would never have returned to his wife, if the money which he took with him, which was supposed to have been £1000 or £2000, had not been all spent: and he must have been a good economist, and frugal in his manner of living, otherwise his money would scarce have held out; for I imagine he had his whole fortune by him, I mean what he carried away with him in money or bank bills, and daily took out of his bag, like the Spaniard in Gil Blas, what was sufficient for his expenses.

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WILLIAM SHENSTONE. 1714-1763. This lover of rural life was born at the Leasowes, in Shropshire, in 1714, and was distinguished, even in childhood, for his love of reading and thirst for knowledge. He was first taught to read by an old village dame, whom he has immortalized in his poem after Spenser's manner, called « The SchoolMistress.” He was sent to Pembroke College, Oxford, in 1732, where he continued his studies for ten years. Here he published, at intervals, his principal poems, which consist of elegies, odes, ballads, the “ Judgment of Hercules," and several other pieces. In 1745 he went to reside on his paternal estate, to which he devoted all his time, talents, and capital, so that the Leasowes became, under his care, a perfect fairy-land. “Now,” says Dr. Johnson, “was excited his delight in real pleasures, and his ambition of rural elegance: he began from this time to point his prospects, to diversify his surface, to entangle his walks, and to wind his waters; which he did with such judgment and such fancy, as made his little domain the envy of the great, and the ad. miration of the skilful; a place to be visited by travellers, and copied by designers.” But all this was attended with great expense. He spent his estate in adorning it, and his death, which took place in 1763, was probably hastened by his anxieties.

Besides his poems, he wrote « Essays on Men and Manners,” which display much ease and grace of style, united to judgment and discrimination. « They have not the mellow ripeness of thought and learning of Cowley's essays, but they resemble them more closely than any others in our language.” “He is a pleasing writer,” says Campbell, “ both in his lighter and graver vein. His genius is not forcible, but it settles in mediocrity without meanness. But with all the beauties of the Leasowes in our minds, it may still be regretted, that, instead of devoting his whole soul to clumping beeches, and projecting mottoes for summer-houses, he had not gone more into living nature for subjects, and described her interesting realities with the same fond and natural touches which give so much delightfulness to his portrait of


Ah me! full sorely is my heart forlorn,

To think how modest worth neglected lies;
While partial fame doth with her blasts adorn
Such deeds alone, as pride and pomp disguise;

1 See the fine piece of Goldsmith, entitled “History of a Poet's Garden."

Deeds of ill sort, and mischievous emprize:
Lend me thy clarion, goddess ! let me try
To sound the praise of merit, ere it dies;

Such as I oft have chaunced to espy,
Lost in the dreary shades of dull obscurity.
In every village mark'd with little spire,

Embower'd in trees, and hardly known to fame,
There dwells, in lowly shed, and mean attire,
A matron old, whom we school-mistress name;
Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame;
They grieven sore, in piteous durance pent,
Awed by the power of this relentless dame;

And oft-times, on vagaries idly bent,
For unkempt hair, or task unconn'd, are sorely shent.
And all in sight doth rise a birchen tree,

Which learning near her little dome did stow;
Whilom a twig of small regard to see,
Though now so wide its waving branches flow;
And work the simple vassals mickle woe;
For not a wind might curl the leaves that blew,
But their limbs shudder'd, and their pulse beat low;

And as they look'd they found their horror grew,
And shaped it into rods, and tingled at the view.

Near to this dome is found a patch so green,

On which the tribe their gambols do display;
And at the door imprisoning board is seen,
Lest weakly wights of smaller size should stray;
Eager, perdie, to bask in sunny day!
The noises intermix’d, which thence resound,
Do learning's little tenement betray;

Where sits the dame, disguised in look profound
And eyes her fairy throng, and turns her wheel around.
Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow,

Emblem right meet of decency does yield:
Her apron dyed in grain, as blue, I trowe,
As is the harebell that adorns the field:
And in her hand, for sceptre, she does wield
Tway birchen sprays; with anxious fear entwined,
With dark distrust, and sad repentance fill'd;

And steadfast hate, and sharp affliction join'd,
And fury uncontrollid, and chastisement unkind.

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A russet stole was o'er her shoulders thrown;

A russet kirtle fenced the nipping air;
'Twas simple russet, but it was her own;
'Twas her own country bred the flock so fair,
'Twas her own labor did the fleece prepare :
And, sooth to say, her pupils, ranged around,
Through pious awe, did term it passing rare;

For they in gaping wonderment abound,
And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight on ground.

Albeit ne flattery did corrupt her truth,

Ne pompous title did debauch her ear;
Goody, good-woman, gossip, n'aunt, forsooth,
Or dame, the sole additions she did liear;
Yet these she challenged, these she held right dear:
Ne would esteem him act as mought behove,
Who should not honor'd eld with these revere:

For never title yet so mean could prove,
But there was eke a mind which did that title love.
One ancient hen she took delight to feed,

The plodding pattern of the busy dame:
Which, ever and anon, impelld by need,
Into her school, begirt with chickens, came;
Such favor did her past deportment claim;
And, if neglect had lavish'd on the ground
Fragment of bread, she would collect the same;
For well she knew, and quaintly could expound,
What sin it were to waste the smallest crumb she found.

