are unkind. It is determined I am to go up poft. So, we cannot poffibly be happy together, as we hoped to have been had our own horfes drawn me up, in which cafe I must have slept upon the road. I am not clear old Robin Gray will not stay and attend me. Why cannot my Jamie? Cruel fortune! Butin town we will be happy. When, again, fhall I enjoy your dear fociety; as I did during that, to me at leaft, bleffed fnow? Nothing but my dear children could prevent our going with Cook to feek for happiness in worlds unknown. There must be fome corner of the globe where mutual affection is respected.

Don't forget to meet me. Scratch out forget. I know how much you think of me. Too much for your peace, nay for your health. Indeed my H. you don't look well. Pray be careful! "Whatever wounds thy tender health, "Will kill thy M.'s too."

Omiah is in good humour with me again.What kind of animal fhould a naturalist expect from a native of Otaheite and a Huntingdonshire dairy maid? If my eyes don't deceive me, Mr. Omiah will give us a specimen.-Will you bring me fome book to-morrow to divert me, as I poft it to town-that I may forget, if it be poffible, I am posting from you?

LET

LETTER XIX.

To Mifs

Hockerill, 1. March, 1776,

Ir is your ftrict injunction that I do not offend you by fuffering my pen to speak of last night. I will not, my M. nor fhould I, had you not injoined it. You once said a nearer acquaintance would make me change my opinion of you. It has, I have changed my opinion. The more I know you, the more chaftely I think of you. Notwithstanding last night (what a night!), and our first too, I protest to God, I think of you with as much purity, as if we were going to be married You take my meaning, I am sure because they are the thoughts I know you wish: me to entertain of you.

You got to town fafe, I hope. One letter may find me before I fhall be able to leave Huntingdon, whither I return to-day; or, at leaft, to Cambridge. I am a fool about Crop, you know. And I am now more tender of him, because he has carried you.-How little did we think that morning we should ever make each other fo happy!

Don't forget to write, and don't forget the

key, against I come to town.

As far as feeing

you, I will use it fometimes; but never for an opportunity to indulge our paffion. That, pofitively, fhall never again happen under his roof. How did we applaud each other for not fuffering his walls at H. to be infulted with the first scene of it! And how happy were we both, after we waked from our dream of bliss, to think how often we had acted otherwise, during the time the snow shut me up at H.! a fnow as dear to me, as to yourself.

My mind is torn, rent, with ten thousand thoughts and resolutions about you, and about myfelf.

When we meet, which shall be as we fixed, I may perhaps mention one idea to you.

Pray let us contrive to be together fome evening that your favourite Jephtha is performed.

Inclofed is a fong, which came into my hands by an accident fince we parted. Neither the words nor the mufic, I take it, will displease you.

Adieu.

SONG.

SONG.

When your beauty appears

In its graces and airs,

All bright as an angel new dropp'd from the

fky;

At distance I gaze, and am awed by my fears, So ftrangely you dazzle my eye!

But when, without art,

Your kind thoughts you impart,

When love runs in blushes thro' every vein; When it darts from your eyes, when it pants

in your heart,

Then I know you're a woman again.

"There's a paffion and pride

"In our fex," the replied,

“And thus, might I gratify both, I would do ; "As an angel appear to each lover befide, "But ftill be a woman to you.”

LET.

LETTER XX.

To the Same.

Cannon Coffee-houfe, Charing-crofs,

No further than this can I

you

17 March, 76.

get from

you, be

fore I affure you that every word I faid juft now came from the bottom of my heart. I never fhall be happy, never fhall be in my fenfes, till confent to marry me. And notwithstanding the dear night at Hockerill, and the other which your ingenuity procured me last week in D. ftreet, I fwear by the blifs of bliffes, I never will: tafte it again till you are my wife.

LETTER

To the Same.

XXI.

Cannon Coffee-houfe, 17 March, 76.

THOUGH you can hardly have read my laft fcrawl, I must pefter you with another. I had ordered fome dinner; but I can neither eat, nor do any thing else. "Mad!”—I may be mad, for what I know. I am fure I'm wretched.

For God's fake, for my life and foul's fake, if you love me, write directly hither, or at leaft

to