This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
The original letter is extant and usually available for academic research purposes
Gregorian
This letter is part of the Primary Texts section of the Thomas Gray Archive.
XML created for the Thomas Gray Archive.
This letter is part of the correspondence calendar of the complete correspondence of Thomas Gray. The calendar contains detailed bibliographic records for all known original, copied, or published letters written by or to the poet as well as the full-text, where available. Each record is accompanied by digitised images of the manuscript, where available, or digitised images of the first printed edition.
It is long since that I heard you were gone in hast into Yorkshire on account of your Mother's
illness, & the same letter inform'd me, that she was recover'd. otherwise I had then wrote to you only to beg you would take care
of her, & to inform you, that I had discover'd a thing very little known, wch is, that in one's whole life one never can have any
more than a single Mother. you may think this is obvious, & (what you call) a trite observation. you are a green Gossling! I was at
the same age (very near) as wise as you, & yet I never discover'd this (with full evidence & conviction, I mean) till it was
too late. it is 13 years ago, & seems but yesterday, & every day I live it sinks deeper into my
heart. many a corollary could I draw from this axiom for your use (not for my own) but I will leave
you the merit of doing it yourself. pray, tell me how your own health is. I conclude it perfect, as I hear you offer'd yourself for a
guide to Mr Palgrave into the Sierra-Morena of Yorkshire. for me I pass'd the end of May & all June in Kent not disagreeably. the
country is all a garden, gay, rich, & fruitfull, & (from the rainy season) had preserved, till I left it, all that emerald
verdure, wch commonly one only sees for the first fortnight of the spring. in the west part of it from every eminence the eye catches
some long winding reach of the Thames or Medway with all their navigation. in the east the sea breaks in upon you, & mixes its
white transient sails & glittering blew expanse with the deeper & brighter greens of the woods & corn. this last sentence
is so fine I am quite ashamed. but no matter! you must translate it into prose. Palgrave, if he heard
it, would cover his face with his pudding-sleeve. I went to Margate for a day: one would think, it was Bartholomew Fair that had flown down: From Smithfield to Kent in the London machine like my Lady Stuffdamask (to be sure you have read the New Bath Guide, the most fashionable of books) so then I did not go to Kingsgate, because it belong'd to my Ld Holland: but to Ramsgate I did, & so to Sandwich & Deal & Dover
& Folkstone & Hithe all along the coast very delightful. I do not tell you of the great & small beasts & creeping
things innumerable that I met with, because you do not suspect, that this world is inhabited by any thing but Men & Women, &
Clergy, & such two-legged cattle. now I am here again very disconsolate & all alone: even Mr Brown is gone, & the cares of
this world are coming thick upon me, I do not mean Children. you I hope are better off, riding & walking with Mr Aislaby, singing Duets with my Cousin Fanny, improving with Mr Weddell, conversing with Mr Harry Duncomb. I must not wish for you here: besides I
am going to Town at Michaelmas, by no means for amusement. do you remember, how we are to go into Wales next year? well!–Adieu, I am
Pray how does poor Temple find himself in his new situation? is Ld L: as good as his letters were? what is come of the Father & Brother? Have you seen Mason?