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Here oft the dame, on Sabbath's decent eve,

Hymned such psalms as Sternhold forth did mete;
If winter 'twere, she to her hearth did cleave,
But in her garden found a summer seat;
Sweet melody! to hear her then repeat
How Israel's sons, beneath a foreign king,
While taunting foemen did a song entreat,

All, for the nonce, untuning every string,
Uphung their useless lyres-small heart had they to sing.
For she was just, and friend to virtuous lore,

And pass'd much time in truly virtuous deed;
And, in those elfins' ears, would oft deplore
The times, when truth by popish rage did bleed;
And tortious death was true devotion's meed;
And simple faith in iron chains did mourn,
That nould on wooden image place her creed;

And lawnly saints in smouldering flames did burn:
Ah! dearest Lord, forefend, thilk days should e'er return.
In elbow-chair, like that of Scottish stem

By the sharp tooth of cankering eld defaced,
In which, when he receives his diadem,
Our sovereign prince and liefest liege is placed,
The matron sate; and some with rank she graced,
(The source of children's and of courtier's pride!)
Redress'd affronts, for vile affronts there pass'd;

And warn’d them not the fretful to deride,
But love each other dear, whatever them betide.
Right well she knew each temper to descry;

To thwart the proud, and the submiss to raise ;
Some with vile copper-prize exalt on high,
And some entice with pittance small of praise;
And other some with baleful sprig she 'frays:
E'en absent, she the reins of power doth hold,
While with quaint arts, the giddy crowd she sways;

Forewarn'd, if little bird their pranks behold,
'Twill whisper in her ear, and all the scene unfold.




But now Dan Phoebus gains the middle sky,

And liberty unbars her prison door;
And like a rushing torrent out they fly,
And now the grassy cirque had cover'd o'er
With boisterous revel-rout and wild uproar;
A thousand ways in wanton rings they run,
Heaven shield their short-lived pastimes, I implore!

For well may freedom, erst so dearly won,
Appear to British elf more gladsome than the sun.
Enjoy, poor imps! enjoy your sportive trade,

And chase gay flies, and cull the fairest flowers,
For when my bones in grass-green sods are laid;
For never may ye taste more careless hours
In knightly castles or in ladies' bowers.
O vain to seek delight in earthly thing!
But most in courts where proud ambition towers;

Deluded wight! who weens fair peace can spring
Beneath the pompous dome of kesar or of king.

ROBERT DODSLEY. 1703-1764. This eminent bookseller and respectable author was born at Mansfield, in 1703. Being placed as an apprentice to a stocking-weaver, and not likirg his situation, he ran off to London, and took the place of a footman, and in 1732 published a volume of poems under the title of “ The Muse in Livery, or the Footman's Miscellany," which attracted considerable attention. His next production was a dramatic piece called “The Toyshop,” which was acted with great success, and the profits of which enabled him to set up as a bookseller. Patronized by Pope and other authors of the day, his shop in Pall Mall soon became the resort of a large literary circle; and so rapidly did his business increase, that in his latter days Dodsley might be considered as standing at the head of the bookselling trade in London. Having acquired a competent fortune by his double occupation of author and bookseller, he retired from business, to enjoy the fruits of his exertions, but died at Durham, while on a visit to a friend, September 25, 1764.

Besides the above, Dodsley wrote and published, anonymously, that well known and ingenious little work, “ The Economy of Human Life,” which is tull of the best moral maxims. He also wrote a tragedy called “Cleone,” which was well received, and a farce called “ The King and the Miller of Mansfield.” But he is now more known for the works which he projected and published, than for his own productions. One of these was the “ Preceptor," a very useful book, in 2 vols., containing treatises on various subjects, and for which Dr. Johnson wrote a preface. Another was his “ Collection of Old Plays,” in 12 vols. His “Collection of Poems in Six Volumes, by Several Hands,” is still a very valuable book. But he is most known as the projector of the « Annual Register," in 1758, which still goes by his name. He also has the credit of having first encouraged the talents of Dr. Johnson, by purchasing his poem of “ London," in 1738, for ten guineas, and of having, many years afterwards, been the projector of the English Dictionary.


If thy soul thirsteth for honor, if thy ear hath any pleasure in the voice of praise, raise thyself from the dust whereof thou art made, and exalt thy aim to something that is praiseworthy.

The oak, that now spreadeth its branches towards the heavens, was once but an acorn in the bowels of the earth.

Endeavor to be first in thy calling, whatever it be; neither let any one go before thee in well-doing : nevertheless, do not envy the merits of another, but improve thine own talents.

Scorn also to depress thy competitor by dishonest or unworthy methods ; strive to raise thyself above him only by excelling him: so shall thy contest for superiority be crowned with honor, if not with success.

By a virtuous emulation the spirit of man is exalted within him; he panteth after fame, and rejoiceth as a racer to run his course.

The examples of eminent men are in his visions by night; and his delight is to follow them all the day long. He formeth great designs; he rejoiceth in the execution thereof; and his name goeth forth to the ends of the world. But the heart of the envious man is gall and bitterness; his tongue spitteth venom ; the success of his neighbor breaketh his rest.

He sitteth in his cell repining; and the good that happeneth to another is to him an evil. Hatred and malice feed upon his heart; and there is no rest in him. He feeleth in his own breast no love of goodness; and therefore believeth his neighbor is like unto himself.

He endeavors to depreciate those who excel him ; and putteth an evil interpretation on all their doings.

He lieth on the watch, and meditates mischief; but the detestation of man pursueth him ; he is crushed as a spider in his own

l web.


The nearest approach thou canst make to happiness on this side the grave, is to enjoy from heaven health, wisdom, and peace of mind. These blessings, if thou possessest, and wouldst preserve to old age, avoid the allurements of voluptuousness, and fly from her temptations.

When she spreadeth her delicacies on the board, when her wine sparkleth in the cup, when she smileth upon thee, and persuadeth thee to be joyful and happy; then is the hour of danger, then let Reason stand firmly on her guard. For, if thou hearkenest unto the words of her adversary, thou art deceived and betrayed. The joy which she promiseth, changeth to madness; and her enjoyments lead on to diseases and death.

Look round her board, cast thine eyes upon her guests, and

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