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Now, in England, people in middle life are constantly talking of their superiors, and talking so very much of them, that, as Johnson says of Shakspeare, who "exhausted worlds and then imagined new," they exhaust their follies and vices, and then imagine new ones. This style of conversation is, of all the styles I have met with, the most contemptible.

You know my dislike to very conspicuous goodness among females, which makes me shrink a little from Female Societies formed with the very best intention; not by any means as doubting the purity of the intention, or, in many instances, the beneficial results; but such societies so often include in their number offi- 1 Speaking of a young Englishman who had cious gossiping characters, who derive a certain been introduced to her family, she reimagined consequence by overruling and inter-marks :fering, and are so officious in raising contributions on all their acquaintance, and have so little He appears to them a young man very corof the charity of opinion, that I could never feel rect in his conduct, and of good disposition; but congenial with many of them, though there are evidently born in the age of calculation; a prosome I hold in reverence. I think if I were pensity of which we Scots, in revenge for the wealthy, however, I should gladly "shake the obloquy formerly thrown on us by John Bull, superflux to them," as not doubting of their faith-are very apt to accuse his calves. There is no ful administration, and intimate knowledge of those on whom they bestow; but having little to give, I bestow that little on the poverty with which I am well acquainted.

doubt but there are among the inhabitants of the Northern Athens many who calculate very nicely; but they leave that to be discovered in their conduct, and take care that it does not appear in their conversation. Perhaps there is no place where gossiping discussions respecting the amount of individual incomes, and the prices of articles of luxury, are so seldom heard; yet people here think of these things, and struggle

Young ladies of ostentatious piety, and consequently of weak understanding, began, at this period, to carry out Bibles in their reticules, on which practice Mrs. Grant re-to attain them as much as others. Good taste marks:

or as a Catholic relic.

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keeps many things out of sight, which good feeling in a high-toned mind would not suffer to


To have the Scriptures laid up in the heart, and influencing the heart and conduct, would be just as well as carrying them about: neither rents and exorbitant wealth have cherished, till, A propos to all the evil propensities which high Lady Rachel Russell nor Hannah More, nor like the cuckoo's progeny, they turn the owners any other of those illustrious women that did out of their proper abodes; I hear the comhonor to Christianity and their country, ever carried about a Bible as a spell to protect them, most philosophic indifference, and reserve my plaints that resound from every side, with the I am grieved sympathy for great and real evils. As I never to find in some high professors, and in those thought people essentially the better for the suwho are rather boldly termed advanced Chris-perfluities which the late unnatural state of tians, such inconsistencies, such a want of can- things enabled them to possess, so I do not think dor and charity, as makes me at a loss how to them the worse for wanting them. estimate these professions. This produces a painful distrust both of myself and others; I accuse myself of having less reverence for high professors than formerly, and considering some of them as self-righteous and uncharitable; while I find others, who have walked softly under the same fears and doubts as myself, more constant and upright.

Edinburgh, as may be expected, figures at large in Mrs. Grant's correspondence. Nor does she at all underrate the many advantiges of "Scotia's darling seat," when she states, what however may be perfectly just, of one of its circle:

Such is this Tory lady's opinion of the consequences of high rents, and "the protection of agriculture."

The structure of Edinburgh society, in relation to Mrs. Grant and others of the frugal-genteel, is amusingly illustrated in the following description of the composition of her respective parties:

I have this morning the muddiest head you can suppose, having had a party of friends with me on the last two evenings. To understand the cause of all this hospitality, you must know that, being a very methodical and economical family, every cow of ours, as we express it in One high preeminence, however, that Edin- our rustic Highland dialect, has a calf; that is burgh holds above other towns, and more par- to say, when we have a party, which in Edinticularly above London, is the liberal style of burgh includes a cold collation, we are obliged conversation. All the persons most distin- to provide quantum sufficit for our guests, who, guished and admired here speak with a degree being of a description more given to good talkof respect and kindness of each other-no pettying than good eating, are content to admire and animosities nor invidious diminutions, even be admired, and have little time to attend to though differing much on political or other sub- vulgar gratifications: of consequence, the more jects. Then, there is no scandal, no discussion of people's private affairs or circumstances to be met with in what is accredited as good society.

