religious principles were, I fear, unfixed and fluctuating; but the primary cause that so much genius, taste, benevolence, and prosperity, did not produce or diffuse more happiness, was his living a stranger to the comforts of domestic life, from which unhappy connexions excluded him. Tavern company, and bachelor circles, make men gross, callous, and awkward; in short, disqualify them for superior female society. The more heart old bachelors of this class have, the more absurd and insignificant they grow in the long run; for when infirmity comes on, and fame and business lose their attractions, they must needs have somebody to love and trust, and they then become the dupes of wretched toad-eaters, and slaves to designing housekeepers. Such was poor James, who certainly was worthy of a better fate. His death, and the circumstances of it, have impressed my mind in a manner I could not have believed. I think we are somehow shrunk, and our consequence diminished, by losing the only person of eminence among us. "Tis like extinguishing light. I have been diffuse, perhaps tedious, in what concerns the exit of this extraordinary man; because I thought you might, like me, be anxious to know how people quit the world, who have made any noise or figure in it. His death found me sad, and has made me sadder. The sudden death of two poor men, our tenants, who have left young helpless families, which happened last week, threw a great damp over us. But I will no longer croak my funereal note: though death is ever present to my thoughts, not in his mildest form, I will"Give it its wholesome empire; let it reign." Adieu, dear Madam! LETTER IX. TO MRS. MACINTOSH. DEAR MADAM, Begun June 19, 1796, at Blair. I HAVE past three charming days here, during which I have been soothed by the 13 novelty novelty of ease and leisure; so immersed in the luxury of embowering groves, flowery walks, solemn shades of dark larches with drooping branches, that seem to weep over the wanderers that muse or mourn beneath them, or soft glades along the murmuring Tilt, where every vegetable beauty blooms in full luxuriance, safe from the nipping frost or chilling blast; so lost, I say, in a dream of pensive musing, which I have enjoyed at full leisure, free from the restraints of form, and the disturbance of intrusion, that, like other people given wholly up to pleasure, I seemed to forget my friends, my duty, and myself. Nay, I began to consider whether it was most eligible to turn hermitess, or hamadryad. When the fair form of the virgin huntress of the woods, which adorns one of these sweet walks, drew my attention, I thought of sheltering in her haunts as a hamadryad; but when the opening of a long vista disclosed the Gothic form of the old church of St. Bridget, my intentions took a more orthodox turn, and I began to adjust the dimensions of my cell, and think of cold vigils and midnight prayers, prayers. My head is now cooled; my visions are vanished, and I am considering how I shall get home to make frocks and mend petticoats. M. would tell you why Mr. Grant brought and left me here, till his return from Stirling. If I could spend some days in this sweet place with you, one of my first little wishes would be gratified; for I am now grown too wise to form many wishes. I am just going; his reverence hurries me, yet sends you all many good wishes. Farewell! LETTER X. TO MRS. MACINTOSH, GLASGOW. June 25, 1796. DEAR MADAM, YOUR very kind letter by Mr. Mackay gave me great ease of mind. His reverence, who delights in teasing me, and loves to hear the quick things I say when angry, would have it, you forgot me, was tired, &c. &c. I am too proud, and too jealous to tire any one. 'Tis the easiest thing in the world to stop my career, either in prose or verse, particularly the latter, which I always begin with fear and trembling. The dread of making myself ridiculous, and being laughed at as a pretender to genius, haunts and terrifies me, whenever "the light of my soul begins to rise." Yet if the occasional short excursions of my fancy can give you a moment's pleasure, I should certainly feel that a powerful motive to indulge myself; for I frankly own, that the exercise of this rhyming faculty does now and then cheer the gloom of care, and blunt the stings of anxiety. I feel the same solace, which I suppose those who possess untutored powers of musical excellence do, in warbling their "wood notes wild," merely to gratify themselves and divert their solitude. After the confinement of the winter, and the sickly languor in which I had pined away the spring, I enjoyed the return of health, ease, and leisure too much, while at Blair, to cramp myself with any set employment. Yet a ludicrous accident had very near |