contain some mistakes, yet, dear Sir, I am glad to find that foreign scholars,' as well as the majority of our learned countrymen, are impressed with the same sense of your excellence, which, as a man of letters, I have myself long entertained.

Indeed, Mr. Wakefield, my thoughts are often turned towards you; nor does any man living either profess or feel more respect for your talents and erudition, more affection for your virtues, more sorrow for your sufferings, or more indignation against your calumniators. May you soon be delivered from your present situation, and, pursuing your literary labours without interruption, may you lead the rest of your life in perfect tranquillity and honourable independence. Such are the unfeigned wishes of my heart.

I rejoice in the opportunity of doing some little homage to your intellectual and moral worth by the present of my sermon,* and whatever opinion you may form of it as a composition, I hope you will give me credit for having written it in the spirit of a Christian,

See the letters of Professors Heyne and Jacobs, in the Appendix.

A Spital Sermon, preached at Christchurch, upon Easter Tuesday, April 15, 1800.

and for having published it with such intentions.

Believe me,

Dear Sir,

Most truly, your friend and obedient servant, S. PARR.

Hatton, May 14, 1801.

A few weeks before Mr. Wakefield received this testimony of esteem and affection, of which he so well understood the value, his restoration to society had been fondly anticipated by another literary friend.

Dr. Geddes addressed to him the following letter, which, while it well describes the restraints on the free communication of sentiment, produced by the spirit of Mr. Pitt's administration, is a proof of the writer's attachment to one whom he, too soon, "called his muse to mourn;" and whom, to the loss of religion and learning, he quickly followed to the grave:k

A VERY severe illness, my dear Sir, has prevented me from sooner acknowledging your two kind and friendly letters.

* Dr. Geddes wrote a copy of Latin verses on hearing of "Mr. Wakefield's death, while he was himself confined to his house, by the disorder which soon terminated his valuable life.

I once had some parts of your Sylva, but a friend from the country robbed me of them: but I have long intended to have the whole, before I should come to the last revisal of my New Testament, to which the greater part of your remarks, I observed, seemed to relate.

I shall take the first opportunity to shake hands with your publisher, and shew him. your obliging order.

And now I look impatiently forward to that day in which I shall have the pleasure of shaking hands with yourself.

O! qui complexus, et gaudia quanta.

My last volume has, by the German critics, been received with the greatest applause, but you will soon see me, here, torn in pieces by the hands of bigotry and sciolism, in a most nefarious manner.-I long to see your Noctes Carcerariæ.

I have lately written, in verse, an epistle to but no one dares to print it, and I am now, although yet a poor valetudinarian, writing a pamphlet on the Emancipation, as it is termed, of the Irish Catholics, which I fear, also, no one will print.

For a copy of the " Sylva Critica."

What a horrible situation are we not in? All Europe is laughing at our folly, our madness, above all, at our unparalleled illiberality. Adieu, my dear suffering friend, and believe me to be ever your's,

Alsop's Buildings,

April 14, 1801.

ALEX. GEDdes.

The period of Mr. Wakefield's restoration to liberty was now rapidly approaching, and the preparations for his return to the neighbourhood of London occupied the remaining days of his imprisonment.

He had long projected the delivery of a Classical Lecture immediately on his liberation. To this scheme he refers in the following letter to one of the present writers.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

Dorchester Gaol, May 8, 1801.

YOUR apologies for supposed inattention and delay are all substantial and satisfactory; and no blame is ever previously imputed you by my own imagination.

I am of opinion that we should advertise the Lectures; but still, I was not desirous of

this measure till we were certain of no obstacle in the way of my liberation: for, though I cannot presuppose such impediment, a failure, after advertisement, would be very awkward.

And now, only reflect a moment on the bare possibility of my exhibition on the second of June.TM

I go out on Friday, for aught that yet appears, not early in the day. My books, valuable, and with my notes, I must pack up carefully, after I get out. So that, if I set off on the next morning, which is almost impracticable, I could but have an interval of one day between my arrival at Hackney, and the lectures, without the power of returning even a call to those friends here, who have so much alleviated my solitude by their various civilities, and their regular visits. Would this be proper?

Again: scarcely a soul leaves this place without illness from the transition-silence and solitude, to noise, variety, and bustle-and all this in London! Though I feel no particular emotion on the prospect of this event, and expect to feel as little as any man on its arrival, my knowledge of its effects on others will not

m The day first fixed for the commencement of his Lectures in London.