material food, after contributing, like the guests, to embellish the entertainment, remains little diminished. As our wide acquaintance includes

the greatest variety of people imaginable, there without an object or an aim, run at random are among them a number of good, kind people, through the world, and are led on by the unfeelthat dress finely, laugh heartily, and sing mer-ing great and gay to acquire a taste for expen rily, and have, in some instances, genealogy sive pleasures and elegant society, and then left besides; yet on these good people the lions and to languish in forlorn and embittered obscurity, lionesses of literature would think their roaring when their health and their spirits and their very ill bestowed. These, however, make a means ebb together. Raise, then, your voice of greater noise in their own way, and before their truth and affection, and outsing all the syrens superior prowess the substantials soon vanish: that, on the coast of idleness, strive to attract they are in every sense less fastidious; happier Theodore by the songs of vanity, pleasure, and because less wise, and more benevolent because dissipation; teach him to love those that love less witty. An assemblage of these contented him, independent of all that flatters or pleases, beings, who can amply appreciate the value of for himself; and make auxiliaries of all those a custard, a jelly, or a jest on its second appear-kindred among whom you are now placed, to ance, are convenient successors to the refined make him know something of more value than pretenders to originality, who prefer what is new empty admiration. to what is true, and would not for the world be Though you had not the generous and tender caught eating blanc-mange while Mr. Jeffrey motives which actually instigate your endeavors and Dr. Thomas Brown are brandishing wit to gain an ascendency over the volatile though and philosophy in each other's faces with elec- accomplished mind of Theodore Hook, worldly tric speed and brilliance. These good fat peo-prudence should induce you to woo into the ple, who sing and eat like canary-birds, come paths of honorable exertion and permanent rewith alacrity the day after, and esteem them-spectability the brother of your husband and selves too happy to be admitted so soon to con- uncle of your children; and mere worldly wissume mere mortal aliment in the very apart dom would point out to you the other means by ment where the delicacies of intellect were so which this could be brought about. "Sour adlately shared among superior intelligences. vice with scrupulous head" would only produce the effect of driving him for shelter into the The grand first-day entertainment, and enemy's camp; no cords will draw him but that those who afterwards thriftily eat up "the"silken band of love" that poor Burns talks of. funeral baked meats," might be a subject for Dickens.

In a subsequent letter, she remarks :—

Theodore Hook, apropos to such writers, Among other glad tidings you send me, I am frequently formed the subject of Mrs. Grant's highly pleased with Theodore Hook's intention correspondence with his sister-in-law, Mrs. of entering the Temple. He is not too old for Hook; and we are struck with the justice it, and has certainly sense enough to know, and of her observations on his position and char-spirit enough to feel, how precarious and disreputable it would be to spend one's whole life in acter, and his pitiable-most pitiable !-ca a manner which, however it might amuse the reer. In one place, she says:— butterfly spirit of youth, made so little provision Talking of genius leads me naturally to con-of any kind for riper years. It would be mortigratulate you on the awakened brotherly feel-fying to see one that has so many better things ings of that Theodore for whom I know your sis-than wit and gaiety about him shuffled into the terly concern is restless and extreme. You may them first applauded and next endured, when mob of people, whose amusive talents make believe I rejoice over the capture of this shy bird, for his own sake, as well as yours: I do in people sec that it is all they have. I think that the fate of Monk Lewis may serve as a warning my heart love genius in all its forms, and even in its exuberance and eccentricity. You will to wits by profession. Spirits will not always teach him, for his own good, to make a due dis-flow; and Pope has finely described the "many tinction between living to please the world at miserable nights of those who must needs affect large, and exerting his powers in a given direction for his own benefit, and the satisfaction of his real friends. The uncultured flowers, and even the early fruit of premature intellect, form an admirable decoration for a dessert; but woe to him who would expect to feast on them daily and only. Of a person depending merely on Mrs. Grant often played the critic in her talents and powers of pleasing, what more brilliant example can be given than Sheridan ? and letters, and could not well avoid it, while her who would choose to live his life, and die his friends were continually inquiring her opindeath? I talk of his death as if it had already ion of the new books that appeared, as that taken place, for what is there worth living for of one who sometimes looked in the living that he has not already outlived? and who, that face of Mr. Jeffrey,-and who had authority ever knew the value of a tranquil mind and spot-in literature herself. One of her most pointed less name, would be that justly admired, and as critiques is this, on Peter's Letters, though justly despised individual? And if the chieftain it is not perhaps one of the most just :— of the clan be such, what must the tribe be "of those that live by crambo-clink," as poor Burns

them when they have them not." Half the ingenuity that Theodore wastes to amuse people who are not worth his pains would make him eminent in a profession. I always think of him with much kindness, and rejoice not a little to hear of his being likely to cast anchor.

