The bearer hereof my brother was seized last spring with a severe cold, which seems to have fallen upon his lungs, and has reduced him to such a low condition that his physician here advises him to try what his native air can do as the only remaining means of recovery. In his present melancholy circumstances, it gives me no small satisfaction to think that he will have the benefit of your directions: And for me to spend more words in recommending him to your care, were, I flatter myself, a superfluous formality. Your old acquaintance Anderson attends him; and besides what is necessary to defray the expenses of their journey, I have only given my brother five guineas; chusing rather to remit the money he will afterwards want, which shall be done upon the first notice. My Brother's illness puts me in mind of that which afflicted you some years ago, and it is with the sincerest pleasure that I reflect on your recovery. Your health I hope is perfectly established; Health being the life of Life. I will not make you the compliments which I justly could upon that subject: the sentiments of the heart are generally plain and mine rejoices in your welfare. Should you enquire into my circumstances -They blossomed pretty well of late, the Chancellor having given me the office of Secretary of the Briefs under him: but the Blight of an idle Inquiry into the fees and offices of the Courts of Justice which arose of late seems to threaten its destruction. In that case I am made to hope amends: to be reduced however from enjoyment to hope will be but an aukward affair-Aukward or not Hope and I (I hope) shall never part. Hope is the breath in the nostrils of Happiness. When that goes, this dyes. But then we ought at the same time to distinguish between the fair star of Hope, and that meteor CourtExpectation. With regard to the last, I subscribe to a new Beatitude of Popes or Swifts I think it is-Blessed is he who expecteth nothing for he shall never be disappointed. You will see by the three first parts of a Poem called Liberty, which I send you, that I still attempt the barren but delightful mountain of Parnassus. I have pour'd into it several of those Ideas which I gathered in my travels and particularly from Classic Ground. It is to consist of two parts more which I design to publish next winter-not quite to tantalize you, I send you likewise some of the best things that have been printed here of late, among which Mr. Pope's second volume of miscellanies is eminent, and in it his Essay on Man. The first volume of his Miscellany Poems was printed long ago and is every where. His Letters were pyratically printed by the Infamous Curl. Tho' Mr. Pope be much concerned at their being printed, yet are they full of wit, humour, good sense, and what is the best of all, a good Heart. One Mr. Littleton, a young gentleman and member of Parliament wrote the Persian Letters. They are reckoned prettily done. The Book on the Sacrament is writ by Hoadly, Bishop of Winchester. All Bigots roar against it, consequently it will work your Mis-Johns. I wish I could send you more entertainment of this kind : but a new Gothic night seems to be approaching, the great year the millennium of dullness.-Believe me most affectionately yours, Being but lately returned from Mr. Dodingtons seat in Dorsetshire, I only received yours of Septr the 23rd a few days ago. The account it brought me of my brother's death I was pretty much prepared against, considering the almost hopeless condition he had for some time been in. What you mention is the true point of view wherein to place the Death of Relations and Friends. They then are past our Regret: the Living are to be lamented, and not the Dead. And this is so true and natural that People when they grieve for the Death of those they love, from a principle of Compassion for the departed without a return upon themselves, they envisage them in the article of death, and under the Pains both real and imagined, thereof; that is to say, they grieve for them whilst they were alive. Death has a Limit which Human Passions ought not, but with great Caution and Reverence, to pass. indeed can they easily pass that Limit, since beyond it things are not clearly and distinctly enough perceived formally to excite them. This, I think, we may be sure of, that a future state must be better than this; and so on through the neverceasing succession of future states; every one rising upon the last, an everlasting new display of infinite Goodness! But hereby hangs a System, not calculated perhaps for the Meridian in which you live tho' for that of your own mind, and too long to be explained in a letter. I will conclude these thoughts by giving you some lines of a Copy of verses I wrote on my Friend Mr. Talbot's Death and design'd at first to be prefix'd to Liberty, but afterwards reduced to those you see stand Nor there. Perhaps sometime or other I may publish the whole. Be then the starting Tear Or selfish, or mistaken, wip'd away! By Death the Good from reptile matter rais'd, Every thing it seems, is a subject of contention in this interested world. Let his effects be all given to his Cousin Thomas Turnbull, who so kindly attended him in his Illness. Only his Great Coat, (Jocky Coat I mean,) may be given to David of Minto, since he, I hear, desires it. Very likely he took it amiss that my Brother was not lodged with him, but my aunt of Chesters I thought more proper to