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ing; for then we should get rid of six individuals to him very obnoxious. A cheerful calculation! For my own part, however, I hope to come out next year with the swallows, if possible: they, and the sun, and your most humble servant, are all half torpid, or retired at least during winter; and they tell me there is no winter at Penzance. A lady said here the other day, that she went to Taunton last year, to see skaiting—a diversion she had often heard of, and that she was gratified during her absence from home with a heavy fall of snow. I rather fancy there is some truth in all this, because of the shrubs in every little garden plot: rhododendron now in beauty; myrtles covered with bloom, like Italy; and the arbutus high as an apple-tree, very handsome indeed, non omnes arbusta juvant, humilesque myricæ; and if I am doomed to six months' exile, the finding myself in Botany Bay will afford small consolation. Old friends in leather jackets, the books, do not desert me, and new friends are civil, send me figs and peaches, and invite me to their little parties, where we play sixpenny whist comfortably enough. Apropos to whist, you see the Duke of Grafton's papers explained nothing concerning who wrote Junius.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Penzance, Wednesday, 4th Jan. 1821.
THE Bath newspaper tells of a clergyman at Newbury, who has prayed for the Queen ever since George 4th's accession, but who is now forbidden to do so by
his Bishop. Old Beadon, Bishop of Bath and Wells, is in articulo mortis, I understand, and probably Dr. Hall, if he is the bold man who stept forward with the prohibition, will succeed him. Llandaff was treated very roughly on less provocation by half. Fine times! are they not. The retrospect may be entertaining to the century; but this, young as it is, will smart, I think, before the year 1850.
Pourriture avant maturité, as the great Frederick of Prussia used to deprecate for his own government. I have never had courage to look in "Thraliana" since my arrival; so little does looking backward delight me. At eighty-one years old 'tis time to begin reconnoitring, when we know that retreat is impossible. Twenty years, y mas, have elapsed, since my two quartos were sent out, like Hamlet's father, with all their imperfections on their head. Well! no matter.
-'s pretty wife is screaming, I believe: she has outlived two accoucheurs. No wonder: I do think a country practitioner (meaning a medical man of all work) should have an iron constitution.* Those who said no snow was ever seen at Penzance, dealt in fiction and fable; here is a heavy snow this moment, and but that the sea is open enough, God knows, I should call it a polar winter. Dr. Parry's son will go again, it seems, for another 5000l.; other inducement there can be none, and the most curious cir
* In one of her marginal notes she quotes the saying of a distinguished lawyer (Popham) that a judge should have a face of brass, a constitution of iron, and a bottom of lead.
cumstance of the voyage is an account given by one of the officers, how his Irish setter, a tall smooth spaniel, attracted the attentions of a she-wolf on Melville Island, who made love to the handsome dandy, and seduced him at length to end his days with her and her roughhaired family, refusing every invitation of return to the ship; a certain proof that dog, fox, jackall, &c. are only accidental varieties; while lupo is head of the house, penkennedil, as Welsh and Cornish people call it.
To William Dorset Fellowes, Esq.
Penzance, 14th February, 1821.
CONWAY is in high favour at Bath, the papers say; so indeed do private letters. That young man's value will be one day properly appreciated; and then you and I will be found to have been quite right all along.
Tell me about Miss Wilson meanwhile, and whether 'tis somewhat in the Billington style, that she is excelling all the world so. My heart tells me 'tis a long continued warble like hers which ever fascinates both skilful and unskilful critics; and which is more the gift of nature than of art.
But I hate reasoning down our own enjoyments; 'tis like burning down rubies in a concave glass: the French never do it, and you will soon visit them, I dare say. En attendant je vous souhaite, Monsieur - it was a bishop's wish, you know-Paris en ce monde, Paradis en l'autre.
To Miss Willoughby.
No. 10, Sion Row, Clifton, 16th March, 1821.
Ir is almost time to tell you what a providence watched over your old friend at Exeter, after my letter was written, at three o'clock, Sunday morning. The bed was very high, and getting into it, I set my foot on a light chair, which flew from the pressure, and revenged it on my leg in a terrible manner.
The wonder is, no bones were broken; only a cruel bruize and slight tear, and we trotted on hither, after cathedral service, at which I hardly could kneel to thank God for my escape.
"Not a mouse stirring," the French translators of Hamlet rendered, "Je n'ai pas entendu un souris trotter." Our mouse could not trot without your assistance; with it, he performed his journey beautifully; though I did feel a horrid pang about my own imprudence, running into a dirty cottage on the road, full of the small-pox. Long live vaccination, however, and Dr. Jenner who first devised it.
Here is a storm worthy of Mount's Bay; your billows must roar finely this morning. Bessy would not trust me to church, I should have been blown down the hill, she says. So since Mr. Le Gris's blessing has helped bring me safe hither, I must not press it further, but sit pretty and put my leg upon a chair, instead of my foot. Was
not it a horrible accident? and in the dead of the night so! Dr. Forbes will be very sorry, for poor H. L. P., always a blue, now a black and blue, lady, bruised, say you, from top to toe?-"My Lord, from head to foot."
To Sir James Fellowes.
24th March, 1821, Sunday Morning,
YOUR letter only came last night.
My dear Sir James Fellowes, though a tardy correspondent is always a kind one. True it is, that your sister has seduced me to dine with her on Tuesday next; and rejoyce in our friend Conway's success, which I hope to witness on Monday evening.
True it is, that I arrived at Clifton on the 12th March, escaping the stormy equinox, which must have shaken poor Penzance to the foundation. It is built upon the sand, so no wonder. True it is, that I hope to shew myself to you unimpaired, as to appearance; but my value will be lessened because I have broken my shin. goer?
Is not that the case now and then with a quick
I have asked Miss Williams to dine with Mrs. Pennington and me at the Elephant and Castle, where I will set up my repose, and keep my l. e. g.-my elegy -in good repair. Mrs. Pennington is quite poetical, always eloquent on that, and every subject. Since my arrival at Sion Hill, my house in the
for there I occupy a lodging till Crescent is ready, two parcels
directed by dying friends, have given me a mournful