William Cowper to Rev. John Newton-Gratitude for the Music of Nature.

a common, or in a farm-yard, is no bad performer; and as to insects, if the black beetle, and beetles indeed of all hues, will keep out of my way, I have no objection to any of the rest; on the contrary, in whatever key they sing, from the gnat's fine treble to the bass of the humble-bee, I admire them all. Seriously, however, it strikes me as a very observable instance of Providential kindness to man that such an exact accord has been contrived between his ear and the sounds with which, at least in a rural situation, it is almost every moment visited. All the world is sensible of the uncomfortable effect that certain sounds have upon the nerves, and consequently upon the spirits; and if a sinful world had been filled with such as would have curdled the blood, and have made the sense of hearing a perpetual inconvenience, I do not know that we should have had a right to complain. But now the fields, the woods, the gardens, have each their concerts, and the ear of man is forever regaled by creatures who seem only to please themselves. Even the ears that are deaf to the Gospel, are continually entertained, though without knowing it, by sounds for which they are solely indebted to its Author. There is, somewhere within infinite space, a world that does not roll within the precincts of mercy, and, as it is reasonable, and even scriptural, to suppose that there is music in heaven, in those dismal regions perhaps the reverse of it is found; tones so dismal as to make woe itself more insupportable, and to acuminate even despair. But my paper admonishes me in good time to draw the reins, and to check the descent of my family into deeps with which she is but too familiar.

Our best love attends you both, with yours, Sum ut semper, tui studiosissimus.

W. C.

Hannah More to her Sister-Dying Requests made by Dr. Johnson, of Sir J. Reynolds.

V.—DYING REQUESTS MADE BY DR. JOHNSON, OF SIR JOSHUA

REYNOLDS.

Hannah More to her Sister.

HAMPTON, December, 1784.

Poor dear Johnson! he is past all hope. The dropsy has brought him to the point of death. His legs are scarified; but nothing will do. I have, however, the comfort to hear that his dread of dying is in a great measure subdued; and now he says, "The bitterness of death is past." He sent the other day for Sir Joshua; and after much serious conversation, told him he had three favors to beg of him, and hoped he would not refuse a dying friend, be they what they would. Sir Joshua promised. The first was, that he never would paint on Sunday; the second, that he would forgive him thirty pounds that he had lent him, as he wanted to leave them to a distressed family; the third was, that he would read the Bible whenever he had an opportunity, and that he would never omit it on a Sunday. There was no difficulty but upon the first point; but at length Sir Joshua promised to gratify him in all. How delighted should I be to hear the dying discourse of this great and good man, especially now that faith has subdued his fears! I wish I could see him.

VI.-ON THE DEATH OF HIS WIFE.*

Thomas Gray to Mr. Mason.

March 28th, 1767.

I break in upon you at a moment when we least of all are permitted to disturb our friends, only to say that you are daily

* This and the two following letters have been placed together without regard to date, from the kindred character of their subject matter.-H

over;

Thomas Jefferson to John Adams-On the Death of Mrs. Adams.

and hourly present to my thoughts. If the worst * be not yet past, you will neglect and pardon me; but if the last struggle be if the poor object of your long anxieties be no longer sensible to your kindness, or to her own sufferings, allow me (at least in idea, for what could I do, were I present, more than this?) to sit by you in silence, and pity from my heart, not her who is at rest, but you who lose her. May He who made us, the Master of our pleasures and of our pains, preserve and support you! Adieu.

I have long understood how little you had to hope.

VII.-ON THE DEATH OF MRS. ADAMS.

Thomas Jefferson to John Adams.

MONTICELLO, Nov. 13th, 1818.

The public papers, my dear friend, announce the fatal event of which your letter of October 20th had given me ominous forebodings. Tried myself in the school of affliction, by the loss of every form of connection which can rive the human heart, I know full well and feel what you have lost, what you have suffered, are suffering, and have yet to endure. The same trials have taught me that for ills so immeasurable, time and silence are the only medicine. I will not, therefore, by useless condolences, open afresh the sluices of your grief, nor, although mingling sincerely my tears with yours, will I say a word more where words are vain, but that it is some comfort to us both

* “As this little billet (which I received at the Hot-Wells at Bristol) then breathed, and still seems to breathe, the very voice of friendship in its tenderest and most pathetic note, I cannot refrain from publishing it in this place. I opened it almost at the precise moment when it would necessarily be the most affecting."-Note of Mason, to Gray's Letters.

A. Humboldt to Varnhagen-"Love is above all.”

that the time is not very distant at which we are to deposit in the same cerement our sorrows and suffering bodies, and to ascend in essence to an ecstatic meeting with the friends we have loved and lost, and whom we shall still love and never lose again. God bless and support you under your heavy affliction. THOMAS JEFFERSON.

VIII.-" LOVE IS ABOVE ALL.”

A. Humboldt to Varnhagen.

BERLIN, Sunday, 6 o'clock a. M., April 5th, 1855.

You, my dear Varnhagen, who are not afraid of grief, but who trace its phases through the depths of sentiment, you should receive at this sorrowful time a few words expressing the love which both brothers feel for you. The release has not yet come. I left him * last night at eleven o'clock, and I hasten to him again. The day yesterday was less distressing. A half lethargic condition, frequent though not restless slumber, and after each waking words of love, of comfort, but always the clearness of the great intellect, which penetrates and distinguishes every thing, and examines its own condition. The voice was very feeble, hoarse, and thin like a child's; leeches were therefore applied to the throat. Full consciousness! • Think of me," he said the day before yesterday, "but always with cheerfulness. I was very happy, and this day also was a beautiful one for me, for love is above all.' I will soon be with mother, and have an insight into a higher order of things." I have no shadow of hope. I never thought my old eyes had so many tears! It has lasted near eight days.

* William Humboldt, then on his dying bed.

Sir James Mackintosh to Robert Hall-On his Recovery from temporary Insanity.

IX.-ON HIS RECOVERY FROM TEMPORARY INSANITY.

Sir James Mackintosh to Robert Hall.

BOMBAY, 21st Sept., 1805.

MY DEAR HALL: I believe that, in the hurry of leaving England, I did not answer the letter which you wrote to me in December, 1803. I did not, however, forget your interesting young friend, from whom I have had one letter from Constantinople, and to whom I have twice written at Cairo, where he now is. No request of yours could, indeed, be lightly esteemed by me.

It happened to me a few days ago, in drawing up (merely for my own use) a short sketch of my life, that I had occasion to give a faithful statement of my recollection of the circumstances of my first acquaintance with you. On the most impartial survey of my early life, I could see nothing which tended so much to excite and invigorate my understanding, and to direct it toward high, though perhaps scarcely accessible objects, as my intimacy with you. Five-and-twenty years are now past since we first met; yet hardly any thing has occurred since, which has left a deeper or more agreeable impression on my mind. I now remember the extraordinary union of brilliant fancy with acute intellect, which would have excited more admiration than it has done, if it had been dedicated to the amusement of the great and learned, instead of being consecrated to the far more noble office of consoling, instructing, and reforming the poor and the forgotten. It was then too early for me to discover that extreme purity, which, in a mind preoccupied with the low realities of life, would have been no natural companion of so much activity and ardor, but which thoroughly detached