My opinion of your judgment would considerably decrease if I thought that you estimated your progress in the acquisition of knowledge by the number of books you read. Make not books your sole study: study Nature also, that you may delineate her accurately in your works. Believe me that many can elicit more instruction from one book attentively read, than mere superficial readers can from fifty. Reflection is a more necessary ingredient in the composition of an Author's character than reading, and you can indulge in reflection as well, if not better, when the grand panorama of nature is spread before you, than you can in a closet, or in a splendid room, wherein your prospect is bounded by four walls. Moreover, I can from my own experience affirm that the lassitude resulting from too close an application to sedentary study, is unfavourable to the growth of intellect, and to improvement in literary knowledge. The ideas

become confused; the limbs ache; the muscles are relaxed; a spiritless depression pervades the mind; the health is injured; and the seeds of disorders are sown, which in a few years will germinate, ripen, and produce their fruits-sickness, pain, and death. To all these evils regular exercise is an antidote: it braces the lungs, the spirits are elevated, the blood circulates freely in the veins, and it gives health, strength, and vigour to the frame.

As I reflect on the letter which I wrote to you

D

last winter, 1 humbly confess the contracted limits of human knowledge and foresight. Little then did I think that you, my friend, would ever be in a situation like that which you now occupy.

You can never be sufficiently thankful to that Great Being who has thus raised you from the dust, and placed you in a state where, by a proper attention to your duties, and a sedulous endeavour to confirm the impression which your friends entertain in your favour, you will be in the way of obtaining eventual emolument and honour, and what is still better, of acquiring that knowledge which you have hitherto sought, and continue to seek.

Always remember the obligations you are under to those philanthropic and disinterested individuals who have thus provided for you, and do not imagine that you will retain their friendship longer than you continue to deserve it. Let not your present prosperity too highly elate you. Ever recollect your humble origin, and do not forget that some unexpected circumstance may again consign you to that poverty and wretchedness from which you have emerged.

I shall not enlarge on this head, for I know that you are rather inclined to depression and melancholy than to gaiety and hope; and therefore permit me strongly to advise you against being too easily depressed. Look not too anxiously on futurity. Enjoy the comforts which your present situation

affords, and for your future welfare rely on the exertions of your friends who have the power, and doubtless, the inclination to provide farther for you, when circumstances shall require it.

I know, my dear Kitto, that you will not be offended at the advice I have given you, for you have brought it on yourself; and if you complain, I may with equal justice complain also, for it was you who set me the example of writing in this dictatorial manner. Indeed, the freedom of your animadversions of some parts of my conduct gave me momentary pain; but I ultimately assented to the justice of your remarks, and have always endeavoured to follow your advice, for however I may at times be disposed to indulge vain notions of my superiority to many others, I am always ready to acknowledge that our intellectual endowments are in a state of equilibrium.

I intended to have written on other subjects relating to your situation, as, your studies, your intended devotion to Clio, your correspondence with Mr. H and Mr. W, your proposed authorship, and various other matters; but having arrived at the end of my paper, I must for the present conclude with a sincere assurance that

I am, my dear Kitto,

Your affectionate and devoted friend,

CECIL.

SIR.

LETTER XI.

To G. Harvey, Esq.*

Plymouth Library, August, 1823.

I hope you like my friend Cecil and his letter. If you do, you shall have more from him, and I will make him write an account of himself for your perusal.

I am in a sort of whimsical case, being obliged to give myself advice: but if I had a real correspondent like Cecil, the necessity of doing so would be superseded.

If you approve, Sir, of it, he shall write to me again on the subjects mentioned in the last paragraph of his letter.

My friend has several singularities which subsequent letters will probably develope.

I am, Sir,

Your most obliged

J. KITTO.

The two letters in this collection from CECIL were both sent to Mr. Harvey as soon as written, and, indeed, they were principally written for his perusal, that he might in this manner be acquainted with the Author's sentiments on some subjects on which he did not think fit to address him otherwise than indirectly. These motives may be superadded to those mentioned in a former note.

LETTER XII.

To Mr. Wilde.

Plymouth Public Library, October 16, 1823.

DEAR SIR.

With much pleasure I avail myself of the first opportunity of returning my grateful acknowledgements for the attention you have shewn to my accommodations and comfort in the Library; and, at the same time, of saying something about myself. In writing of myself I shall incur the charge of egotism from no one who attentively considers my abstracted condition, and as the sameness of my situation happily affords no matter for narration, in writing of myself, I can only communicate my hopes, my fears, and my wishes.

It is with mingled pair and pleasure that I cast a retrospective eye on the past, and with anxiety that I look forward to the future; though I do not suffer this anxiety to predominate so far as to embitter my present enjoyments. When I recollect, (and can I ever forget?) how miserable I once was; how I was exposed to ignomy, to insult, neglect, and oppression, my joy is great to have escaped such evils; and my heart expands with gratitude towards those disinterested individuals who have rescued me from them.