CHAPTER ELEVENTH. The reader is introduced to the Bishop of St. Asaph-Franklin enjoys his generous hospitality-Keeping a grandson's birthday-Chitchat which is not to be repeated-Franklin begins his autobiography-Dr. Shipley's noble stand in regard to American affairs-Humorous letter on the death of Miss Shipley's squirrel-A touching reminiscence-The death of the good bishop-Dr. Franklin's letter of condolence-Earthly friendships brought to a close. A S a pleasing episode after all the stormy scenes through which we have lately passed, we shall introduce our readers to Dr. Shipley, the bishop of St. Asaph, a man distinguished for his virtues, his abilities, and the steady support which he gave to the principles of civil liberty. He was a devoted friend of Dr. Franklin, who, on various occasions, enjoyed the generous hospitalities of his house at Twyford, in Hampshire, the bishop's summer residence. The following letter to Mrs. Franklin, from her devoted husband, will be read with interest. "MY DEAR CHILD: "LONDON, August 14, 1771. "I am glad to hear of all your welfares, and that the pictures were safe arrived. You do not tell me who mounted the great one, nor where you have hung it up. Let me know whether Dr. Bond likes the new one better than the old one; if so, the old one is to be returned hither to Mr. Wilson, the painter. You may keep the frame, as it may be wanted for some other picture there. I wrote to you a letter the beginning of last month, which was to go by Captain Falconer, and have since been in the country. I am just returned to town, and find him still here, and the letters not gone. He goes, however, next Saturday. "I had written to many of my friends by him. I spent three weeks in Hampshire, at my friend, the Bishop of St. Asaph's. The bishop's lady knows what children and grandchildren I have and their ages; so, when I was to come away on Monday the 12th, in the morning, she insisted on my staying that one day longer, that we might together keep my grandson's birthday. At dinner, among other nice things, we had a floating island, which they always particularly have on the birthdays of any of their own six children, who were all but one at table, where there was also a clergyman's widow, now above one hundred years LETTER TO HIS WIFE. 6 133 old. The chief toast of the day was Master Benjamin Bache, which the venerable old lady began in a bumper of mountain. The bishop's lady politely added, and that he may be as good a man as his grandfather.' I said I hoped he would be much better. The bishop, still more complaisant than his lady, said, We will compound the matter, and be contented if he should not prove quite so good.' This chitchat is to yourself only, in return for some of yours about your grandson, and must only be read to Sally, and not spoken of to anybody else; for you know how people add and alter silly stories that they hear, and make them appear ten times more silly. "Just while I am writing, the post brings me the inclosed from the good bishop, with some letters of recommendation for Ireland, to see which country I am to set out next week with my old friend and fellow-traveller, Counsellor Jackson. We expect to be absent a month or six weeks. The bishop's youngest daughter, mentioned in his letter, is about thirteen years of age, and came up with me in the post-chaise to go to school." It is worth noting, that it was during this visit at the Bishop of St. Asaph's, that Frank lin began to write the memoirs of his life, in the form of a letter to his son. Dr. Shipley was decidedly opposed to the coercive measures adopted by the British government against the American colonies, and in a sermon before the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, he expressed his opinions with the greatest boldness. (See Franklin's Works, vol. viii., p. 40.) Franklin's humorous letter to Miss Georgiana Shipley, one of the bishop's daughters, will afford my young readers some amusement. Her epistles to the distinguished American prove her to have been a young lady of a highly cultivated mind, lively sensibility, and generous disposition. Here is the letter just referred to. DEAR MISS: LONDON, September 26, 1772. I lament with you most sincerely the unfortunate end of poor Mungo. Few squirrels were better accomplished; for he had had a good education, had travelled far, and seen much of the world. As he had the honor of being, for his virtues, your favorite, he should not go, like common skuggs, without an elegy or an epitaph. Let us give him one in the monumental style and measure, which, being neither prose nor verse, is perhaps the properest for grief; since to use common language would look as if we were not affected, and to make rhymes would seem trifling in sorrow. EPITAPH. Alas! poor Mungo! Happy wert thou, hadst thou known Remote from the fierce bald eagle, Thou hadst naught to fear from his piercing talons Safe in thy wired castle, Thou wouldst have more freedom. Thou art fallen by the fangs of wanton, cruel Ranger. Learn hence, Ye who blindly seek more liberty, You With security. see, my dear miss, how much more |