It is a striking portrait, too characteristic not to be a strong resemblance, and were it encompassed with a glory, instead of being dressed, in a nun's hood, might pass for the face of an angel.
"Our meadows are covered with a winter-flood in August; the rushes with which our bottomless chairs were to have been bottomed, and much hay, which was not carried, are gone down the river on a voyage to Ely, and it is even uncertain whether they will ever return.

Sic transit gloria mundi! "I am glad you have found a curate, may he answer! Am happy in Mrs.
Bouverie's continued approbation; it is worth while to write for such a reader.

Yours, "W.

C." The power of imparting interest to commonplace incidents is so great that we read with a sort of excitement a minute account of the conversion of an old card-table into a writing and dining-table, with the causes and consequences of that momentous event, curiosity having been first cunningly aroused by the suggestion that the clerical friend to whom the letter is addressed might, if the mystery were not explained, be haunted by it when he was getting into his pulpit, at which time, as he had told Cowper, perplexing questions were apt to come into his mind.
A man who lived by himself could have little but himself to write about.

Yet in these letters there is hardly a touch of offensive egotism.