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the case stands; and either bring him to a proper equilibrio, or make a downright fool of him.'

Mr. Last is settled in the manor-house, which had been got ready for his reception : and, at a fit opportunity, visits his old sweet-heart, Sally Grind, the miller's daughter. He had, it seems, a transient glance at Sally's half-concealed tear, when he was first setting out on his London expedition. It was not forgotten. The tear had sunk very deep into his heart.-Sally's father was a fingular sort of a man:- morose, honest, and senfible. Mr. Lalt knew his disposition; and, notwithstanding his ten thousand pounds had made him a gentleman, yet he could not restrain his fears as he approached the miller’s house. The character of this rough mortal is tolerably well drawn by our Author: and the effect which his behaviour had on Mr. Last is very naturally described. Moses Grind was too proud to pay any particular deference to our hero; for he estimated no mạn by the extent of his fortune. His wife, Deborah, was a little more ceremonious. She bustled, and curtfied, and fetched a chair, and brushed it down with her apron, lest any duft might foil his superfine cloth ; which she not only eyed, but, accidentally, as it were, firoked, to feel how soft it was ; accompanied with—" Good Lord! how you have catched us !-all in the rough! I suppose you saw many fine fights in London ; but folk in the country see nothing. I had an own cousin who went to live in London above twenty years ago—but most likely he is dead, and you would hear nothing about him.- I wish I had but known of your coming—as one may say.” The modesty and sensibility of the daughter is delicately touched by the Author. Sally appeared, not without blushing, and full of sensibility, " tremblingly alive.” She had been endeavouring to collect all her resolution, to withstand this meeting with propriety, wishing to appear worthy Mr. Last's notice, without either a too apparent forwardness, or inattention to this friendly visit by an affected reservedness. Her fituation was delicate, and required the exertion of all her fortitude.' Chance, in some measure, effected what her own resolution would have been unequal to. Hearing the found of her daughter's foot-steps, old Deborah, by a sudden turn, was very near oversetting the table, whereon was placed Moses's supper: to prevent which, our hero very actively threw himself upon his feet, and prevented it. This action brought the young people nearly together, and face to face. The situation inviting, so many circumitances contributing, he could do no less than offer the friendly falute : common-place compliments and civilities ensued, matters were adjusted, and at length they became feated. After this interview, which was a little more satisfactory to Mr. Last than his modesty led him to expect, he returns home,' to execute his


Jong-wished-for scheme'--and that was, to relieve the distressed, and set all his neighbours above want. Here the benevolence of his heart again imposed upon his understanding, and betrayed him into fuch measures of profuse and unguarded charity, that the poor neglected their daily labour; and those liberal supplies of money, which were meant to relieve their neceflities, were only made the occasion of riot and drunkenness.

Thrumb, the man that put out weaving, was the first who, perceived that something was sadly amiss, from the small returns of work. He began to reason, to complain, and talk loud. But one man's voice, however loud, can scarcely be heard in a whole neighbourhood, be bis cause ever so just. The time was approaching fast when truth would appear as broad as day-light. The corn-harvest was at hand, when the labourers were desired to perform their usual task of reaping and gathering in the fruits of the earth. Instead of being found at their own homes, they were at their daily rendezvous, the bag-pipes—from whence not one would stir. • For why? They had no occasion. The dla Itroke till all the money is spent. .... Things were got almoft imperceptibly to this pitch, from small beginnings..... The evil must work out its own remedy, by spending all they possessed ; and, by that means, placing them in the very situation they first started from.' Mr. Last's mistake, in the mode of his bounty, was so visible in its effects, that he saw it himself in its most aggravated light, and suffered like a condemned criminal on the occasion. To soothe his agitated spirits, he walked, in a pensive mood, towards the mill, expecting to meet comfort in the person and conversation of his beloved Sally. Old Moses was at home. The refusal of the labourers to work--the report of the farmers, and their censures, had reached his ears. Without any circumlocution, he told Mr. Laft, that his company was no longer welcome; and that, of all things, he never wished his daughter to marry a fool.? The miller's bluntness, accompanied with a determined look, scared our hero; and he stood, for some time, motionless. At last he endeavoured to apologize for his conduct. But all was in vain. "The old man's honour, and his child's welfare, were both at stake ; and Moses insisted on his leaving the house immediately.' Poor Last's distress, on this unexpected stroke of illfortune, which wounded him in the tenderest part, is well described ; together with his rencontre with little Ben, who, halfdrunk on our hero's bounty, was so ungrateful as to join the common cry against him.

The Author next recounts Mr. Laft's visit to the sensible and worthy rector of the parish, who had invited him to the parsonage, house, for the sake of giving him some private advice respecting

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his conduct. The advice is very reasonable; and introduced in fo amiable and genteel a manner, that the most captious mind could not have been offended at it. Our Readers will think, that the rector's discourse on the subordination of ranks in society, and the necessity of maintaining it, for the sake of good order, savours too much of the formality of the pulpit. It nevertheless contains some judicious remarks: though we must acknowledge, that the whole wants ease, to make it look like a private lecture; and novelty, both in sentiment and expreffion, to render it pleasing to the general readers of such performances as this. This visit relieved our hero's mind; and was of great service to him in other respects. He attempts to rectify the abuses which his ill-judged liberality had occasioned. “The rector joins his assistance; and the event exceeded their expectations.

