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nigh estimation in which this work was once cious observations upon this popular and held by all ranks of people, Mrs. Barbauld original performance. After a slight sketch subjoins some very acute and judicious ob- of the story, she observes, servations both on its literary merits and its
“ The plot, as we have seen, is simple, and no moral tendency. We cannot find room for the underplots interfere with the main design--no diwhole of this critique; but there is so much gressions, no episodes. It is wonderful that, without good sense and propriety in the following pas- these helps of common writers, he could support a sage, that we cannot refrain from inserting it. work of such length. With Clarissa it begins,
with Clarissa it ends. We do not come upon un. *. So long as Pamela is solely occupied in schemes expected adventures and wonderful recognitions, by to escape from her persecutor, her virtuous resist- quick turns and surprises : We see her fate from ance obrains our unqualified approbation; but from afar, as it were through a long avenue, the gradual the moment she begins to entertain hopes of mar. approach to which, without ever losing sighi of the rying him, we admire her guarded prudence, rather object, has more of simplicity and grandeur than the ihan her purity of mind. She has an end in view, most cunning labyrinth that can be contrived by an interested end; and we can only consider her as
In the approach to the modern country seat, the conscious possessor of a treasure, which she is we are made to catch transiently a side-view of it wisely resolved not to part with but for its just price, through an opening of the trees, or to burst upon it Her staying in his house a moment after she found from a sudden turning in the road; but the old herself at liberty to leave it, was totally unjustifiable: mansion stood full in the eye of the traveller, as he her repentant lover ought to have followed her to drew near it, contemplating its turrets, which grew her father's cottage, and to have married her from larger and more distinct every step that he ada thence. The familiar footing upon which she con- vanced; and leisurely filling his eye and his imagin. descends to live with the odious Jewkes, shows ation with still increasing ideas of its magnificence. also, that her fear of offending the man she hoped As the work advances, the character rises; the to make her husband, had got the better of her distress is deepened ; our hearts are torn with pity delicacy and just resentment; and the same fear and indignation; bursts of grief succeed one another, leads her to give up her correspondence with honest till at length the mind is composed and harmonized Mr. Williams, who had generously sacrificed his with emotions of milder sorrow; we are calmed interest with his patron in order to effect her deliv. into resignation, elevated with pious hope, and diserance. In real life, we should, at this period, con missed glowing with the conscious triumphs of vir. sider Pamela as an interesting girl: but the author rue.-Introd. pp. lxxxiii. lxxxiv. says, she married Mr. B. because he had won her affection : and we are bound, it may be said, to be.
She then makes some excellent remarks on lieve an author's own account of his characters. the conduct of the story, and on the characters But again, it is quite natural that a girl, who had that enliven it; on that of the heroine, she such a genuine love for tue, should feel her heart observes, attracted to a man who was endeavouring to destroy that virtue ? Can a woman value her honour infi. “In one instance, however, Clarissa certainly nitely above her life, and hold in serious detestation sins against the delicacy of her character, that is, every word and look contrary to the nicest purity, in allowing herself to be made a show of 10 the and yet be won by those very attempts against her loose companions of Lovelace. But, how does her bonour to which she expresses so much repugnance? character rise, when we come to the more distress-His attempts were of the grossest nature; and ful scenes; the view of her horror, when, deluded previous to, and during those attempts, he endeav. by the pretended relations, she re-enters the fatal oured to intimidate her by sternness. 'He puts on house; ber temporary insanity after the outrage, in the master too much, to win upon her as the lover. which she so affectingly holds up to Lovelace the li. Can affection be kindled by outrage and insulti cence he had procured, and her dignified behaviour Surely, if her passions were capable of being awa
when she first sees her ravisher, after the perpetra. kened in his favour, during such a persecution, the tion of his crime! What finer subject could be precircumstance would be capable of an interpretation sented to the painter, than the prison scene, where very little consistent with that delicacy the author she is represented kneeling amidst the gloom and meant to give her. The other alternative is, that horror of that dismal abode ; illuminating, as it she married him for
were, the dark chamber, her face reclined on her • The gilt coach and dappled Flanders mares.'
