the rest remain in manuscript, in possession of my family. His own house, in the mean time, was the frequent scene of social and musical meetings: and I think I do not hazard too much in saying, that he contributed, both by his own conversation and by the company which he often assembled at his house from various parts, to refine and improve the taste and manners of the place in which he resided. In 1761, by the interest of his near relation and very respectable friend, the late Edward Hooper, esq., of Hurn Court in Hampshire, my father was chosen one of the representatives in parliament for the borough of Christ Church; which seat he retained to the day of his death. The year following, he accepted the office of one of the lords of the admiralty; from thence he was promoted, in 1763, to be a lord of the treasury. He remained in that situation until the ministry with which he was connected went out of office in 1765; and after that time he did not hold any employment until 1774, when he became secretary and comptroller to the queen. This appointment was always valued by him exceedingly: not only by reason of the handsome and flattering manner in which it was conferred upon him by her majesty, but also on account of the frequent occasions it afforded him of experiencing her majesty's gracious kindness and condescension, of which he had a very high sense, and which were continued to him without interruption to the end of his life; for in her service he died. Although assiduous in the discharge of his parliamentary duty, and occasionally taking a share in debates, my father never contracted any violent spirit of party. He abhorred faction of every kind; nor did he ever relinquish, for public business, those still more interesting pursuits which had been the delight and occupation of his earliest years. If they were somewhat intermitted during the sitting of parliament, he renewed them with increased relish and satisfaction on his return into the country. Those who saw him in London, partaking with cheerfulness and enjoyment of a varied and extensive society, and frequenting dramatic and musical entertainments, while, during his stay in Salisbury, he always exercised a respectable, but well-regulated hospitality, were surprised that he could have found time to compose and publish, in 1775, another learned work. It contains, under the title of Philosophical Arrangements, a part only of a larger work that he had me ditated, but did not finish, upon the Peripatetic logic. So far as relates to the arrangement of ideas, it is complete; but it has other objects also in view. It combats, with great force and ability, the atheistical doctrines of chance and materialism: doctrines which have been lately revived in France, under the specious garb of modern philosophy, and, issuing from thence, have overspread a great part of Europe; destroying the happiness of mankind, by subverting, in every part of their progress, the foundations of morality and religion. The last of my father's literary productions was printed in 1780, by the name of Philological Inquiries, but not published sooner than 1781. It is a more popular work than any of his former ones; and contains rather a summary of the conclusions to which the philosophy of the ancients had conducted them in their critical inquiries, than a regular and perfect system. The principles on which those conclusions depend are therefore omitted, as being of a more abstruse nature than was agreeable to his design, which was to teach by illustration and example, not by strict demonstration. Indeed, this publication appears to have been meant, not only as a retrospective view of those studies which exercised his mind in the full vigour of his life, but likewise as a monument of his affection towards many of his intimate friends. I cannot therefore but consider it as a pleasing proof of a mind retaining, at an advanced age, a considerable degree of its former energy and activity, together with what is still more rarely to be found, an undiminished portion of its candour and benevolence. Before this last volume was entirely concluded, my father's health had evidently begun to be very much impaired. He never enjoyed a robust constitution; but for some time, towards the end of his life, the infirmities under which he laboured had gradually increased. His family at length became apprehensive of a decline, symptoms of which were very apparent, and by none more clearly perceived than by himself. This was evident from a variety of little circumstances, but by no means from any impatience or fretfulness, nor yet from any dejection of spirits, such as are frequently incident to extreme weakness of body, especially when it proves to be the forerunner of approaching dissolution. On the contrary, the same equable and placid temper which had distinguished him throughout his whole life, the same tender and affectionate attention to his sur rounding family, which he had unceasingly manifested while in health, continued, without the smallest change or abatement, to the very last; displaying a mind thoroughly at peace with itself, and able without disturbance or dismay to contemplate the awful prospect of futurity. After his strength had been quite exhausted by illness, he expired calmly on the 22nd of December 1780, in the seventysecond year of his age. His remains were deposited in the north aisle of the cathedral church of Salisbury, near those of his ancestors; and I cannot forbear to record tokens of unsolicited respect, honourable to my father's memory, and soothing to the recollection of his family, which were shewn from various