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reflections, and bewildering associations, had rivetted themselves as habits; and in the midít of wit and in. telligence, he found himself thoughtful, absent, and mee lancholy.

Pofféfting a heart capable of feeling every tender affection, his mind precludes him from its enjoyment. All nature appears big with expression to his senses : he feels her language in every nerve; ideas will arrange and associate themselves in his mind, which perhaps would hardly convey a thought to a simple obferver. This acuteness of understanding and irritabifity of feeling, have subjected him to that inexplicable seadiness of perception of pain, which, to most minds, is hardly to be understood. The strain of his thinking harh taught him to refine on every circumstance, till his fenfibility may rather be termed a foreness of heart, than a fympathy that vibrates to the pressing influence. Nature had given the bias of pensiveness to his character ; and accident has confirmed it into melancholy. The crowded ills of life, to a heart which interests itfelf in them all, must weigh down its feelings--so they have done with Aristippus. The follies of his casual acquaintance, and the multiplied miseries of mankind, whenever the ideas present themselves, vex his mind, by flinging it back upon a long train of perplexing doubts; removed from these, the afflictions of those whom he intimately esteems, drives him to wretchedness.

He hath often confeffed to me, with real anguish, that he was not all this by nature. Such a disposition was the consequence of a study, directed rather to be. wilder than instruct. The mind of man, and all its changes was his earliest, and favourite pursuit : to account for all its operations and revolutions; for the motive of every action, and every thought; and to unravel the mysteries of creation and religion; these were the everlasting subjects of his reveries.

Many Many moments of confidence and regret he would conclude, by saying, “ Unhappy that I am!-Had I paid a proper attention to the nature of mine own heart, when I was searching the capabilities of my mind, how-foon would it have warned me from those ftudies - Alas! I have withdrawn a curtain that I am eager to close :-things present themselves againt which I would fhut my eyes, but I cannot-I mut now gaze upon the world, till I am rescued from is vices.--Had I been content to believe, that all is as it appears—had I been content to read man in his actions, not to penetrate into his mind-had I been content to feel, and not to define; I had now been happy! By the abstraction of my manner, the world hath miltaken me for a being without the sensation of a soulit hath mistaken me, and I hold not a place in one heart, when my own is distracted by the interests of hundreds. “ Ah! my friend,” he would say, with the strong emphasis of conviction bursting from his lips, “ wafte nok your time in the labyrinths of perplexing difquisicions, metaphysics will only render you as wretched as my. felf; despise such prefumptuous folly, and ftudy to be virtuous, all the wisdom of the world can reach no more!")

GOSSIPIANA.

[No. XI.] CHARLOTTE, DAUGHTER OF COLLEY CIBBER. CBE NIBBER the elder, had a daughter named Char.

lotte, who also took to the itage ; her subsequent lite was one continued series of misfortune, afflictions, and distress, which the sometimes contrived a little to alleviate by the productions of her pen. About the year 1755, she had worked up a novel for the press, (vhich the writer accompanied his friend the book teller

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to hear read; she was at this time a widow, having been married to one Clarke, a musician, long since dead. Her habitation was a wretched thatched hovel, situated on the way to Illington, in the purlieus of Clerkenwell bridewell, not very far distant from the New-river Head, where, at that time, it was usual for the scavengers to leave the cleansings of the streets, and the priests of Cloacina to deposit the offerings from the temples of that all-worshipped power. The night preceding a heavy rain had fallen, which rendered this extraordinary fear of the muses almost inaccessible, so that in our approach we got our white stockings enveloped with mud up to the very calves, which furnished an appearance much in the present fashionable style of half boots. We knocked at the door (not attempting to pull the latch string) which was opened by a tall, meagre, ragged figure, with a blue apron, indicating, what else we might have doubted, the feminine gender. A perfect model for the Copper Captain's tattered landlady; that deplorable exhibition of the fair sex, in the comedy of Rule-a-Wife. She, with a torpid voice and hungry smile, defired us to walk in. The first object that prefented itself was a dreffer, clean, it must be confeited, and furnished with three or four coarse delf plates, two brown platters, and underneath an earthen pipkin and a black pitcher, with a snip out of it. To the right we perceived, and bowed to the mistress of the mansion, fitting on a maimed chair under the mantle-piece, by a fire, merely sufficient to put us in mind of starving. On one hob fat a monkey, which by way of welcome chattered at our going in; on the other a tabby cat, of melancholy afpečt; and at our author's feet, on the flounce of her dingy petticoat, reclined a dog, almost a skeleton! he raised his shagged head, and eagerly staring with his bleared eyes, faluted us with a snarl. " Have done, Fidele ! these are friends.” The tone of her voice was not harsh; it had something in it humbled Vol. II.