crossed arms, her white garments floating round Indeed, the excessive humility and gratitude ex. her with respectful commiseration : Or, the scene
her in the negligence of woe ; Belford contemplating pressed by herself and her parents on her exaltation, of calmer but heart-piercing sorrow, in the interview shews a regard to rank and riches beyond the just Colonel Morden has with her in her dying mo. measure of an independent mind. The pious good. ments! She is represented fallen into a slumber, in man Andrews should not have thought his virtuous her elbow.chair, leaning on the widow Lovick, daughter sn infinitely beneath her licentious mas- whose left arm is around her neck: one faded ter, who, after all, married her to gratify his own cheek resting on the good woman's bosom, the passions.-Introd. pp. Ixiii.-Ixvi.
kindly warmth of which had overspread it with a The first part of this work, which concludes faintish fush, the other pale and hollow, as if alwith the marriage of the heroine, was written of the veins contrasting their whiteness, hanging
ready iced over by death; her hands, the blueness in three months; and was founded, it seems, lifeless before her-the widow's tears dropping unon a real story which had been related to felt upon her face-Colonel Morden, with his arms Richardson by a gentleman of his acquaint- folded, gazing on her in silence, her coffin just apance.
What admiration, what It was followed by a second part, con- pearing behind a screen. fessedly very inferior to the first, and was innocent sufferer, the sufferings too of such a pecu
reverence, does the au'hor inspire us with for the ridiculed by Fielding in his Joseph Andrews; liar nature! an offence for which he was never forgiven. “There is something in virgin purity, to which
Within eight years after the appearance of the imagination willingly pays homage. In all ages, Pamela, Richardson's reputation may be said something saintly has been attached to the idea of to have attained its zenith, by the successive unblenished chastity; but it was reserved for
Richardson to overcome all circumstances of dis. publication of the volumes of his Clarissa. honour and disgrace, and to throw a splendour We have great pleasure in laying before our around the violated virgin, more radiant than shu readers a part of Mrs. Barbaul ''s very judi- | possessed in her first bloom. Ile has drawn tho triumph of mental chastity; he has drawn it un. man whose study it is to avoid fighting is not quite contaminated, untarnished, and incapable of min. so likely as another to be the best." gling with pollution. The scenes which follow the
Introd. pp. cxxvii. cxxviii. death of the heroine, exhibit grief in an affecting variety of forms, as it is modified by the characters
Besides his great works, Richardson pubof different survivors. They run into considerable lished only a paper in the Rambler (the 97th); length, but we have been so deeply interested, that an edition of Æsop's Fables, with Reflections; we feel it a relief to have our grief drawn off, as it and a volume of Familiar Letters for the use were, by a variety of sluices, and we are glad not of persons in inferior situations. It was this to be dismissed fill we have shed tears, even to latter work which gave occasion to Pamela : satiety."'-Introd. pp. xciü.xcvii.
it is excellently adapted to its object, and we This criticism we think is equally judicious think may be of singular use to Mr. Wordsand refined; and we could easily prolong this worth and his friends in their great scheme extract, in a style not at all inferior. With of turning all our poetry into the language of regard to the morality of the work, Mrs. Bar- the common people. In this view, we rebauld is very indignant at the notion of its commend it very earnestly to their considerabeing intended to exhibit a rare instance of tion. female chastity.
