great difficulties to overcome, he contrived to raise himself to honourable distinction, and might reckon among his acquaintance, at least, a large proportion of those individuals, who in the last fifty years excited curiosity and respect, from their station, their learning, and their abilities. He

had substantial reasons to believe that Mr. Pitt thought favourably of him; he was patronized by Lord Chancellor Roslyn; he received kindness from the venerable Archbishop Moore. He expressed himself with emotions of the warmest gratitude towards Bishops Porteus, Barrington, Tomline, and Bathurst. He had frequent and familiar intercourse with the most learned men of his time; with, Porson much, much with Burney, not a little with Dr. Parr, some with Dean Vincent, Dr. Maltby, Bishop Burgess, Professor Marsh, Professor Vince. The catalogue indeed might be far, though perhaps uselessly, extended.

2

Of some of the advantages which such connections promised, he did not avail himself as far as he might; others he turned to the best of purposes. He had always a weak and delicate constitution, which, aided by a sedentary life, excited a morbid sensibility, and occasioned an improper and timid distrust of himself, at times, and on occasions, when he most wanted self-confidence. This nervous weakness, which he often and deeply lamented,

materially

materially obstructed his elevation to situations of honour and of rank, to which certain of his qualifications seemed naturally to point the way, and the avenues to which, might eventually have been facilitated to him, by some at least of his high connections.

ཏཱཙ

くすく

Notwithstanding these and other infirmities, a few friends loved him well. Among some of his better qualities, he possessed good conversation talents, talents he used to say not so much cultivated in this country as they ought, since they never fail to produce a powerful impression, and often outweigh more substantial and important endowments. Every man, he would assert, of the commonest observation, if he has lived at all in the world, must have much to remember which deserves communication. He was once urging this in his careless way, when he was reminded by a friend, whose judgment he much valued, that few were better qualified than himself, to produce from what he must have remembered, and was certainly able to communicate, a pleasing and a useful memorial of himself and his contemporaries; their entrance into, and progress in life; their pursuits, successes, and disappointments. He promised to think of it, and it appears that he did so. 1

ཟླ། ་

5

It is to be apprehended that some untoward circumstances, some mortifications or disappoint

ments, clouds of duskier hue, attended him in the

decline of life.

He disappeared rather abruptly

from among his friends.

One morn we missed him on the 'customed hill,
Along the beath, and near his favourite tree;
Another came, nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.

The circumstances of his death are but imperfectly known. No one was more likely to fall a premature victim to too great anxiety, and it was conjectured that too large a share of it, accelerated his withdrawing himself from the society he loved. Be this as it may: a few months since, was advertised to be sold by auction, at the rooms of a popular auctioneer, under a fictitious name, his well chosen library. Among the books were some manuscripts, which it was thought the family ought to have preserved. One in particular, was a very large Common-place-book, from the examination of which it was evident, that at some period of his life or other, he had meditated the composition of Memoirs of his literary life, with anecdotes of all the distinguished personages, with whom he had lived on terms of greater or less familiarity. But all was confusion; there was nothing like arrangement. In one place, " Anecdotes of Bishop *** in another, "Particulars of my Interview with the Lord

Lord Chancellor."

In the very middle of the vo lume, "A Narrative of my Boyish Days till I went to the University." This last, as far as it goes, seems the only portion of the manuscript, in which any thing like chronological order was observed.

In the hurry of the sale, by some accident or other, this Common-place-book was disregarded, which may in some degree be accounted for from the following circumstance:-Our friend wrote a miserable hand; the rapidity to which he accustomed himself, made his manuscript almost illegible. On this subject he would often tell many facetious stories of himself and his printer. On one occasion he was grievously tormented by a devil, at the moment of his being helped to a second slice of venison, (for he loved good eating) who came with two large sheets of copy to beg that he would put dots to his i's. At another time, he was seriously remonstrated with by his printer, a very worthy and primitive sort of man, for being the cause of more profane swearing in the printingoffice, than is usually heard at Billingsgate."Sir," exclaimed the honest printer, "the moment copy from you is divided among the compositors, volley succeeds volley, as rapidly and as loudly as in one of Lord Nelson's victories." Our friend shook his head, but he was incorrigible. To return to the auction. Several of the company

took

took this said Common-place-book into their hands, but as instantly laid it down again in despair. One person indeed rather maliciously asked if it was Arabic. At length it was put up; nobody bade a sixpence, till a sly old man from one corner of the room who having known the author, recognized his hand writing exclaimed, "I will give a dollar for the chance of making out something." It is superAluous to say, that there was no competition. The old gentleman carried off his bargain without molestation or envy. It was a long time before he could make an iota of his purchase, nor would he perhaps at all, if accident had not thrown him in the way of our friend the printer. This good man recollected, with no small delight, the Shibboleth (if such a term may be used to an autograph) of his old but tormenting acquaintance. They accordingly put their heads together, and the Reader is here presented with the result of their joint but continued labour. Labour indeed it might be called, for Porson would sooner have unravelled an Ethiopic inscription, than they were by much exertion, able to decypher a sheet of this abominable manuscript. They succeeded at length.

It is by no means intended on their parts to vouch for the entire authenticity of every fact, and anecdote, and circumstance, which these pages unfold. They however profess, and the printer more

particu