[From Letters of Bishop Hildesley]

Letter XXXIX

Bishopscourt, Dec, 31, 1764.

I thought to have given my Brother the trouble of no more paper-addresses than what I had before expressed in my last. But there is a clause in the exordium of the Douglass courant, that I cannot allow to pass un-noticed till I see you. I will not jocularly tell you, you should do as the poor man did, when he had the misfortune to break one of his legs,—"be thankful that it wasn't both". But I am seriously thankful, and I dare say you are, that the sight of the damaged eye be not quite lost, or considerably impaired ; and that you undergo so little pain from the wound of so tender a part. Nunquam homini satis cautum est in horas. But what caution or forecast, you may say, could have prevented so unaccountable a mischance. What said you to it, Mrs Moore? Were you like those good women who, when their children fall down and bruise their foreheads, give "em a hearty scold, if not a whipping, for being so careless? Joking apart, I am sure you must be terribly affrighted; and which if the sufferer could have prevented, or hid from you when done, I dare say he would have done for your as well as his own sake. The pain it gave you, perhaps, was the greatest he felt. It makes my eye ache, at this distance, even only to hear of it. What, then, must it have done to have been an ocular witness — as Bell was ?

If, sir, it gives you any pain to use it in reading or writing, I cannot but be sorry to see one-third of your letter taken up in affording me a detail of "a poor, wild, unthinking profligate Man"; whose very name was quite new to me, much more his connections,— the country he came from, or his business in this, — until I received from you what you said of him in your last.

Excuse me for not thinking with you, that he or his companion were guilty of any breach of good manners, in not: preferring Bishopscourt to Cannell's for their rest from the fatigue of sporting. If they had come, I should certainly have given them the reception I usually do to all that enter my doors, whether strangers or natives — and this, I think, I may do, too — without giving up the distinction of the more pleasurable liking of some before others. And in this respect, I believe to some a publick is more eligible than some private houses. As to "the bed in which one died of the smallpox," you may insert that among the articles of that magazine which writes "six of the Bishop's boys died." For no one had died at, Cannell's, the merchant or publican, of the smallpox or any other distemper - now if you had sent me a short Goroo mie iu (71) from Mr Coanor in return for my who 4to. page of Inquiring notices, think you not, it would have been full as agreeable to us here as a long history of Mr A.'s Life, Character, and, supposed last sickness ; and this even at the stretch of your enfeebled sight ?

Well says Brother Moore, as does the facetious Dr. M., "you must take me as I or not at all" : and to which I say again, — as much wit and pleasantry as you please — so you do but notice those passages in my letters, which to me are material, how otherwise they may appeal to sprightly imaginations. I am afraid you consign them too soon to the place allotted for foul exercises, and then fancy you have answered all that's material, if not sometimes before you have read them, "Alas! poor Dan!" for that

I well remember, that I recommended to you to let your scholars, especially the head ones, be more versed in making Latin prose than English poetry. And instead of a short (and sufficient) reply, you send me a whole page of curious descant on the ancient honours of—a Goose; and instead of answering our joint inquiries about a person we conceived to have a large common acquaintance with ours, you relate the unasked circumstances of the manner of a man's catching a distemper, which he did not catch in the manner related, though it seems it is like to prove mortal.

I am aware that you are of the family of the absentees, which, perbaps, I am myself not quite unallied to, and which you'll excuse me, if I endeavour to alienate both myself and you from by the axe of attention and recollection; and that I may have you not only the good friend, but the very good friend of

M.S. M.

I fear, as you do, that all is not right at Kk. Bride, by Cubbon's not being yet returned hither. But by this time, no doubt, you have heard from him. Mr Wilks' whole trouble, at present, seems to be centred in the threatening bodings of his son Jemmy's eye-malady. I shall be glad to hear of your perfect recovery of yours.

My last packet P. contains a letter to the postmaster and another to Stephenson, at Liverpool; and one to Mr Sewel (72) for the post.— In case you find it most likely to forward that to Whitehaven sooner than it can reach him the other way, I would desire you to open that packet and take it out, inserting a note to Mr Statham of the occasion of the vacancy; and also give a scratch to the figure 1. I never number any but the post letters; and then be pleased to tie the packet up again for Liverpool.

I have not had time to go through the last Papers you sent; but hope I shall not detain them from any who have a right to peruse, and have not yet seen them. Tis to be hoped this rain will melt the icy mountains, and make a passable road for you — "Think you of the importance to me and the Church of Man!" Ay, if I did not, I should scarce bestow so many lines upon you — nor deal so freely with you, I assure you. I wish my constituents knew me as well, and would be disposed to deal as freely with me. I know I have many, many defects; but where is the friend that will be at the trouble of pointing them out to me, now my friend A is gone?

(71) Goro mie iu, correctly gur-y-mie-eu, thank you

(72) The Rev. Mr Sewel was the Superintendent of the Press at Whitehaven where the Manx Bible and Books were being printed,