really wanted, now when a great deal of his language is become obsolete,-this is a work not to be done with a wet finger, and is, I doubt, beyond my strength; not to mention the col lecting parallel places where he has imitated other authors, a work which Lauder has made me sick of. The making a glossary alone is a work of time, and would require several books which I have not, nor are they to be had in the country and I will by no means engage myself to publish a work which I cannot perfect; for I should die with shame to be guilty of such crude unlicked performances as I justly blame in others. In short, I doubt nothing can be done to save our classic authors from such scandalous injuries as we both lament, unless they can be rescued out of the hands of the booksellers, who begin quite at the wrong end of the work. Instead of waiting till they can get a good edition of an author, they procure a competency of cuts, publish proposals, levy subscriptions, and then beat about for an undertaker, no matter whom, the cheaper the

better,

better, to perform their part of the contract they have made with the public. Can any thing good, any thing reputable either to themselves or their authors, be the result of such preposterous proceedings? Yet what possible method is there of putting a stop to them? This only I can, and this I do promise, that if Spenser be murdered and I live, he shall not die unrevenged, be the assassin who he will.

As to the other affair about our language, the more I consider it, the more difficulties appear in it; and I am convinced that it is not only above my strength, but perhaps that of any one man. I have many doubts myself, and there are many words that I am not clear how they should be spelled: how then shall I set up for a teacher? The most that I could do would be to throw out a specimen by way of spur to others, who, lighting their links at my candle, may make further discoveries. If what you have, with a few additions, would serve this purpose, and it be thought by my friends worth publishing, I should

I should be glad to contribute what I can towards so desirable a thing as settling our orthography and indeed I think this would be on many accounts the best method; for I apprehend any change must be brought about by degrees, and in the most gentle manner : people would rise up against a dictatorial edict, and would not at once change their mumpsimus for a new sumpsimus, especially as they can plead custom for their mistakes.

But it becomes me, who have a little repu tation to lose, to be very cautious of what I publish, as I doubt not

there are who would

watch for my halting. You must be my Mentor, to check any vanity that you see rising in me; and you ought to do it, since you have been the innocent occasion of my being in danger. You cannot imagine how I am altered since last letter. I am grown, your like your Lovelace, a foot or two taller, and begin to think I may possibly live in this world after I am dead. Your linnet* twitters most enchantingly. I am

*Miss Mulso.

exceedingly obliged to her for her music, and have endeavoured to chirp to her again as well as I can in the inclosed sonnet*, which I beg you to present to her from me, if you think it worth her acceptance. There is, and I doubt not but you have felt it, there is something more deliciously charming in the approbation of the ladies, than in that of a whole university of he-critics; and if I can deserve their applause, let the sour pedants rail as much as they please,

"For theirs the claim to each instructive tongue, And theirs the great monopoly of song."

Good night, good Mr. Richardson! Remember me to all your good family, to all your pretty disciplesses, and all friends who inquire after

Your

THOS. EDWARDS.

Turrick, March 30, 1751.

Eleven o'clock-a late country hour.

* Both the sonnets referred to are printed in Mrs. Chapone's Miscellanies.

ΤΟ

TO MR. RICHARDSON.

DEAR SIR,

Turrick, May 8, 1751.

I DID indeed, my dear Mr. Richardson, I own I did think it a long long month: but I grieved only, I did not complain even in thought; for I knew your great occupations, and I feared your indisposition. Sorry am I to find that my apprehensions were too just; but after this long melancholy season we sure may hope for some spring-like weather, and your hurry of business will soon grow less, and then I will hope that a little retirement, and the air of your agreeable suburbane North-End, will restore you.

While you was thus hindered from corre sponding with me, very unluckily all my friends were seized with a retention of ink at the same time; so that for a whole month, and that of such weather as confined me very much within, I had not a single line from any creature,