Marlborough, as he calls them, with text book, I may say in regard to you, all their insolence, ambition, and sel- with Olivia, heart." With a small alteration, I may add, fishness, and such coarse minds too," A Cyprus, not a bosom, hides my poor yet I think the Buckingham was the meanest. I was thinking of Pope's epitaph on the young duke, little dreaming to find a comment on Horace's text in a closet in the Abbey. You cannot imagine what a ludicrous surprise awaited me when the guide opened one and discovered a faded waxen image of the Buckingham preposterously fine, staring full at me, with an air meant for majestic, with powdered hair, false brilliant earrings, and buckles, long ruffles, very high heels, and very short petticoats. In short, you never could imagine dead vanity and absurd finery in such full preservation. Here, too, I was forced to laugh, rationally, I think. The incongruity of a fantastical figure exciting contemptuous ridicule, when we think how the duchess hoped to be admired in her waxen proxy by children yet unborn, like myself and Allan! There is a similar exhibition of her son in another closet, but there I was sorry to see the shade of the gentler Buckingham, thus eulogized by Pope, insulted by this paltry exhibition. I will not say you are tired, because I know you do not tire of any thing that comes from Cavendish Square; but I am very tired, and, therefore, bid adieu to my dear cousin, 1 M. M. ANSWER TO THE PRECEDING LET TERS, WRITTEN FROM SKYE. Ellanreagh, March 3. My dear Christina, why should I tell you, who know me better than I do myself, how deeply I have been interested in your letters to others, and how much delighted with those that I account, my very own, those incommunicable pictures of your mind that are reserved for me alone. To read the inmost recesses of the mind which you have formed, (as far as the less valuable materials could admit,) on the model of your own, is a privilege you have well earned. And though I were inclined to shut you out from such inspection, your know ledge of nature and of me would baffle any attempt at concealment. One feeling there is, indeed, that I would fain hide from myself, and still more from others, but to borrow from your 1 let this untold tale of secret sorrow rest in your own bosom. I beg your pardon, I never doubted it; but to you who have taught me to despise artifice, I will own, that with all the zeal of a new convert, I have studied your Shakespeare since you went away, and wished to show by what I thought an apt and fine quotation, that I taste and feel the merit of your matchless favourite. Cowper, too, your own Cowper, this new found treasure is my companion, my resource, my consolation in your absence, I will not affect to say in yours only. How much I could say of Cowper, how much more of her who gave me the power to taste him, of her who was to me as a fountain of all intellectual pleasures. We could scarce endure to think how much he was born to suffer, if we were not taught in his pure and sublime school, that he died to enjoy far more than our limited powers can enable us to conceive, and though the last stage of his heavenward progress was involved in mysterious darkness, what a flood of glory must be poured forth on the free spirit when shaking off the incumbrance of world wearied flesh, it sprung upwards to its congenial place. I have lost myself in wandering beyond the visible bounds allotted to us while here, but who would not fearlessly triumphantly follow such a spirit into its final destination, were that possible? I can hardly return to the present interests of this frail, and to me most feverish being, without reluctance, after an ideal glimpse of the high destination of those who have of Craick Eiriene, overlooking the calm summer seas, musing by turns, and talking over our morning readings, till the sinking sun seemed to retire among the heroes and bards of Flath Innis, awakened the remembrance of Miann na Bard Aosda, and left us through the lingering twilight repeating and singing by turns our native lays, till the moon trembled in the small waves that rippled with the current of Shruthntorran. These were the days of danger, for then ordinary talk and ordinary people seemed below us. We were in a high poetic region, from which, like Milton's miserable angels, we descended with pain. Can we deny our danger when we came home, with the morn ing's reading revived and invigorated in our minds by the evening's conversation, when our language seemed all music, and our looks all tenderness to each other, and the deep serenity above was doubled in effect by its calm re flection in the wide mirror below? I am sure you must be sensible how little we cared on these evenings for many people, and things that we ought to care for, and how many things that pleased and amused those whom we love and value, were a mere disturbance to us in this mood of exaltation. We laughed some years since at a young southron who talked of prosing, and considered the word as one of the new affected phrases that make no part of our language; I think we should have been then in danger of using it as he did. Do you remember who it was that said, if that word was once established, petulant young people would apply it to every thing that did not amuse them or fall in with the fashion of the day, and more particularly to the conversation of elderly people? Those, too, from whose recorded