tend and soften his sickness, she being a very good tenderhearted woman. Let her son Thomas therefore have all his Effects, except it be the foresaid Jockey Coat. I shall be glad besides to render them all other service. Please to let me know to whom I shall pay what is due upon my brother's account. Your goodness on this occasion gives me no new sentiment of satisfaction. It is what I have been long acquainted with. If you would still add to your obligations, lay freely your commands upon me whenever I can be of any service to you. There are no news here. The King is expected this week. A Battle likewise is by some expected we hungered and thirsted after Seckendorff and Belle-Isle. But the French and Germans seem to have fought enough last Campaign in Italy to excuse them for this. The gallant French this year have made war upon the Germans (I beg their Politeness' Pardon,) like vermin -eat them up. Hang them all. If they make war it is to rob, if Peace to cheat one another. Such are the noble Dispositions of mankind at present.-But before I fall into a bad humour, I will take my leave of you, being always-My dear Friend under covers, and are not addressed to any person. There is no doubt, however, that they were written to Thomson's friend Dr. Cranstoun, at Ancrum.] VII. [This letter has no date, and is mutilated in some places.] Dr Sir I received yours by which I find you have been as much concerned as Mr Golden indifferent about me, he, good man, recommends me to God Almighty, very well; but I wish he had exerted something more of the layman on that ***: for (to be deeply serious) the **** father of mankind beholds all *** offspring with a melting eye *** needs none to prompt to acts of goodness, so that I can't conceive for what purpose people's prayers are for one another unless it be to stirr up humane and social dispositions in themselves. I have gotten several recommendations and am promised more afterwards, when I'm fixed on any particular view, which would make them more pointed and effectual. I shall do all that's in my power, act, hope, and so either make something out or be buried in obscurity. There is, and I'm persuaded of it, I triumph in it, another life after this, which depends as to its happiness on our virtue, as this, for the most part, on our fortune. My spirits have gotten such a serious turn by these reflections that altho' I be thinking on Mis John I declare I'll hardly force a laugh before we part (for this I think will be my last letter from Edenburgh, for I expect to sail every day.) Well, since I was speaking of that merry soul I hope he's as bright, as easy, as degagee, as susceptible of an intense laugh, as he use to be, tell him when you see him that I laugh in imagination with him ha! ha! ha! Mis john how in the name of wonder drag'd you so much good humour along with you thro' the thorny paths of systems and School Divinity, considering the many hardy attempts you have made to epitomize * * and so forth. Whenever I began to rust in these exercises the doctor cleared me. Well may witt humour and everlasting joy surround you both, and if I but at any time [can— supposed] kindle up the laugh from London I'll be sure to ha** [have it-supposed] returned upon me with greater force. Your's while I am JAMES THOMSON. [Note added on the fold-] * * * low, in Mr.Wilson's there you'll find a treasure If you have the opportunity to be at Marof a good comerade call'd Peter Murdoch who will stay there these eight days. [Addressed] To Doctor Cranstoun att Ancrum. The Nobelist. THE TOMB OF THE CHRISTIAN.-AN ALGERINE LEGEND. From the French of S. de Monferrier. TWENTY leagues from Algiers, to the east of Belida, rises a vast mausoleum, built like a pyramid upon the declivity of Atlas, and the object of veneration and terror to all the inhabitants of the country; no profane person approaches the environs of this formidable place, for it is the abode of spirits. Many years ago, and tradition does not fix the date, a Numidian prince caused this tomb to be constructed in honour of his wife who was a Christian; to hinder the infidels from profaning it, he devoted it to the spirits of darkness, and took measures, besides, to prevent their entering. The monument had no exterior opening; a subterranean passage, a league in length, of which the trace is lost, is, it is said, the only available door. One month after the completion of the mausoleum, the prince disappeared with all his treasures; and a report spread throughout the country, that he had been seen one night to sink down into the subterraneous passage with the most faithful of his slaves, laden with coffers, which were filled with gold and diamonds. Curiosity and avarice wrought long among the people, but the most frightful stories deterred the bravest of them from making any attempt to penetrate into the accursed place. Some saw at the hour of darkness, flames spout from the earth, and devour their imprudent comrades; others were, during one night, the sport of a troop of malignant genii, who amused themselves by mutilating them; these beheld ascend into the heavens frightful and fantastic shadows; and those, famished lions and tigers, who menaced passers by, and hindered them from approaching. About fifty years ago, some lion-hunters uniting themselves in great numbers to attempt the adventure, approached the tomb, and endeavoured to force an opening by pulling down a part