why, alas expatiate on this divine quality of the foul, when it is centered in the heart of many of our readers, who, perhaps, are infinitely better qualified to explain the mystery! A cheerful good-natured friend is a temporal bleffing that admits of no comparison. Ci cero ufed to fay, that it was no less an evil for a man to be without a friend, than to have the heavens without a fun. And Socrates thought friendship the sweetest poffeffion; and that no piece of ground yielded more or pleafanter fruit than a true friend. Seneca fays "That friends are the whole world to one another; and that he that has a friend to himself, is alfo a friend to mankind. There is no relish in the poffeffion of any thing without a partner." To love friends from interested motives, is an indication of a grovelling mind. Yet "falfe is their conceit, who fay, the way to have a friend is not to make use of him. Nothing can have a greater affurance that two men are friends, than when experience make them mutually acknowledge it." It is not in the fcale of profperity we muft weigh friends. Adverfity is the juft criterion. Why are the rich fo pestered with fycophants? because they cannot difcover the artifice of the flattery. Adverfity foon proves the deception of pretended friends. Friendship that has an eye to advantages, refembles a negociation, and its duration dwindles away as foon as that advantage is no more. Ah! perfidious diffimulation! True friendship difplays itself in the brightest colours when put to the trial. To drop the curtain, we shall trace friendship to that period when we mellow into age. Happy, twice happy old age, that leaveft this ftage with the unbounded profpect of blifs refulgent in a "far better world." O! bleft old age, that fits down with a calm tranquillity, and views a past life, employed in piety to God and love to man. Delicious retrofpection! It is now we reap an abundant harvest from our praiseworthy actions in youth and manhood. It is now we derive from medi tation tation the pureft fources of uninterrupted enjoyments. It is now we are more fenfible that felf-examination is the beginning and the end of true wisdom. It is now we enjoy quietude and repofe in the company of valued friends, and in the contemplation of things fublime.— Old age, fo confidered, is the moft agreeable condition of human life. And it is now we exalt our thoughts to regions beyond the grave, and hold fecret communion with our God. O pleasureable! when our hopes grafp at a happy immortality. Our minds are more difpofed to religious duties the nearer we approach the confines of mortality. Neceffary as is folitude for fuch pious meditation, yet we may still poffefs this interval of holy leifure, without entirely withdrawing ourselves from the friends of our youth, who, perhaps, are equally folicitous about a glorious hereafter, yet anxious to fpend the few remaining days in focial converfe. Sacred communion with God recreates the foul, and is delight ineffable. Hence we feel the most charming effects of love, and from which we may learn how beautiful this virtue must be amongst mankind. Our principles may, morally fpeaking be good; yet religious force divine, is a fource of the most folid happiness; and hence the Chriftian's pleafing hopes on the bed of death. Advanced age is capable of enjoying real pleafure. A virtuous old man taftes fertne gaiety; and from the goodwill of his neighbours, and the faithfulness of friends, receives a rich reward for the rectitude and integrity of his paft life. It is now we are convinced that a faithful friend is the medicine of life, and adds greatly to the cup of happiness. It is now we are fenfible that "a faithful friend is a living treafure; a comfort in folitude, and a fanctuary in diftrefs." Even happinefs, without communication, is tedious; and where is the man of fenfibility who is not confcious of this. Lovely, generous, and enthusiastic as is friendship in all conditions, yet in the married ftate it is still more pe culiarly endearing. 