cry. We forget that it always announces the death (and what a death!) of one fellow being; fometimes 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 the regards the honeft tar hugging his fweetheart at the top of "Blackeyed Sufan." All that strikes us is the ridiculous tone in which the halfpenny ballad-finger chants the requiem. We little recollect that, while we are fmiling at the voice of the charmer, wives or husbands (charm she never fo wifely) children, parents, or friends, perhaps all these and more than thefe, as pure from crimes as we, and purer still perhaps, are weeping over the crime and punishment of the darling and fupport 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)-ftill lefs do we ask ourfelves, whether the wretch, who, at the moment we hear this (which ought to ftrike us as an) awful found, finds the halter of death about his neck, and now takes the longing farewel, and now hears the horfes whipped and encouraged to

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 fort of a meal on tea, and now I will continue my converfation with you. Converfation—a plague on words, they will bring along with them ideas! This is all the converfation we must have together for fome days. Have I deferved the mifery of being abfent from my M.? To bring proofs of my love, would be to bring proofs of my exiftence. They must end together. Oh M. does the chafte resolution which I have fo religiously obferved ever fince I offered you marriage deserve no fmiles from Fortune? Is then my evil genius never to relent? Had I not determined to deserve that fuccefs which it is not for mortals to command, I should never have struggled with my paffions as I did the first time we met after your recovery. What a ftruggle! The time of year, the time of day, the fituation, the danger from which

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 fuch a forbearance as that? Yet, when your ftrength failed you, and grief and tenderness diffolved you in my arms; when you reclined your check upon my shoulder, and your warm tears dropt into my befom; then---who could refrain ?--then-

What then, ye clay-cold hyper-criticks in morality?

Then---even then---"I took but one kifs, and I tore myself away."

Oh that I could take only one looks at this moment!

Your laft fays the fun will fhine. Alas, I fee no figns of it. Our profpects feem fhut up for

sever.

With regard to the stage--we will talk of it. My objections are not because I doubt your fuccefs. They are of a different kind----the obBe not uneasy

jections of love and, delicacy.

than once you know you have

told me I have

too much religion for a foldier. Will you con

defcend to be a poor parfon's wife?

But I fhall write to-morrow at this rate.

Since last night I have changed my mind-totally changed it. I charge you not to fee Mrs.. Yates this morning. Write her word your mind is changed. Never will I confent to be. fupported by your labours. Never, never shall your face, your perfon, your accomplishments. be exposed for fo much an hour. By the living God I will not forgive you if you do not give. up all thoughts of any fuch thing.

LETTER

To the SAME.

XLVI.

Croydon, 20 Sept. 1777.

That you have taken to drawing gives me particular pleasure. Depend upon it you will find it fuit your genius. But, in truth, your ge

nius feizes every thing. While your old friend' is eating his corn, I fit down to tell you this; which I would not fay to your face, left you fhould call it flattery. Though you well know flattery is a thing in which we never deal. My opinion of the great man's ftile of painting, who condefcends to improve you in drawing, is exactly your's. Pofterity will agree with us. The fubjects you recommended to his pencil are fuch as I should have expected from my M.'s fancy. While I walked my horfe hither this morning, two or three fubjects of different forts occurred All of them would not fuit his ftyle. But I know one or two of them would not difSome of them I

to me.

please you,

if well executed.

will fend 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 Con ti, Condé's brother, told him in converfation, at Montpelier, without knowing him, that Oliver was a great man, but that Oliver's fon was a mifcreant for not knowing how to profit by his father's crimes.