for society, and excessive love of talking, were so ill calculated to the inclinations and habits of a studious recluse, as to render their living together inconsistent with the peace of either. However, while their separation was the quiet haven of his spirit, it was, unfortunately, a source of pain and mortification to her, though they, by no means, in their degree, amounted to the portion of discontent, which resulted from partaking his solitude. But Mrs H. had not, any more than our prime minister, that true wisdom which balances evils, and chooses the least.

Her unhappiness in the disunion, came on by sudden violences of sensation, like the grief of the Otaheiteans, who, when the thought of a lost friend occurs, start into agony, shriek, and wound themselves, and then, as instantly recovering, laugh, sing, and dance.

I am extremely curious to know how and why she died; as the event, simply announced in the newspapers, is all I know. If her intentionally blameless spirit slid out of existence by any of those countless doors which diseases and accidents open, her death will relieve Mr H.'s mind from much anxiety, occasioned by her total want of common-life discretion, and of economy;-yet had she no personal extravagancies, though a separate maintenance, with her thoughtless disregard

of pecuniary calculation, proved inconvenient to the but competent limits of her husband's income, and to the expence of keeping up his beautiful. place, and its pleasure-grounds, to which he is enthusiastically attached. About a month ago, I heard, from a person to whom he had mentioned his intention, that he had determined to leave Ethrough motives of prudence. Soon after I read her decease in the newspapers. I hope there was no self-violence *; but her strong health, the extreme, though transient bitterness with which she felt every new mortification, would prevent my being surprised, if information that her expences were likely to banish Mr H. from his beloved home, had produced a rashness, Alas! should it be so, Mr H.'s quiet will have received a cureless wound. If not, he will be the happier for this removal.

Your letter to me, of September, describes a literary society, whose pleasures you seemed poig nantly to taste, and to which, I know, your mind is congenial. This to Mr Saville paints an interesting and lovely retirement, with a force and beauty which charm us. The last letter breathes

* The author, soon after the date of this letter, had the satisfaction of learning that Mrs H. died of an epidemic fever, and that her fears of self-violence in the case had no foundation.-S.

happiness in your emancipation from the restraints and ceremonies of a mixed and extended inter course. They are the provoking and outweighing counterbalances for the delights of intellectual commerce. We wander with you ideally over your mountain-walks, and through your foresthaunts; fully aware that an imagination like yours, can enjoy alike their summer loveliness and winter sublimity. If my frame had the elastic. powers and strength of yours, I, too, should delight to breast the wintry winds, and to hear them booming through a leafless forest-to fancy I listened in their blasts, to the voice of former times, to the Druids of ancient Britain, yet hovering round their oaks, or to the Caledonian heroes, whose spirits are in the storms of the hill.

Nor less should I delight in the "neighbour nearness" of your naiad. Whenever I look earnestly on a river, my contemplation is thrilled, and presents its exhaustless stream,

"That flows, and yet will flow,

Volume decreaseless, to the end of time*."

Also the fertility and verdure of its placid course, and its formidable powers to desolate and de- stroy.

* My translation of a passage in Horace.-S.

A flooded valley, beneath the cloudy lour of a wintry moon, is one of those terrible graces in scenery, which the survey of danger, and the consciousness of protection, always form to people of strong imagination. I gaze with pleasing awe on the swoln, the extravagant, and usurping waters, as they roll over the fields, and, white with turbid foam, beat against the bushes.

This solemn luxury I can seldom taste, not having corporal power to seek abroad such scenes in the inclement nights which produce them; for of even the vernal and summer flood, miry ways are concomitant, and to feeble steps they are formidable;-but I have been in situations like yours, when my mind could thus luxuriate in the prospect of scenic desolation, unpurchased by fatigue, difficulty, or danger.

Here is a long letter; I hope it will not substitute the real sin of wearying, for the imaginary one of neglecting you. Farewell.

LETTER V.

THOS. PARK, Esq.

Lichfield, Dec. 21. 1797.

VERY kind is your wish of consulting one of

your London physicians on my case; but I have

more confidence in those who have been long

used to my constitution, and of whose skill I think highly:

"My May of life

Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf."

its wane.

And many are the disorders which annoy The rheumatism which, in a less degree, has long lurked in my frame, and weakened my limbs, lately settled, with accumulated force, in the sciatic nerve of my right hip. During three or four days, I could not set my foot to the ground, without insuppressive screams, and the assistance of two people. I have used, several times a-day, as au embrocation, the pretended essence of mustard, to the efficacy of which there is such layish testimony in the newspapers. I say pre