So far I writ of my Letter at Mayence, but design'd not to finish it, till I could do so from whence I direct this to you, viz. on the Rhine. I have been now one day upon it, and shall be one more at least, but most probably a third, to Cologn. You'll tell me you've been upon the Thames (The Thames I tell you is a puppy!) a Swan-hopping and eating cold pidgeon pye. But what is that to sailing down the Rhine, than which very few rivers in Europe draw a finer humid train after 'em, with sloping vineyards ever on each hand of you, having a pretty Town perpetually before you in view, before you have lost quite what you left behind you, having a large barge divided into 3 or 4 commodious apartments, eating cold roast mutton and cucumbers, and drinking some of the most wholesome wine in the world, that which grows on the sides of every hill we pass by. But enough of this I must not insult too much. With all compliments as usual, my Dear Jo, Yrs ever affectionately E: ROLLE. * P. S. Just this moment our good friend the Rhine receives the Moselle which runs into him, and whose assistance poor thing, be sure he wanted very much, to make himself great when he was a little Sea before, tis just like * * * having estates left him, who had before 10,000 p❜ an. And yet if you was to see one of those floats of Timber which I see just now, of a quarter a mile long (tis but a small one) with wooden houses on it, with windows hens and chickens, several families &c &c &c, you'd say after all, his affairs must be a little encumber'd, notwithstanding this fresh supply. Cologn July 15th DEAR SIR IT No. XXXII. FROM MR. THOS HOOKE. T must be a great pleasure to you to be employ'd in the delightfull work of Gardening and especially for so excellent a friend. Yet give me leave to say it is no new profession you have taken up, but an old one, for if the human mind be a garden where "flowers and weeds promiscuous shoot" and which requires cultivation, you have been a Gardener a long time. You good S Beaumont! were by Heav'n design'd To teach the Great, how Greatness to employ, The spotless Maid, preserv'd from cruel harms, But simple as herself, and as your soul, serene. I am extremely glad my father is so well situated, and do assure you they shall have my consent to abate of their Platonism. I have ventur'd to direct this to you at the Earl of Lincoln's, tho' I dont know whether I ought to do so. I should be obliged to you if in your next that you favour me with, you would send me a List of some Books, which are both instructive and entertaining to the imagination, for I am in want of something for amusement this Winter, this being a place where I see very little company. But nothing can more enliven my solitude than the pleasure of receiving a Letter now and then from so good and kind a friend, whom I esteem and love very sincerely. I am Dear Sir Your most faithful Birkby Oct. 27. 1753. and obliged Servt T. HOOKE. P. S. I will not omit to tell you that my Wife coloured when she read in one of Sr Harry Beaumont Letters, that a woman's beauty seldom lasts beyond five and twenty, she being almost six and twenty. No. XXXIII. FROM MR. DAVID HUME. SIR, THE Edinburgh Oct 15—54 HE agreeable productions, with which you have entertained the Public, have long given me a desire of being known to you: But this desire has been much encreas'd by my finding you engage so warmly in protecting a Man of Merit, so helpless as Mr. Blacklocke, I hope you will indulge me in the Liberty I have taken of writing to I shall very you. willingly communicate all the particulars I know of him; tho' others, by their longer acquaintance with him, are better qualify'd for this undertaking. The first time I had ever seen or heard of Mr. Blacklocke was about twelve years ago, when I met him in a visit to two young Ladies. They informed me of his Case as far as they cou'd in a conversation carried on in his presence. I soon found him to possess a very delicate Taste, along with à passionate Love of Learning. Dr. Stevenson had, at that time taken him under his Protection; and he was perfecting himself in the Latin Tongue. I repeated to him Mr. Pope's Elegy to the Memory of an unfortunate Lady, which I happen'd to have by heart: And though I be a very bad Reciter, I saw it affected him extremely. His eyes, indeed, the great Index of the Mind, cou'd express no Passion: but his whole Body was thrown into Agitation: That Poem was equally qualified, to touch the Delicacy of his Taste, and the Tenderness of his `Feelings. I left the Town a few days after; and being long absent from Scotland, I neither saw nor heard of him for several years. At last an acquaintance of mine told me of him, and said that he would have waited on me, if his excessive Modesty had not prevented him. He soon appeared what I have ever since found him, a very elegant Genius, of a most affectionate grateful disposition, a modest backward temper, accompanied with that delicate Pride, which so naturally attends Virtue in Distress. His great Moderation and Frugality, along with the Generosity of a few persons, particularly Dr. Stevenson and Provost Alexander, had hitherto enabled him to subsist. All his good qualities are diminished, or rather perhaps embellished by a great want of Knowledge of the World. Men of very benevolent or very malignant dispositions are apt to fall into this error: because they think all mankind like themselves: But I am sorry to say that the former are apt to be most egregiously mistaken. I have asked him whether he retained any Idea of Light or colors. He assur'd me that there remain'd not the least traces of them. I found however, that all the Poets, even the most descriptive ones, such as Milton and Thomson; were read by him with Pleasure. Thomson is one of his Locke of a blind man, favorites. I remembered a story in who said that he knew very well what Scarlet was, it was like the sound of a Trumpet. I therefore ask'd him, whether he had not formed associations of that kind, and whether he did not connect color and sound together? He answered, that as he met so often both in Books and conversation, with the terms expressing colors, he had formed some false associations, which supported him when he read, wrote, or talk'd of colors but that the associations were of the intellectual kind. The Illumination of the Sun, for Instance, he supposed to. resemble the presence of a Friend; the cheerful color of. Green, to be like an amiable sympathy, &c. It was not altogether easy for me to understand him: though I believe, in much of our own thinking there will be found some species of association. 'Tis certian we always think in some language, viz. in that which is most familiar to us: And 'tis but too frequent to substitute Words instead of Ideas. If you was acquainted with any Mystic, I fancy you wou'd 1 think Mr. Blacklocke's Case less paradoxical. The Mystics certainly have associations by which their discourse, which seems Jargon to us, becomes intelligible to themselves. I believe they commonly substitute the Feelings of a common Amour, in the place of their heavenly sympathies: And if they be not belied the Type is very apt to engross their Hearts, and exclude the thing typify'd. Apropos to this Passion, I once said to my friend, Mr. Blacklocke, that I was sure he did not treat Love as he did colors; he did not speak of it without feeling it. There appear'd too much reality in all his expressions to allow that to be suspected. Alas! said he, with a sigh, I could never bring my Heart to a proper Tranquillity on that head. Your Passion reply'd I, will always be better founded than ours, who have sight: We are so foolish as to allow ourselves to be captivated by exterior Beauty: Nothing but the Beauty of the Mind can affect you. Not altogether neither, said he: The sweetness of the Voice, has a mighty effect upon me: The symptoms of Youth too, which the Touch discovers have great Influence. And tho' such familiar approaches would be ill bred in others, the Girls of my acquaintance indulge me on account of my blindness, with the liberty of running over them with my hand. And I can by that means judge entirely of their shape. However, no doubt, Humor, and Temper and Sense and other Beauties of the Mind have an Influence upon me as upon others. You may see from this conversation how difficult it is even for a blind man to be a perfect Platonic. But tho' Mr. Blacklocke never wants his Evanthe, who is the real object of his poetical addresses; I am well assur'd that all his Passions have been perfectly consistent with the purest Virtue and |