There is little more to be said of the transShe objects with some reason, to the num- actions or events of Richardson's life. His ber of interviews which Clarissa is represented books were pirated by the Dublin booksellers: to have had with Lovelace after the catas- at which he was very angry, and could obtain trophe;
and adds, " If the reader, on casually no redress. He corresponded with a great opening the book, can doubt of any scene be- number of females; and gradually withdrew tween them, whether it passes before or after himself from the fatigues of business to his the outrage, that scene is one too much.”- country residence at Parson's Green ; where The character of Lorelace, she thinks, is very his life was at last terminated in 1761, by a much of a fancy piece; and affirms, that our stroke of apoplexy, at the age of seventy-two. national manners do not admit of the existence His moral character was in the highest deof an original. If he had been placed in gree exemplary and amiable. He was tem. France, she observes, and his gallantries di- perate, industrious, and upright; punctual and rected to married women, it might have been honourable in all his dealings; and with a more natural; “but, in England, Lovelace kindness of heart, and a liberality and genewould have been run through the body, long rosity of disposition, that must have made him before he had seen the face either of Clarissa a very general favourite, even if he had never or Colonel Morden."
acquired any literary distinction.—He had a Mrs. Barbauld gives us a copious account considerable share of vanity, and was observof the praise and admiration that poured in ed to talk more willingly on the subject of his upon the author from all quarters, on the pub- own works than on any other. The lowness lication of this extraordinary work: he was of his original situation, and the lateness of overwhelmed with, complimentary letters, his introduction into polite society, had given messages, and visits. But we are most grati- to his manners a great shyness and reserve fied with the enthusiasm of one of his female and a consciousness of his awkwardness and correspondents, who tells him that she is very his merit together, rendered him somewhat sorry, "that he was not a woman, and blest jealous in his intercourse with persons in more with the means of shining as Clarissa did; for conspicuous situations, and made him require a person capable of drawing such a character, more courting and attention, than every one would certainly be able to act in the same was disposed to pay. He had high notions of manner, if in a like situation !!!
parental authority, and does not seem always After Clarissa, at an interval of about five quite satisfied with the share of veneration years, appeared his Sir Charles Grandison. which his wife could be prevailed on to show Upon this work, also, Mrs. Barbauld has made for him. He was particularly partial to the many excellent observations, and pointed out society of females; and lived, indeed, as Mrs. both its blemishes and beauties, with a very Barbauld has expressed it, in a flower-garden delicate and discerning hand. Our limits will of ladies. Mrs. Barbauld will have it, that not permit us to enter upon this disquisition: this was in the way of his profession as an we add only the following acute paragraph. author; and that he frequented their society "Sir Charles, as a Christian, was not to fight a
to study the female heart, and instruct himduel; yet he was to be recognised as the finished self in all the niceties of the female charac. gentleman, and could not be allowed to want the ter. From the tenor of the correspondence most essential part of the character, the deportment now before us, however, we are more inclinof a man of honour, courage, and spirit. "And, in ed to believe, with Dr. Johnson, that this parorder to exhibit his spirit and courage, it was neces, tiality was owing to his love of continual sary to bring them into action by adventures and rencounters. His first appearance is in the rescue
superiority, and that he preferred the converof Miss Byron, a meritorious action, but one which sation of ladies, because they were more must necessarily expose him to a challenge. How lavish of their admiration, and more easily enmust the author untie this knot? He makes him gaged to descant on the perplexities of Sir so very good a swordsman, that he is always capa- Charles, or the distresses of Clarissa. His ble of disarming his adversary without endangering close application to business, and the seden. to depend on the science of his fencing-master? tary habits of a literary life, had materially Every one cannot have the skill of Sir Charles; injured his health: He loved to complain, as every one cannot be the best swordsman; and the most invalids do who have any hope of teing
listened to, and scarcely writes a letter with | in question, will be at no loss to comprehend out some notice of his nervous tremors, his the reasons of the unqualified reprehension giddiness and catchings. “I had originally we are inclined to bestow on their publicaa good constitution," he says, in one place, tion. For the information of those who have "and burt it by no intemperance, but that of not had an opportunity of seeing them, we application.”
