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our parents and relations, when my ever-honoured companion was attacked by a fever. All possible means of safety proving finally ineffectual, he accosted me in one of his lucid intervals as follows.
Alas! my Clytander! my life, they tell me, is of very short continuance. The next paroxysm of my fever will probably be conclusive. The prospect of this sudden change does not allow me to speak the gratitude I owe thee; much less'to reward the kindness on which it is so justly grounded. Thou knowest I was sent away early from my, parents, and the more rational part of my life has been passed with thee alone. It cannot be but they will prove solicitous in their enquires concerning me. Thy narrative will awaken their tenderness, and they cannot but conceive some for their son's companion and his friend. What I would hope is, that they will render thee some services, in place of those their beloved son intended thee, and which I can unfeignedly assert, would have been only bounded by my power. My dear companion ! farewell! All other temporal enjoyments have I banished from my heart; but friendship lingers long, and 't is with tears I say, farewell.
My concern was truly so great, that on my arrival in my native country, it was not at all encreased by the consideration that the nobleman on whom my hopes depended, was removed from all his places. I waited on him; and he ap, peared sensibly grieved that the friendship he had ever professed could now so little avail me. He recommended me however to a friend of his that was then of the successful party, and who, he was assured, would at his request, asssist me to the utmost of bis power. I was now in the prime of life, which
I effectúally consumed on the empty forms of courtattendance. . Hopes arose before me like bubbles upon a stream; as quickly succeeding each other, as superficial, and as vain. . Thus busied in my pursuit, and rejecting the assistance of cool examination I found the winter of life approaching, and nothing procured to shelter or protect me when my second patron died. ' A race of new ones appeared before me, and even yet kept my expectations in play. I wished, indeed, I had retreated sooner; but to retire at last unrecompensed, and when a few months attendance might happen to prove successful, was beyond all power of resolution.
However, after a few years more attendance, distributed in equal proportions on each of these new patrons, I at length obtained a place of much trouble and small emolument. On the acceptance of this, my eyes seemed open all at once. I had no passion reinaining for the splendor which was grown familiar to me, and for servility and confinement I entertained an utter aversion. I officiated, however, for a few weeks in iny post, wondering still more and more how I could ever covet the life I led. I was ever most sincere, but sincerity clashed with my situation every moment of the day. In short, I returned home to a paternal income, not, indeed, intending that austere life in which you at present find me engaged. I thought to content myself with common necessaries, and to give the rest, if aught remained, to charity; determined, however, to avoid all appearance of singularity. But alas! to my great surprise, the person who supplied my expenses had so far embroiled my little affairs, that, when my debts, &c. were discharged, I was unable to subsist in any
better manner than I do at present. I grew at first entirely melancholy; left the country where I was born, and raised the humble roof that covers me in a country where I am not known. I now begin to think myself happy in my present way of life: Icultivate a few vegetables to support me; and the little well there is a very clear one. I am now an useless individual; little able to benefit mankind; but a prey to shame, and to confusion, on the first glance of every eye that knows me. My spirits are, indeed, something raised by, a clear sky, or a meridian sun; but as to extensive views of the country, I think them well enough exchanged for the warmth and comfort which this vale affords me. Ease, is at least, the proper ambition of age, and it is confessedly my supreme one. . Yet will I not permit you to de part from a hermit, without one instructive lesson. Whatever situation in life you ever wish or propose for yourself, acquire a clear and lucid idea of the inconveniencies attending it. I utterly contemned and rejected, after a month's experience, the very post I had all my lifetiine been solicitous to procure.'
A CHARACTER. He was a youth so amply furnished, with every excellence of mind, that he seemned alike capable of acquiring or disregarding the goods of fortune. He had, indeed, all the learning and erudition that can be derived from universities, without the pedantry and ill-manners which are too often their attendants. What few or none acquire by the most intense assiduity, he possessed by nature; I mean, that elegance of taste, which disposed him to admire beauty under it's great variety of appearances. It passed not unobserved by him either in the cut of a sleeve, or the integrity of a moral action. The proportion of a statue, the convenience of an edifice, the movement in a dance, and the complexion of a cheek or flower, afforded bim sensations of beauty; that beauty which inferior geniuses are taught coldly to distinguish; or to discern rather than feel. He could trace the excellencies both of the courtier and the student; who are mutually ridiculous in the eyes of each other He had nothing in his character that could obscure so great accomplishments, beside the want, the total want, of a desire to exhibit them. Through this it came to pass, that what would have raised another to the heights of reputation, was oftentimes in him passed over unregarded. For, in respect to ordinary obsérvers, it is requisite to lay some stress yourself, on what you intend should be remarked by others; and this never was his way. His knowledge of books had, in some degree, diminished his knowledge of the world; or, rather, the external forms and manners of it. His ordinary conversation was, perhaps, rather too pregnant with sentiment, the usual fault of rigid students; and this he would, in some degree have regulated better, did not the universality of his genius, together with the method of his education, so largely contribute to this amiable defect. This kind of awkwardness (since his modesty will allow it no better name) may be compared to the stiffness of a fine piece of brocade, whose turgescency, indeed, constitutes, and is inseparable from, it's value. He gave delight by a happy boldness in the extirpa
tion of common prejudices; which he could as readily penetrate, as he could humourously ridicule : and he had such entire possession of the hearts as well as understandings of his friends, that he could soon make the most surprising paradoxes believed and well-accepted. His image, like that of a sovereign, could give an additional value to the most precious ore; and we no sooner believed our eyes that it was he who spake it, than we as readily believed whatever he had to say. In this he differed from W- r, that he had the talent of rendering the greatest virtues unenvied: whereas the latter shone more remarkably in making his very faults agreeable: I mean in regard to those few he had to exercise his skill. N. B. This was written, in an extempore manner, upon my friend's wall at Oxford, with a black lead pencil, 1735, and intended for his character.
A fragment. Taking an evening's walk with a friend in the country, among many grave remarks, he was making the following observation. There is not,' said he, “any one quality so inconsistent with respect, as what is commonly called familiarity. You do not find one in fifty, whose regard is proof against it. At the same time, it is hardly possible to insist on such a deference as will render you ridiculous, if it be supported by common sense. Thus much, at least, is evident, that your demands will be so successful, as to procure a greater share than if you had