of the wall, when a horrible noise, mingled with frightful groans, iced them with terror. The earth shook under their feet; amid the glimmer of lightnings, grim, menacing shadows appeared, and whilst some fell to the ground deprived of sense, the others fled to their homes, sowing alarm by the way. This was the last attempt; from that day the inhabitants never went by the Tomb of the Christian, without invoking the protection of the Prophet; the nearest tribes removed far from it, and a vast solitude, bristling with angular stones, and briars, and thorns, rose around it. About twenty-two years since, there lived at Algiers, a young Turk, the son of Kas nadji Soliman, who was indisputably the handsomest janissary in the army; perhaps, one of the bravest; when he passed through the narrow streets of the town, respect and fear opened for him a passage through the dirty population of slaves and Bedouins, who circulated about them; every one drew back before him, for the young Ali was haughty, and the imprudent slave who had stopped his way, would have been severely punished, perhaps put to death by a stroke of his cimeter, for truly he was noble. He should have been seen in his white turban, surmounted by a superb aigrette; his azure caftan embroidered with gold: his ample silken girdle, and his silver mounted poignard, enriched with precious stones; he was truly the pearl of warriors. So much so, that whenever an old Moorish woman passed him, she invoked Allah-" O great prophet, let him become my son!" But Ali had already given away his heart, as far as a Mussulman can give it. Stella Ben Sultana was the object of his secret adoration; and how had they become acquainted? That's what I never could discover, since it is well known that at Algiers, women of decorum never go out; they reside in the harem, concealed from all profane eyes, and mothers only have seen the fair betrothed destined for their sons, ere the marriage is concluded. Now Ali had no mother, yet he knew Stella, the daughter of a noble family, and adored her. Upon the banks of Babelouard, near the English fort, and not far from the Valley of Tombs, Stella's family possessed a countryseat, where she passed a part of the year; it was a delightful place, and she liked better to live there, than in her house in town. The air, freshened by sea-breezes, was purer, and females, too, enjoyed there greater liberty; since, not being exposed, as upon the terraces of Algiers, to the gaze of the indiscreet, they might, divested of their long veils, roam gaily amid groves of orange and citron trees. One day, Stella was alone with her mother at this country-seat; evening drew on, the lengthy songs of Saadi had failed to make the latter sleep, and the young girl was in despair, for Ali was coming that evening to talk of their future marriage. The idea then occurred to her, though a little late, of confiding the affair to her mother, and after all necessary precautions, she detailed the story of her love. Sultana was a wise woman; far from flying into a passion, she embraced her daughter for placing confidence in her: Sultana was a woman profoundly cunning; and so far from telling her daughter that she had already given her to another husband, she held to her this language:-" There is but one God, and Mahomet is his prophet; I have always invoked the prophet, and the prophet has never abandoned me. Thou knowest, Stella, that I have always had a greater regard for thee than for thy sister, therefore my daughter hearken with respect and affection, to the words with which God has inspired me. I watch over thy happiness; thou art the joy of mine old age, therefore obey me." Stella was kneeling before her mother; she had repeated a verse of the Koran, and listened in religious silence. "Thou speakest to me of Ali, but dost thou know him well? Thou wouldst be his wife dost thou know if he can render thee happy? Poor child! Ali is handsome, but they say that he has fled before the Monsayas. Ali is the son of Kasnadji, but he is a libertine, and spends in debauchery with immodest women, and certain hare-brained youths, the fruit of his father's labours. Thou weepest, Stella, my beloved child, but if with sharp words I have rent thy soul, I know how to shed over it the balm of consolation. See now what I propose.-Ali should come hither this evening, should he not? Well, put his courage and love to the test; require the Christian's Crown, and if he goes to seek it in her tomb, I will say, Ali is brave, Ali loves thee, let him be thy spouse." Scarcely had the old lady finished these words, when Ali appeared, guided by a slave whom he had gained over to his interests. He prostrated himself before Stella's mother: "O venerable lady," said he, "may God be with you. I heard my name upon your lips, may God give you his blessing: you are aware of my passion, have pity upon me!" "Young man, rise! my daughter will tell you what has been agreed on between us." Then Stella raised her beautiful black eyes upon Ali with a look of caressing love: "Åli, you are to be my husband; my mother consents; but, only when you shall have brought me the Christian's Crown." The young man turned pale; a cold perspiration gathered thick upon his forehead; then he rose, and departed in despair, "Tomorrow," being his only adieu At three o'clock in the morning, Ali found himself near the tomb; his faithful courser fell dead from fatigue, and his own strength failing him, he fainted. Shortly afterwards he seemed to hear a confused sound of voices; his strength returned; he heard himself named, and he opened his eyes; but where shall we find colours to paint the picture which offered itself to his observation, or expressions to speak his astonishment. He was in the tomb; a vast saloon of marble presented itself to his gaze; all around him rose jasper columns, whose golden capitals were enriched with diamond triangles,* amid which were written in fiery characters, three signs that he could not under The Triangle is the well known hieroglyphic of the sacred Trinity.