You would know what I think of Peter's Let

called those hapless sons of the Muses, who, ters! I answer in a very low whisper-not

and verbose.


much. The broad personality is coarse, even the death of her eldest son, Mr. Duncan where it is laudatory; no one very deserving of Grant, whose prospects in India were of the praise cares to be held up to the public eye like most cheering kind, and his conduct and a picture on sale by an auctioneer: it is not the character all that the fondest mother could style of our country, and is a bad style in itself. So much for its tendency. Then, if you speak have wished, we find Mrs. Grant writing to of it as a composition, it has no keeping, no her eldest daughter, then in England, in the chastity of taste, and is in a high degree florid true spirit of Christian philosophy. This Some depth of thought fondly-loved brother, suddenly snatched and acuteness appears now and then like the away, had been the pride and stay of his weights at the tail of a paper kite, but not enough to balance the levity of the whole. With all this, the genius which the writers possess, in no common degree, is obvious through the whole book: but it is genius misapplied, and running riot beyond all the bounds of good taste and sober thinking. We are all amused, and so we should be, if we lived in a street where those slaves of the lamp had the power of rendering the walls so transparent that we could see every thing going on at our neighbor's firesides. But ought we to be so pleased?

My Dear Mary,—I have just read your letter, and with every allowance for human frailty, sisterly affection, and the sinking effect of many sorrows, I must affectionately reprove you for indulging, under any circumstances, the feeling or expressing the language of despair. Had we been reduced, by the death of your dear brother, to extreme poverty, and deprived of the daily society of a beloved relative, as has been the case with many other more deserving persons, we would not be entitled to speak of "the In general, however, she is an indulgent extinction of every hope;" because, even then, critic, protesting against the frequent se-been still more visibly open to us for our tranthe gates of a blessed immortality would have verity and petulance of the Edinburgh Re-sient, though severe sufferings. But here we view, and Mr. Jeffrey's denial of the exist- had no right to rest any hopes on him go early ence of female genius, save in Miss Edge- taken from us, but those of knowing at a distance worth. Though Wordsworth's Religion and that he loved and remembered us. I never Metaphysics do not appear to have pleased meant that we should subsist upon the price of her, she liked his poetry. We consider the blood, as I think all do who live at ease on what following unstudied praise an offset for prolongs the exile of their relatives in that fatal Indian climate. We have the same worldly whole reams of technical critical condemna- views of subsisting by our own exertions as we had before; and our views of futurity, if we improve and patiently submit to the Divine will, are improved by this severity, from that fatherly hand which chastens in love. You know my reliance on Bishop Taylor, who asserts, from close observation of God's providence, and deep study of his word, that where the vial of wrath is poured out in this world, without any visible cause why the punished should be distinguished by superior inflictions, there is reason to hope that a treasure of divine mercy may be reserved in the next. This is a rich source of comfort. Then, what may not this dispensation have prevented! Riches are a great snare; and he who once sets his mind on making money is apt to forget the just uses of wealth. Great prospects of worldly advantage were opened to the beloved object of our sorrow; but it is impossible to know whether he, or we, should have borne this well if otherwise, we are best thus.


There is something so pure and lofty in his conceptions; he views external nature so entirely with a poet's eye, and has so little of the taint of worldly minds, that I grieve when I find him wandering through the trackless wilds of metaphysics, where I cannot follow him, or in the lower and too obvious paths of childish inanity, where I wish not to accompany him. Yet he is always morally right; and his pictures in the Excursion delight me. It is next to profanation to read that book in town, unless at midnight: its purity and simplicity, and occasional elevation of thought, make us all, with our note-writing and everlasting door-bells calling us to talk nothings to mere nobodies, seem like puppets on wires, without a thought beyond our daily trifles, which are worse than his worst; the radiance of the White Doe excepted. What

a treasure the Excursion would have been at
Laggan! How often, even amidst the senseless
hurry, have I read the account of this eccentric
clergyman, who removed his family in panniers
to the mountain parsonage. People come in
here constantly with new books, that take
one's time: dear Laggan, where we conned over
those we had till they grew like old friends!


This series of Letters has a use, and perhaps its highest and most permanent use, in the manner in which it shows how the deepest affliction may be borne by a pious and reasonable mind. On the death of a third or fourth daughter, and soon after hearing of

It is the language of humility and submission, not that of rash despair, that we ought to speak. Much, much remains that we may still be deprived of; you have relatives to lose, whose value would be trebled in your estimation, were you deprived of them; you have my firmness of mind and exertion to lose, which has hitherto been almost miraculously preserved to me, for your general good; and you have the means of subsistence to lose, which fruitless and sinful think me harsh: the excuse you will all make excess of sorrow may deprive you of. Do not to yourselves for a sinful indulgence of sorrow is, that we have suffered so very much. The very contrary inference should be drawn by a

