University of Virginia Library

LETTER LII.

I RECEIVED yours of the 24th.
ult. and thank you for it; though it did not
afford me those lively sensations of pleasure,
which I usually feel at the perusal of your letters.
It inspired me both with concern, and
chagrin. With concern, lest your dejection
of mind should affect your health; and with
chagrin at your apparent indulgence of melancholy.
Indeed, my friend, your own happiness
and honor, require you to dissipate the
cloud which hangs over your imagination.

Rise then above it; and prove yourself superior
to the adverse occurrences which have
befallen you. It is by surmounting difficulties,
not by sinking under them, that we discover
our fortitude. True courage consists not in
flying from the storms of life; but in braving
and steering through them with prudence. Avoid

solitude. It is the bane of a disordered
mind; though of great utility to a healthy one.
Your once favorite amusements court your attention.
Refuse not their solicitations. I have
contributed my mite, by sending you a few
books; such as you requested. They are of
the lighter kind of reading; yet perfectly chaste;
and if I mistake not, well adapted to your taste.

You wish to hear from our theatre. I believe
it will be well supplied with performers
this winter. Come and see whether they can
afford you any entertainment. Last evening
I attended a tragedy; but never will I attend
another. I have not yet been able to
erase the gloom which it impressed upon my
mind. It was Romeo and Juliet. Distressing
enough to sensibility this! Are there not real
woes (if not in our own families, at least among
our own friends, and neighbors) sufficient to
exercise our sympathy and pity, without introducing
fictitious ones into our very diversions?
How can that be a diversion, which racks the
soul with grief, even though that grief be imaginary.
The introduction of a funeral solemnity,
upon the stage, is shocking indeed!

Death is too serious a matter to be sported
with! An opening grave cannot be a source of
amusement to any considerate mind! The closing
scene of life can be no pastime, when realized!
it must therefore awaken painful sensations,
in the representation!

The circus is a place of fashionable resort of
late, but not agreeable to me. I think it inconsistent
with the delicacy of a lady, even to
witness the indecorums, which are practised
there; especially, when the performers of equestrian
feats are of our own sex. To see a woman
depart so far from the female character,
as to assume the masculine habit and attitudes;
and appear entirely indifferent, even to the externals
of modesty, is truly disgusting, and
ought not to be countenanced by our attendance,
much less by our approbation. But setting
aside this circumstance, I cannot conceive
it to be a pleasure to sit a whole evening,
trembling with apprehension, lest the poor
wight of a horseman, or juggler, or whatever he
is to be called, should break his neck in contributing
to our entertainment.

With Mr. Bowen's museum, I think you
were much pleased. He has made a number
of judicious additions to it, since you were
here. It is a source of rational and refined amusement.
Here the eye is gratified, the imagination
charmed, and the understanding improved.
It will bear frequent reviews without
palling on the taste. It always affords something
new; and for one, I am never a weary
spectator.

Our other public, and private places of resort,
are much as you left them.

I am happy in my present situation; but
when the summer returns, I intend to visit
my native home. Again, my Eliza, will we
ramble together in those retired shades which
friendship has rendered so delightful to us.
Adieu, my friend, till then. Be cheerful, and
you will yet be happy.