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nevolence to me; but Johnson, I fear, will hardly stake so much money as the cost would amount to, on a work, the fate of which is at present uncertain. Nor could we adorn the Odyssey in this splendid manner, unless we had similar ornaments to bestow on the Iliad. Such I presume are not ready, and much time must elapse even if Flaxman should accede to the plan, before he could possibly prepare them.' Happy indeed should I be to see a work of mine so nobly accompanied, but should that good fortune ever attend me, it cannot take place till the third or fourth edition shall afford the occasion. This I regret, and I regret too that you will have seen them before I can have an opportunity to shew them to you. Here is six pence for you if you will abstain from the sight of them while you are in London.

The sculptor :-nameless, though once dear to fame;
But this man bears an everlasting name.*

So I purpose it shall stand; and on the pedestal when you come, in that form you will find it.

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* A translation of Cowper's Greek verses on his bust of Homer

The added line from the Odyssey is charming, but the assumption of sonship to Homer seems too daring ; suppose it stood thus,

Ως δε παις και πατρι, και όποτε λνσομαι αυτ8,

I am not sure that this would be clear of the same objection, and it departs from the text still more.

With my poor Mary's best love and our united wishes to see you here, I remain,

My dearest brother,
Ever yours,

W. C.

LETTER XLII.

To Mrs. COURTENAY.

Weston, Aug. 20, 1793.

My dearest Catharina is too ' reasonable, I know, to expect news from me, who live on the out-side of the world, and know nothing that passes within it: The best news is, that though you are gone, you are not gone for ever, as once I supposed you were, and said that we should probably

meet no more. Some news however we have ; but then I conclude that you have already received it from the Doctor, and that thought almost deprives me of all courage to relate it. On the evening of the feast, Bob Archer's house affording, I suppose, the best room for the purpose, all the lads and lasses who felt themselves disposed to dance assembled there. Long time they danced, at least long time they did something a little like it, when at last the company having retired, the fiddler asked Bob for a lodging, Bob replied — " that his beds were all “ full of his own family, but if he chose it he would “ show him a hay-cock, where he might sleep as “ sound as in any bed whatever.”— So forth they went together, and when they reached the place, the fiddler knocked down Bob, and demanded his money. But happily for Bob, though he might be knocked down, and actually was so, yet he could not possibly be robbed, having nothing. The fiddler, therefore, having amused himself with kicking him and beating him as he lay, as long as he saw good, left him, and has never been heard of since, nor enquired after indeed, being no doubt the last man in the world whom Bob wishes to see again.

By a letter from Hayley, to day, I learn, that

Flaxman, to whom we are indebted for those Odyssey figures which Lady Frog brought over, has almost finished a set for the Iliad also. I should be glad to embellish my Homer with them, but neither my bookseller, nor I, shall probably chuse to risque so expensive an ornament on a work, whose reception with the public is at present doubtful.

Adieu, my dearest Catharina. Give my best love to your husband. Come home as soon as you can, and accept our united very best wishes.

W.C.

LETTER XLIII.

To SAMUEL ROSE, Esqr.

Weston, Aug. 22, 1793.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

I rejoice that you have had 50 pleasant an excursion, and have beheld so many beautiful scenes. Except the delightful Upway I have seen them all. I have lived much at Southampton, have slept and caught a sore-throat at Lyndhurst, and have swum in the bay of Weymouth. It will give us great pleasure to see you here, should your business give you an opportunity to finish your excursions of this season with one to Weston.

As for my going on, it is much as usual. I rise at six; an industrious and wholesome practice from which I have never swerved since March. I breakfast generally about eleven—have given the intermediate time to my old delightful bard. Villoisson no longer keeps me company. I therefore now jog along with Clarke and Barnes at my elbow, and from the excellent annotations of the former select such as I think likely to be useful, or that recommend themselves by the amusement they may afford; of which sorts there are not a few. Barnes also affords me some of both kinds, but not so many, his notes being chiefly paraphrastical or grammatical. My only fear is lest between them both I should make my work too voluminous.

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