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judgment, which I wanted. What advantages might have been ultimately derived from them, there was unhappily no opportunity of ascertaining, as it pleased the Almighty to call him to himself by a sudden death, before we had quite finished the first Satire. He died with a letter of mine, unopened, in his hands.

This event, which took place on the 15th of January, 1781, afflicted me beyond measure.* I was not only deprived of a most faithful and affectionate friend, but of a zealous and ever active protector, on whom I confidently relied for support: the sums that were still necessary for me, he always collected; and it was to be feared that the assistance which was not solicited with warmth, would insensibly cease to be afforded.

In many instances this was actually the case: the desertion, however, was not general; and I was encouraged to hope, by the unexpected friendship of Servington Savery, a gentleman who voluntarily stood forth as my patron, and watched over my interests with kindness and

attention.

Some time before Mr. Cookesley's death, we had agreed that it would be proper to deliver out, with the terms of subscription, a specimen of the manner in which the translation was executed. To obviate any idea of selection, a sheet was accordingly taken from the beginning of the first Satire. My friend died while it was in the press

After a few melancholy weeks, I resumed the translation; but found myself utterly incapable of proceeding. I had been so accustomed to connect the name of Mr. Cookesley with every part of it, and I laboured with such delight in the hope of giving him pleasure, that now, when he appeared to have left me in the midst of my enterprise, and I was abandoned to my own efforts, I seemed to be engaged in a hopeless struggle, without motive or end: and his idea, which was perpetually recurring to me, brought such bitter anguish with it, that I shut up the work with feelings bordering on distraction.

To relieve my mind, had recourse to other pursuits. I endeavoured to become more intimately acquainted with the classics, and to acquire some of the modern languages: by permission too, or rather recommendation, of the Rector and Fellows, I also undertook the care of a few pupils: this removed much of my anxiety respecting my future means of support. I have

* I began this unadorned narrative on the 15th of January, 1801: twenty years have therefore elapsed since I lost my benefactor and my friend. In the interval I have wept a thousand times at the recollection of his goodness; I yet cherish his memory with filial respect; and at this distant period, my heart sinks within me at every repetition of his name.

Many of these papers were distributed; the terms, which I extract from one of them, were these: "The work shall be printed in quarto, (without notes,) and be delivered to the Subscribers in the month of Decem

ber next.

"The price will be sixteen shillings in boards, half to be paid at the time of subscribing, the remainder on delivery of the book."

a heartfelt pleasure in mentioning this indulgence of my college: it could arise from nothing but the liberal desire inherent, I think, in the members of both our Universities, to encourage every thing that bears even the most distant resemblance to talents; for I had no claims on them from any particular exertions.

The lapse of many months had now soothed and tranquillized my mind, and I once more returned to the translation, to which a wish to serve a young man surrounded with difficulties had induced a number of respectable characters to set their names; but alas, what a mortification! I now discovered, for the first time, that my own inexperience, and the advice of my too, too partial friend, had engaged me in a work, for the due execution of which my literary attainments were by no means sufficient. and misconceptions appeared in every page. I had, perhaps, caught something of the spirit of Juvenal, but his meaning had frequently escaped me, and I saw the necessity of a long and painful revision, which would carry me far beyond the period fixed for the appearance of the volume. Alarmed at the prospect, I instantly resolved (if not wisely, yet I trust honestly,) to renounce the publication for the present.

Errors

In pursuance of this resolution, I wrote to my friend in the country, (the Rev. Servington Savery,) requesting him to return the subscription money in his hands to the subscribers. He did not approve of my plan; nevertheless he promised, in a letter, which now lies before me, to comply with it; and, in a subsequent one, added that he had already begun to do so.

For myself, I also made several repayments; and trusted a sum of money to make others, with a fellow collegian, who, not long after, fell by his own hands in the presence of his father.

But there were still some whose abode could not be discovered, and others, on whom to press the taking back of eight shillings would neither be decent nor respectful: even from these I ventured to flatter myself that I should find pardon, when on some future day I should present them with the Work, (which I was still secretly determined to complete,) rendered more worthy of their patronage, and increased by notes, which I now perceived to be absolutely necessary, to more than double its proposed size.

