ENGLISH LETTER-WRITER. ᏢᎪᎡᎢ 1. LETTERS ARRANGED ACCORDING TO THEIR SUBJECTS. CHAPTER 1. NARRATIVE LETTERS. LETTER 1. Mr. Gay to Mr. Fenton.-Account of two young persons killed by lightning. Stanton-Harcourt, Aug. 9, 1718. The only news that you can expect to have from me here, is news from Heaven, for I am quite out of the world; and scarcely any thing can reach me, except the noise of thunder, which undoubtedly you have heard too. We have read, in old authors, of high towers levelled by it to the ground, while the humble valleys have escaped. But, to let you see that the contrary to this sometimes happens, I must acquaint you, that a high and most extravagant heap of towers, in this neighbourhood, stands still undefaced, while a cock of barley, in our next field, has been consumed to ashes. Would to God that this heap of barley had been all that had perished! Beneath this little shelter, sat two much more constant lovers, than ever were found, in romance, under the shade of a beech tree. John Hewet, was a well-set man, of about five and twenty; Sarah Drew might be rather called comely than beautiful, and she was about the same age. They had passed through the various B labours of the year together, with the greatest satisfaction. If she milked, it was his morning and evening care to bring the cows to her hand. It was but last fair that he bought her a present of green silk for her straw hat; and the posy on her silver ring was of his choosing. Their love was the talk of the whole neighbourhood: scandal never affirmed that they had any other views than the lawful possession of each other in marriage. It was that very morning that he had obtained the consent of her parents; and it was but till the next week that they were to wait for the happy day. Perhaps, in the intervals of their work, they were talking of the wedding-clothes; and John was suiting 'several sorts of poppies and field-flowers to her complexion, to choose her a knot for the wedding-day. While they were conversing together, (it was on the last day of July, between two and three in the afternoon,) the clouds grew black; and such a storm of thunder and lightning ensued, that all the labourers made the best of their way to what shelter the trees and hedges afforded. Sarah was frightened; and fell down, in a swoon, on a heap of barley. John, who never separated from her, sat down by her side, having raked together two or three heaps, the better to secure her from the storm. Immediately there was heard so loud a crack, as if Heaven had burst asunder. The labourers, solicitous for each other's safety, called to one another throughout the field. Those who called to our lovers, receiving no answer, stepped to the place where they lay; perceived the barley all in a smoke; and then spied this faithful pair: John with one arm about Sarah's neck, and the other held over her, as if to screen her from the lightning. They were struck dead, and they stiffened, in this tender posture. Sarah's left eye-brow was singed, and there appeared a black spot on her breast; her lover was all over black: but not the least signs of life were found in either. Attended by their melancholy companions, they were conveyed to the town; and the next day were interred in one grave, in the church-yard, at Stanton-Harcourt. Lord Harcourt, at Mr. Pope's and my request, has caused a stone to be placed over them, upon condition that we furnished the epitaph, which is as follows: When Eastern lovers feed the fun'ral fire, On the same pile the faithful pair expire : Here pitying Heav'n that virtue mutual found, And blasted both, that it might neither wound. Hearts so sincere th' Almighty saw well pleas'd, Sent his own lightning, and the victims seiz❜d. But my lord is apprehensive that the country people will not understand this epitaph; and Mr. Pope says he will make one, with something of Scripture in it, and with as little of poetry as Hopkins and Sternhold *. I am your &c. *The following was the epitaph: John Gay. Near this place lie the bodies of JOHN HEWET and SARAH DREW, an industrious young man, and a virtuous maiden, of this parish; who, being at harvest work, (with several others,) were in one instant killed by lightning, on the last day of July, 1718. Think not by rig'rous judgment seiz'd, A pair so faithful could expire; Live well, and fear no sudden fate : When God calls Virtue to the grave, Alike 'tis justice, soon or late; Mercy alike to kill or save. Virtue unmov'd can hear the call, And face the flash that melts the ball. LETTER II. Dr. Beattie to Mrs. Montagu.-The poor widow** Madam, Peterhead, Oct. 11, 1784. I arrived at Peterhead on the first of October. I went instantly to Mrs. Arbuthnot, whom I found in tolerable health, sitting solitary by her little fire, and ainusing herself, as usual, with a book and her work. She was the more pleased to see me, as my arrival was unexpected; for she had not heard that I was returned to Scotland. After she had asked all the customary questions, I told her, without betraying any emotion, or seeming to have any thing in view but her amusement, that if she were at leisure, I would tell her a story. I accordingly began; and, agreeably to the commission with which you honoured me, I made a very long and circumstantial story of it, recapitulating, as far as my memory would enable me, every thing which passed in that conversation at Sandleford, of which she and her aunt, Mrs. Cockburn, were the subject. I saw she was greatly affected with the idea of your thinking Mrs. Arbuthnot, the subject of this letter, was the daughter of a minister of the episcopal church of Scotland. She married, at the age of twenty eight, captain Andrew Arbuthnot, master of a vessel that traded from Peterhead to America. He died of a fever, at Charlestown, in South Carolina, about three years after their marriage. The vessel, on its return to Peterhead, was wrecked, and the whole of the captain's property was lost. His widow, with an infant son, was left destitute. She struggled hard to maintain herself and her child by her labour. Her friends contrived to assist her, so as not to hurt the delicacy of her feelings; and she frequently said, that she sometimes received aid as if it had dropped from Heaven, without her knowing from what hand it came. Her son, by means of a small bursary, received his education at the |