compositions, could in any degree, contribute to intellectual and moral progress. But if Shakspere's gold may, in some instances, be surrounded with baser metal, yet surely (if we may be allowed the expression,) the gold is worth digging out. Were not this the case, Shakspere would not find so many readers amongst the intelligent, and the first edition of his works would not literally be worth its weight in gold. There would be fewer pilgrimages to Stratford-onAvon, nor would the government purchase the house in which the illustrious poet was born. Every little relic belonging to the bard would not be cherished with such intense feeling, nor would that zealous collector, the Empress Catherine, have secured the poet's chair at the cost of five hundred pounds.* His writings would not so frequently be quoted, not only in compositions which last but for a day, but in works the fame of which will only be lost when, in the language

* In the house where Shakspere was born, it would appear that chairs multiply. In relation to Shakspere's chair, Washington Irving remarks: "In this chair it is the custom of every one that visits the house to sit. Whether this be done with the hope of imbibing any of the inspiration of the bard, I am at a loss to say: I merely mention the fact; and mine hostess privately assured me, that, though built in solid oak, such was the fervent zeal of devotees, that the chair had to be new-bottomed at least once in three years. It is worthy of notice, also, in the history of this extraordinary chair, that it partakes something of the volatile nature of the Santa Casa, of Loretto, or the flying chair of the Arabian enchanter; for though sold some few years since to a northern princess, yet, strange to tell, it has found its way back again to the old chimney corner."

of inspiration, "the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat; the earth also, and the works that are therein, shall be burnt up," 2 Peter iii. 10. Nor, if the great bard's compositions had been worthless, would he have found so many industrious commentators, some of whom (Steevens, for instance,) have spent a great portion of their lives in the elucidation of his works. These have occupied the attention of Alexander Pope, and of the learned Bishop Warburton, and employed also the hours of that great man and severe critic, Doctor Johnson.

As good taste progresses, in the same proportion will the works of our best writers be read and esteemed. We would apply this remark in reference to Shakspere, and confirm the same by facts which will show (at least the first of these very forcibly) that whilst good men without taste or education neglect the works of our poet, men of education and moral excellence combined, esteem them. It is stated in Mrs. Smith's Life of Henry Moore, that one of John Wesley's preachers who had access to his house after his death, found a quarto edition of Shakspere which contained notes on the margin written by Mr. Wesley himself. This copy, if we remember rightly, was intended for one of Mr. Wesley's friends, but the preacher obtained the literary treasure, and with a zeal characteristic of the Goths and Vandals of our isle, burnt it. Those who are acquainted with Mr. Wesley's writings, will discover that he was a reader of Shak

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spere; but we believe that few indeed are aware that he was one of Shakspere's commentators, and we think that not a few with us, will regret the loss of an edition of the poet which contained the now irrecoverable notes of the learned and pious Wesley. But the conduct of the disciple of Wesley was not without a precedent. The cases, perhaps, are not parallel, yet in our simplicity we discover equal bad taste and disrespect towards our great poet in both.

We now refer to a wholesale destroyer of the poet's property in the person of the Rev. Francis Gastrell, vicar of Frodsham in Cheshire. In the last century, this individual purchased New Place, once the residence of Shakspere. But Mr. Wheler, the historian of Stratford, may be best quoted here. "New Place," says he, after enumerating the respective proprietors of this mansion, "was sold to the Rev. Francis Gastrell, vicar of Frodsham, in Cheshire; who, if we may judge by his actions, felt no sort of pride or pleasure in this charming retirement-no consciousness of his being possessed of the sacred ground which the muses had consecrated to the memory of their favourite poet. The celebrated mulberry tree planted by Shakspere's hand, became first an object of his dislike, because it subjected him to answer the frequent importunities of travellers, whose zeal might prompt them to visit it, and to hope that they might meet inspiration under its shade. In an evil hour the sacrilegious priest ordered the tree, then remarkably large, and at its full growth, to be cut down; which

was no sooner done, than it was cleft to pieces for firewood; this took place in 1756, to the great regret and vexation, not only of the inhabitants, but of every admirer of our bard. The greater part of it was, however, soon after purchased by Mr. Thomas Sharp, watchmaker, of Stratford, who, well acquainted with the value set upon it by the world, turned it much to his advantage by converting every fragment into small boxes, goblets, tooth-pick cases, tobacco stoppers, and numerous other articles. Nor did New Place long escape the destructive hand of Mr. Gastrell, who, being compelled to pay the monthly assessments towards the maintenance of the poor, (some of which he expected to avoid because he resided part of the year at Lichfield, though his servants continued in the house at Stratford during his absence,) in the heat of his anger declared that house should never be assessed again; and to give his imprecation due effect, and wishing, as it seems, to be damned to everlasting fame,' the demolition of New Place soon followed, for in 1759, he razed the building to the ground, disposed of the materials, and left Stratford amidst the rage and curses of its inhabitants."

But to resume our remarks, and bring this discourse to a conclusion, we affirm that few, speaking comparatively, are acquainted with our best writers, whether in prose or verse. Why is this? We reply that men of scholarship and refinement acquaint themselves with their productions, and as we have already stated, that just in proportion as learning, and good

taste, and moral excellence prevail in our population, in the same degree, will such compositions be read and appreciated. But then it is a fact, which we think may be lamented, and which we are sure cannot be controverted, that with all our opportunities of improvement, there is a great amount of ignorance in this country. When that accomplished linguist, Sir William Jones, was a little boy, he was accustomed to interrogate his mother, when desirous to obtain any little information he wanted. Her constant reply was, "Read that you may know." It is indeed impossible to over-estimate the advantages of reading. "If I were to pray," says Herschel, "for a taste which should stand by me under every variety of circumstances, and be a source of happiness and cheerfulness to me through life, and a shield against its ills, however things go amiss, and the world frowns upon me, it would be a taste for reading. I speak of it, of course, only as a worldly advantage, and not in the slightest degree derogating from the higher office, and sure and stronger panoply of religious principles, but as a taste, an instrument, and a mode of pleasurable gratification. Give a man this taste, and the means of gratifying it, and you can hardly fail of making him a happy man, unless, indeed, you put into his hands a most perverse selection of books. You place him in contact with the best society in every period of history, with the wisest, the wittiest, with the tenderest, the bravest, and the purest characters who have adorned humanity. You make him a denizen of all nations, a contemporary of all ages. The world has been created for him.