YOU have reason to call me negligent, nor have I any thing to allege in my own defence, but two successive fits of the gout, which though weakly and not severe, were at least dispiriting, and lasted a long time. I rejoiced to hear your alarms for Robin and Kitty ended so happily, and with them (I hope) are fled a great part of your future inquietudes on this account. In the summer, I flatter myself, we may all meet in health once more at Old Park, and a part of us, perhaps, at the foot of Skiddaw. I am to call on Mason in my way, and bring him with me to visit his own works. Mr. Brown admitted your nephew according to your orders, and will provide him with a room against October.

I do not guess what intelligence Stonehewer gave you about my employments, but the worst employment I have had, has

been to write something for musick against the Duke of Grafton comes to Cambridge. I must comfort myself with the intention, for I know it will bring abuse enough on me; however it is done, and given to the Vice-chancellor, and there is an end. I am come to town for a fortnight, and find every thing in extreme confusion, as you may guess from your newspapers. Nothing but force threatened on both sides, and the law (as usual) watching the event, and ready to side with the strongest. The only good thing I hear, is that France is on the brink of a general bankruptcy, and their fleet (the only thing they have laid out money on of late) in no condition of service.

The spring is come in all its beauty, and for two or three days I am going to meet it at Windsor; adieu! and let us pray it may continue till July. Remember me to Mrs. Wharton, and all the family.

I am ever yours,

T. G.

Mason has left us, and is gone to Aston.

When the late Duke of Grafton (says Mr. Mathias, in his Observations on Gray, p. 53.) was elected Chancellor of the University of Cambridge, it is known that Mr. Gray, from an impulse of what he looked on as a species of duty, spontaneously offered to write the Ode for his Grace's installation. He considered it never theless as a sort of task, as a set composition; and a considerable time passed before he could prevail upon himself, or rather before he actually felt the power to begin it. But one morning after breakfast, Mr. Nicholls called on him, and knocking at his chamber door, Mr. Gray got up hastily and threw it open himself, and running up to him in a hurried voice and tone, exclaimed, 'Hence, avaunt! 'tis holy ground!' Mr. Nicholls was so astonished that he thought his senses were deranged, but Mr. Gray in a moment after resumed his usual pleasant manner, and repeating several verses at the beginning of that inimitable composition, said, 'Well, I have begun the Ode, and now I shall finish it.'-Ed.

LETTER II.

MR. GRAY TO MR. NICHOLLS.

I WAS absent from College, and did not receive your melancholy letter till my return hither yesterday; so you must not attribute this delay to me but to accident: to sympathize with you in such a loss is an easy task for me, but to comfort you not so easy; can I wish to see you unaffected with the sad scene now before your eyes, or with the loss of a person that, through a great part of your life, has proved himself so kind a friend to you? He who best knows our nature (for he made us what we are) by such afflictions recalls us from our wandering thoughts and idle merriment; from the insolence of youth and prosperity, to serious reflection, to our duty, and to himself; nor need we hasten to get rid of these impressions; time (by appointment of the same Power) will cure the smart, and in some hearts soon blot out all the traces of sorrow; but such as preserve them longest (for it is partly left in our own power) do perhaps best acquiesce in the will of the chastiser.

For the consequences of this sudden loss, I see them well, and I think, in a like situation, could fortify my mind, so as to support them with cheerfulness and good hopes, though not naturally inclined to see things in their best aspect. When you have time to turn yourself round, you must think seriously of your profession; you know I would have wished to see you wear the livery of it long ago: but I will not dwell on this

* The death of his uncle Governor Floyer.

subject at present. To be obliged to those we love and esteem is a pleasure; but to serve and oblige them is a still greater; and this, with independence (no vulgar blessing), are what a profession at your age may reasonably promise: without it they are hardly attainable. Remember I speak from experience.

In the mean time while your present situation lasts, which I hope will not be long, continue your kindness and confidence in me, by trusting me with the whole of it; and surely you hazard nothing by so doing: that situation does not appear so new to me as it does to you. You well know the tenour of my conversation (urged at times perhaps a little farther than you liked) has been intended to prepare you for this event, and to familiarize your mind with this spectre, which you call by its worst name: but remember that "Honesta res est læta paupertas."

I see

it with respect, and so will every one, whose poverty is not seated in their mind*. There is but one real evil in it (take my word who know it well), and that is, that you have less the power of assisting others, who have not the same resources to support them. You have youth: you have many kind wellintentioned people belonging to you; many acquaintance of your own, or families that will wish to serve you. Consider how many have had the same, or greater cause for dejection, with none of these resources before their eyes. Adieu. I sincerely wish your happiness.

P.S. I have just heard that a friend of mine is struck with a paralytick disorder, in which state it is likely he may live. incapable of assisting himself, in the hands of servants or relations that only gape after his spoils, perhaps for years to come: think how many things may befal a man far worse than poverty or death.

*An excellent thought finely expressed.-Mason.

LETTER III.

MR. GRAY TO MR. NICHOLLS.

Pembroke College, June 24, 1769.

AND so you have a garden of your own,* and you plant and transplant, and are dirty and amused! Are not you ashamed of yourself? Why, I have no such thing, you monster, nor ever shall be either dirty or amused as long as I live. My gardens are in the windows like those of a lodger up three pair of stairs in Petticoat Lane, or Camomile Street, and they go to bed regularly under the same roof that I do. Dear, how charming it must be to walk out in one's own garding, and sit on a bench in the open air, with a fountain and leaden statue, and a rolling stone, and an arbour: have a care of sore throats though, and the agoe.

However, be it known to you, though I have no garden, Í have sold my estate and got a thousand guineast, and four

* Mr. Nicholls, by having pursued the advice of his correspondent, we find was now possessed of that competency which he wished him. Happy, not only in having so sage an adviser, but in his own good sense which prompted him to follow such advice. The gaiety, whim, and humour of this letter contrast prettily with the gravity and serious reflection of the former.-Mason.

+ Consisting of Houses on the west side of Hand-Alley, London: Mrs. Olliffe was the Aunt here mentioned, who had a share in this estate, and for whom he procured this annuity. She died in 1771, a few months before her nephew.-Mason.