The succeeding events of this story may be related in a few words.-Mr. Laft goes to a horse-race.He next visits the Cock pit, where he is betrayed into what a novice could scarcely have avoided, with his pockets full of money. He betts and loses a confiderable fum. On his return home, he hath the misfortune to be thrown from his horse, and to break his arm. This brings on a fever ; and his life is despaired of. His beloved Sally pines away in silent anguish. She dared not visit him. « Nature could not withstand the conflict; much less fit, like Patience on the monument, smiling at grief. She drooped : the roses forfook her cheeks; her whole frame yielded by little and little, her efforts being too feeble to furmount her pafion.' The distressed' situation of poor Sally could not escape the notice of her parents. They both guessed at the cause. The moroseness of old Mofes relented. • He perceived his daughter's life at stake; and that consideration overpowered more weighty objections.'--Youth, and a good constitution, with the skilfulness of his surgeon, after some time, restored Mr. Last to his health, so far as to walk out. He had heard of Sally's declining health; and his soul yearned to see her, and to speak comfort.' An interview of the most tender kind takes place: old Mofes receives Mr. Last with a more complacent countenance : a proposal of marriage ensues : Mofes, after fome fenfible obfervations, accedes to it: this happy event at last takes place; and Mr. Laft receives his bride from the hands of her father, who bestowed the gift as a treasure that was nearest and deareft unto him.'

« Thus,' concludes the Author, we have attempted an im perfect sketch of the adventures of a man, whom Fortune, in one of her frolicsome humours, snatched at random out of the medley bulk of mankind--placed him on one of her thrones-


there tortured him with a few of her freaks-takes him again from the giddy height, and gently places him on ground more fitting the level of his capacity.

• The moral we draw from the whole is, That it is trụe wis. dom to accommodate ourselves to the situation wherein Providence hath placed us, without repining at our lot, or lufting after riches, which bring certain cares, but uncertain comforts :--concluding with the words of the poet, that

Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,

Lie in three words, health, peace, and competence.' The Author of this performance is doubtless a man of ingenuity and observation. We perceive in his reflections a ray or two of Shandean genius. He pofleffes a quickness of perception; and his mode of expressing himself is lively and entertaining. But his genius wants force and extent. His invention is narrow ; and his wit fuperficial and trifling. Little art is discovered in this performance. The plot is too fimple to amuse: and the little expectation that is excited, is seldom gratified. In fhort, the story, considered as a fory, is nothing. The easy manner in which it is related, with some ingenious and pertinent rea flections which are interspersed, form the whole merit of Edal Village.

I ,

ART. XV. Anecdotes of Painting in England; with some Account of

the principal Artists; and incidental Notes on other Arts; collected by the late Mr. George Vertue ; and now digefted and published from his original MSS. By Mr. Horace Walpole. To which is added, the History of modern Talte in Gardening. Volume the Fourth and Laft. 4to. 18 s, Boards. Printed ac Strawberry Hill.

N the 26th and 30th voluines of our Review, we gave an acand entertaining work. We made fome observations on the peculiarities of the Author's ftile, &c. which it is needless here to repeat.

This last volume, Mr. Walpole tells us, in an advertisement prefixed to it, has been long written, and even printed; but the publication, though a debt to the purchasers of the preceding volumes, has been delayed * from motives of tenderness. The Author, who, like most biographers, could not resolve to difpense universal panegyrie, especially on many incompetent artifts, was still unwilling to utter even gentle censures, which might wound the affections, or offend the prejudices, of those related

* The date printed at the bottom of the title-page, is 177'; but the publication did not take place till the year 1780. Rev. Feb. 1781.



to the persons whom truth forbad him to commend beyond their merits. As his opinion is no standard, he hopes it will pafs for mistaken judgment with such as shall be displeased with his criticisms: If his encomiums seem too lavish to others, the public will at least know that they are bestowed sincerely. He would not have hesitated, he says, to publish his remarks sooner, if he had not been averse to exaggeration.

• The work,' continues he, 'is carried as far as the Author intended to go; though he is sensible he could continue it with more satisfaction to himself, as the arts, at least those of painting and architecture, are emerging from the wretched state in which they lay at the accession of George the First. To archi . tecture, taste and vigour were given by Lord Burlington and K

They have successors worthy of the tone they gave; if, as refinement generally verges to extreme contrarieties, Kent's ponderofity does not degenerate into filligraine. . . . . But the modern Pantheon, uniting grandeur and lightness, fimplicity and ornament, seems to have marked the medium where taste must ftop. The architect who {hall endeavour to refine on Mr. Wyat, will perhaps give date to the age of embroidery. Virgil, Longinus, and Vitruvius, afford no rules, no examples, of scattering finery.

* This delicate redundance of ornament growing into our architecture might perhaps be checked, if our artists would study the sublime dreams of Piranesi, who seems to have conceived visions of Rome beyond what it boasted even in the meridian of its splendor. Savage as Salvator Rosa, fierce as Michael Angelo, and exuberant as Rubens, he has imagined scenes that would starile geometry, and exhaust the Indies, to realize. He piles palaces on bridges, and temples on palaces, and scales heaven with mountains of edifices. Yet, what taste in his boldness ! what grandeur in his wildness! what labour and thought, both in his ralhness and details! Architecture, indeed, has in a manner two sexes : its masculine dignity can only exert its muscles in public works, and at public expence; its softer beauties come better within the compass of private refidence and enjoyment.

How painting has rekindled from its embers, the works of many living artists demonstrate. The prints after the works of Sir Joshua Reynolds have spread his fame to Italy, where they have not at present a single painter that can pretend to rival an imagination so fertile, that the attitudes of his portraits are as various as those of history. In what age were paternal despair, and the borrors of death, pronounced with more expressive accents than in his picture of Count Ugolino? When was infantine loveliness, or embrio-paffions, touched with fweeter truth than in his portraits of Miss Price and the baby Jupiter ? What frankness of nature in Mr. Gainsborough's 7


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