ashes were deposited in his natal soil, and we therefore determined to burn the body. In the dead of the night, when the silence of nature accorded with the sadness of our souls, and the awfulness of the ceremony, we lighted our torches, to preserve us from the evil spirits which then ventured abroad. As soon as the sun arose, we took our last farewell, and conveyed the body from the house. As we moved along with a slow pace, our uncovered heads, bent down and supported by our hands, attested our respect, and the serious notes of the Carian and Phrygian flutes, bewailed the loss of our friend. Some persons sprinkled their heads with ashes, and muttered the funeral interjection, è, è, è, while others rolled their bodies in the dust. When we arrived at the pile, the body was placed in the middle of it, with a quantity of precious ointments and perfumes, and also the fat of beasts, to increase the force of the flames. The garments of the deceased being thrown in, the sad office of communicating fire to the pile, devolved upon me, as none of the relations of Anacreon were present. Having prayed and offered vows to Eolus to assist the flames, I applied the torch. His immediate friends stood nigh to the pile, cutting off their hair and casting it into the flames, and also pouring out libations of wine. The pile being burnt down, the embers were extinguished by wine. We collected the ashes and enclosed them in a silver

urn, which was soon after sent to his relations at Athens.

GRECIANS! his hallowed ashes are covered by a monument which is erected by the altar of the muses on the margin of Ilyssus. When the mellow tints of the declining sun shall sleep on the waters, and ye assemble on its banks, tread lightly on the sod that covers the silent urn. Violets shall bloom around the sacred spot; there the lotus shall spread its embowering branches, and the roses of spring shall impart their sweetest fragrance to the breeze that lingers around the tomb of the Teian bard.

There the chords of the plaintive lyre shall often respire the sad and solemn notes of wo, and the virgins who dwell at the foot of the double mountain shall chaunt his dirge.

As the winds of the declining year assail the green-clad trees and strew the ground with their foliage, and the approaching spring bids them revive with renovated beauty, so is one generation of man called from the joys of life, and another succeeds. But long shall Ilyssus roll his inspiring flood, and many Olympiads shall ye walk in the porticos of Athens, or stray by the side of the silver Strymon, before your ears shall be gladdened by such sounds as ye heard from the lyre of Anacreon: for the graces presided at his birth, and the muses delighted to inspire his meditations.

THE BRITISH ESSAYISTS.

UPON returning to my study, after my initiation into the confederacy of men of letters, who have united for the purpose of amusing the lovers of polite literature, the nature of the pledge of co-operation which I had just given, led me into a train of reflections, on the different writers who have successively adorned the English language by periodical papers. The ready finger of memory pointed to the illustrious names of Steele, Addison, Johnson, and others, whose performances are the models of our infant, and the companions of our riper years. While I was pursuing this interesting train of recollections, I insensibly found myself within a spacious edifice, divided into apartments, which seemed to be occupied by a multitude of inhabitants.

On entering the first apartment which presented itself, I discovered a person who was busily employed in painting. The productions of his fertile pencil were numerous and diversified. He seemed to draw from nature only; and, so far as I could form an opinion from his first essays, he began without the advantage of precedent or instruction. The style and colouring

of these were irregular, and in the disposition or grouping of his different objects there was an appearance of irregularity and confusion. The manners of the times, satire, politics, wars, and gallantry were all mingled together in the composition of a single piece. But he gradually became more perfect, and his later works were much more finished and unique. His appearance displayed a genius to invent and a capacity to execute, without much preparation: but his works showed rudeness and haste, and I was of opinion, that he would have succeeded much better, had he lived after those who pursued the same track as himself.

Leaving this person, I passed into an adjoining apartment, where I found another, engaged in a similar employment. I was informed, that the door between the two rooms always stood open, and that the friendly artists maintained an uninterrupted intercourse, consulting each other on their labours, and sometimes assisting in the same picture.

The room was light and airy: it was built in the attic taste, and remarkable for the simplicity and neatness of its decorations. It was hung round with numerous specimens of the skill of the artist: in them were displayed many different subjects: but his chief object seemed to be to delineate the manners of the age in which he lived. There was a light gayety in his manner,

mingled with a decorum and chasteness which increased the pleasure of the beholder, the longer he viewed the pictures. I was not, at first, surprised or delighted; but the calm soberness of the shades insensibly stole over my mind, and I felt, that the oftener I inspected them, the more their fascination increased. In short, they seemed to possess that magical charm which bids defiance to the powers of description or imitation, but which irresistibly rivets the attention, and wraps the beholder in a pleasing and tranquil admiration.

It was with difficulty that I tore myself from the contemplation of these enchanting pieces, to survey the master. He was engaged in a small piece, similar in size to many others which were hung round the room. His pencil moved with ease and rapidity, and it seemed that he did but copy from an abundance of distinct images with which his mind was stored. The first strokes of his pencil were so vivid and faithful to the design, that he seldom retouched his lights and shades, and when he did, I thought that his corrections were not improvements. What he gained in polish he lost in animation, and, if possible, the hues of the original draft were the richest and most captivating.

In his features I beheld the sober dignity of the philosopher mingled with the cheerful graces of the courtier. He appeared to be quali