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Those who are still heathen are professedly worshippers of Buddh ;* but by far the greater part reverence nothing except the Devil, to whom they offer sacrifices by night, that he may do them no harm. Many of the nominal Christians are infected with the same superstition, and are therefore not acknowledged by our missionaries: otherwise, instead of three hundred to be confirmed, I might have had several thousand candidates. Many thanks for the kind trouble you took to get subscriptions for the female schools at Calcutta. I hope we shall be able to raise nearly money enough for them in India. On the whole, I rejoice to believe that in very many parts of this great country, "the fields are white already to harvest ;" and it is a circumstance of great comfort to me, that in all the good which is done, the Church of England seems to take the lead, that our Liturgy has been translated into the five languages most used in these parts of the world, and that all Christian sects in the East seem more and more disposed to hold it in reverence. Still, little, very little is done, in comparison with all which is to do.

Ever your affectionate son,

REGINALD Calcutta.

*The Moodelier of Candy, G. P. G. De Sarum, gave the Bishop a sermon in the Pali language and Cingalese character, said to have been written by Buddh himself, being one of 17,575 he preached in his way between Rajmaha noora and Nalundranoora, concerning the state of absorption into the Deity.

William Cowper, Esq, to Mrs. Newton.

DEAR MADAM,

June, 1780

WHEN I write to Mr. Newton, he answers me by letter; when I write to you, you answer me in fish. I return you many thanks for the mackerel and lobster. They assured me, in terms as intelligible as pen and ink could have spoken, that you still remember Orchard-side; and though they never spoke in their lives, and it was still less to be expected from them that they should speak, being dead, they gave us an assurance of your affection that corresponds exactly with that which Mr. Newton expresses towards us in all his letters. For my own part, I never in my life began a letter more at a venture than the present. It is possible that I may finish it, but perhaps more than probable that I shall not. I have had several indifferent nights, and the wind is easterly; two circumstances so unfavourable to me in all my occupations, but especially that of writing, that it was with the greatest difficulty I could even bring myself to attempt it.

You have never yet, perhaps, been made acquainted with the unfortunate Tom F's misadventure. He and his wife, returning from Haslope fair, were coming down Weston lane; to wit, themselves, their horse, and their great wooden panniers, at ten o'clock at night. The horse, having a lively imagination and very weak nerves, fancied he either saw or heard something, but has never been able to say what. A sudden fright will impart activity and a momentary vigour even to lameness itself. Accordingly, he started, and sprang from the middle of the road to the side of it, with such surprising alacrity, that he dis

mounted the gingerbread baker and his ginger. bread wife in a moment. Not contented with this effort, nor thinking himself yet out of danger, he proceeded as fast as he could to a full gallop, rushed against the gate at the bottom of the lane, and opened it for himself, without perceiving that there was any gate there. Still he galloped, and with a velocity and momentum continually increas ing, till he arrived at Olney. I had been in bed about ten minutes, when I heard the most uncom mon and unaccountable noise that can be imagined. It was, in fact, occasioned by the clattering of tin patty-pans and a Dutch-oven against the sides of the panniers. Much gingerbread was picked up in. the street, and Mr. Lucy's windows were broken all to pieces. Had this been all, it would have been a comedy; but we learned the next morning that the poor woman's collar-bone was broken, and she has hardly been able to resume her occupation

since.

What is added on the other side,* if, I could have persuaded myself to write sooner, would have reached you sooner; 'tis about ten days old. * *

The male Dove was smoking a pipe and the female Dove was sewing while she delivered herself as above. This little circumstance may lead you, perhaps, to guess what pair I had in my eye. Yours, dear madam,

W. C.

The poem of "The Doves." Vide Cowper's Poems, Vol. I.

Miss H. More to Mrs. Gwatkin.

MY DEAR MADAM,

August 9, 1778.

I RECEIVED your favour on Saturday, and though I could not but be infinitely concerned at the melan. choly cause of your sudden departure, yet I cannot say I was in the least surprised at it, as it is easy to imagine what effects the dangerous state of a deservedly beloved child must have on a heart so exquisitely alive to all the maternal feelings. What a journey of hurry, anxiety, and fatigue you must have had! I hope you did not undertake it alone. I am very impatient to learn how you found Master Gwatkin, and what his medical friends think of him. I rejoice that he is in such good hands; if there is efficacy in human art, I doubt not of his recovery, having been myself so many times snatched from the devouring jaws of death by the friendly assistance he now receives. God grant it may be as beneficial to him!

I wrote to you, madam, last Friday, not knowing of your migration. I hope they will not send you up the letter, as it is of no consequence now, containing only the particulars relative to my dear little friend, of which you have now so much better informa tion. When your letter was brought, I was upon a visit in the neighbourhood, where it was sent me. There were ten ladies and a clergyman. I was pleased with the assemblage, thinking the vanity of the sex would meet with its equilibrium in the wisdom of the profession; that the brilliant sallies of female wit and sprightliness would be corrected and moderated by the learned gravity and judicious conversation of the Rev. Theologue. I looked upon the latter as the centripetal, acting against the cen.

trifugal force of the former, who would be kept within their orbit of decorum by his means. For about an hour nothing was uttered but words, which are almost an equivalent to nothing. The gentleman had not yet spoken. The ladies, with loud vociferation, seemed to talk much without thinking at all. The gentleman, with all the male stupidity of silent recollection, without saying a single syllable, seemed to be acting over the pantomime of thought. I cannot say, indeed, his countenance so much belied his understanding as to express any thing: no, let me not do him that injustice; he might have sat for the picture of insensibility. I endured his taciturnity, thinking that the longer he was in collecting, adjusting, and arranging his ideas, the more would he charm me with the tide of oratorical eloquence, when the ma terials of his conversation were ready for display: but, alas! it never occurred that I had seen an empty bottle corked as well as a full one. After sitting another hour, I thought I perceived in him signs of pregnant sentiment, which was just on the point of being delivered in speech. I was extremely exhilarated at this, but it was a false alarm: he essayed it not. At length the imprisoned powers of rhetoric burst through the shallow mounds of torpid silence and reserve, and he remarked, with equal acuteness of wit, novelty of invention, and depth of penetration, that—"we had had no sum." Then, shocked at his own loquacity, he double-locked the door of his lips," and word spoke never more."

mer.'

Will you not say I am turning devotee when I tell you what my amusements of the reading kind are? I have read through all the Epistles three times since I have been here-the ordinary transla.

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