LETTER XXXI.

TO THE SAME.

Hague.

AT the first blufh, the following fact, my dear loved friend, may feem ftrange. There is far more diligence of attention required of a Gleaner, to pick up any thing worth carrying to his fheaf in great and populous towns and cities, than in the undiftinguished villages, and "ftill fmall" receffes, where the broad and common highway, thoroughfare, traveller feldom goes; and where, though the violet perfumes the air, and the fresh grafs fprings up in the beautiful paths, thofe "garish beauties of the world" are wanting, that are alone gratifying to a heart devoted to the publick. For although, in this latter fcene, every thing is in motion before you, or ftanding fixed, in proud but mute magnificence, for your inspectionas if almost to infift on your paffing homage; they have yielded up their charms to fo many strangers, that, like one of our fair drudges of fashion, whofe face has been fo long in pub

lick exhibition, it is become " familiar as one's garter;" and to give another description of it would be to force on you what memory would perhaps turn from with disgust,

Ah! my friend, what honours-what mines of wealth would roll into the coffers of the man, who, when the objects of this variable life have loft their wonted power of giving pleasure, but, by change of circumstances, have acquired, unexpectedly, the power of giving pain-what, of riches and fame, I fay, would be deferve, who could command our once-dear, but now flighted, objects, to quit thofe cells in the brain, where they have not only,

"A local habitation, and a name,"

but a fixed lodging-and-(bitterly against our will) are become tenants for life therein? We see, we admire, we love, we poffefs: our felicity feems entire. Alas! an idea, an opinion, a difpute, the fatisfying power of poffeffion itself, the frequency of seeing, of enjoying, a new fancy, a new object, first dimi nishes, and, at laft, deftroys, the eager delight with which we beheld our finest parks, gardens, pictures, and all our earthly paradifes, as ima

gination,

gination, in her fineft ardours, is wont to call them.

Thefe, neverthelefs, remain the fame; the verdure is as refreshing, the flowers as fweet; the hand of time, mellowing the tints, has even thrown new graces on the canvafs-and yet we are weary of them. What fault can they have committed? "What committed ?" The greateft. They are our own, and they have outlived our liking."

Shall I afcend from inanimate objects, to fuch as have life? to fuch as bound themselves even like a charm round our necks-round our hearts--but which now (perhaps more truly filled with enchantment to all the world befides) are nothing to us, or worse than nothing, a mill-stone round our necks-a galling chain round our feet? He who could make us, at the word of command, forget even thefe, or rather the keen rebuke with which confcience employs memory, over whom he has control, to punish our frivolous and infatiable incon fancy-what would we not offer him?r

But I am broadening this beyond my intention. I blefs God, this latter' is not an uni

verfal fact. I blefs God, too, that, individually, it applies not to you, or to me, my friend. Ah! I never poffeffed any good, that I (who could alone be the proper judge of it) found so to be, but I cherished it with my whole heart, and, fo far from indifference growing out of poffeffion, I loved it but the more, for having given me happiness! Gratitude became a new motive of attachment; and the thought of its having made me often bleft, instead of diminishing, augmented my affection. Nor have I a friend on earth, who is not the more dear to me on this very principle. Ah! carry this af fertion towards yourself, my friend, and read in it the increase of my love for you.

But I have loft myself. The thread is broken, but easily repaired.-To those who wish to forget whatever is become infipid to them-has been too often seen, heard, or poffeffed; you will agree that a perfon, a magician, endowed with the powers of granting to us that wish, would, indeed, merit recompence, Streets, villages-nay whole cities, are easily ejected from the memory; but how shall we pluck out that thorn in the mind, which is left to fester, after our once faireft rofes of imagination and of the heart,

"Fade in our eye, and pall upon our sense!"

And

And which remain, fometimes, for years, perhaps, for life, to fcourge us in all the tyranny of recollection?

O Fortunatus! how poor were thy vaunted powers, (even had they been realized,) in comparison of his, who could thus teach us to forget our once fondest wishes, and with them, the sharp reproof of our weak infidelity and foolish, base, ingratitude!

But, left even you, my friend, fhould have fomething to lofe; and be trying at

"That hardeft fcience, to forget;"

this digreffion will but bring it back on your remembrance; fince, it is certain, the dif courfing ftrongly on any one object, forces on an idea of its oppofite. To return, therefore, to the first occafion of these reflections, which was, that, as I am convinced you know already, that I am now writing from one of the nobleft towns (in proud humility and affectation, called the finest village) in Europe, I

*

fhall

* Judge for your felf, as to the gree of that affectation. The Hague, it is true, like lordly London itself, was once only a collection of miferable cottages, (and, where is the city, that ab origine, was not?) but when you confider that, by a charter