To the Rev. Thomas Newcomb, at Hackney, near London. MY DEAR OLD FRIEND,-And now my only dear old friend, for your namesake Colborn is dead; he died last winter of a cold, caught by officiating on the fast-day: he has left one daughter, I believe in pretty good circumstances; for a friend of his some time ago settled upon her twenty pounds a year, and he, no doubt, has left her something considerable himself. I am pleased with the stanzas you sent me; there is nothing in them of eighty-seven; and if you have been as young in your attempt on the Death of Abel, it will do you credit. That work I have read, and think it deserves that reception it hath met withal. The libel you mention I have not seen; but I have seen numberless papers which show that our body politic is far from being in perfect health. As for my own health, I do not love to complain; but one particular I must tell you. that my sight is so far gone, as to lay me under the necessity of borrowing a hand to write this. God grant me grace under this to see more clearly things invisible and eternal, those great things which you and I must soon be acquainted with; and why not rejoice at it? There is not a day of my long life that I desire to repeal, and at fourscore it is all labour and sorrow. What, then, have we to do? But one thing remains, and in that one, blessed be God, by his assistance, we are sure of success. Let nothing, therefore, lie heavy on your heart; let us rely on Him who has done so great things for us; that lover of souls, that hearer of prayers whenever they come from the heart, and sure rewarder of all those who love Him, and put their trust in his mercy. Let us not be discontented with this world; that is bad, but it is still worse to be satisfied with it, so satisfied, as not to be very anxious for something more, My love and best wishes attend you both, and I am, My good old friend, sincerely yours, Welwyn, Nov. 25, 1762. The most affecting and authentic narrative of the last days of Young, is contained in the letters of his curate, Mr. Jones, who is said to have been a simple-minded man, retired in his habits, charitable and attentive to the poor; but the reader will remark, in the earlier parts of his correspondence, a considerable degree of ill feeling; and the insinuations against the character of his friend are very improperly introduced. He writes to Dr. Birch, in 1762, three before the death of Dr. Young* years The old gentleman, (I may venture to tell you freely,) seems to me to be in a pretty odd way of late, moping, dejected, selfwilled, and as if surrounded with some perplexing circumstances. Though I visit him pretty frequently for short intervals, I say very little to his affairs, not choosing to be a party concerned, especially in cases of so intricate and tender a nature. There is much mystery in almost all his temporal affairs, as well as in many of his speculative opinions. Whoever lives in this neighbourhood to see his exit, will probably see and hear of some very strange things,-Time will show,—I am afraid not greatly to his credit. There is thought to be an irremoveable obstruction to his happiness within his walls, as well as another without them; but the former is the more powerful, and like to continue so. He has this day been trying anew to engage me to stay with him. No lucrative views can tempt me to sacrifice my liberty or my health to such measures as are proposed here. Nor do I like to have to do with persons whose word and honour cannot be depended upon; so much for this very odd and unhappy life. Again, in the same year, he writes: August 28. How are matters altered since my letter to you of the 25th past! You remember what I suggested to you about my resolution of leaving Welwyn, of which I had given very early * Young appointed Mr. Jones one of his executors, and bequeathed him a "handsome legacy." Nichols, vol. 1, p. 634. notice to the worthy doctor, that he might have sufficient time to provide. After repeated trials, and repeated disappointments, though seven or eight offered, he thought proper to apply to me anew; and though lucrative motives could not, earnest importunities did, prevail with me at last, to cheer up his dejected heart by promising to continue with him for some time longer at least. . . . . By the way, I privately intimated to you, that the doctor is in various respects a very unhappy Few know him so much as I do in these respects, and have often observed with concern. If he would be advised by some who wish him well, he might yet be happy, though his state of health is lately much altered for the worse. man. In the letter of January 1st, 1763, he adds ; The mismanagement too well known unhappily continues, and still more unhappily seems to be increasing, to the grief of friends, and, I need not say, to the ridicule of others, who are not a few. What a pity! What a loss: