LETTER XXXIX. TO MRS. F―R, PLYMPTON. MY DEAR FRIEND, Bristol, Hotwell-House, I CAN hardly reproach myself for a delay, which elicited from you such a proof of warm. unchanged affection. How gratifying are these lively marks of kindness, when the heart, stripped of its wonted shelter, languishes in a strange land, chilled and forlorn. I have now the comfort to acquaint you, that the benefit Mary receives from these waters, is beyond my hopes, so that her recovery seems nearly completed. This is wonderful, for there was so great an inflammation on her chest, that the doctor says, were it not that she has a most excellent constitution, he should have entertained little hopes of her. I was treated with all possible kindness where I was, and owe more more than I can express for sympathy and attention. Yet it is a great relief, in my present state of life, to be here at liberty. Without the uneasy sensation of disturbing the quiet, and poisoning the comfort of those who are deservedly happy, I would wish my comforts to be shared as much as possible with my friends; but my sorrows and anxieties I would keep as much as possible to myself. This, sure enough, is a beautiful, dismal place; but though the mind were not like mine, overloaded, I wonder how people can taste pleasure where death haunts you in so many forms, that you seem to have entered his vestibule. The number of the young and prosperous that appear drooping like faded flowers about these "sacred springs!" and then to see the vapid, futile phantoms, in the form of nervous, splenetic, and hectic women of fashion, settling their card parties, and talking over their winnings, at the very pump, and in the very presence of the poor wretches for whom the grave is visibly opening! I cannot tell you how I am shocked at these incursions, that vanity is hourly making into the precincts of morta lity. The crowds who elicit gaiety from each Ac other, have the opposite effect on me. customed to walk complacently round the narrow circle of those whom I knew and loved, I am not cheered or amused by the crowd here. It only impresses more forcibly on my mind how many are here that regard me with indifference or contempt, and how great the change. I am so cheered when our kind friends from Bristol come to ask for us! but that cannot often be. I have, however, the very best accounts of the little flock at home, and hear my deputy matron does wonders. When a burden is laid on such young shoulders, there are generally great complaints; but my young heroine conquers difficulties with all imaginable ease. Indeed she commands tried and faithful forces. For, as every thing I have, you know, must needs be extraordinary, no one has such faithful and attached servants. Of this I have had many proofs; and in the depth of my calamity, it was a consolation to me to see, that the kindness of a most indulgent master had produced so much gratitude. I love to find these soft features of human nature nature where one least expects them. Yet. why not expect them? for if these people are uncultured on the one hand, they are unspoiled on the other. My health begins to yield to the pressure of intense anxiety.. I cannot, must not stay an hour, when my paticnt is able to move; but before she takes a long journey to a northern climate, I will endeavour to bring her for a single week, to see your retreat. Your gay painting of summer scenery must not tempt me;: matters of the utmost moment depend on my reaching home by April. - You shall have proof sheets of the volume to exercise your criticism.* They have been transmitted. to me, and give me the idea of a scaffold I am. about to mount. But we shall discuss abundance of topics, literary and domestic, when we reach your Arcadia. Send me a bill of health in the mean time, and accept of your pupil's affectionate regards. This relates to the publication of the volume: of Poems. LETTER XL. TO MISS DUNBAR, BOATH. MY DEAR HELEN, Bristol Hotwells, Jan 20, 1803. I AM sure, that distance, and sorrow, and care have not extinguished that ardour of benevolence, which was formerly rather excited and heightened by the causes that generally freeze the friendships of the world. I feel myself already in danger of moralizing and speculating. If once I wander into digression, farewel to order, connexion, and information; and to you, of all others, I am most apt to digress. Now for a succinct, dry narrative. Very dry indeed it will prove; for, from the harassed state of my mind, looking back only to grief, and forward to terror, I heard things without listening to them, and saw them without looking at them. First, now, behold me in the streets of Glasgow, preparing to enter the mailcoach, which was occupied by two gentlemen, one well dressed, well bred, and rather youthful 5 |