In him there is no variation; he is for

ever one and the same.

All his pictures

are alike, and in all we trace the reflection

lication of his poems. Dr. Johnson expressed a wish to see him, and Mr. Murphy, the common mediator, proposed an interview at Mrs. Thrale's. This was assented to, and the mighty Doctor repaired thither accordingly. After some conversation had taken place, Mrs. T. who purposed presenting Mr. W. with a copy of Newton's Milton, requested him to step with her into the library. Johnson, who was never remarkable for politeness, immediately followed. "Well Madam, and what book have you got there?" " Milton's poetical works, Doctor,” replied Mrs. T. "Well, and what do you think of Milton ?" "I am proud, Doctor, to concur in the general opinion of his excellence." "But is he not in your opinion very prosaic ?" continued Johnson. ver could discover it."." Pshaw, replied the petulant Doctor, give me a volume and I'll prove it." A volume was accordingly handed; and opening a part of Comus, he read it in such a wretched manner, and with such determined impropriety, as would have rendered disgusting the sublimest productions which ever flowed from the pen of man. Having finished, he exclaimed with unmanly exultation, “There now, did I not say he was prosaic."

"Oh no;

I ne

Here is a striking instance of the stubborness of his prejudices, which would suffer no opportunity to escape of injuring the reputation of a man for whom he had conceived a dislike, owing to his political tenets, which differed from those of his own. That heart must indeed be totally lost to virtue, which could seek at the distance of near a hundred years to blast the memory of one who avowed principles not exactly conformable to his own, and which could never have occasioned to him one moment's inconvenience. Yet it is probable this very cause, and this alone, induced him to join in the infamous attack of Lauder, and to assist him in that transaction.

tion of a cynic. His sensations could seldom be enviable; he must have turned away with visible horror and disgust from all that bore the smiles of happiness, or the gaiety of mirth.

The history of Seged, Emperor of Ethiopia, is the last description which this work presents. It would be idle to transcribe it, for no new remarks could be introduced. What has been said of Almamoulin and Abouzaid, may be said of Seged, for they have all the same end.

It is remarkable that Johnson was not aware of his great error; for in his last paper he thus delivers himself:

"In the pictures of life I have never been so studious of novelty or surprise as to depart wholly from all resemblance; a fault which writers, deservedly celebrated, frequently commit, that they may raise, as the occasion requires, either mirth or abhorrence."

This is indeed a striking example of the vanity of all human knowledge. The genius even of Johnson was incapable of whispering what all the world could see; or if it did whisper, its voice was soon

lost

lost amidst the rude collision of pride, prejudice, and credulity. It can hardly be suspected that he was fully aware of this his greatest fault. More reverence is due to his integrity than to harbour the suspicion.

How much it is to be regretted that he who knew so well what ought to be done, should yet fail to do it. Imme diately following the above quotation is the subsequent remark: "Some enlargement may be allowed to declamation, and some exaggeration to burlesque; but as they deviate farther from reality, they become less useful, because their lessons will fail of application. The mind of the reader is carried away from the contemplation of his own manners; he finds in himself no likeness to the phantom before him, and though he laughs or rages, is not reformed."

The first part of this sentence seems to intimate that there was something to palliate which he was aware of; some censure to avert which he apprehended; while the latter only displays, how much easier it is to deliver precepts than act from them.

These remarks have been written with

freedom;

freedom; they have been in no manner biassed by the authority of a great name,

or the common suffrages of blind enthusiasm. Justice now demands that I should say something of the beauties of this work, for beauties it certainly possesses. Some of them it will be sufficient to point out, others I shall transcribe.

A noble effusion of Johnson's mind is the seventh Rambler, and which, perhaps, is not exceeded by any he afterwards wrote. It contains many just, and penetrating remarks, great sublimity of sentiment, and energy of language, originality of speculation, and a most pious and worthy end. Johnson will perhaps never be excelled by any writer on religion. All his papers on that subject breathe a spirit of the most elevated piety. The solemnity of his language, the multiplicity of his ideas, the vigour of his intellect, and the sincerity of his heart, all conspire to give an awful dignity to his religious writings, which can hardly fail of awakening the most obdurate mind. I confess I never rise from a perusal of this paper without a most thorough con

viction

viction of all that it inculcates. None who shall read it with due attention, will I think be able to deny the efficacy of retirement for the advancement of religion. I cannot resist the pleasure of transcribing the following paragraphs with which it concludes.

1

"The great art, therefore, of piety, and the end for which all the rites of religion seem to be instituted, is the perpetual renovation of the motives to virtue, by a voluntary employment of our mind in the contemplation of its excellence, its importance, and its necessity, which, in proportion as they are more frequently and more willingly revolved, gain a more forcible and permanent influence, till in time they become the reigning ideas, the standing principles of action, and the test by which every thing proposed to the judgment is rejected or approved.

"To facilitate this change of our affections it is necessary that we weaken the temptation of the world, by retiring at certain seasons from it; for its influence, arising only from its presence, is much lessened when it becomes the object