but no notice will be taken, nor can it well be offered. Penuriousness and obstinacy are two bad things, and a disregard to the general judgment and friendly wishes of the wiser part of mankind, another. There seems to be no hope, so long as the ascendancy is so great. My ancient gentleman here is still full of trouble, which moves our concerns, though it move only the secret laughter of many, and some untoward surmises in favour of him and his household. The loss of a very large sum of money is talked of, whereof this village and neighbourhood are full; some disbelieve, others say, "it is no wonder, when about eighteen or more servants are taken and dismissed in the course of a year." The gentleman himself is allowed by all to be far more harmless and easy in his family than some one else, who hath too much hand in it. This, among many others, was one reason for my late notice to quit. The individual referred to was Mrs. Hallows, the poet's housekeeper. She was the daughter of a clergyman in Hertford, and had been invited to his house by Young, who knew her father *. She possessed a small income of her own, and is said to have been a woman of piety and good sense, cultivated by reading, and to have been always treated by the poet and his friends with the politeness and respect due to a gentlewoman. How far she deserved the strictures of Mr. Jones, we cannot of course ascertain ; like Mrs. Unwin, she was likely to be very jealous of her influence, and, to resent any attempt to interfere with what she deemed her proper authority. Her errors probably amounted to nothing more. She survived Dr. Young five years, and a bequest of a thousand pounds testified his high estimation of her worth and attachment †. April 2, 1765. Mr. Jones writes, as soon as I got home I inquired after Dr. Young, and found that he had gone through very great pains since I left him, and the pains return pretty frequently. Dr. Cotton, of St. Alban's, and Dr. Yates, of Hertford, meet at his house every day in consultation; but whatever they may think of his disorder, or the probable consequences, little or nothing, as yet, transpires, only all that attend him imagine that there is little or no hope of his doing well again. I find that opiates are frequently administered to him. His intellects, I am told, are still clear. On the 2nd of April, 1767, he writes to the same correspondent: Dr. Young very ill, attended by two physicians. Having In the north window of the chancel of Allhallows, Herts, is an epitaph upon him by Young. +In Gentleman's Magazine, May 1790:-" At her lodgings, at Hertford, aged upwards of eighty, Mrs. Hallows, many years housekeeper to the late Dr. Young," &c. If this date be correct, what becomes of the truth of Herbert Croft's narrative, who affirms that she died in 1780, two days before he arrived at Hertford.-MITFord.. Nichols' Lit. Anecdotes, vol. ii., p. 697. mentioned this young gentleman, Dr. Young's son, I would acquaint you next that he came hither this morning, having been sent for, as I am told, by the direction of Mrs. Hallows. Indeed, she intimated to me as much herself: and if this be so, I must say it is one of the most prudent acts she ever did, or could have done, in such a case as this, as it may be the means of preventing much confusion after the death of the doctor. I have had some little discourse with the son; he seems much affected, and I believe really is so. He earnestly wishes his father might be pleased to ask after him, for you must know he has not yet done this, nor is, in my opinion, like to do it; and it has been said further, that upon a like application made to him on the behalf of his son, he desired that no more might be said to him about it. How true this may be, I cannot as yet be certain; all I should say is, it seems not improbable. Mrs. Hallows has fitted up a suitable apartment in the house for Mr. Young, where I suppose he will continue till some farther event. I heartily wish the ancient man's heart may prove tender towards his son, though, knowing him so well, I can scarce hope to hear such desirable news. He took to his bed yesterday about eleven in the forenoon, and hath not been up since. I called soon after my coming here, but did not see him; he was then in a doze. I imagine his further stay on earth can be of no long duration. On the 13th of April he thus communicates the death of the poet: I have now the pleasure to acquaint you that the late Dr. Young, though he had for many years kept his son at a distance from him, yet has now at last left him all his possessions, after the payment of certain legacies; so that the young gentleman, who bears a fair character and behaves well, as far as I can hear or see, will, I hope, soon enjoy, and make a prudent use of a very handsome fortune. The father, on his deathbed, and since my return from London, was applied to in the |