experience so much of good and useful is to be learnt! You used to observe how much your brother reflected, and how seldom he was wrong; but that is nothing to the purpose. I meant to speak of Cowper's sweet influence over me; I come humble and sober from reading his letters, and more particularly his first poems, when I see a mind like his descending to be so simply occupied, and so easily pleased, to care about the poor people at Olney, certainly * The aged Bard's wish. very far below ours in poetical mind, (for that, not station, makes the dif ference.) You see his interest in the lace makers, and the poor people's blankets and rugs. I do not speak of his dog and his hares, for that is in the province of nature, where the highest minds are at home. Simplicity we all love, and have no merit in so doing, But there is a plain and humble simplicity, such as distinguishes the language of the New Testament from that of the Old, the taste for which we shall lose at our peril. What a loss it would be to us whose fate, whose privilege, perhaps, it is to live here, if we were to grow so fantastic as not to think plain discourse about daily useful matters worth attending to,-how much displeasure would such taste occasion to others, and how much discontent and languor to ourselves! I think a mind capable and willing to lay hold for use or amusement on every thing that is presented to it, is a great blessing. J This came forcibly to my thought last night. You know our kinswoman, Grace, who scarce knew the father and mother she lost so early. Her educa tion, mostly carried on in a fashionable English boarding school, forms too good an excuse for her considere ing many things among us as obsolete or unmeaning. Yet it would be most unjust to class her among mere misses, as we used to call those common-place girls that live the day over without looking backward to reflect, or forward to consider. She has a very good understanding, a taste for reading not entirely superficial, and has been brought up by the kind care of our aunt and uncle, with you, to be partial to our own island, as the home of her forefathers, as well as on other accounts. She feels, too, more than you could expect from one accustomed to live with those who waste their sensibility on elegant pictures of fic titious distress. Yet, with all this, she is evidently bored (why do I use that hated word) when our worthy and sensible relations talk of the modes of life and circumstances, now changed, that existed in their early days. Now I should imagine that the details of a mode of life, and of supplying wants and meeting exigen cies, very different from what one had never seen or heard of before, must be interesting, and, might be entere taining. You shall judge. The pro1 fessor has been here on his annual visit to us, and has brought a very sensible young Englishman with him, whose mind seems too much enlarged to dwell on the minute differences and paltry inconveniences that his ordinary countrymen attach so much importance to. Mrs, who you know is a person of excellent sense, though merely the growth of the island, was explaining, in answer to some inquiries of hers, how China and India muslin had found their way to a so remote a corner, where the dwel:lings and accommodations fell so much short of being consistent with such luxuries. To his great surprise she began to speak with warm praise of the Dutch and Danish, whom he had never known any thing of but in a general and very contemptuous way, telling him of the intimacy formed 1. betwixt Holland and our country, by so many of our gentlemen serving as officers in the Scotch Hollanders, and by the Dutch and Danish Indian ships which always returned by the northward course, and were far more numerous than they have been since. It seems it was customary for the Dutch and Danish East Indiamen to anchor or lie by on our shores, or in our harbours, on their way home, when the gentlemen who lived nearest used to send out their boats for a supply of the fish, which abounds on our coast in such variety, for these ships; and to carry on board supplies of butter, cheese, lambs, calves, and poultry, in abundance, as presents, to such an extent often as made these gifts of importance to a ship's crew who had been long at sea. On their departure the Dutch or Danish captains, in return, used to send us here presents of china, tea, or muslin, to their benefactors; and this happening every year, when eight or nine ships touched in the passing, carried this kindly interchange to a considerable extent; besides that, in casual intercourse with the Dutch herring fleet, many of the common people acquired some knowledge of the language, as many of their superiors did in the Scotch Hollanders, as these regiments raised in Scotland for the Dutch service were styled. Now, I must confess, my good grand-aunt was a little prolix, and talked more of great broods of ducks and geese, and prodigious punch bowls, than was quite necessary. Yet you who see the mere dry bones of her talk, as I tell it, cannot imagine how much story and character were blended with her details; but I am wrong to say so to you, for you must have heard them often. But you cannot understand my vexation at seeing the cold and careless air, the evident weariness and impatience, indeed, with which our cousin heard all this, while the gentleman to whom it was addressed listened with the attention both of