festering in his body, from birth, the entrance into pain, to death, the exit from it. Mr. Hughes, could hardly ever be said to have enjoyed health; but was, in the very best of his days, a valetudinarian. If those who are fparing of giving praife to any virtue, without extenuation of it, fhould fay, that his youth was chastised into the severity, and preferved in the innocence, for which he was confpicuous, from the infirmity of his conftitution, they will be under new difficulty, when they hear that he had none of those faults, to which ill ftate of health or dinarily fubjects the rest of mankind. Hist incapacity for more frolic diverfions never made him peevish or four to those whom he faw in them; but his humanity was fuch, that he could partake and share those pleafures he beheld others enjoy, without repining that he himself could not join in them. No, he made a true ufe of an ill. conftitution, and formed his mind to the living under it, with as much fatisfaction as it could admit of. His intervals of eafe: were employed in drawing, defigning, or VOL. I.

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elfe

else in music or poetry; for he had not only a taste, but an ability of performance to a great excellence, in those arts which entertain the mind within the rules of the feverest morality, and the ftricteft dictates of religion. He did not feem to wifh for more than he poffeffed, even as to health*, but to contemn fenfuality as a fober man does drunkenness; he was fo far from envying, that he pitied the jollities that were enjoyed by a more happy conftitution. He could converse with the most sprightly, without peevishness; and ficknefs itfelf had no other effect upon him, than to make him look upon all violent pleafures as evils he had escaped without the trouble of avoiding.

Dr. Sprat finishes his account of the life and writings of Mr. Cowley with this remarkable paragraph:

* This founds very pretty in fpeculation, but is too refined for practice. Mr. Hughes never pretended to be a Stoic.

"Perhaps,

Perhaps," fays he, "it may be judged, "that I have spent too many words on a "private man and a scholar, whofe life was "not remarkable for fuch a variety of events, as are wont to be the ornaments "of this kind of relations. I know it is

"the cuftom of the world to prefer the

pompous hiftories of great men before "the greatest virtues of others, whofe lives "have been led in a course less illuftrious. "This, indeed, is the general humour. "But I believe it to be an error in mens "judgments: for certainly, that is a more 'profitable instruction which may be taken

from the eminent goodness of men of "lower rank, than that which we learn

from the fplendid reprefentation of the "battles, and victories, and buildings, and fayings of great commanders and princes. "Such fpecious matters, as they are seldom "delivered with fidelity, so they serve but "for the imitation of a very few, and rather "make for the oftentation, than the true "information of human life. Whereas it is "from the practice of men equal to our

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"felves,

"felves, that we are more naturally taught "to command our paffions, to direct our

I am very glad of fo great an authority for the fupport of an opinion, which I have always had, fince I could think at all, and received from the great writers of antiquity, That we are to undrefs men, and throw off the mantle and train with which fortune has cloathed them, before we can propose them as patterns to ourselves, or truly know their private character. But without that labour and enquiry, thofe who approach our condition are immediate objects of our approbation or diflike; and teach us in a more lively manner what to avoid, or pursue. It is therefore, methinks, an injury to the great merit of private men, that writers, who feldom rise above that degree (at least in their fortunes) fhould prostitute their talents in adorning those only among the virtuous, who are poffeffors of wealth and power.

The

The gentleman, to whofe memory I devote this paper, may be the emulation of more perfons of different talents than any one I have ever known. His head, hand, or heart, was always employed in fomething worthy imitation; his pencil, his bow* (ftring) or his pen, each of which he used in a masterly manner, were always directed to raise and entertain his own mind, or that of others, to a more chearful profecution of what was noble and virtuous. Peace be with thy remains, thou amiable spirit! But I talk in the language of our weakness: That is flown to the regions of day and immortality, and relieved from the painful inftrument of anguish and forrow, in which, for a long and tedious few years, he panted, though with a lively hope for his present condition.

With this humane duty, and willing exercife of affliction, I blot out the various images of antic dreffes, gilded scenes, and

The author means the bow of a violin.