In the leisure of a country residence, I ima gined that this might be done in two years: perhaps I was not too sanguine: the experiment, however, was not made, for about this time a circumstance happened, which changed my views, and indeed my whole system of life. I had contracted an acquaintance with a person of the name of recommended to my particular notice by a gentleman of Devonshire, whom I was proud of an opportunity to oblige. This person's residence at Oxford was not long, and when he returned to town I maintained a correspondence with him by letters. At his particular request, these were enclosed in covers, and sent to Lord Grosvenor: one day I inadvertently omitted the direction, and his lordship,

necessarily supposing the letter to be meant for himself, opened and read it. There was some< thing in it which attracted his notice; and when he gave it to my friend, he had the curiosity to inquire about his correspondent at Oxford; and, upon the answer he received, the kindness to desire that he might be brought to see him his coming to town: to this circumstance, purely accidental on all sides, and to this alone, I owe my introduction to that nobleman.

upon

On my first visit, he asked me what friends I had, and what were my prospects in life; and I told him that I had no friends, and no prospects of any kind. He said no more; but when I called to take leave, previous to returning to college, I found that this simple exposure of my circumstances had sunk deep into his mind. At parting, he informed me that he charged himself with my present support, and future establishment; and that till this last could be effected to my wish, I should come and reside with him. These were not words, of course: they were more than fulfilled in every point. I did go, and reside with him; and I experienced a warm and cordial reception, a kind and affectionate esteem, that has known neither diminution nor interruption from that hour to this, a period of twenty years!*

In his lordship's house I proceeded with Juvenal, till I was called upon to accompany his son (one of the most amiable and accomplished young noblemen that this country, fertile in such characters, could ever boast) to the continent. With him, in two successive tours, I spent many years; years of which the remembrance will always be dear to me, from the recollection that a friendship was then contracted, which time and a more intimate knowledge of each other, have mellowed into a regard that forms at once the pride and happiness of my life.

It is long since I have been returned and settled in the bosom of competence and peace; my translation frequently engaged my thoughts, but I had lost the ardour and the confidence of youth, and was seriously doubtful of my abilities to do it justice. I have wished a thousand times that I could decline it altogether; but the ever-recurring idea that there were people of the description already mentioned, who had just and forcible claims on me for the due perform ance of my engagement, forbad the thought; and I slowly proceeded towards the completion of a work in which I should never have engaged, had my friend's inexperience, or my own,

suf

* I have a melancholy satisfaction in recording that this revered friend and patron lived to witness my grateful acknowledgment of his kindness. He survived the appearance of the translation but a very few days, and I paid the last sad duty to his memory, by attending his remains to the grave. To me this la borious work has not been happy the same disastrous event that marked its commencement, has embittered its conclusion; and frequently forced upon my recollection the calamity of the rebuilder of Jericho," He laid the foundation thereof in Abiram, his first born, and set up the gates thereof in his youngest son, Segab." 1806.

fered us to suspect for a moment the labour, and the talents of more than one kind, absolutely necessary to its success in any tolerable degree. Such as I could make it, it is now before the public.

majora canamus.

End of the Memoir.

Mr. GIFFORD.

Having attained an university education by private benevolence, and arrived at noble and powerful patronage by a circumstance purely accidental Mr. Gifford possessed advantages which few in humble life dare hope, and fewer aspire to achieve. He improved his learned leisure and patrician aid, till, in 1802, he published his translation of Juvenal, with a dedication to earl Grosvenor, and the preceding memoir. In 1806, the work arrived to a second edition, and in 1817 to a third; to the latter he annexed a translation of the Satires of Persius, which he likewise dedicated to earl Grosvenor, with "admiration of his talents and virtues." He had previously distinguished himself by the "Baviad and Mæviad," a satire unsparingly severe on certain fashionable poetry and characters of the day; and which may perhaps be referred to as the best specimen of his powers and singer, and the works of Ben Jonson, whom inclination. He edited the plays of Mashe ably and successfully defended from charges of illiberal disposition towards Shakspeare, and calumnies of a personal nature, which had been repeated and increased by successive commentators. He lived to see his edition of Ford's works through the press, and Shirley's works were nearly completed by the printer before he died.