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and disconsolate ; a mingled effort of authority and pleasure--poor soul few were her visitors of that defcrip. tion-no wonder the creature barked !-A magpie perched on the top ring of her chair, not an uncomely ornament! and on her lap was placed a mutilated pair of bellows, the pipe was gone, an advantage in their present office, they lerved as a fuccedaneum for a writing. desk, on which lay displayed her hopes and treasure, the 1 manuscript of her novel. Her ink-stand was a broken tea-cup, the pen worn to a stump; The had but one ! A rough deal board, with three hubbling supporters, was brought for our convenience, on which, without farther ceremony, we contrived to fit down, and entered upon business—The work was read, remarks made, alterations agreed to, and thirty guineas demand ed for the copy. The fqualid handmaiden, who had been an attentive listener, stretched forward her tawny length of neck with an eye of anxious expectation ! The bookseller offered five!-Our authoress did not appear hurt; disappointments had rendered her mind callous; however lome altercation ensued. This was the writer's first initiation into the mysteries of bibliopolism, and the ftate of authorcraft. He, seeing both lides pertinacious, at length interposed, and, at his inftance, the wary haberdasher of literature doubled his first proposal, with this saving proviso, that his friend present would pay a moiety, and run one half the risk ; which was agreed to. Thus matters were accommodated, seemingly to the fatisfaction of all parties; the lady’s original ftipulation of fifty copies for herself, being previously aceded to. Such is the story of the once-ad inired daughter of Colley Cibber, poet laureat and patentee of Drury Lane, who was born in affluence and educated with care and tenderness, her servants in livery, and a splendid equipage ar her command, with fwarms of timc-serving fycophants officiously buzzing in her train : yet unmindful of her advantages, and improvident in

her

her pursuits, she finished the career of her miserable ex. istence on a dunghill.

The account given of this unfortunate woman is literally correct in every particular, of which, except the circumstance of her death, the writer himfelf was an eye-witness.

THE REVEREND ROWLAND HILL. At the time this gentleman's chapel was being built, the very great attendance on an Anabaptist in the neighbourhood, by many of his own followers, caused the following smart stimulus from him, to one of the workmen employed : “Get on, my lad," said the rererend, or all my chickens will be turned into ducks,"

MR. ROBERT DRUMMOND.

A SAILOR having a draught ottwenty pounds on Mr. Robert Drummond, went to the house to receive the money.

On entering, and seeing several clerks bufily cmployed, he addressed himself to one of them ---" Where's Bob Drummond ?"-" He's busy (replied the clcrk) but can't I do?"_" You do, eh! (lays the failor) no, indeed. I must see the real Bob Drum. mond.”—The clerk, after some time, fetched Mr. Drummond.“ Now (says the failor) and are you the real Bob Drummond ?"_“Yes, fir! what is your pleafure ?

“Why there (returned the sailor, throwing down the draft) there's a tickler for you; and if you can't pay it all at once, I wont drive you too hard : give us ten pounds now, and I'll heaye in for the rest some other time.”

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