quarters upon that melancholy occasion. Six gentlemen, his friends and neighbours, supported the pall. At the western door of the cathedral, the corpse was met by the whole choir, and a funeral anthem was performed while the procession moved towards the grave. On the ensuing Sunday, the Rev. Mr. Chaffy, who preached at the cathedral, adverted in his sermon to the recent event of my father's death with such apposite and judicious commendation, as at once to mark his own sincere respect for a deceased neighbour, and strongly to excite the sympathy of his audience by the truths delivered concerning him. A monument was soon after erected to the memory of my father, near the spot where he was interred, on which is the following inscription: M. S. Jacobi Harris Sarisburiensis Viri boni, et docti, Græcarum Literarum præcipue periti, Cujus opera accuratissima De artibus elegantioribus De Grammatica, de Logica, de Ethice, Conscripta, Posteri laudabunt ultimi. Obiit XXII. Die Decembris, M.DCC.LXXX. Anno Etatis LXXII. Above this inscription, a female figure of Philosophy is represented, holding over a medallion of my father, a scroll, with the following inscription. Το Φρονειν Το δ' αφρονειν Κακον. It remains for me to add some further particulars concerning my father, which, I think, are requisite to make his character completely understood. The distinction by which he was most generally known, while living, and by which he is likely to survive to posterity, is that of a man of learning. His profound knowledge of Greek, which he applied more successfully, perhaps, than any modern writer has done, to the study and explanation of ancient philosophy, arose from an early and intimate acquaintance with the excellent poets and historians in that language. They, and the best writers of the Augustan age, were his constant and neverfailing recreation. By his familiarity with them, he was enabled to enliven and illustrate his deeper and more abstruse speculations, as every page almost of these volumes will abundantly testify. But his attainments were not confined to ancient philosophy and classical learning. He possessed likewise a general knowledge of modern history, with a very distinguishing taste in the fine arts, in one of which, as before observed, he was an eminent proficient. His singular industry empowered him to make these various acquisitions, without neglecting any of the duties which he owed to his family, his friends, or his country. I am in possession of such proofs, besides those already given to the public, of my father's laborious study and reflection, as I apprehend are very rarely to be met with. Not only was he accustomed, through a long series of years, to make copious extracts from the different books which he read, and to write critical remarks and conjectures on many of the passages extracted, but he was also in the habit of regularly committing to writing such reflections as arose out of his study, which evince a mind carefully disciplined, and anxiously bent on the attainment of self-knowledge and self-government. And yet, though habituated to deep thinking and laborious reading, he was generally cheerful, even to playfulness. There was no There was no pedantry in his manners or conversation; nor was he ever seen either to display his learning with ostentation, or to treat with slight or superciliousness those less informed than himself. He rather sought to make them appear partakers of what he knew, than to mortify them by a parade of his own superiority. Nor had he any of that miserable fastidiousness about him which too often disgraces men of learning, and prevents their being amused or interested, at least their choosing to appear so, by common performances and common events. It was with him a maxim, that the most difficult and infinitely the preferable sort of criticism, both in literature and in the arts, was that which consists in finding out beauties, rather than defects; and although he certainly wanted not judgment to distinguish and to prefer superior excellence of any kind, he was too reasonable to expect it should very often occur, and too wise to allow himself to be disgusted at common weakness or imperfection. He thought, indeed, that the very attempt to please, however it might fall short of its aim, deserved some return of thanks, some degree of approbation; and that to endeavour at being pleased by such efforts, was due to justice, to good nature, and to good sense. Far, at the same time, from that presumptuous conceit which is solicitous about mending others, and that moroseness which feeds its own pride by dealing in general censure, he cultivated to the utmost that great moral wisdom by which we are made humane, gentle, and forgiving; thankful for the blessings of life, acquiescent in the afflictions we endure, and submissive to all the dispensations of Providence. He detested the gloom of superstition, and the persecuting spirit by which it is so often accompanied; but he abhorred still more the baneful and destructive system of modern philosophy; and from his early solicitude to inspire me with a hatred of it, it would almost seem that he foresaw its alarming approach and fatal progress. There is no obligation which I acknowledge with more thankfulness; none that I shall more anxiously endeavour to confer upon my own children, from a thorough conviction of its value and importance. My father's affection to every part of his family was exemplary and uniform. As a husband, a parent, a master, he was ever kind and indulgent; and it deserves to be mentioned to his honour, that he thought it no interruption of his graver |