may observe that, so far from containing any În presenting our readers with this imper- view of the literature, the politics, or manners fect summary of Mrs. Barbauld's biographical of the times—any anecdotes of the eminent dissertation, we have discharged by far the and extraordinary personages to whom the most pleasing part of our task; and proceed author had access or any pieces of elegant to the consideration of the correspondence composition, refined criticism, or interesting which it introduces, with considerable heavi- narrative, they consist almost entirely of comness of spirit, and the most unfeigned reluct- pliments and minute criticisms on his novels, ance. The letters are certainly authentic; a detail of his ailments and domestic conand they were bought, we have no doubt, for cems, and some tedious prattling disputations a fair price from the legal proprietors : but with his female correspondents, upon the their publication, we think, was both im- duties of wives and children; the whole so proper and injudicious, as it can only tend to loaded with gross and reciprocal flattery, as lower a very respectable character, without to be ridiculous at the outset, and disgusting communicating any gratification or instruction in the repetition. Compliments and the novels to others. We are told, indeed, in the pre- form indeed the staples of the whole corresface, " that it was the employment of Mr. pondence: we meet with the divine Clarissa, Richardson's declining years, to select and and the more divine Sir Charles, in every arrange the collection from which this publi- page, and are absolutely stunned with the cation has been made ; and that he always clamorous raptures and supplications with looked forward to their publication at some which the female train demand the converdistant period;" nay, “that he was not with sion of Lovelace, and the death or restoration out thoughts of publishing them in his life- of Clementina.' Even when the charming time; and that, after his death, they remain books are not the direct subject of the corresed in the hands of his last surviving daughter, pondence, they appear in 'eternal allusions, upon whose decease they became the property and settle most of the arguments by an auof his grandchildren, and were purchased thoritative quotation. In short, the Clarissa from them at a very liberal price by Mr. Phil and Grandison are the scriptures of this conlips." We have no doubt that what Mrs. gregation; and the members of it stick as Barbauld has here stated to the public, was close to their language upon all occasions, as stated to her by her employers : But we can- any of our sectaries ever did to that of the not read any one volume of the letters, with Bible. The praises and compliments, again, out being satisfied that the idea of such a which are interchanged among all the parties, publication could only come into the mind of are so extremely hyperbolical as to be ludiRichardson, after his judgment was impaired crous, and so incessant as to be excessively by the infirmities of a declining years;', and fatiguing. We shall trouble our readers with we have observed some passages in those but a very few specimens. which are now published, that seem to prove The first series of letters is from Aaron Hill, sufficiently his own consciousness of the im- a poet of some notoriety, it seems, in his day; propriety of such an exposure, and the ab- but, if we may judge from these epistles, a sence of any idea of giving them to the world. very bad composer in prose. The only amusIn the year 1755, when nine-tenths of the ing things we have met with in this volume whole collection must have been completed, of his inditing, are his prediction of his own we find him expressing himself in these words great fame, and the speedy downfal of Pope's; to his friend Mr. Edwards :
and his scheme for making English wine of a “I am employing myself at present in looking Of Pope he says that he died “in the wane
superior quality to any that can be imported. and other papers. This, when done, will amuse of his popularity ; and that it arose originally me, by reading over again a very ample corres. only from meditated little personal assiduities, pondence, and in comparing the sentiments of my and a certain bladdery swell of management." correspondents, at the time, with the present, and And a little afterimproving from both. The many letters and papers I shall destroy will make an executor's work the “But rest his memory in peace! It will very easier; and if any of my friends desire their letters rarely be disturbed by that time he himself is ashes. to be returned, they will be readily come at for that. It is pleasant 10 observe the justice of forced fame; purpose. Otherwise they will amuse and direct she lets down those, at once, who got themselves my children, and teach them to honour their father's pushed upward; and lifts none above the fear of friends in their closets for the favours done him." falling, but a few who never teased her.