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chastened and well-regulated mind. Why did we suffer so much? God has no ill-will towards his creatures; no delight in giving them pain. If He has so often broken, with a strong hand, those ties that bound us to the world, should we not, by this time, be loosed from it, and prepared for all that the vicissitudes of life can bring to those whom sorrow should have sanctified? We are permitted to weep, but we must not lie down in the dust and forsake each other; but rather consider ourselves as a remnant of a once large and promising family, left to soothe and support each other, and do honor, by our patience and submission, to the religion we profess. Comfort, comfort me, my child! and may the God of consolation visit you with light and many blessings. All here are rather mending, and support is given to your affectionate mother,


Those who have read the "Superstitions of the Highlands," must be aware, that there was a little tinge of something deserving a softer name than superstition, apparent in Mrs. Grant's mind, as there is, perhaps, in every imaginative mind. One proof of it, and nearly the only thing of the sort in the entire correspondence, occurs at the end of one of the above letters, in which she says, that she will not recur again to her daughter's death, feeling the wound too deep to expose it to indifferent eyes.

I only add what I must tell you, that Anne for a few days before her death, when waking confused from unquiet sleep, exclaimed three or four times, "Duncan is in Heaven!" Strange, this gave us no fear or alarm at the time; now it is balm to my sad recollections: he died about ten days before her. Accept poor Isabella's love, and believe me, with affection, your attach

ed friend.

We shall cite but one more proof of the sacrificing strength of this mother's mind, her power to control her own emotions, when receiving the severest chastisement, and to sustain the less disciplined minds of her young daughters. She was on a visit with her eldest daughter, at Rokeby Hall, whence she got a little boy, the heir of that place, as a pupil. She had left one of her daughters at home, in a very delicate and precarious state of health, though immediate danger was not apprehended: and the daughter who accompanied, was also in indifferent health. When she had returned to Glasgow, on her way home, she thus wrote Mrs. Hook :


with his whole family, were particularly fond of Catherine, had lodgings near her, and some of them saw her daily. I found a letter addressed, by my desire, to Felfoot, in which they told me that she had not at any rate been worse than when I saw her, and that they hoped she would be better by the time I retured. Some days after, I got a letter at Rokeby from Mr. Hall. I opened it, and found the first lines a preparation for some wounding intelligence. I feared it might affect me so powerfully as to force me to distress a house full of strangers, and particularly alarm Mary, whose mind had suffered so much from former distress, that she was ill prepared for a new shock. I put the letter, unread, in my pocket, and feigned indisposition to Mary, to account for the tremors I felt, which shook me every now and then almost to fainting. I sent Mary to bed before me, and when she was asleep, opened the fatal letter. I will not describe my anguish on finding the dear creature had got beyond my cares and tenderness, at the very time I was languishing to clasp her to my breast. Nothing could be more sudden or more


quiet than her departure.

My dear friend, I can write no more. When arrive at Stirling, and settle quietly, I will tell you at large of my Catherine, that you may know how valuable she was. And yet how much fitter her fervid spirit was for the bliss of angels than for the struggles of suffering humanity. Adieu! my grief will in time be tranquil as she who caused it. . . . . . Shall I complain, whose mind had suffered so much from former distress, while conscious that angels hover round me, and while those that still on earth love me so tenderly are themselves so worthy of love? The fire of heaven has indeed scathed my branches; but while the stem is bound by such tendrils as these, life will still remain in it. How tender, how interesting were those eight days we passed together! The dear souls live in a voluntary seclusion, that they may cherish the precious memory of my beloved children, and indulge those aspirations after a happier state, so natural to the wounded heart... I am apt to say, in some moments of "anguish unmingled and agony pure," "O Catherine, Catherine, thou hast split my heart;" and I live the purer with the other half." Sure I must think I hear her melodious voice reply, "Then have told you of Catherine's voice; the day that we parted she sang the Judgment Hymn to me like a seraph. "Angels hear that angel sing." There is no speaking of that admirable creature without soaring into rapture, or sinking in anguish. "Turn, hopeless thoughts, tura from her!"