3 "Here "Here friendship full vents her fofteft powers, Ineffable, and sympathy of foul; Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will, The conjugal ftate is replete with friendship of the moft refined nature. When two congenial hearts unite in virtuous love-their joys are livelier than unparticipated pleafure-their every little domeftic joy is heightened into blifs by a mutual fympathy of feeling. Yea! the tendereft emotions of the foul, the warmest effufions of the heart, and the very milk and cream in our natures, are here called into action, and continue to diffufe unspeakable joys all around, till "Together down they fink in focial sleep; To fcenes were love and blifs immortal reign." THOMSON, Having thus traced the nature and various effects of friendship, we may be allowed to drop the fubject, by concluding with the words of our motto-"Without friends the world is but a wilderness.” London, 3d Dec. 1798. J. C. TO THE EDITOR OF THE MONTHLY VISITOR. SIR, WIL VILL you admit fome remarks on the account given in your number for June, concerning the late Dr. Towers, and fome further particulars refpe&ing that gentleman. He had feveral brothers and a fifter. One of his bro thers is the Reverend John Towers, of Barbican; another conducts Mr. Goadby's bufinefs at Sherborne. His fifter, who was a woman of fhrewd fenfe, not many years fince fold books in the little Minories. Whether fhe is ftill living I know not. Dr. Towers himself was apprenticed to Mr. Goadby. Your account fays, that he was at one time a bookfeller in the neighbourhood of Cripplegate. He was fo. He then lived in Fore Street, directly oppofite to the way which led to Cripplegate. About the year 1770, it is faid he entered on the miniftry. No mention is made how he came to think of that profeffion, or by whom he was first introduced to it, nor when nor where, nor by whom he was ordained. If I might hazard a conjecture, it might, probably, be thus. I knew him a bookfeller in the year 1760, and have frequently both bought and borrowed books to read of him. His being apprenticed to a printer, probably led him to fet up bookfeller when he came to London; and, it is probable, that it was then, when he had plenty of books about him, that his thrift for knowledge led him to ftudy, and prepared him, during these ten years for the miniftry, which he afterwards exercised fo much to his own credit and that of religion. Dr. Kippis was his firm and intimate friend to the end of his life. It is probable that the doctor whofe difcernment muft discover genius, and whofe goodness of heart would ever lead him to bring it forward, might accidently at this time meet with him, and might be the means of introducing him to the ministry. And it feems the more probable, because it appears that he ranked at his first appearance in a clerical character among the prefbyterians, among whom Dr. Kippis was at that time the leading man. He was, as your relator obferves, much efteemed by the religious fociety with whom he was connected, at Highgate. And well he might be so, for his discourses were excellent, as his manners were amiable. In his fermons his reafoning was ftrong and convincing, his application close and perfuafive, and the most exalted exalted morality of conduct and heart, was ftrongly preffed and enforced. It is faid 1779 he received his diploma. He had been previously concerned with Dr. Kippis in compiling the Biographia Britannica, and the diploma was, unknown to Dr. Towers, obtained and sent to him by the bookfeller. Some other particulars, I may add, refpecting him, which have not yet been mentioned. He was fo fond of the advantage of the London libraries, and also of literary company, that no confideration whatever, I believe, would have prevailed on him to live in the country. He was contented with a little, and lived in great privacy. He once told me that he did not gain 40l. a year by preaching. What a ftigma on the difcernment of mankind, that such a man as Dr. Towers fhould be fo little rewarded, while a roaring fellow, that starts up from a coal barge, to throw noify damnation all around him, fhall be followed by multitudes, and get three or four hundred pounds a year. But fo it is, as I heard Dr. Kippis once juftly obferve, "Good fenfe has, among the bulk of mankind, but few admirers; but noife has many.' Dr. Towers has, a few times, preached for Mr. Lindsey and read his liturgy; but fo fond was he of liberty, that I have heard him fay, he did not feel himself quite comfortable in reading any prescribed form. A ftranger entering a company where Dr. Towers was prefent, might judge of the company by his countenance. If the company were rational and converfant, no man in the world was more fprightly or a better companion; if, on the contrary, they were frothy and nonfenfical, he was as dumb as the chair he fat on, and his disapprobation might be feen only by the extreme difregard expreffed in his countenance. He was delighted with the converfation of Mrs. Barbauld, and faid once, on his return from a vifit, where he had met her, that it was worth while to bear any fatigue, |