intelligence and good nature. You give me full credit for my dislike of dissimulation, but I think if I simulated any thing, it would be attention to what people say. There is neither good breeding nor good nature in listening to what amuses or delights us, or to what we can in some way connect with our dear selves. But what are people educated and informed for, if we do not learn how cheaply we can gratify others in this passive way? I must introduce this fine lady to our dairy, or our great boat, that she may see with what respectful attention our meanest people listen to those who say nothing worth hearing, merely because they are older than themselves. If Grace were silly or ill natured I should not care. But the revolting selfishness that is shown in this carelessness about what interests others vexes me, and it is a thing one does not know how to mention. With her kind heart and good sense, how different she would have been if she had been among us in her early days, though she had gone away to be polished. when essentials were fixed in her mind. You remember the song that Cyprus John was so fond of beginning, I Now, I am not at all sure that this is so easy in the large sense in which I understand the term. I think, for instance, that people do not learn it in that great school that teaches every thing else, i. e. the world. I think it must be learnt best by living in close intimacy with upright kind hearted people. You see thus what is best in their characters, as we see the shells in the bottom when the water is very clear, and with lesser blemishes or imperfections, we are too familiar to be repelled by them; through the thin veil of habitual attachment, they appear softened, as our dark and abrupt craigs do when a graceful wreath of mist hangs over their asperities. We know they are there, but seem not to see them, and for listening, who does not listen to those they love? Do not think I am jealous of the world be cause I am out of it. If I owe it a grudge, it is rather because you are in it. I exactly fit my place, and should be bewildered and lost in a wider and busier sphere. I think you will acquit me of any desire to appear more than I am. But then Iwill not take credit for the extravagant modesty of liking to appear less than I am, which I should certainly do among strangers. They would not take trouble to understand me, and my pride and my modesty would equally prevent me from making any great effort to be understood. or both of you from the shady dell by Sruthntorran. I would tell you too what Torquil Ruadh saw, or pretended to see. No, that is not the right word, imagined he saw. But this would not be tolerated even by you; and though I told you of it as something to laugh at, you would still suspect me of belief. I will not trust you. I will refer the Trotternish tattles to my next, as well as those of Sleate. Of Taliskar you will hear enough without my interference, but when I return home, I will send you the small talk of the fold. The great talk of the Tigh mor will reach you through other channels. We are amazed at what we hear from you in many instances, and surprised at your silence in one. How could you, my Christina, be so long so near him, without saying one word of him who was the pride and ornament of our island, the object of universal praise and admiration ever since I remember? He who made so moderate an use of power we were dazzled in thinking of; who was the benefactor of so many, while adding splendour to the gorgeous east, and whose bounty still refreshes so many poor cottages here, visiting them in small quiet streams, as if only to be seen by the All-seeing? Your very father wonders more than any one ;you know how he says things. "The world is turned upside down, and so many little things have grown great in the hurly burly, that what was once great is overlooked. Christine tells us much about the Corsican, and has never said a word of the kinsman we were all so proud of for twenty years back." Now, my own Christina, forgive me that I have not in a manner answered a word of your letter. Writing whatever comes first is such a relief to me; and I am so willing to defer to my next letter what weighs heavy, O very heavy, on my mind, about another correspondent. But I shall lay all open, and be entirely de"And poets say that morning dreams are know very well that I wish to do what cided by you what part to act. You There are more words in this letter already than I have uttered for a week. I love to talk to you thus, because you (perhaps you only) fully understand my feelings. I would fain dream of you, but all day I do all I can to be active and useful, and do not leave the family for solitary reading. When others sleep I do read; it is become a necessity, for lonely thought was never so painful. Then I sleep too heavily to dream; in the morning beautiful visions hover round me. true." But Catreene is ordered to wake me at six, for I have taken charge of the family till Una returns from a visit to Raasay. This is good for me; but you would smile, though not contemptuously, if you knew how often I am chagrined, when Catreene's alarm banishes me from Cavendish Square, is right; and I know very well that you can judge better than myself how I ought to act. Your letter about Westminster Abbey is come. I know I shall be charmed with it, but must instantly dispatch this from your most grateful and affectionate cousin, FLORA M. |