novelty to the shades of your ancestors, who were always Whigs ever since we had any. Adieu. W. C. LETTER LIX. TO SAMUEL ROSE, Esqr. Feb. 17, 1793. I have read the Critique of my Work in the Analytical Review, and am happy to have fallen into the hands of a Critic, rigorous enough indeed, but a scholar, and a man of sense, and who does not deliberately intend me mischief. I am better pleased indeed that he censures some things, than I should have been with unmixt commendation, for his censure (to use the new diplomatic term) will accredit his praises. In his particular remarks he is for the most part right, and I shall be the better for them; but in his general ones I think he asserts too largely, and more than he could prove. With respect to inversions in particular, I know that they do not abound. Once they did, and I had Milton's example for it, not disapproved by Addison. remonstrance against them, I expunged the most, and in my new edition shall have fewer still. I know that they give dignity, and am sorry to part with them, but to parody an old Proverb, he who lives in the year ninety-three, must do as in the year ninety But on three ment. three is done by others. The same remark I have to make on his censure of inharmonious lines. I know them to be much fewer than he asserts, and not more in number than I accounted indispensibly necessary to a due variation of cadence. I have however now in conformity with modern taste (over much delicate in my mind) given to the far greater number of them a flow as smooth as oil. A few I retain, and will, in compliment to my own judgHe thinks me too faithful to compound epithets in the introductory lines, and I know his reason. He fears lest the English reader should blame Homer whom he idolizes, though hardly more than I, for such constant repetition. But them I shall not alter. They are necessary to a just representation of the original. In the affair of Outis, I shall throw him flat on his back by an unanswerable argument, which I shall give in a note, and with which I am furnished by Mrs. Unwin. So much for Hypercriticism, which has run away with all my paper. This Critic by the way is know him by infallible indications. I® W. C. LETTER LX. To the Revd. Mr. HURDIS.. Weston, Feb. 23, 1793. My eyes which have long been much inflamed, will hardly serve me for Homer, and oblige me to make all all my Letters short. You have obliged me much, by sending me so speedily the remainder of your Notes. I have begun with them again, and find them, as before, very much to the purpose. More to the purpose they could not have been, had you been Poetry Professor already. I rejoice sincerely in the prospect you have of that office, which, whatever may be your own thoughts of the matter, I am sure you will fill with great sufficiency. Would that my interest and power to serve you were greater. One string to my bow I have, and one only, which shall not be idle for want of my exertions. I thank you likewise for your very entertaining notices and remarks in the natural way. The hurry in which I write would not suffer me to send you many in return, had I many to send, but only two or three present themselves. Frogs will feed on Worms. I saw a Frog gathering into his gullet an Earth-worm as long as himself; it cost him time and labour, but at last he succeeded. Mrs. Unwin and I, crossing a brook, saw from the foot-bridge somewhat at the bottom of the water, which had the appearance of a flower. Observing it attentively, we found that it consisted of a circular assemblage of Minnows; their heads all met in a centre, and their tails diverging at equal distances, and being elevated above their heads, gave them the appearance of a flower half blown. One was longer than the rest, and as often as a straggler came in sight, he quitted his place to pursue him, and having driven him away, away, he returned to it again, no other Minnow offering to take it in his absence. This we saw him do several times. The object that had attached them all, was a dead Minnow, which they seemed to be devouring. After a very rainy day, I saw on one of the flower borders, what seemed a long hair, but it had a waving twining motion. Considering more nearly, I found it alive, and endued with spontaneity, but could not discover at the ends of it either head or tail, or any distinction of parts. I carried it into the house, when the air of a warm room dried and killed it presently. ...... LETTER LXI. W. C. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, Esqr. Weston, Feb. 24, 1723. Your Letter (so full of kindness, and so exactly in unison with my own feelings for you) should have had, as it deserved to have, an earlier answer, had I not been perpetually tormented with inflamed eyes, which are a sad hindrance to me in every thing. But to make amends, if I do not send you an early answer, I send you at least a speedy one, being obliged to write as fast as my pen can trot, that I may shorten the time of poring upon paper as much as possible. Homer too has been ano ther ther hindrance, for always when I can see, which is only during about two hours in a morning, and not at all by candle-light, I devote myself to him, being in haste to send him a second time to the Press, that nothing may stand in the way of Milton. By the way, where are my dear Tom's remarks, which I long to have, and must have soon, or they will come too late? Oh you Rogue, what would you give to have such a dream about Milton, as I had about a week since? I dreamed that being in a house in the City, and with much company looking towards the lower end of the room from the upper end of it, I descried a Figure, which I immediately knew to be Milton's. He was very gravely, but very neatly attired in the fashion of his day, and had a countenance, which filled me with those feelings that an affectionate child has for a beloved father; such for instance, as Tom has for you. My first thought was wonder, where he could have been concealed so many years; my second a transport of joy to find him still alive; my third, another transport to find myself in his company, and my fourth, a resolution to accost him: I did so, and he received me with a complacence, in which I saw equal sweetness and dignity. I spoke of his Paradise Lost, as every man must who is worthy to speak of it all, and told him a long story of the manner in which it affected me, when I first discovered it, being at that time a school-boy. He answered me by a smile, and a gentle inclination of his head. He then grasped my hand affectionately, and |