We have been beguiled by Mrs. Grant's Letters into exceeding our allotted space, Now, my dear friend, after wearing out my and must abruptly leave off with a passage very soul and spirits with communicating sad a letter to her son in India, which we eartidings to others, I come to claim your sympa-nestly commend to the attention of the many thy and gratulation at once; for you will both British mothers who have sons in that country. feel my distress, and duly estimate my consolations. Catherine, my admired and truly admirable Catherine, is at rest! My old attached friend, the Rev. Mr. Hall, who,

I must now tell you of an additional and very strong motive that I have for keeping your sisters independent of you. I regard with very

great compassion most men who are destined to spend their lives in India. Far from home and all its sweet and social comforts, and burdened perhaps with relations who keep them back in the paths of independence, they seek a resource in forming temporary connexions with the natives. These, I am told, are often innocent" curbed in this country, and how much hapand even amiable creatures, who are not aware piness delayed, by the ambition for style!" of doing any thing reprehensible in thus attach

young married people of America justified in living in boarding-houses for a time, if they could not afford, all at once, "the pomp, pride, and circumstance of glorious house" "How much is affection," she says, keeping."

ing themselves. In the meantime, the poor woman who has devoted herself to him secures his affection by being the mother of his children:



From the Court Journal.

time runs on; the unfortunate mother, whom he TO A MOTHER, ON THE RECOVERY OF HER CHILD
must tear from his heart and throw back to mis-
ery and oblivion, is daily forming new ties to
him. The children, born heirs to shame and
sorrow, are for a time fondly cherished, till the
wish of their father's heart is fulfilled, and he is
enabled to return to his native country, and
make the appearance in it to which his ambition
has been long directed. Then begin his secret
but deep vexations; and the more honorable his
mind, and the more affectionate his heart, the
deeper are those sorrows which he dare not
own, and cannot conquer. This poor rejected
one, perhaps faithfully and fondly attached, must
be thrown off; the whole habits of his life must
be broken; he must pay the debt he owes to his
progenitors, and seek to renew the social com-
forts of the domestic circle by soliciting with lit-
the previous acquaintance and no great attach-
ment, some lady glad to give youth and beauty
for wealth and consequence. The forsaken chil-For I had known her gentle, good, and mild;
dren, once the objects of his paternal fondness, Known each young virtue of her blameless breast;
must be banished, and have the sins of their fa- And seen each opening feeling in the child,
thers sorely visited проп them.
Hereafter doom'd to make the woman blest;

LADY, tho' silent long the bard has lain-
Tho' long unstruck has hung the voiceless string—
No disrespect withheld the tribute strain,
No guilty negligence forbade to sing.
Mute is the night-bird, whilst the driving blast,
With raging sway tempestuous sweeps along;
Yet, when the fearful storm is overpast,
She hails the calm with joy's reviving song.
And oft in fancy's mirror I have seen
Mark'd the mild patience of her placid mien,
The suffering cherub, worn, and wan, and weak;
And seen the parent's silent anguish speak.

I will spare myself and you the pain of finishing this picture, which you must know to be a And rightly I read; for, firmly meek, likeness, not of an individual only, but of a whole She bore the burning pangs of keen disease; tribe of expatriated Scotchmen, who return Whilst glowing anguish flush'd the crimson cheek, home exactly in this manner. This, my dear son, The languid smile bespoke the mind at ease. is what I dread in your case, and would fain avoid, that is, prevent it if I could. All that reSo may she every coming sorrow bear,— mains for me is, in the first place, not to burden So smile at sorrow and the weight of care, If heaven shall chasten whom it loves the best,you with encumbrances that may check the free-In sorrow patient, and in patience blest. dom of your will; and in the next, to assure you, that if any person, whom it would be decent or proper for you to connect yourself with by honorable ties, should gain your affections, your mother and your sisters will be ready to adopt her to theirs. Difference of nation, or even of religion, would not alienate us from any wife you would choose. Doubtless, we should much prefer that you were married to one that we knew and esteemed; but we should far rather make room in our hearts for a stranger, who was modest and well principled, than see you in the predicament I have described.


But, happier hours be hers; be hers to know
The tranquil joys of each domestic tie;
Unvex'd by sickness, undisturb'd by woe,
Whilst life's calm stream unruffled slumbers by.

Be hers her husband, children, friends to bless ;
To soothe with smiles affliction's clouded brow;
The heart that feels, the hand that aids distress,
Be Kate hereafter all her mother now.
Balliol College, March 23, 1794.


We fear that Mrs. Grant's liberality as to to take place on the 12th of September; and Genreligion might only extend to the Episcopal-eral Cæsar Cantu, the historian, has been commisian form, and of nation, to the English, and, perhaps, the Irish. She showed that strong prejudice against the French which was the feeling of her Anti-Gallican age.

But Mrs. Grant was, on principle, a friend to early marriages; and, in contradistinction to Mrs. Trollope and others, thought the

Guide-book to that city and its environs; on which sioned by the municipality of Milan, to edit a the most distinguished writers, in their different specialities are engaged; amongst them Litta, the author of the Illustrious Families of Italy,' Catena,

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the Orientalist, Labus, the antiquary, Crivelli, the

work is to be presented by the town to the memgeologist, and Carlini, the astronomer; and which bers of Congress.-Ath.

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