Dr. Franklin to David Hartley-Adieu on leaving Europe.

them. On the other hand,some of our papers here are endeavoring to disgrace me. I have long been accustomed to receive more blame, as well as more praise, than I deserved. "Tis the lot of every public man, and I have one account to balance the other. As you observe, there was no d- -n your souls in the story of the poker when I told it. The late dresser of it was probably the same, or perhaps of kin to him, who, in relating a dispute that happened between Queen Anne and the Archbishop of Canterbury, concerning a vacant mitre, which the Queen was for bestowing on a person the Archbishop thought unworthy, made both the Queen and the Archbishop swear three or four thumping oaths in every sentence of the discussion; and the Archbishop at last gained his point. One present at the tale, being surprised, said, “But did the Queen and the Archbishop swear so at one another?" 66 “O! no, no,” said the relater, "that is only my way of telling the story."

Yours, etc.,

B. FRANKLIN.

XXIX.-ADIEU ON LEAVING EUROPE.

Dr. Franklin to David Hartley.

PASSY, July 5, 1785.

I cannot quit the coasts of Europe, without taking leave of my ever dear friend Mr. Hartley. We were long fellow laborers in the best of all works, the work of peace. I leave you still in the field; but, having finished my day's task, I am going home to go to bed! Wish me a good night's rest, as I do you a pleasant evening. Adieu! And believe me ever yours most affectionately,

B. FRANKLIN.

Mrs. Leadbetter to Rev. George Crabbe-Renewal of Acquaintance.

XXX.-RENEWAL OF ACQUAINTANCE.

Mrs. Leadbetter to Rev. George Crabbe.

BALLITORE, 7th of 11th month, 1816.

I believe it will surprise George Crabbe to receive a letter from an entire stranger, whom most probably he does not remember to have ever seen or heard of, but who cannot forget having met him at the house of Edmund Burke, Charles Street, James's Square, in the year 1784. I was brought thither by my father, Richard Shackleton, the friend from their childhood, of Edmund Burke. My dear father told thee that "Goldsmith's would now be the deserted village." Perhaps thou dost not remember this compliment, but I remember the ingenious modesty which disclaimed it. He admired the "Village," the "Library," and the "Newspaper" exceedingly; and the delight with which he read them to his family could not but be acceptable to the author, had he known the sound judgment and the exquisite taste which that excellent man possessed. But he saw no more of the productions of the Muse he had admired, whose originality was not the least charm. He is dead; the friend whom he loved and honored, and to whose character thou dost so much justice in the preface to the "Parish Register," is also gone to the house appointed for all living. A splendid constellation of poets arose in the literary horizon. I looked around for Crabbe. Why does not he, who shines as brightly as any of these, add his lustre?" I had not long thought thus, when in an Edinburgh Review I met with reflections similar to my own, which introduced the "Parish Register." Oh! it was like the voice of a long-lost friend, and glad was I to hear that voice again in "The Borough;" still more in the "Tales" which appear to

66

Mrs. Leadbetter to Rev. George Crabbe-Renewal of Acquaintance.

me excelling all that preceded them. Every work is so much in unison with our own feelings, that a wish for information concerning them and their author, received into our hearts, is strongly excited. One of our friends, Dykes Alexander, who was in Ballitore in 1810, I think, said he was personally acquainted with thee, and spoke highly of thy character. I regretted I had not an opportunity of conversing with him on this subject, as perhaps he would have been able to decide arguments which have arisen; namely, whether we owe to truth, or to fiction, that " ever new delight" which thy poetry affords us? Thy characters, however singular some of them may be, are never unnatural; and thy sentiments, so true to domestic and social feelings as well as to those of a higher nature, have the convincing power of reality over the mind; and I maintain that all thy pictures are drawn from life. To inquire whether this be the case, is the excuse which I make to myself for writing this letter. I wish the excuse may be accepted by thee; for I greatly fear I have taken an unwarrantable liberty in making the inquiry. Though advanced in life, yet from an education of peculiar simplicity, and from never having been long absent from my retired native village, I am too little acquainted with decorum. If I have now transgressed the rules it prescribes, I appeal to the candor and liberality of thy mind to forgive a fault caused by strong enthusiasm. I am thy sincere friend,

MARY LEADBETTER.

P. S. Ballitore is the village in which Edmund Burke was educated by Abraham Shackleton, whose pupil he became in 1741, and from whose school he entered the college of Dublin in 1744. The school is still flourishing.

'Rev. George Crabbe to Mrs. Leadbetter-Respone to "The Child of Simplicity."

XXXI.-RESPONSE TO "THE CHILD OF SIMPLICITY."

Rev. George Crabbe to Mrs. Leadbetter.

TROWBRIDGE, 1st of 12th month, 1816.

Mary Leadbetter! yes, indeed, I do well remember you! Not Leadbetter then, but a pretty, demure lass, standing a timid auditor, while her own verses were read by a kind friend, but a keen judge. And I have in my memory your father's person and countenance, and you may be sure my vanity retained the compliment which he paid me in the moment when he permitted his judgment to slip behind his good humor and desire of giving pleasure. Yes, I remember all who were present; and of all, are not you and I the only survivors? It was the day, was it not, when I introduced my wife to my friend? And now both are gone! And your father and Richard Burke who was present (yet again, I must ask, was he not?) and Mrs. Burke? All departed—and so, by-and-by, they will speak of us. But, in the mean time, it was good of you to write. Oh very-very good!

But are you not your father's own daughter? Do you not flatter after his manner? How do you know the mischief you may do in the mind of a vain man, who is but too susceptible of praise, even while he is conscious of so much to be placed against it? I am glad that you like my verses; it would have mortified me much if you had not, for you can judge as well as write. * Yours are really very admirable things; and

*

the morality is as pure as the literary merit is conspicuous. I am not sure that I have read all that you have given us, but what I have read, has really that rare and all but undefinable quality, genius; that is to say, it seizes on the mind and commands attention, and on the heart and compels its feelings.

Rev. George Crabbe to Mrs. Leadbetter-Response to "The Child of Simplicity."

How could you imagine that I could be otherwise than pleased-delighted rather--with your letter? And let me not omit the fact, that I reply the instant I am at liberty, for I was enrobing myself for church. You are a child of simplicity, I know, and do not love robing; but you are a pupil of liberality, and look upon such things with a large mind, smiling in charity. Well, I was putting on the great black gown, when my servant-(you see I can be pompous, to write of gowns and servants with such familiarity)-when he brought me a letter first directed, the words yet legible, to "George Crabbe, at Belvoir Castle," and then by Lord Mendip, to the "Reverend," at Trowbridge; and at Trowbridge I hope again to receive these welcome evidences of your remembrance, directed in all their simplicity, and written, I trust, in all their sincerity. The delay was occasioned by a change in my place of residence. I now dwell in the parsonage of a busy, populous, clothing town, sent thither by ambition and the Duke of Rutland. It is situated in Wiltshire, not far from Bath.

There was a Suffolk family of Alexanders, one of whom you probably mean; and as he knew very little of me, I see no reason why he should not give me a good character. Whether it was merited is another point, and that will depend upon our ideas of good character. If it means, as it generally does, that I paid my debts, and was guilty of no glaring, world-defying immorality—why, yes! I was so far a good character. But before the Searcher of Hearts what are our good characters?

But your motive for writing to me was your desire of knowing whether my men and women were really existing creatures or beings of my own imagination. Nay, Mary Leadbetter, yours was a better motive; you thought that you should give me