Cowley's rejection of his hand has neither lessened his merit, nor his consequence. Adieu my dear girl, and believe me always yours, R. Cowley. LETTER XXIX. _From the same to the same._ Some benevolent fairy, my dear Lucy, who presided at your birth, on finding nature had done so much for you, that her intended and usual donations would be but kindness thrown away, has graciously reserved her gifts for me, foreseeing the hard destiny to which I was subjected. Being condemned, like the sleeping beauty of the wood, to a hundred years nap, it is presumable she would, had her power been equal to her benevolent wishes, have bestowed perpetual youth on me, and a face that in any night-cap would have been worthy of a lover at the expiration of my captivity. But as this effort was beyond the power of her magical wand, she has been contented with gaining permission for me to walk in my sleep, and to seek adventures for your entertainment, and my own relief from despair. But to my tale, lest you should fancy it a dream, and that, far inferior to Prince Rufus's enchanted palace, cooks, turnspits, fidlers, and beaux and belles, awakened to eat, drink, and be merry. Finding I began to be weary of my good friend Eolus (for one may be tired of what is good, by having too much of it,) I determined, in order to vary the scene, to pay a morning visit to my new friends at the mill. "I should like," said I, "to see these boys now warmed into life by a pinch of snuff and snow water." The whole junto took the alarm. The roads were impassable; I should get my death of cold. I only laughed at their prognostics, and persisted in my intention, urging that the thaw, which has began here, had moderated the severity of the air. Lady Maclairn, _always ready at an expedient_, recollected that the coach-wheels wanted some repair, and her cook some corn to be ground for the fowls; and that at all events it was better for me to ride than to walk in the dirt. I readily conceded to this opinion, and, being wrapped up in pelisses and shawls, to the exact resemblance of the bag of corn, I departed. I found the little family one of those who, according to _Deborah_, "go as they would be met, and sit as they would be seen." Wisdom is wisdom with me, Lucy, "whether," as my darling Sancho says, "it is in a silk purse or in a sow's ear." There is nothing, in my opinion, more indicative of good sense than a habit of order. But let us go on. The old lady was giving the boys their reading-lesson when I entered, in a bible which was before them. Susan was making a muslin gown. My entrance interrupted them; and my notice of the children was followed by their being dismissed, but not before the grandmother, with unaffected anxiety, dictated to them their speech of gratitude to the dear good young lady who had saved their lives. This ceremony performed, they with glowing cheeks retired to enjoy, unconstrainedly, their existence. My observations were next