Vol, iii. pp. 113, 114. “ What she intends to do with me, the Lord Accordingly, they remained in the closet knows!"-Vol. i. p. 107. till the death of the last of his children; and In another place he adds, “For my part, I then the whole collection is purchased by a am afraid to be popular; I see so many who Lookseller, and put into the hands of an write to the living, and deserve not to live, editor, who finds it expedient to suppress two- that I content myself with a resurrection thirds of it!
when dead :" And after lamenting the unThose who have looked into the volumes popularity of some of his writings, he says
" But there will arise a time in which they no sort of relation to Richardson or his writwill be seen in a far different light. I know ings), and sets off in this manner : it on a surer hope than that of vanity.” The
" Thou frolicsome farce of fortune! What! Is wine project, which is detailed in many pages, there another act of you to come then? I was requires no notice. As a specimen of the afraid, some time ago, you had made your last exit
. adulation with which Richardson was in- Well! but without wit or compliment, I am glad censed by all his correspondents, we may to hear you are so tolerably alive," &c. add the following sentences.
We can scarcely conceive that this pitiful “Where will your wonders end? or how could slang could appear to Mrs. Barbauld like the I be able to express the joy it gives me to discern pleasantry of a man of fashion. His letters your genius rising with the grace and boldness of a to Richardson are, if any thing, rather more pillar? &c. Go on, dear sir (I see you will and despicable. After reading some of the proof must), to charm and captivate the world, and force sheets
of Sir Charles, he writes, a scribbling race to learn and practise one rare virtue-to be pleased with what disgraces them.” “Z-ds! I have not parience, will I know what -"There is a manner (so beyond the matter, ex. has become of her. Why, you—I do not know traordinary too as that is) in whatever you say or what to call you !-Ah! ah! you may laugh if you do, that makes it an impossibility to speak those please : but how will you be able to look me in the sentiments which it is equally impossible not to iace, if the lady should ever be able to show herg conceive in reverence and affection for your good again? What piteous, dd, disgraceful pick le
have you plunged her in? For God's sake send In allusion to the promise of Sir Charles, me the sequel; or—I dont know what to say !"
The following is an entire letter: “I am greatly pleased at the hint you gave of a " The delicious meal I made of Miss Byron on design to raise another Alps upon this Appenine: Sunday last has given me an appetite for another we can never see too many of his works who has slice of her, off from the spit, before she is served no equal in his labours."
up to the public table. If about five o'clock 10. These passages, we believe, will satisfy morrow afternoon will not be inconvenient, Mrs. most readers; but those who have any desire Brown and I will come and piddle upon a bit more to see more, may turn up any page in the Richardson at the head of them, come in for their volume: It may be of some use, perhaps, as share. This, sir, will make me more and more a great commonplace for the materials of yours," &c. " soft dedication.
After these polite effusions, we have a corThe next series of letters is from Miss respondence with Mr. Edwards, the author Fielding, who wrote David Simple, and Miss of the Canons of Criticism, a good deal of Collier, who assisted in writing The Cry. which is occupied as usual with flattery and What modern reader knows any thing about mutual compliments, and the rest with conthe Cry, or David Simple? And if the elabo- sultations about their different publications. rate performances of these ladies have not Richardson exclaims, “O that you could rebeen thonght worthy of public remembrance, solve to publish your pieces in two pretty what likelihood is there that their private and volumes! And Mr. Edwards sends him confidential letters should be entitled to any long epistles in exaltation of Sir Charles and notice? They contain nothing, indeed, that Clarissa. It is in this correspondence that can be interesting to any description of readers; and only prove that Richardson was in- absurd and illiberal prejudice which Richard
we meet with the first symptom of that most dulgent and charitable to them, and that their son indulged against all
the writings of Fieldgratitude was a little too apt to degenerate ing. He writes to Mr. Edwards into flattery. The letters of Mrs. Pilkington and of Colley
"Mr. Fielding has met with the disapprobation Cibber appear to us to be still less worthy of you foresaw he would meet with, of his Amelia. publication. The former seems to have been of the Common Garden, contributing to his own
