124 MEMOIR OF DR. HARVEY. 



fast it will please me to see the shores of old England waxing 

 dim, and at eventide (as a great poet hath said) — 



To watch the Lizard's burning eyes 

 Fade in the darkly shrouded skies. 



It is natural that my last letter from shore should be a sober 

 one ; yet I neither feel particularly so, nor the contrary. I try 

 to think little of the matter at all ; and when it does rise up 

 like a spectre before me, I lay the monster as quickly as possible 

 by telling him to lift up his veil, and show me the future peep- 

 ing through. Then I put up my perspective glass (which those 

 who live on the delectable mountains have skill to look 

 through), and I peep into the things behind the veil, and see 

 pleasant pictures to dwell on. 



I do not at all wonder at that seeming deadness that you 

 complain of. It is most natural that the mind should sometimes 

 fall into that state, though it is very painful to bear. Persons 

 on the rack, it is said, after the first half-hour, become indifferent 

 to pain — not insensible. And so it is with grief. After the 

 heart has gone through many trials, it seems as if the new 

 ones, even though they be great, could not add to the weight 

 of those it already has. A quiet sort of resignation insensibly 

 succeeds — a looking forward to another world, and a feeling that 

 it is not worth while to think of the sorrows of this when it is 

 so transitory. Religion doubtless soothes the mind, but even 

 the irreligious fall into a somewhat similar state. 



To N. B. W., Esq. 



Lord Hungerford, at Spithead. 



My dear Ward, July 25. 



I wrote you from London, and just mentioned in a post- 

 script that I had received your welcome letter. It is welcome, 

 for it brings me news from your own lips of your continued im- 

 provement. As your strength grows I trust the eye will 

 improve with it. Is not that the general result in such an 

 affection ? Still, for a botanist to be debarred the full use of his 

 eyes, and placed at the same time in the midst of new and 

 delightful food for them, is, I confess, a hard trial of patience, 



