polemical abilities, and have quarreled with half the literati in Europe. Then suppose the writer himself, as in the present case, to interpose with a gentle whisper, thus, "If you look again, Doctor, you will perceive that what appears to you to be tube, is neither more nor less than the monosyllable ink, but I wrote it in great haste, and the want of sufficient precision in the character has occasioned your mistake you will be satisfied, especially when you see the sense elucidated by the explanation." But I question whether the Doctor would quit his ground, or allow any author to be a competent judge in his own case. The world, however, would acquiesce immediately, and vote the critic useless.

James Andrews, who is my Michael Angelo, pays me many compliments on my success in the art of drawing, but I have not yet the vanity to think myself qualified to furnish your apartment. If I should ever attain to the degree of self-opinion requisite to such an undertaking, I shall labour at it with pleasure. I can only say, though I hope not with the affected modesty of the above mentioned Dr Bentley, who said the same thing,

Me quoque dicunt

Vatem pastores; sed non ego credulus illis.

A crow, rook, or raven, has built a nest in one of the young elm trees, at the side of Mrs Aspray's orchard. In the violent storm that blew yesterday morning, I saw it agitated to a degree that seemed to threaten its immediate destruction, and versified the following thoughts upon the occasion.

A raven came, while with glossy breast,
Her new laid eggs she fondly press'd,
And, on her wickerwork high mounted,
Her chickens prematurely counted,
(A fault philosophers might blame
If quite exempted from the same,)
Enjoy'd at ease the genial day,
'Twas April, as the bumpkins say,
The legislature call'd it May.
But suddenly a wind as high,
As ever swept a winter sky,

Shook the young leaves about her ears,
And fill'd her with a thousand fears,

Lest the rude blast should snap the bough,
And spread her golden hopes below.
But just at eve the blowing weather
And all her fears were hush'd together :

And now, quoth poor unthinking Ralph,
'Tis over, and the brood is safe;

REASONS FOR NOT WRITING CHARACTER OF POPE AS A LETTER WRITERTRANSLATION VERSES.

June 8, 1780.

MY DEAR FRIEND, -It is possible I might have indulged myself in the pleasure of writing to you, without waiting for a letter from you, but for a reason which you will not easily guess. Your mother communicated to me the satisfaction you expressed in my correspondence, that you thought me entertaining and clever, and so forth: now you must know, I love praise dearly, especially from the judicious, and those who have so much delicacy themselves as not to offend mine in giving it. But then, I found this consequence attending, or likely to attend the eulogium you bestowed,-if my friend thought me witty before, he shall think me ten times more witty hereafter-where I joked once, I will joke five times, and for one sensible remark, I will send him a dozen. Now this foolish vanity would have spoiled me quite, and would have made me as disgusting a letter writer as Pope, who seems to have thought that unless a sentence was well turned, and every period pointed with some conceit, it was not worth the carriage. Accordingly he is to me, except in a very few

instances, the most disagreeable maker of epistles that ever I met with. I was willing, therefore, to wait till the impression your commendation had made upon the foolish part of me was worn off, that I might scribble away as usual, and write my uppermost thoughts, and those only.

You are better skilled in ecclesiastical law than I am. Mrs P. desires me to inform her, whether a parson can be obliged to take an apprentice. For some of her husband's opposers at D, threaten to clap one upon him. Now I think it would be rather hard, if clergymen, who are not allowed to exercise any handicraft whatever, should be subject to such an imposition. If Mr P. was a cordwainer or a breechesmaker all the week, and a preacher only on Sundays, it would seem reasonable enough, in that case, that he should take an apprentice if he chose it. But even then, in my poor judgment, he ought to be left to his option. If they mean by an apprentice, a pupil, whom they will oblige him to hew into a parson, and after chipping away the block that hides the minister within, to qualify him to stand erect in the pulpit— that indeed is another consideration. But still, we live in a free country, and I cannot bring myself even to suspect that an English divine can possibly be liable to such compulsion. Ask your uncle, however, for he is wiser in these things than either of us.

I thank you for your two inscriptions, and like the last the best; the thought is just and fine, but the two last lines are sadly damaged by the monkish jingle of peperit and reperit. I have not yet translated them, nor do I promise to do it, though at some idle hour perhaps I may. In return, I send you a translation of a simile in the Paradise Lost. Not having that poem at hand, I cannot refer you to the book and page, but you may hunt for it, if you think it worth your while. It begins,

So when from mountain tops the dusky clouds
Ascending, &c.*

*The simile occurs in Book V.