He is, in every paper he publishes under the le a profligate, silly actress, reduced to beggary overıhrow. He has been overmatched in his own in her old age, and distressed by the miscon- way by people whom he had despised, and whom duct of her ill-educated children. The com- he ihought he had vogue enough, from the success passionate heart of Richardson led him to his spurious brat Tom Jones so unaccountably met pity and relieve her; and she repays him with to write down, but who have turned his own
artillery against him, and beat him out of the field, with paltry adulation, interlarded, in the bom- and made him even poorly in his Court of Criticism bastic style of the green room, with dramatic give up his Amelia, and promise to write no more misquotations misapplied. Of the letters of on the like subjects."-Vol. iii. pp. 33–34. Cibber, Mrs. B. says that “they show in
This, however, is but a small specimen of every line the man of wit and the man of the his antipathy. He says to his French transworld.", We are sorry to dissent from so re- lator, “Tom Jones is a dissolute book. Its run spectable an opinion; but the letters appear is over, even with us. Is it true that France to us in every respect contemptible and dis- had virtue enough to refuse to license such a gusting ; without one spark of wit or genius profligate performance ?'' But the worst of of any sort, and bearing all the traces of all is the followingvanity, impudence, affectation, and superannuated debauchery, which might have been
“ I have not been able to read any more than the expected from the author. His first epistle first volume of Amelia. Poor Fielding! I could is to Mrs. Pilkington (for the editor has more prised at, and concerned for, his continued lowness than once favoured us with letters that have / Had your brother, said I, been born in a stable, os
been a runner at a sponging house, we should have happy as I am in love, so happy am I in friendship, thought him a genius, and wished he had had the in my mother, two elder sisters, and five other advantage of a liberal education, and of being ad-women. How rich I am!"-Vol. iii. pp. 146–149. mitted into good company; but it is beyond my conception, that a man of lamily, and who had
One of the best letters is dated from Tunsome learning, and who really is writer, should bridge in 1751. We shall venture on an extract. descend so excessively low in all his pieces. Who “But here, to change the scene, to see Mr. Walsh can care for any of his people? A person of at eighty (Mr. Cibber calls him papa), and Mr. honour asked me, the other day, what he could Cibber at seventy-seven, hunting after new faces; mean, by saying, in his Covent Garden Journal, and thinking themselves happy if they can obtain that he had followed Homer and Virgil in his the notice and familiarity of a fine woman!-How Amelia ? I answered, that he was justified in say- ridiculous !ing so, because he must mean Cotton's Virgil Tra. " Mr. Cibber was over head and ears in love with ves:ied, where the women are drabs, and the men Miss Chudleigh. Her admirers (such was his hapscoundrels.''-Vol. vi. pp. 154, 155.
piness!) were not jealous of him; but, pleased with It is lamentable that such things should that wit in him which they had not, were always have been written confidentially; it was sure she was Miss Chudleigh. He said pretty things
for calling him to her. She said pretty things-for ly unnecessary to make them public. for he was Mr. Cibber; and all the company, men
After the dismissal of Mr. Edwards, we and women, seemed to think they had an interest meet with two or three very beautiful and in what was said, and were half as well pleased as interesting letters from Mrs. Klopstock, the if they had said the sprightly things themselves; first wife of the celebrated German poet. hand repeaters of the pretty things. But once I
and mighty well contented were they to be secondThey have pleased us infinitely beyond any faced the laureate squatted upon one of the benches, thing else in the collection; but how far they with a face more wrinkled than ordinary with disare indebted for the charm we have found in appointment. 'I thought,' said I, 'you were of the them to the lisping innocence of the broken party at the tea treats-Miss Chudleigh is gone into English in which they are written, or to their ihe tea-room.'-—- Pshaw!' said he, there is no intrinsic merit, we cannot pretend to deter- –And I left him upon the fret-But he was called
coming at her, she is so surrounded by the toupets. mine. We insert the following account of to soon after; and in he flew, and his face shone her courtship and marriage.
again, and looked smooth. “After having seen him two hours, I was obliged here, but of a very different turn; the noted Mr.
