and impeded, though, thank God, not quenched ;--and now you mourn a Lycidas, sunk beneath the waters!

I scarce know how to quit this mournful subject, even to express our gratitude for your having persuaded Romney to gratify my father, by his possessing, ere he dies, the promised treasure. It arrived late last night; rich, adorned, and invaluable, by the Romneyan powers. My poor invalid was fast asleep in his bed-Lister and Cary, our young bards, were supping with me. They were on fire with curiosity, while the nails were drawing, and highly gratified with contemplating the most masterly portrait their young eyes had ever beheld. I placed it by my father's bed-side at seven this morn.-He wept with joy when I undrew the curtain-wanted to kiss it, and has talked and looked at it all day. I send

8

some verses to Romney, by this post, which but ill express my gratitude.

This welcome guest made happy faces at our dinner-board to-day-but in the evening came your letter, and all now is gloom.

If you can learn any particulars of this grievous event, I am sure you will communicate them to me. Except yourself, scarce even those who knew the dear Howel, personally, could be more interested in the sad subject, than Your's, &c.

LETTER XXIV.

DR WARNER.

Lichfield, June 3, 1788.

I AM more grieved than I can express for Mr Hayley. His love of the gallant unfortunate, like that of Jonathan to David, passed the love of women. Dreadful, that he should thus lose the long expected reward of all his exertions, so truly paternal, for a friendless youth!-Now, as he was returning, crowned with fame, prosperity, and honour, to the arms of his protector. O