As when from mountain tops the dusky clouds
Ascending, while the north wind sleeps, o'erspread
Heaven's cheerful face, the low'ring element
Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape snow or shower;
If chance the radiant sun, with farewell sweet,
Extend his evening beam, the fields revive,
The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds
Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings.

Quales aërii montis de vertice nubes

Cum surgunt, et jam Boreæ tumida ora quiêrunt,
Calum hilares abdit, spissâ caligine, vultus :
Tùm si jucundo tandem sol prodeat ore,

Et croceo montes et pascua lumine tingat,
Gaudent omnia, aves mulcent concentibus agros,
Balatuque ovium colles, vallesque resultant.

If you spy any fault in my Latin, tell me, for I am sometimes in doubt; but, as I told you when you was here, I have not a Latin book in the world to consult, or correct a mistake by; and some years have passed since I was a schoolboy.

AN ENGLISH VERSIFICATION OF A THOUGHT THAT POPPED INTO MY HEAD
ABOUT TWO MONTHS SINCE.

Sweet stream! that winds through yonder glade,
Apt emblem of a virtuous maid!

Silent and chaste, she steals along,

Far from the world's gay busy throng;
With gentle, yet prevailing force,
Intent upon her destined course:
Graceful and useful all she does,
Blessing and blest where'er she goes;
Pure bosom'd as that watery glass,
And heaven reflected in her face!

Now this is not so exclusively applicable to a maiden, as to be the sole property of your sister Shuttleworth. If you look at Mrs Unwin, you will see that she has not lost her right to this just praise by marrying you.

Your mother sends her love to all, and mine comes jogging along by the side of it. Yours,

W. C.

51. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON.

THE GORDON RIOTS-PROTESTANT ASSOCIATION.

June 12, 1780.

DEAR SIR, We accept it as an effort of your friendship, that you could prevail with yourself, in a time of such terror and distress, to send us repeated accounts of yours and Mrs Newton's welfare; you supposed, with reason enough, that we should be apprehensive for your safety, situated as you were apparently within the reach of so much danger. We rejoice that you have escaped it all, and that, except the anxiety which you must have felt, both for yourselves and others, you have suffered nothing upon this dreadful occasion.

A metropolis in flames, and a nation in ruins, are subjects of contemplation for such a mind as yours that will leave a lasting impression behind them. It is well that the design died in the execution, and will be buried, I hope, never to rise again, in the ashes of its own combustion. There is a melancholy pleasure in looking back upon such a scene, arising from a comparison of possibilities with facts,-the enormous bulk of the intended mischief, with the abortive and partial accomplishment of it; much was done, more indeed than could have been supposed practicable in a well regulated city, not unfurnished with a military force for its protection. But surprise and astonishment seem at first to have struck every nerve of the police with a palsy, and to have disarmed government of all its powers.

I congratulate you upon the wisdom that withheld you from entering yourself a member of the Protestant association.* Your friends who did so, have reason enough to regret their doing it, even though they should never be called upon. Innocent as they are-and they who know them cannot doubt of their being perfectly so—it is likely to bring an odium on the profession they make, that will not soon be forgotten. Neither is it possible for a quiet, inoffensive man, to discover, on a sudden, that his zeal has carried him into such company, without being to the last degree shocked at his imprudence. Their religion was an honourable mantle, like that of Elijah; but the majority wore cloaks of Guy Fawkes's time, and meant nothing so little as what they pretended.

W. C.

FRENCH REVOLUTION-POETRY THE BEST VEHICLE FOR FORCIBLE
SENTIMENT EPIGRAM.

June 18, 1780. Reverend and DEAR WILLIAM, The affairs of kingdoms, and the concerns of individuals, are variegated alike with the checker-work of joy and sorrow. The news of a great acquisition in America has succeeded to terrible tumults in London; and the beams of prosperity are now playing upon the smoke of that conflagration which so lately terrified the

* This association for preserving the Protestant religion, originated in Scotland, and quickly spread over the whole of Great Britain. It was upon the occasion of presenting the petition by the centre association in London, that the riots and conflagration commenced.