jury; and if it be the business of a counsel to obtain his ends by any means, he is right to adopt them; but the misfortune is, that all these things are mechanical, and as much in the power of the opposite counsel as in your own; so that it is not so much who argues best, as who speaks last, loudest, or longest. True eloquence, on the other hand, is confident only where there is real ground for confidence, trusts more to reason and facts than to imposing declamation, and seeks rather to convince than dazzle. The obstreperous rant of a pleader may, for a while, intimidate a jury; but plain and manly argument, delivered in a candid and ingenious manner, will more effectually work upon their understandings, and will make an impression on which the froth of declamation will be lost. I think a man, who would plead in this manner, would gain the confidence of a jury, and would find the avenues of their hearts much more open, than a man of more assurance, who, by too much confidence where there is much doubt, and too much vehemence where, there is greater need of coolness, puts his hearers continually in mind that he is pleading for hire. There seems to me so much beauty in truth, that I could wish our barristers would make a distinction between cases, in their opinion well or ill-founded, embarking their whole heart and soul in the one, and contenting themselves with a perspicuous and forcible statement of their client's case in the other. Pardon my rambling. The cacoethes scribendi can only be used by indulgence, and we have all á propensity to talk about things we do not understand. TO HIS BROTHER NEVILLE. Winteringham, August 20th, 1805. DEAR NEVILLE, I AM very sensible of all your affection, in your anxiety that I should not diminish my books; but I am by no means relieved from the anxiety which, on more accounts than one, I am under, as to my present situation, so great a burthen to the family, when I ought to be a support. My father made some heavy complaints when I was at home; and though I am induced to believe that he is enough harrassed to render it very excusable, yet I cannot but feel strongly the peculiarity of my situation; and, at my age, feel ashamed that I should add to his burthens. At present I have my hands completely tied behind me. When I get to college, I hope to have more opportunities of advantage, and, if I am fortunate, I shall probably relieve my father and mother from the weight which I now lay upon them. I wish you, if you read this letter to my mother, to omit this part. TO CAPEL LOFFT, ESQ. DEAR SIR, Winteringham, Sept. 10th, 1805. YOUR letter has at length reached me at this place, where I have been for the last ten months employed in classical reading, with Mr. Grainger. It gives me pleasure to hear of you, and of poetry; for, since I came here, I have not only been utterly shut out from all intercourse with the lettered world, but have totally laid aşide the pen of inspiration. I have been actuated to this by a sense of duty; for I wish to prove that I have not coveted the ministerial office through the desire of learned leisure, but with an ardent wish to do my duty as a teacher of the truth. I should blush to present myself as a candidate for that office in an unqualified and unprepared state; and as I have placed my idea of the necessary qualifications very high, all the time between now and my taking my degree, will be little enough for these purposes alone. I often, however, cast a look of fond regret to the darling occupations of my younger hours, and the tears rush into my eyes, as I fancy I see the few wild flowers of poetic genius, with which I have been blessed, withering with neglect. Poetry has been to me something more than amusement, it has been a cheering companion when I have had no other to fly to; and a delightful solace when consolation has been in some measure needful. I cannot, therefore, discard so old and faithful a friend without deep regret, especially when I reflect that, stung by my ingratitude, he may desert me for ever! With regard to your intended publication, you do me too much honour by inserting my puerilities along with such good company as I know I shall meet there. I wish I could present you with some sonnets worthy of your work. I have looked back amongst my old papers, and find a few verses under that name, which were written between the time when "Clifton Grove" was sent to the press, and its final appearance. The looking over these papers has recalled a little of my old warmth, and I have scribbled some lines, which, as they owe their rise to your letter, I may fairly (if I have room) present to I cannot read the sonnets which I have found amongst my papers with pleasure, and therefore I shall not presume to shew them to you. I shall anxiously expect the publication of your work. you. I shall be in Cambridge next month, being admitted a Sizar at St. John's. Trinity would have suited my plans better, but the expenses of that college are greater. With thanks for your kind remembrance of me, I remain, Dear Sir, Very respectfully and thankfully yours, H. K. WHITE. YES, my stray steps have wander'd, wander'd far Of my long silent lyre, yet thou can'st still Warm my reluctant heart.--Yes, I would throw, |