tion, Locke's Paraphrase, and a third put into very elegant English (I know not by whom,) in which St. Paul's obscurities are elucidated, and Harwood's pomp of words avoided. I am also reading "West on the Resurrection;" in my poor judgment a most excellent thing, calculated to confound all the cavils of the infidel, and to confirm all the hopes of the believer. Have you heard from the sweet little Cornwallian since you left her? My most affectionate regards to my dear Master Lovell, and earnest wishes for his speedy recovery. I am, my dear madam, With the most perfect esteem, Your ever obliged and affectionate humble servant, H. MORE. From H. More to her sister. Hampton, 1780. MRS. GARRICK and I read to ourselves sans intermission. Mr. Matthew Henry and Mr. David Hume (two gentlemen of very different ways of thinking on some certain points) at present engage a great part of my time. I have almost finished the sixth volume, and am at this moment qualified to dispute with the Dean of Gloucester on tonnage and poundage monopolies, and ship-money. Hampton, Jan. 1780. Here we are still, and as little acquainted with what passes in the world as though we were five hundred, instead of fifteen miles out of it. Poor Mrs. Garrick is a greater recluse than ever, and has quite a horror at the thoughts of mixing in the world again. I fancy, indeed, she will never go much into it. Her garden and her family amuse her; but the idea of company is death to her. We never see a human face but each other's. Though in such deep retirement, I am never dull, because I am not reduced to the fatigue of entertaining dunces, or of being obliged to listen to them. We dress like a couple of Scaramouches, dispute like a couple of Jesuits, eat like a couple of aldermen, walk like a couple of porters, and read as much as any two doctors of either university. I wish the fatal 20th was well over; I dread the anniversary of that day. On her wedding-day she went to the abbey, where she staid a good while; and she said she had been to spend the morning on her husband's grave, where, for the future, she should always pass her wedding-days. Yet she seems cheerful, and never indulges the least melancholy in company. She spends so very few hours in her bed, that I cannot imagine how she can be so well; but her very great activity, both of body and mind, has, humanly speaking, preserved her life. Mrs. Boscawen had made a little party which she thought I should like; for you must know there are no assemblies or great parties till after Christmas, and till then it is not the fashion to wear jewels, or dress at all. This last custom has, I think, good sense and economy in it, as it cuts off a couple of months from the seasons of extravagance but I fancy it redeems but little from the nights, for one may lose a good deal of money in a very bad gown. London, 1780. I spent a very comfortable day yesterday with Miss Reynolds; only Dr. Johnson, and Mrs. Williams, and myself. He is in but poor health, but his mind has lost nothing of its vigour. He never opens his mouth but one learns something: one is sure either of hearing a new idea, or an old one expressed in an original manner. We did not part till eleven. He scolded me heartily, as usual, when I differed from him in opinion, and, as usual, laughed when I flattered him. I was very bold in combating some of his darling prejudices: nay, I ventured to defend one or two of the Puritans, whom I forced him to allow to be good men and good writers. He said he was not angry with me at all for liking Baxter: he liked him himself. "But then," said he, " Baxter was bred up in the establishment, and would have died in it if he could have got the living of Kidderminster. He was a very good man." Here he was wrong; for Baxter was offered a bishopric after the restoration. I never saw Johnson really angry with me but once, and his displeasure did him so much honour that I loved him the better for it. I alluded rather flippantly, I fear, to some witty passage in "Tom Jones:" he replied, "I am shocked to hear you quote from so vicious a book. I am sorry to hear you have read it; a confession which no modest lady should ever make. I scarcely know a more corrupt work." I thanked him for his correction; assured him I thought full as ill of it now as he did, and had only read it at an age when I was more subject to be caught by the wit than able to discern the mischief. Of "Joseph Andrews" I declared my decided abhorrence. He went so far as to refuse to Fielding the great talents which are ascribed to him, and broke out into a noble panegyric on his competitor, Richardson, who, he said, was as superior to him in talents as in virtue, and whom he pronounced to be the greatest genius that had shed its lustre on this path of literature. Mrs. Martha More to one of her sisters. LADY WALDEGRAVE was drinking tea here the other evening, when the butler came in, and told us that there was a report that the king had been shot at in the play-house: the gentlemen flew for information, and found, alas! that it was too true. The pistol went off just before the queen entered the box. The king quietly said, "Keep back; there has been one squib; perhaps there will be another." He thought of this at the moment, as she is remarkably fearful of them. Sheridan met the princesses, and apologized to them for not lighting them himself, but he was looking for a constable to take up a fellow: this he said to prepare them for some bustle, but they could not long be kept in ignorance. They were a long time re covering Princess Augusta. One of the lords in waiting was near making an abrupt communica. tion from fright and agitation, but the king kept him and everybody else from being indiscreet; such self-control is astonishing: everybody is of opinion that this was one of the grandest and most interesting dramas ever witnessed. The king was wonderfully great and collected through the whole; but when the house continued shouting for an unreasonable length of time, he appeared much affected, sat down, and looked for a minute on the ground. When he got home, he said to the queen, "As it is all safe, I am not sorry it has happened, for I can not regret anything that has caused so much affection to be displayed." Lady Cremorne and Mrs, Carter yesterday told us that the king's confidence exceeds all belief. Were you not delighted to see all the opposition at the levee? The bishop says that both that and the drawing-room were so full that it was com plete mobbing and trampling. Nothing is more talked of than Robert Hall's Sermons. Our bishop makes every family of every description, possessed of money, buy that and "The Strictures," and speaks of both as grand engines to reform the times; but of all the admirers of the latter, every one falls short of Mr. Cecil: his words to us were, yesterday, "It is one of the most perfect works, in all its parts, that any century or country has produced." Adieu. MARTHA MORE. I forgot to mention that the Bishop of Durham and his lady breakfasted with us at Fulham Palace last Thursday. The bishop was kind and condescending, as usual; he talked over all the Blagdon business; bid us not be afraid; they could not injure our useful schemes. He is steady and warm in his approbation. He fully feels the importance of instructing the poor, as the grand means of instructing the nation. Dr. Beattie to the Duchess of Gordon, informing her of the death of his son. Aberdeen, Dec. 1, 1790. KNOWING With what kindness and condescension your grace is interested in every thing that concerns me and my family, I take the liberty to inform you that my son James is dead; that the last duties to him are now paid; and that I am endeavouring to return, with the little ability that is left me, and with entire submission to the will of Providence, to the ordinary business of life. I have lost one who was always a pleasing companion; but who, |