Objects in visiting Ireland.

9

amusement, though it will serve to associate our minds for an hour in each day, by a conference of the heart. You will determine how far you may feel disposed to sacrifice so much time and patience as the perusal of such a diary may demand. There are but few, a happy enviable few, who, like yourself, see all things through a correct medium: confident of this, I shall cheerfully submit to your deliberate, your temperate animadversions on my natural enthusiasm, and rely on your affectionate friendship for veiling the inaccuracy of my judgment. Herein, I feel conscious, I may fail; but it is impossible I should do so, in my regard, respect, and esteem, and my earnest desire to contribute to your entertainment.

The trivial mortifications inseparable from the absence of those comforts and accommodations which pervade countries more frequently visited, will neither affect my companion nor myself. We have made up our minds to take "things as they are, not as they ought to be," and on all occasions to pity and smile, rather than reprove and be vexed.

Short as the interval is which has elapsed since I bade you farewell, it appears to me long when I retrace the various reflections to which

10

Objects in visiting Ireland.

this excursion has given birth. The importance I seem to attach to a journey of a few hundred miles, is a weakness you will excuse. I cannot forbear indulging in it, as if it were highly consequential. Great and little are merely comparative; and where the heart is concerned, the less often becomes the greater consideration.

To a being who, like myself, has been spellbound, and who for the last twelve months has scarcely taken a single day's relaxation from his farm; the difficulties attendant on this journey appear to be many-the inducements to undertake it few. In my estimation they will be sufficient, if one among the number afford you the daily converse of an hour, without abstracting your attention unprofitably from objects of more immediate interest.

Concluding epistolary sentiments frequently excite a glow of feeling, under an idea that the performer, having no longer a part to act, subscribed with sincerity. However question

able this may be in most instances, I dare claim the merit with you, of having no latent purposes to serve, nothing on earth to tempt the sacrifice of that delightful truth, of assuring you I shall ever remain yours,

J. C. C.

LETTER II.

Annan, August 12, 1813.

MY engagement to furnish you with a diary of passing events reminds me of the habit of past times. For years my head never reached its pillow, without having previously registered the transactions of the day, with observations on what and on whom I had seen. I was led to make these sketches by the advice of my valued friend, the late Lord Kames,,who in recommending the practice, observed, "that our best and surest road to knowledge was by profiting from the labours of others, and making their experience our own." Those who are averse to study should try to learn, by taking notes of what is passing before their eyes, and thus acquiring by habit the art of thinking. Many, no doubt, would sicken at the idea of imposing such a task upon themselves; but as we are all the children of habit, the attempt once made, and persevered in for a short time, would soon become a custom more irksome to omit, than it was difficult to commence.

The most extraordinary instance of the force of habit I ever witnessed was about forty years ago, on a visit to the Isle of Man. On stopping at the Calf of Man, a small islet on its southwestern extremity, I found that the warrener's cot, the only human abode on the islet, was kept by his sister. For several months in the year, these two persons were completely isolated; and never even heard the sound of a third human voice, unless when the intervals of the raging storm conveyed the unavailing cries of the shipwrecked mariner. To support such an existence seemed to require, in a rational being, nerves of supernatural strength, or the influence of habit from the earliest period of life. Curious to ascertain how she could endure so desolate a life and such complete banishment from all human intercourse, I inquired" if she were not very miserable-if she had always been accustomed to dwell in that dreary abode?"? To the first I was answered in the negative; to the last, my surprise was converted into perfect astonishment, when I understood that, in the outset of her life, she had passed six and twenty years in St. James's-street. This communication excited still more my wonder, and made what I then saw and heard incomprehensible. Time, however, has since disclosed truths, of which I had then no suspicion.

I have frequently regretted, that in consequence of a severe indisposition, some years ago, I was induced to commit to the flames a journal, containing minutes on the most prominent characters and striking circumstances which came under my observation, in those parts of the continent which I visited. Some of the personages I had an opportunity of then noticing, have since performed very conspicuous parts in the calamitous events of the last twenty years. But I thought it right to do so. I could not feel justified in the possible exposure of opinions, registered in the self-confidence of being correct, though probably founded on exparte evidence, or testimony of less valid authenticity. The first impression, in such cases, becomes the final one; without examination, restraint, or responsibility. Under these circumstances, lest I should cease to retain the safe custody of my lucubrations, I determined to destroy them, that the persuasions of my mind, thus incautiously formed without proof, and recorded without discrimination, should not rise in judgment against the unoffending or the innocent; or become the traitorous instruments of revenge or wrong doing, in the hands of unprincipled persons, who might avail themselves of them by accident or stratagem. A record of conversations is scarcely allowable even for in