mere two-legged human creatures; upon which you turned about and said, 'Why, Mrs. Handcock, we can meet enough of these upon the pantiles,' and so the die turned up for Tunbridge; for which we are very sorry that your vixen countrywoman did not beat you."

"

Oct. 13, 1776.

Though I cannot claim even an acquaintance with Mr. S. Jenyns, I must defend him, though I had much rather he would have prevented any attack, by such an explication as would have rendered it less possible to mistake his meaning; yet even as it now stands, he seems to have sufficiently discovered that he cashiers no other valour than that which from false and wicked ideas of honour and glory, stabs individually and desolates whole nations: no other friendship but such an exclusive affectation as subverts general benevolence; and no other patriotism but such as serves for a mask to ambition, and from the influence of private passions tends to throw the state into discord and confusion. Mr. Jenyns in the consideration of not loading the attention of those, whom he chiefly meant to benefit by his book, has too often expressed himself with a conciseness which renders his meaning obscure."

Deal, Dec. 2, 1776.

"I am obliged to you for the concern you express on the subject of our late shock. Perhaps you may have felt an earthquake: if not, I am not inclined to wish for one a votre intention; but as it past happily over, I have often wished you had been with Monty b and me on Thursday morning. I have felt one before; but it was nothing compared to this. Never did I experience so sublime an effect of the voice of the hand of Omnipotence. This awful exertion was mercifully checked within the boundary that marks destruction: but I should think its continuance for a few more seconds must have produced fatal effects. It seemed as if the pillars of heaven, and foundations of earth were all convulsed. The wild tumult and hurry of the elements were as much beyond all description as the confusion of my thoughts; for I had no explicit idea till I was awakened to a more distinct sense by Monty's hastily uttering "an earthquake!"

Her Nephew Montagu Pennington.

Dec. 4, 1777.

It did indeed give me all the pleasure you could wish or suppose, my dear Mrs. Vesey, to receive a letter from you in such a style of cheerful tranquillity and comfortable hopes. My heart must and will feel your absence with many a tender regret this winter: but it would be much less supportable, if I had not the happiness to consider it as a consequence of your acting in a manner conformable to your obligations. On this solid rock we may stand, and look forward with unallayed pleasure to the prospect of our next meeting, when I trust we shall enjoy our delightful parties with a spirit unclouded by any of those uneasy reflections which must cast a gloom over the brighest sunshine of life, whenever inclination is preferred to duty. En attendant the more active pleasures of our social hours, may the best and most important reflections tranquillize your mind, the happiest recollections of friendship soothe your heart, and the brightest visions of poetical imagination vary and enliven your solitude; and give spirit as well as sentiment to your tête a têtes with dear Mrs. Handcock!

"Miss Sharpe commissions me to assure you both of her love; and I know very few people whose love is less lightly given. We wished for

you extremely last night in my little airy abode, round which all the elements play with the most uninterrupted liberty: for happily I am not in a town, but at the end of it. You would have enjoyed the solemn concert; to which by a cheerful fire we listened with so much rapture. The whistling wind, the beating rain, and dashing waves, ushered in that winter, which has been so long delayed: for November has been gilded by the smiles of May. There has scarcely been a day in which the airings we have taken did not furnish us with some beautiful view. I wish you could accompany us. I think you would be pleased with the country. It has one advantage beyond any I ever recollect to have seen; the charming variety of the ground, and the intersection of the hills, sometimes opening a view to the sea; sometimes to a shaded village, and sometimes a solitary cottage, which seems retired to an infinite distance from the rest of the habitable world!"

Deal, June 7, 1777.

"It is quite uncomfortable to me, my dear Mrs. Vesey, to find you are still detained in London, which in its present desertion must appear

like a solitude haunted by the ghosts of all your departed friends. The misfortune too is, that amidst the avocations of disagreeable mere mortal business of preparing for a journey, they can only just glide by you, and give you no idea but of their loss. When you are quietly reposing in the shades of Lucan, your imagination will be at full leisure to stop the fleeting phantoms, and converse with them at your ease.

You say that Mr. Vesey still talks of returning after Christmas. If he should continue in this determination, I hope you will not put any discouragement on this near hope, for the sake of a more distant prospect. Consider, my dear friend, that at your age and mine, the more immediate good is the most valuable; and we can reasonably place but little dependance on any remote hopes, except those which extend beyond the circuit of the sun.

I take it for granted that by after Christmas Mr. Vesey means immediately after; for your friends would think themselves grievously defrauded,

if

you did not visit them till spring. No: I must hope, my dear Mrs. Vesey, that we shall enjoy the delightful social hours of winter together; not like the soi disant philosophers whom you mention, puzzling plain truth by the vanity of perplexed system, but conversing with the simplicity of an