sing myself to my reader, as to one who will think and sympathize with me. Gentle, therefore, and courteous as I take thee to be, I cannot but imagine that thou art troubled with the same melancholy reflections as I am, whenever thou beholdest a catalogue of persons who are supposed indeed to have existed, but of whom history has left us no trace or memorial, except their names. For my part I must confess, that no invention of poets, however artful, no tale of novelists, however tender, no eloquence of orators, however elaborate, no narrative of historians, however tragical, has such power to work upon my affections, as the simple and unadorned pages of a parish register. If I should attempt to account for this effect, I would refer it to two causes; the one, as they tend to inspire us with melancholy and mortifying ideas of human nature itself; and the other, as they bring home a painful truth to the bosom of almost every individual. Considering how small is the number of persons, whose superior qualifications of intellect or body can enable them to survive the lapse of a single century, there are surely few, whose endowments, whether fancied or real, can prevent them from ranking themselves in the number of those who are soon to be forgotten. In reading those affecting catalogues of the living and the dead, which are to be met with in almost every village of the kingdom, we are apt, upon recollecting the truth of the above observation, to put this simple question to ourselves," Have I any reason to suppose, that nature has bestowed upon me such pre-eminence of mind or body, as may rescue my name from that oblivion which is the general lot of humanity?" Here vanity and ambition tempt me to say Yes; but truth, like Tisiphone, stares me in the face, 'till I am compelled to answer No.

Dreary as this idea may be, perhaps we are little less mortified, when we turn from ourselves, in order to survey the world at large; to reflect, that amidst so many millions, so inconsiderable a portion should be able to erect for themselves a memorial of a thousand years; that few have wanted the vanity to aspire to what still fewer have had the felicity to succeed in; that the same end has been attempted by means diametrically opposite; and that the most laborious efforts of virtue and vice, of laudable and perverted ambition, have often been exhausted in vain.

Indeed, the idea of being utterly forgotten after death, is so repugnant to the first and ruling principles of our nature, that I am little surprised at the extravagant audacity of that man, who, resolving to be known to posterity, seized probably upon the only method which lay within the reach of his abilities, by setting fire to the magnificent temple at Ephesus. The desire of being distinguished, when we are present, and of being remembered when we are absent, is the first passion which discovers itself in our youth; and the last which adheres to us in our old age, You, Sir, must frequently have observed, how fond the citizens of your little world are of carving their names upon every form and wainscot in the school. Though this I know is apt to enflame the breast of a master with ́wrath and indignation, I cannot but confess, that to my mind it suggests a number of melancholy and pleasing ideas. The sight of these curious engravings, brings naturally to my recollection, that I was lately at school myself; that I was engaged in the same amusements and pursuits with those around me; that I took the same methods to immortalize my name which they have done; and that I failed in the attempt, which they too may find to have beca the case with themselves hereafter.

In order to show how firmly this desire of immortality is retained by us in the last period of our existence, I cannot help mentioning Mr. Powel, the fire-eater, whom I remember to have seen when at Eton. This gentleman, after having amused himself with eating lead, brimstone, and sealing wax, melted down together, observed to the company, that he was advancing, by very rapid strides, towards "that undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller returns." He consoled himself however with the idea, that the miracle which he was performing upon his body, would be retained with joy in the memories of the spectators, at a time when that body should be lying in the dust. Trivial as to some philosophers may appear to have been the object of this man's ambition, I cannot help thinking, that this was the ointment which counteracted the natural influence of the lava which he had been devouring. For it is with difficulty that I can conceive a person undergoing such painful operations, and contenting himself with such unpalatable food, unless he was instigated by some greater inducement than the trifling emoluments accruing from his exhibitions.

Here I cannot help staying to pay my tribute of applause to the worth of so great a man. However some people may affect to despise the object of Mr. Powel's ambition, I shall make it my business to show, that it was not inconsistent with the dignity of a man, a philosopher, and a christian. How many stoics have consigned their names to immortality, without any pretensions to those sublime virtues which are conspicuous in the character of Mr. Powel? It was the highest boast of a stoic, that he could look with adamantine indifference on the death of his nearest relations: In how much more amiable, and how

much more heroic a light does the conduct of Mr. Powel appear to us! So far from steeling his heart with the unnatural apathy of a stoic, he exulted in the warm benevolence of a christian ; and submitted to the most fiery trials, merely to entertain those with whom he had not the most distant connexion. By way of corollary, (to use a term in mathematics) what would not this man have undergone to serve his friends? If we might reason from arguments a fortiori, we should conclude, that he would have rejoiced to follow even Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. After what I have said, I should imagine, that few will deny to Mr. Powel the merit of patience the most enduring, combined with a philanthropy the most comprehensive. There is another virtue in which I think the character of Mr. Powel may stand in competition with that of the most exalted heroes of antiquity-I mean temperance. Seneca indeed has talked to us in very lofty terms of the abstinence of some of the earlier worthies of his own country, and those of Lacedæmon; the diet of the former was such as would at this day be esteemed a luxury by thousands; and as for the black broth of the latter, I do not recollect, amidst all the ingredients which composed it, that melted lead, sealing-wax, and brimstone, were ever included. a patriot, I consider Mr. Powel as one of the greatest that this century can boast of; for tho' I do not recollect that he was ever called out by any particular emergency to take an active part in the defence of his country, who can believe, that a person to whom fire had been literally meat, drink, and cloathing, would not naturally fly where wär grew hottest; and would consequently be most congenial to his disposition and occupations in life? Now, if we sum up our evidence, we shall find, that the sublimer virtues of patience, temperance, and patriotism; together with the

As

softer and more amiable ones of philanthrophy and friendship, were of course included in the art which Mr. Powel professed: We shall not hesitate therefore a moment in pronouncing the object of his ambition to have been compatible with the character of a wise and good man.

I cannot conclude this paper without regretting my inability to prepetuate the memory of this illustrious Phænomenon of Salamandership and virtue. This however I can assure him, if my feeble endeavours could effect it, "his name should flourish in the mouths of men."

L.'

No. XXII.-MONDAY, APRIL 9th, 1787.

Tantum de medio sumptis accedit honoris.-HORACE. Such honor common subjects may receive.

• SIR,

IT must no doubt often have occurred to a writer of

your penetration, that there is nothing more unjust, and illiberal, than those ill-grounded prejudices, which confound in general censure, or undistinguishing contempt, any particular class or description of men. And yet these prejudices, however sensible we cannot but be of their improper tendency, we are all too apt to indulge; till nourished by long habit, they take as deep a root in our minds as if