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cry. We forget that it always announces the death (and what a death!) of one fellow being; sometimes of half a dozen, or even more.
A lady talks with greater concern of cattle-day than of hanging-day. And her maid contemplates the mournful engraving at the top of a dying speech, with more indifference than she regards the honest tar hugging his sweetheart at the top of “ Blackeyed Susan." All that strikes us is the ridiculous tone in which the halfpenny ballad-finger chants the requiem. We little recollect that, while we are smiling at the voice of the charmer, wives or husbands (charm she never so wisely) children, parents, or friends, perhaps all these and more than these, as pure from crimes as we, and purer still perhaps, are weeping over the crime and punishment of the darling and support of their lives. Still lefs do we at this moment (for the printer always gets the start of the hangman, and many a man has bought his own dying-speech on his return to Newgate by virtue of a reprieve )-still less do we ask ourfelves, whether the wretch, who, at the moment we hear this (which ought to strike us as an) awful sound, finds the halter of death about his neck, and now takes the longing farewel, and now hears the horses whipped and encouraged to I
draw from under him for ever, the cart which he now, now, now feels depart from his lingering feet-whether this wretch really deserved to die more than we. Alas ! were no spectators to attend executions but those who deserve to live, Tyburn would be honoured with much thinner congregations.
Still Cannon Coffee-house. Well I have made an uncomfortable sort of a meal on tea, and now I will continue my conversation with you. Conversation-a plague on words, they will bring along with thein ideas ! This is all the conversation we must have together for foine days. Have I deserved the misery of being absent from my M.? To bring proofs of my love, would be to bring proofs of my existence. They must end together. Oh M. does the chaste resolution which I have so religiously observed ever since I offered you marriage deserve no smiles from Fortune ? Is then my evil genius never to relent? Had I not determined to deserve that success which it is not for mortals to command, I should never have struggled with my paflions as I did the first time we met after your recovery. What a struggle ! The time of year, the time of day, the situation, the danger from
which you were hardly recovered, the number of months fince we had met, the langour of your mind and body, the bed, the every thing---Ye cold blooded, white-livered fons and daughters of chastity, have ye no praises to bestow on such a forbearance as that? Yet, when your strength failed you, and grief and tenderness dissolved my arms; when
reclined upon my shoulder, and your warm tears dropt into my bosom; then---who could refrain ?--then--
What then, ye clay-cold hyper-criticks in morality?
Then---even then--.“ I took but one kiss, and I tore myself away.”
Oh that I could take only one looks at this moment!
Your last says the sun will fnine. Alas, I see no signs of it. Our prospects seem fhut up for
With regard to the stage---we will talk of it. My objections are not because I doubt your suecess. They are of a different kind----the objections of love and, delicacy.
Be not uneary about my selling out. The step was not so imprudent. What think you of orders ? More L
than once you know you have told me I have too much religion for a soldier. Will you con, descend to be a poor parson's wife?
But I shall write to-morrow at this rate.
7 July, 770 Since last night I have changed my mind--totally changed it. I charge you not to see Mrs.. Yates this morning. Write her word your mind is changed. Never will I consent to be. supported by your labours. Never, never shall your face, your person, your accomplifhments. be exposed for so much an hour. By the living God I will not forgive you
do not give up all thoughts of any such thing.
L E T T E R
To the SAME.
20 Sept. 1777. That you have taken to drawing gives me particular pleasure. Depend upon it you will find it suit your genius. But, in truth, your ge
nius seizes every thing. While your old friend is eating his corn, I sit down to tell you this; which I would not say to your face, lest you shculd call it fiattery. Though you well know flattery is a thing in which we never deal. My opinion of the great man's stile of painting, who condescends to improve you in drawing, is exactly your's. Posterity will agree with us. The subjects you recommended to his pencil are such as I should have expected from my M.'s fancy. While I walked my horfe hither this morning, two or three subjects of different forts occurred
All of them would not suit his style. But I know one or two of them would not displeaso you, if well executed. Some of them I will send you.--
Louis xiv. when a boy, viewing the battle of St. Anthony from the top of Charonne. In 1650, I think.
Richard Cromwell, when the Prince de Conti, Condé's brother, told him in conversation, at Montpelier, without knowing him, that Oliver was a great man, but that Oliver's son was a miscreant for not knowing how to profit by his father's criines.