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ney end?

make me your

ance. And hope led me on from day to day, deceiving time with diftant prospects which I thought at hand. When will the tedious jour

When will my weary feet find rest? When shall I sleep away my fatigues on the downsoft pillow of the bosom of love? Should hope continue to deceive me, you never fhall make me happy, till you

husband. Yet, as we sate upon the grass, under the trees near the water, yesterday, just before you returned me my stick, becaufe you thought the gentleman coming along the path by the mill was a certain person---yet, had I then loosened another button or two of my favourite habit, which was already opened by the heat; had I then (you remember, my Laura, the conversation and the scene) forgotten my resolution, forgotten every thing, and riotted in all your glowing charms, which only love like mine could withstand---who is he would dare to blame me? Who would dare to say I had done what he would not have done? But the scene must be shifted. ---Sally Harris, you know, arrived only at the dignity of Pomona at Hockerill. Had my M. her due, mankind at large would admit her double claim to the titles of Minerva and of yenus,

To To Neep here is impossible. As well expect the miser to sleep in the place where he once hung in raptures over a hidden treasure which is now loft. This letter I have an opportunity to fend to our old friend, for you, without taking it to town. Let me fill up the remainder of my paper with an almost incredible anecdote I learned from a gentleman who joined me on the road this morning, and travelled some miles with me. It happened last week, I think.

Peter Ceppi you 'remember. Surely that Providence which prevents the propagation of monsters, does not suffer fuch monstrous examples as these to propagate.

One Empfon, a footman to Dr. Bell, having in vain courted for some time a servant belonging to Lord Spencer, at last caused the bans to be put up in church, without her consent; which fhe forbad. Being thus disappointed, he meditated revenge ; and having got a person to write a letter to her, appointing a meeting, he contrived to way-lay her, and surprize her in Lord Spencer's park. On her screaming, he difcharged a pistol at her, and made his escape. The ball wounded her, but not mortally.

Oh love, love, can'st thou not be content to make fools of thy slaves, to make them miserable, to make them what thou pleasest!. Must thout also goad them on to crimes ! must thou convert them into devils, hell-hounds!

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28 Jan. 17796 The short note I wrote to you last night, immcdiately on my reaching town, you received, I hope. But why no answer to it? Why do you not say when we shall meet? I have ten thoufands things to tell you. My situation in Noefolk is lovely. Exactly what you like. The parfonage-houie may be made very comfortable at a trifling expence.

How happily shall we spend our time there! How glad am l that I have taken orders, and what obligations have I to my dear B. to Mr. H. and Dr. V.! Now, my happincfs can be deferred no longer. My character and profession arc, now, additional weights in the scale.

Oh then, consent to marry me directly. The day I lead you to the altar will be the hap, piest day of my existence.

Thanks, a thousand thanks for your tender and affectionate letters while I was in Norfolk, Be assured Gi could mcan nothing by what she

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faid. She is our firm friend, I am persuaded, About an hour ago, I called there ;' but she was out. Presently I shall go again with this, in the hope of hearing something about you.

Oh M.! every day I live I do but discover more and more how impossible it is for me to live with

out you.

Don't forget the gth of next month. We muft kcep that day facred together.

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To the SAM 8.


7 Feb. 1779. While I live I will never forget your behavior yesterday. Were I to live an hundred years, I could never thank you enough. But, your will be done.

The task you have fet une about Chatterton is. only a further proof of your regard for me. You know the warinth of my paffions; and you think, if I do not employ myself, they may flame out and consume me. Well then, I will spend a morning or two in arranging what I have collected respecting the author of Rowley's poems. Every syllable you will read I assure you thall be Authentic


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start at " The author of Rowley's po ems?”

My mind does not now harbour a doubt that Chatterton wrote the whole, whatever I thought when we read them together at H. The internal evidence of the matter shall not puzzle you, but you shall tell me whether you don't think it easier for Chatterton to have imitated the style of Rowley's age (which he has not done exactly, if you believe those.who think as I think), than for Rowley to write in a style which did not exist till so many ages after his time. To fuppose him to have found half, and to have added to them---or to consider him as a cat's

paw in the business to fome cotemporary Rowley, in erder to extricate a fictitious Rowley from oblivion, would in my humble opinion be nonsense. For my own part, though he might find some old MSS. I cannot believe he found a syllable which he has attributed to Rowley. Who will engage to prove, from internal evidence, the antiquity of Any one of Rowley's compofitions ? What he did find certainly suggested to him the idea of pretending to have found more ; but how shall we persuade credulity to believe that all Rowley's pocms were copicd from old MISS. when the only MSS. produced in confirmation of the story are indisputably proved to be modern? Is any one



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