When the "Quarterly Review " was projected, Mr. Gifford was selected as best qualified to conduct the new journal, and he remained its editor till within two years preceding his death. Besides the private emoluments of his pen, Mr. Gifford had six hundred pounds a year as a comptroller of the lottery, and a salary of three hundred pounds as paymaster of the band of gentlemen-pensioners.

To his friend, Dr. Ireland, the dean of Westminster, who was the depositary of Mr. Gifford's wishes in his last moments, he addressed, during their early career, the

following imitation of the "Otium Divos Rogat" of Horace.-"I transcribe it," says Mr. Gifford, "for the press, with mingled sensations of gratitude and delight, at the favourable change of circumstances which we have both experienced since it was written."

Wolfe rush'd on death in manhood's bloom, Paulet crept slowly to the tomb;

Here breath, there fame was given : And that wise Power who weighs our lives, By contras, and by pros, contrives

To keep the balance even.

To thee she gave two piercing eyes,
A body, just of Tydeus' size,

A judgment sound, and clear;
A mind with various science fraught,
A liberal soul, a threadbare coat,
And forty pounds a year.

To me, one eye, not over good;

Two sides, that, to their cost, have stood
A ten years' hectic cough;

Aches, stitches, all the numerous ills
That swell the dev'lish doctors' bills,
And sweep poor mortals off.

A coat more bare than thine; a soul
That spurns the crowd's malign controul;
A fix'd contempt of wrong;
Spirits above affliction's pow'r,
And skill to charm the lonely hour
With no inglorious song.

Omniana.

ADVERTISEMENT.

The following is a literal copy of an English card, circulated by the master of an hotel, at Ghent :

"Mr. Dewit, in the Golden Apple, out of the Bruges Gate at Ghent, has the honour to prevent the Persons who would come at his house, that they shall find there always good and spacious Lodging, a Table served at their taste, Wine of any quality, ect. Besides he hires Horses and Chaises, which shall be of a great conveniency for -the Travellers; the Bark of Bruges depart and arrives every day before his door. He dares flatter himself that they shall be satisfied; as well with the cheapness of the price, as with the cares such an establishment requires."

CAPITAL FOR BANKING.

A nobleman's footman in Hampshire, to whom two years' wages were due, de

manded the sum from his master, and gave notice that he would quit his place. The master inquired the reason of the man's precipitancy, who told his lordship, "that he and a fellow-servant were about to set up a country bank, and they wanted the wages for a capital!"

MARCH OF INTELLECT.

In "The Times," a few days since, appeared the following advertisement :-"To SCHOOL ASSISTANTS.- -Wanted, a respectable gentleman of good character, capable of teaching the classics as far as Homer, and Virgil. Apply, &c. &c. A day or two after the above had appeared, the gentleman to whom application was to be made received a letter as follows:-" SirWith reference to an advertisement which were inserted in The Times newspaper a few days since, respecting a school assistant, I beg to state that I should be happy to fill that situation; but as most of my frends reside in London, and not knowing how far Homer and Virgil is from town, I beg to state that I should not like to engage to teach the classics farther than Hammersmith or Turnham Green, or at the very utmost distance, farther than Brentford, Wating your reply, I am, Sir, &c. &c. "John Sparks."

The schoolmaster, judging of the classical abilities of this "youth of. promise," by the wisdom displayed in his letter, considered him too dull a spark for the situation, and his letter remained unanswered. (This puts us in mind of a person who once advertised for a 66 strong coal heaver," and a poor man calling upon him the day after, saying, "he had not got such a thing as a strong coal heaver,' but he had brought a 'strong coal scuttle,' made of the best iron; and if that would answer the purpose, he should have it a bargain.”)— Times, 1st January, 1827.

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MISSING A STYLE.

ney's novel, called "Cecilia," a young lady Soon after the publication of Miss Burwas found reading it. After the general topics of praise were exhausted, she was asked whether she did not greatly admire the style? Reviewing the incidents in her memory, she replied, "The style? the style?-Oh! sir, I am not come to that yet!"

