to few. Imagine that we had it in our power to call up the shades of the greatest and wisest men that ever existed, and oblige them to converse with us on the most interesting topics-what an inestimable privilege we should think it!-how superior to all the common enjoyments! but in a well-furnished library we, in fact, possess this power. We can question Xenophon and Cæsar on their campaigns, make Demosthenes and Cicero plead before us, join in the audiences of Socrates and Plato, and receive demonstrations from Euclid and Newton. In books we have the choicest thoughts of the ablest men in their best dress. We can at pleasure exclude dulness and impertinence, and open our doors to wit and good sense alone. It is needless to repeat the high commendations that have been bestowed on the study of letters, by persons who had free access other source of gratification. Instead of quoting Cicero to you, I shall in plain terms give you the result of my own experience on this subject. If domestic enjoyments have contributed in the first degree to the happiness of my life (and I should be ungrateful not to acknowledge that they have), the pleasures of reading have beyond all question held the second place. Without books I have never been able to pass a single day to my entire satisfaction: with them

to

every

no day has been so dark as not to have its pleasure. Even pain and sickness have for a time been charmed away by them. By the easy provision of a book in my pocket, I have frequently worn through long nights and days in the most disagreeable parts of my profession, with all the difference in my feelings between calm content and fretful impatience. Such occurrences have afforded me full proof both of the possibility of being cheaply pleased, and of the consequence it is of to the sum of human felicity, not to neglect minute attentions to make the most of life as it passes. Reading may in every sense be called a cheap amusement.-No apparatus, no appointment of time and place, is necessary for the enjoyment of reading. From the midst of bustle and business you may, in an instant, by the magic of a book, plunge into scenes of remote ages and countries, and disengage yourself from present care and fatigue. Sweet pliability of man's spirit, (cries Sterne, on relating an occurrence of this kind in his Sentimental Journey,) that can at once surrender itself to illusions, which cheat expectation and sorrow of their weary moments' *!”

The last paper that we have to notice, as written by the worthy Bishop, is N° 69, containing a high but just character of Fenelon's "Demonstration of

* Letters from a Father to his Son, vol. i. p. 289, &c.

the Existence, Wisdom and Omnipotence of God," and terminating with a translation of the prayer which closes that pious and impressive work.

4. ALEXANDER POPE. This great poet was born in Lombard-street, London, on May the 22d, 1688. His father was a linen-draper, who had been so successful in trade as to have realized a fortune of twenty thousand pounds, and his mother was the daughter of William Turner, Esq. of York.

Being of a very feeble and delicate constitution, his early education was rather desultory and imperfect, and he had the misfortune of being subjected to a frequent change of masters. Having at twelve years of age, however, acquired no inconsiderable knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages, he was determined, in future, to pursue his own plan of study; and as he was intended for no trade or profession, his reading, of which he was excessively fond, became uncommonly various and extensive.

Poetry was, almost from his childhood, his favourite pursuit; and the exquisite pleasure with which about the age of ten he perused Homer and Ovid in the versions of Ogilby and Sandys was remembered, even in his last years, with peculiar enthusiasm and delight. To these translators, apparently little calculated to excite poetic

inspiration, were shortly afterwards added the productions of Waller, of Spenser, and of Dryden. On the style and manner of this last mentioned poet he peculiarly fixed his attention, and at length exclusively adopted him for his model. Such, indeed, was his enthusiastic admiration of the venerable bard, that he eagerly requested to be carried to Button's coffee-house, which Dryden at that time usually frequented, that he might, though but for a moment, behold the man who had so highly gratified his feelings, and so keenly excited his emulation.

From such an ardent attachment to the Muses, and which was encouraged by his father, much and early excellence might, with probability, be expected; and, accordingly, we find, that, at the age of twelve years, he had already written, an Qde to Solitude, which, if the youth of its author be considered, is a production of uncommon merit. About two years afterwards he attempted versions of the first book of the Thebais of Statius, and of the Epistle of Sappho to Phaon, and likewise modernised the January and May of Chau

cer,

and the Prologue of the Wife of Bath. To these succeeded his imitations of several English poets, which were speedily followed by a comedy, a tragedy on the story of St. Genevieve, and Alcander, an epic poem. Of these juvenile pro

ductions he has thus spoken in his preface. "I confess there was a time when I was in love with myself, and my first productions were the children of self-love upon innocence. I had made an epic poem, and panegyrics on all the princes in Europe, and thought myself the greatest genius that ever was. I cannot but regret those delightful visions of my childhood, which, like the fine colours we see when our eyes are shut, are vanished for ever."

At the age of sixteen, in the year 1704, Pope wrote his Pastorals, which, however, were not published until 1709. In composing these pieces his first object was, to present his countrymen with a specimen of versification infinitely more musical and correct than any to which they had hitherto been accustomed; and in this he certainly succeeded. To no other merit have they any pretensions; nor can they in the present day, indeed, though furnishing a very happy model at the time of their production, be considered as sufficiently correct for the purposes of the student; they contain some lines which a writer of magazine poetry might hesitate to adopt, and, with the exception of a few passages, have been since much exceeded both in melody and uniformity of polish.

The Essay on Criticism, the next considerable