ducing an hundred glees from my own recollection, all by Englishmen, and all of original melody and correct harmony.

When I was a girl, it was the fashion for the fine people to abuse Handel as heavy, coarse, and tiresome. Our king, by instituting the commemorations, rescued his fame. If I was Prince of Wales, I would give concerts, from which every foreign composition should be interdicted; and glees should be performed there, that must awaken the cold dead ear of prejudice itself into life and enthusiasm. But it is time to close my controversy, for the clock has struck that hour which Burns, with equal humour and fancy, calls the key-stone of night's black arch. Addio!

LETTER LXIII.

MRS CHILDERS of Yorkshire.

Lichfield, April 29, 1801.

Ан, my friend, I have a sad account to give you of my situation, and of my hopes of ever being able to accept your kind invitation to Cantley. Too much reason have I to apprehend a

total loss of all ability to travel. You know that the strength of my youth was blighted by the accident which broke the patella of my right knee, though I obtained the power of walking on even ground, without perceptible lameness; but I remained, through life, subject to the constantly impending danger of falling. Frequent have been those falls, producing temporary pain and confinement, but generally a few days restored me to the usual level of my, at best, feeble exertion. On the 27th of last month, deceived by an imperfect moonlight, I fell with violence down steps into the street, after paying an evening visit. Then, alas! it was, that I so violently sprained the muscles and tendons of my, till then, uninjured left knee, as to reduce it to an equal degree of weakness with that which is broken. Unable to stand, I was carried by two men from my sedan to my bed; which my surgeon ordered I should not leave till the swelling and discoloration subsided. He flattered me that, since nothing was absolutely broken, a fortnight or three weeks would repair the mischief. When, at the four days expiration, I was got up, I found I had utterly lost all power of rising from my bed, or chair, even though a very high one, without the assistance of two people; and also of ascending or descending stairs. Hitherto time, in whose name lavish pro

mises were made me by the faculty, has done nothing towards the restoration of that power, though I can walk, with a servant's arm, through the range of those fortunately large and airy rooms, which are level with my bed-chamber and dressing-room. Thus I contrive, by a quarter of an hour at a time, to walk my allotted two miles every day, though I have not attempted to go down stairs. These fresh vernal breezes from the cathedral area, in the south and west front of my house, and from the valley to the east, and from the gentle hills to the north, refresh me as I walk. I have pain, but, thank God, it is not violent. Some attached friends, and many social neigh bours, cheer my confinement.

Hopeless and helpless imprisonment is a melancholy thing, however mitigated. To me it must preclude many circumstances material to my health, and precious to my wishes. I have chronic maladies, which often require Buxton waters and coast residence. If this last injury should, as I have a deep conviction that it will, prove irreparable, I shall not dare to travel; and in the loss of local freedom, vanish my hopes of seeing you at Cantley, or of meeting you where we have twice met, living, during happy weeks, in daily intercourse, confidential, affectionate, and literary:and then there is dear Mrs Roberts, and her

charming neighbours, Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Ponsonby, at whose Arcadian court it was so much my delight to pay my vows of amity! Those I must never more behold, if my present deprived state of limbs continues; for Mrs Roberts, totally crippled, cannot travel, and the Ladies of the Cambrian valley will not.

Within these last twelve years, my constitution has struggled with various maladies, but under them I always hoped relief, and often, through the goodness of God, obtained it. Now a deep internal conviction of life-long imbecility sickens at my heart, and withers the energy of my mind, -while the gloom of apprehension, more than selfish, often darkens my spirit. The oldest, the most esteemed, the most valued of my friends, finds his long-precarious health more frequently assailed by nervous malady, beneath which his strength and cheerfulness decline. I will not apologize for this exuberance of wailful egotism, but rest it securely on your sympathy.

I am soothed by your warm encomiums on my letters to Mr Jerningham*, on the subject of pulpit oratory, and by the desire you express to hear or see those sermons of mine, of which they

* Printed in the Gentleman's Magazine for February, March, and April.-S.

make mention. If ever I should be happy enough to converse with you again personally, you shall hear or read them. Then shall I feel my heart cheered by your sweet affectionate smiles, and my mind basking in those eye-beams of intelligence, sentiment, and taste, which emanate from a spirit so pure and enlightened.

With what animated serenity does your last letter describe the comforts of rendering all the purposes of life subordinate to religious faith and obedience. Dear angelic friend, how happy are you in having thus disciplined your mind and heart! My muse once drew a picture of such a mind and heart, unconscious then of its perfect prototype in you. I allude to the sixty-sixth of my published sonnets. It was written many years before I knew Mrs Childers, ere ought of her was present to my memory, beyond a mere eyedeep impression of youthful beauty and elegance in the form of Miss Sally Fowler, when twice, and in public company, we met in the gay years of virgin bloom. They are flown-but that is no subject of regret to you,

"Whose yesterdays look backward with a smile,!
Not, like the Parthian, wound you as they fly."

The wish that I would translate your favourite