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she had great powers of pleasing; that she was lively, insinuating, and intelligent.

'I knew her not till the vivacity of her youth had long been extinguished, and I confess I looked in vain for the traces of former ability. I wish to have your opinion, Sir, of what she was, you who knew her so well in her best days."

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My dear, when thy mother told thee Aston was handsome, thy mother told thee truth: She was very handsome. When thy mother told thee that Aston loved to abuse her neighbours, she told thee truth; but when thy mother told thee that Aston had any marked ability in that same abusive business, that wit gave it zest, or imagination colour, thy mother did not tell thee truth. No, no, Madam, Aston's understanding was not of any strength, either native or acquired.".

'But, Sir, I have heard you say, that her sister's husband, Mr Walmsley, was a man of bright parts, and extensive knowledge; that he was also a man of strong passions, and, though benevolent in a thousand instances, yet irascible in as many. It is well known, that Mr Walmsley was consi derably governed by this lady; as witness Mr Hinton's constant visits, and presence at his table, in despite of its master's avowed aversion. Could it be, that, without some marked intellectual

powers, she could obtain absolute dominion over such a man?'

"Madam, I have said, and truly, that Walmsley had bright and extensive powers of mind; that they had been cultivated by familiarity with the best authors, and by connections with the learned and polite. It is a fact, that Aston obtained nearly absolute dominion over his will; it is no less a fact, that his disposition was irritable and violent. But Walmsley was a man; and there is no man who can resist the repeated attacks of a furious woman. Walmsley had no alternative but to submit, or turn her out of doors."

*

I have procured, from Mr Levett, of this city, the inclosed copy of an original letter of Dr Johnson's. Though its style may not bear the stamp of its author's genius, yet it is illumed with a soft ray of filial piety, which cannot fail to cast its portion of additional lustre, however small, on the amiable side of the Johnsonian medal.

The genuine lovers of the poetic science look with anxious eyes to Mr Boswell, desiring that every merit of the stupendous mortal may be shewn in its fairest light; but expecting also, that impartial justice, so worthy of a generous mind,

* This letter appears in Mr Boswell's Life of Dr Johnson.

which the popular cry cannot influence to flatter the object of discrimination, nor yet the yearnings of remembered amity induce, to invest that object with unreal perfection, injurious, from the severity of his censures, to the rights of others.

There can be no doubt of the authenticity of that little anecdote of Johnson's infancy; the verses he made at three years old, on having killed, by treading upon it, his eleventh duck. Mrs Lucy Porter is a woman of the strictest veracity; and a more conscientious creature could not live than old Mrs Johnson, who, I have heard Mrs Porter say, has often mentioned the circumstance to her. It is curious to remark, in these little verses, the poetic seed which afterwards bore plenteous fruits, of so rich a lustre and flavour. Every thing Johnson wrote was poetry; for the poetic essence consists not in rhyme and measure, which are only its trappings, but in that strength, and glow of the fancy, to which all the works of art and nature stand in prompt administration; in that rich harmony of period,

"More tunable than needs the metric powers
To add more sweetness."

We observe, also, in those infant verses, the seeds of that superstition which grew with his

LETTER XI.

MRS KNOWLES*.

March 27, 1785.

So your fair friend, Mrs Hunter, disavows poetic inspiration. This is being very ungrateful to the god of the silver bow, and the nine nymphs in his train. I give her credit for a very feeling heart; but it might have thrilled, and glowed, and melted long enough before it had produced such verses as I have seen of hers, unless she had obtained those delphic irradiations which she, thankless princess as she is, disclaims. When she assures me that they were produced without any efforts of study, I do not doubt her veracity, but the belief doubles my conviction of her obligations to their high mightinesses on the mountain. When you and she would exalt simplicity, that nymph of the valley, into your patron and inspir

The celebrated quaker lady who worked the King's picture so admirably in worsted. When Molly Morris of Rageby, she was stiled the beauty of Staffordshire. She survived her husband, Dr Knowles, an eminent physician in London, many years, and died February 4, 1807, aged 80.

ing goddess, you put me in mind of the children of Israel worshipping the calf in Horeb. That gentle-faced idol was just as capable of protecting them, as she is of producing the wit and oratory of Mrs Knowles, and the poetry of Mrs Hunter. O! to be sure it was simplicity solely who set "Mary Knowles upon one leg in the temple of fame *." Arch and humorous imagination was no agent in producing that odd idea! —but, in truth, all that Simplicity ever did for that gentlewoman was to put on her cap.

Mr Boswell has applied to me for Johnsonian records for his life of the despot. If he inserts them unmutilated, as I have arranged them, they will contribute to display Johnson's real character to the public; that strange compound of great talents, weak and absurd prejudices, strong, but unfruitful devotion; intolerant fierceness; compassionate munificence, and corroding envy. I was fearful that Mr Boswell's personal attachment would have scrupled to throw in those dark shades which truth commands should be employ ed in drawing the Johnsonian portrait; but these fears are considerably dissipated by the style of Mr Boswell's acknowledgments for the materials I had sent him, and for the perfect impartiality

Alluding to a humorous description of herself in one of her letters.

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