make me read her, nor, with all your sympathy and candour, can you esteem her.  Your compassion for the poor blacks is genuine, sincere from your soul, most amiable; hers, a measure of faction.  Her party supported the abolition, and regretted the disappointment as a blow to the good cause.  I know this.  Do not let your piety lead you into the weakness of respecting the bad, only because they hoist the flag of religion, while they carry a stiletto in the flagstaff.  Did not they, previous to the 14th of July, endeavour to corrupt the guards?  What would have ensued, had they succeeded, you must tremble to think!

You tell me nothing of your own health.  May I flatter myself it is good?  I wish 1 knew so authentically! and I wish I could guess when I should see you, without your being staked to the fogs of the Thames at Christmas; I cannot desire that.  Adieu, my very valuable friend!  I am, though unworthy, yours most cordially.

(833) An overturn in a carriage.

Letter 394 To Miss Berry.  Strawberry Hill, Oct. 9, 1791. (page 526)

It will be a year to-morrow since you set out:  next morning came the storm that gave me such a panic for you!  In March happened your fall, and the wound on your nose; and in July your fever.  For sweet Agnes I have happily had no separate alarm:  yet I have still a month of apprehension to come for both!  All this mass of vexation and fears is to be compensated by the transport at your return, and by the complete satisfaction on your installation at Cliveden.  But could I believe, that when my clock had struck seventy-four, I could pass a year in such agitation!  It may he taken for dotage; and I have for some time expected to be superannuated:  but, though I task myself severely, I do not find my intellects impaired; though I may be a bad judge myself, You may, perhaps, perceive it by my letters; and don’t imagine I am laying a snare for flattery.  No!  I am only jealous about myself, that you two may have created such an attachment, without owing it to my weakness.  Nay, I have some colt’s limbs left, which I as little suspected as my anxieties.

I went with General Conway, on Wednesday morning, from Park-place to visit one of my antediluvian passions,—­not a Statira or Roxana, but one pre-existent to myself,—­one Windsor Castle; and I was so delightful and so juvenile, that, without attending to any thing but my eyes, I stood full two hours and a half, and found that half my lameness consists in my indolence.  Two Berrys, a Gothic chapel, and an historic castle, are anodynes to a torpid mind.  I now fancy that old age was invented by the lazy.  St. George’s Chapel, that I always worshipped, though so dark and black that I could see nothing distinctly, is now being cleaned and decorated, a scene of’ lightness and graces.  Mr. Conway was so struck with its Gothic beauties and taste, that he owned the Grecian