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procure a few of the first morning papers allotted to him, at extra charges, for particular orders, and despatch them by the "early coaches." Afterwards, he has to wait for his share of the "regular" publication of each paper, and he allots these as well as he can among some of the most urgent of his town orders. The next publication at a later hour is devoted to his remaining customers; and he sends off his boys with different portions according to the supply he successively receives. Notices frequently and necessarily printed in different papers, of the hour of final publication the preceding day, guard the interests of the newspaper proprietors from the sluggishness of the indolent, and quicken the diligent newsman. Yet, however skilful his arrangements may be, they are subject to unlooked for accidents. The late arrival of foreign journals, a parliamentary debate unexpectedly protracted, or an article of importance in one paper exclusively, retard the printing and defer the newsman. His patience, well-worn before he gets his "last papers,' must be continued during the whole period he is occupied in delivering them. The sheet is sometimes half snatched before he can draw it from his wrapper; he is often chid for delay when he should have been praised for speed; his excuse, "All the papers were late this morning," is better heard than admitted, for neither giver nor receiver has time to parley; and before he gets home to dinner, he hears at one house that "Master has waited for the paper these two hours;" at another, "Master's gone out, and says if you can't bring the paper earlier, he won't have it all;" and some ill-conditioned "master," perchance, leaves positive orders, "Don't take it in, but tell the man to bring the bill; and I'll pay it and have done with him."

" It has not been left an hour,"-or any other pretence equally futile or untrue, which, were he to allow, would prevent him from serving his readers in rotation, or at all. If he can get all his morning papers from these customers by four o'clock, he is a happy man.

These

Soon after three in the afternoon, the newsman and some of his boys must be at the offices of the evening papers; but before he can obtain his requisite numbers, he must wait till the newsmen of the Royal Exchange have received theirs, for the use of the merchants on 'Change. Some of the first he gets are hurried off to coffeehouse and tavern keepers. When he has procured his full quantity, he supplies the remainder of his town customers. disposed of, then comes the hasty folding and directing of his reserves for the country, and the forwarding of them to the post-office in Lombard-street, or in parcels for the mails, and to other coach-offices. The Gazette nights, every Tuesday and "Friday, add to his labours,-the publication of second and third editions of the evening papers is a super-addition. On what he calls a "regular day," he is fortunate if he find himself settled within his own door by seven o'clock, after fifteen hours of running to and fro. It is now only that he can review the business of the day, enter his fresh orders, ascertain how many of each paper he will require on the morrow, arrange his accounts, provide for the money he may have occasion for, eat the only quiet meal he could reckon upon since that of the evening before, and "steal a few hours from the night" for needful rest, before he rises the next morning to a day of the like incessant occupation: and thus from Monday to Saturday he labours every day.

Besides buyers, every newsman has readers at so much each paper per hour. One class stipulates for a journal always at breakfast; another, that it is to be delivered exactly at such a time; a third, at any time, so that it is left the full hour; and among all of these there are malecontents, who permit nothing of "time or circumstance" to interfere with their personal convenience. Though the newsman delivers, and allows the use of his paper, and fetches it, for a stipend not half equal to the lowest paid porter's price for letter-carrying in London, yet he finds some, with whom he covenanted, objecting, when it is called for, "I've not had my breakfast," "The paper did not come at the proper time," "I've not had leisure to look at it yet,"

The newsman desires no work but his own to prove "Sunday no Sabbath ;" for on him and his brethren devolves the circulation of upwards of fifty thousand Sunday papers in the course of the forenoon. His Sunday dinner is the only meal he can ensure with his family, and the short remainder of the day the only time he can enjoy in their society with certainty, or extract something from, for more serious duties or social converse.

The newsman's is an out-of-door business at all seasons, and his life is measured out to unceasing toil. In all weathers, hail, rain, wind, and snow, he is daily constrained to the way and the fare of a wayfaringman. He walks, or rather runs, to distribute information concerning all sorts of

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