'Another extraordinary old man we have had to pass the evening in a company, which never had Whiston, showing eclipses, and explaining other been so wearisome to me. I could not speak, I could not play ; I thought I saw nothing bui Klopnium and anabap:ism (for he is now, it seems, of
phenomena of the stars, and preaching the millenstock. I saw him the next day, and the following that persuasion) to gay people, who, if they have and we were very seriously friends. But the fourth white teeth, hear him with open mouths, though day he departed. It was an strong hour the hour of his departure ! He wrote soon after, and from perhaps shut hearis; and after his lecture is over,
not a bit the wiser, run from him ihe more eagerly that time our correspondence began to be a very diligent one. I sincerely believed my love to be laughing young fellows upon the walks, like boys
to C-r and W-sh, and to flutter among the loudfriendship. I spoke with my friends of nothing and girls at a breaking up." -Vol. iii. p. 316—319. but Klopstock, and showed his letters. They raillied at me, and said I was in love. I raillied As Richardson was in the habit of Hattering them again, and said that they must have a very his female correspondents, by asking their friendshipless heart, if they had no idea of friend: advice (though he never followed it) as to the ship to a man as well as to a woman. Thus i conduct of his works, he prevailed on a cercontinued eight months, in which time my friends found as much love in Klopstock's letters as in me. tain Lady Echlin to communicate a new I perceived it likewise, but I would not believe it. catastrophe which she had devised for his Ai the last Klopstock said plainly that he loved; Clarissa. She had reformed Lovelace, by and 1 stariled as for a wrong thing. I answered, means of a Dr. Christian, and made him die that it was no love, but friendship, as it was what I of remorse, though the last outrage is not felt for him ; we had not seen one another enough to love (as if love must have more time than friend supposed to be committed. How far Lady ship!) This was sincerely my meaning, and I had Echlin's epistles are likely to meet with this meaning till Klopstock came again to Ham. readers, in this fastidious age, may be conburg. This he did a year after we had seen one jectured, from the following specimen. another the first time. We saw, we were friends, we loved; and we believed that we loved : and, a ." I heartily wish every Christain would read and short time after, I could even tell Klopstock that i wisely consider Mr. Skelton's fine and pious legloved. But we were obliged 10 part again, and man's zeal; it is laudable and necessary, ' especially
I admire the warmth of this learned gentle. wait two years for our wedding. My mother would not let me marry a stranger. I could
in an age like this, which, for its coldness (he obthen without her consentment, as by the death of serves) may be called the winter of Christianity.' my father my fortune depended not on her; but
A melancholy truth, eleganıly expressed! I have this was an horrible idea for me ; and thank Hea only perused a small part of this divine piece, and ven that I have prevailed by prayers! At this am greatly delighted with what I have read.
I am also very fond sisted. We married, and I am the happiest wife less worthy of every body's regard. He merits attenlifely son, and thanks God that she has not per: Dr. Clark: and excellent good Seed! I thank
you, sir, for introducing another wise charmer, not in the world. In some few months it will be four tion, and religiously commands it."— Vol. v.p. 40. years that I am so happy, and still I dole upon Klopstock as if he was my bridegroom.
Next come several letters from the Rever"If you knew my husband, you would not end Mr. Skelton, mostly on the subject of the wonder. If you knew his poem, I could describe Dublin piracy, and the publication of some him very briefly, in saying he is in all respects what
works of his own. He seems to have been a he is as a poet. This I can say with all wifely modesty. But I dare not io speak of my hus. man of strong, coarse sense, but extremely band; I am all raptures when I do it. And as irritable. Some delay in the publication of