-Trans. stand. The walls, tapestried with cachemirs, represented unknown subjects, in most of which a man of perfect beauty was seen, carrying a cross. In the midst of the saloon rose a throne, covered with a purple canopy enriched with pearls; a woman in a white robe, divine in the expression of her features, and the softness of her contour, was seated on the throne; a crown of red roses encircled her brow in the manner of a diadem, and a crowd of fantastic, but graceful creatures, sung at her knees. Everything was sparkling with gold and jewels; the most exquisite perfumes imbued the air; the most melodious music inebriated the senses; at length the woman rose, and majestically advanced towards Ali: "Mussulman," said she, and her voice was very sweet, "I know the cause which hath brought thee hither; fear not, the Holy Spirit hath commended thee to me, and in proof of it, here, take my crown." * * * * Ali took the fatal crown, and almost immediately, everything changed its aspect. The Christian, for without doubt it was her, sunk into the abyss before him, her radiant visaged suite were metamorphosed into frightful demons, a sulphureous odour filled the saloon; its riches disappeared, and it was now nothing more than a hideous cavern, illuminated with bluish flames, horrible to behold. The crowd of the damned rushed upon Ali, vociferating It was mid day, a Bedouin passed; his mule stopped affrighted before the body of a man extended upon the road, about a league from the Christian's Tomb. Moved by pity, this man took up the body, which exhibited some signs of life, and carried it to Algiers, whither he was journeying. Ali was recognised in the town, the Bedouin took him home to his father, and received a handsome reward. Twenty years afterwards, Algiers had changed masters, and I walked through its narrow streets to study their windings, and to examine closely the inhabitants of the city, when I saw coming at a distance, a man half naked, who made violent gestures, and whom the crowd seemed to respect. Ali Pacha, the son of the Dey who reigned there two and twenty years since, was with me, and related the story, which, well or ill, I have told you. "Ali Soliman," said he, in conclusion, "has become insane since his visit to the tomb, and often stops the crowd to recount his story; for myself, I have heard it several times. His old father died long since, without leaving him any fortune, and this, his unhappy son, subsists on the charity of the people, who, as you know, have great veneration for idiots. As to the lovely Stella, Of course the three Hebrew signs, or letters, for the name of the Supreme Being, generally written within the emblematic triangle.-Trans. the story made so much noise, that the cadi mentioned it to the Dey, and her name was inscribed upon the lists of the Mezonard, the guardian of bad women, for having maintained, in spite of the laws, an illegal connexion with poor Ali." I put no more questions, but next day, disguised as an Arab, departed with some of the townspeople for Belida, where, from the top of a minaret, I could contemplate the peak of the pyramid of the Christian's Tomb. To try to go further was impossible, for a tribe of marauders were at the foot of Atlas, and it would have been running to certain danger. I returned in the hope that I might one day satisfy my curiosity, but, vain illusion! since that period the posts have been but very little advanced on that side, and I have departed from Aigiers, without having been able to see closely this famous monument. From the Courrier du Pas-de-Calais. M. L. B. Towns, towers, and halls, successive rise, They saw the Blythe and Wausbeck floods Widdrington Castle was the seat of "Gerard de Woderington, in 1272," who held it with Dririg and Borndon, of the barony of Whalton, by the service of one knight's fee. This family stands conspicuously as a line of heroes, and in the list of sheriffs of this county. We also find them possessors of several other seats: thus, Cartington Castle belonged to Edward Widdrington, who raised a troop of horse for Charles I., and was created a baronet in 1642; Houghton Castle was possessed by the Widdringtons, in 1567; Swinburne Castle passed to them by marriage; Harbottle Castle was granted to them by the Crown, in 1567; one of them, Sir Thomas Widdrington, founded and endowed a free-school at Stamfordham, in 1663; he was recorder of York, lord keeper in 1647, speaker to parliament in 1656, and lord chief baron in 1658. Sir William Widdrington was advanced to the dignity of a baron of the realm by Charles I., and lost his life at Wigan in Lancashire, in the cause of Charles II. "He was," says Clarendon, "one of the goodliest men of his age, being near a head higher than most tall men." His grandson, William, |