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dull companions: but the ftory that follows does honour to his good'nature, and therefore it is here felected. Mr. Thomfon, a Scots gentleman, univerfally known by his fine poems on the Seafons, on Liberty, &c. when he first came to London, was in very narrow circumftances; and, before he was diftinguished by his writings, was many times put to his fhifts even for a dinner. The debts he then contracted lay very heavy upon him for a long time afterwards; and upon the publication of his Seasons one of his creditors arrested him, thinking that a proper opportunity to get his money. The report of this misfortune happened to reach the ears of Mr. Quin, who had indeed read the Seasons, but had never feen their author; and upon stricter enquiry he was told, that Thomson was in the bailiff's hands at a fpunging-house in Holborn: thither Quin went; and being admitted into his chamber, Sir, faid he, in his ufual tone of voice, you don't know me, I believe, but my name is Quin. Mr. Thomson received him politely, and faid, that though he could not boast of the honour of a perfonal acquaintance, he was no ftranger either to his name or his merit; and very obligingly invited him to fit down. Quin then told him, he was come to fup with him, and that he had already ordered the cook to provide fupper, which he hoped he would excufe. Mr. Thomfon made the proper reply, and then the difcourfe turned indifferently upon fubjects of literature. When the fupper was over, and the glass had gone

brifkly about, Mr. Quin then took occafion to explain himfelf by faying, It was now time to enter upon bufinefs. Mr. Thomfon declared he was ready to ferve him as far as his capacity would reach, in any thing he should command, (thinking he was come about fome affair relating to the drama.) Sir, fays Mr. Quin, you mistake my meaning: I am in your debt; I owe you a hundred pounds, and I am come to pay you. Mr. Thomfun, with a difconfolate air, replied, that as he was a gentleman whom, to his knowledge, he had never offended, he wondered he fhould feek an opportunity to reproach him under his misfortunes. No, by G-d, faid Quin, raising his voice, I'd be d-n'd before I would do that. I fay, I owe you a hundred pounds, and there it is, (laying a bank note of that value before him). Mr. Thomson was astonished, and begged he would explain himself. Why, fays Quin, I'll tell you; foon after I had read your Seafons, I took it into my head that as I had fomething in the world to leave behind me when I died, I would make my will, and among the reft of my legatees 1 fet down the author of the Seafons a hundred pounds, and this day hearing that you was in this houfe, I thought I might as well have the pleasure of paying the money myfelf, as to order my executors to pay it when, perhaps, you might have lefs need of it; and this, Mr. Thomson, is the bufinefs I came about. I need not exprefs Mr. Thomson's grateful acknowledgements, but leave every reader to conceive them.

4 A 2

An Account of fome fubterraneous Apartments, quith Etrufcan Inferiptions and Paintings, discovered at Civita Turchino in Italy: communicated from Jofeph Wilcox, Efq; F.S.A. By Charles Morton, M. D. F. R. S.

(Read before the Royal Society.)

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Civita Turchino, about three miles to the north of Corneto, is an hill of an oblong form, the fummit of which is almost one continued plain. From the quantities of medals, intaglio's, fragments of infcriptions, &c. that are occafionally found here, this is believed to be the very spot where the powerful and most ancient city of Tarquinii once ftood though at prefent it is only one continued field of corn. On the fouth-eaft fide of it runs the ridge of an hill, which unites it to Corneto. This ridge is at leaft three or four miles in length, and almost entirely covered by feveral hundreds of artificial hillocks, which are called, by the inhabitants, Monti Roth. About twelve of thefe hil-, locks have at different times been opened; and in every one of them have been found feveral fubterranean apartments cut out of the folid rock. Thefe apartments are of various forms and dimensions; fome confift of a large outer room, and a small one within; others of a fmall room at the first entrance, and a larger one within; others are fupported by a column of the folid rock, left in the centre, with openings on every part, from twenty to thirty feet. The entrance to them all is by a door of about five feet in height, by two feet and an half in breadth. Some of these, have no other light but from the door, while others feem to have had a fmall light from above, through an hole of a pyramidical form. Many of

thefe apartments have an elevated part that runs all round the wall, being a part of the rock left for that purpose. The moveables found in thefe apartments confift chiefly in Etrufcan vafes of various forms; in fome indeed have been found fome plain farcophagi of ftone with bones in them. The whole of these apartments are stucco'd, and ornamented in various manners; fome indeed are plain, but others, particularly three, are richly adorned; having a double row of Etrufcan inscriptions running round the upper parts of the walls, and under it a kind of frieze of figures in painting; fome have an ornament under the figures, that feem to fupply the place of an architrave. There have been no relievos in ftucco hitherto difcovered.

The paintings feem to be in frefco, and are in general in the fame tile as thofe which are ufually feen on the Etrufcan vafes; though fome of them are much fuperior perhaps to any thing as yet feen of the Etrufcan art in painting. The paintings, though in general flight, are well conceived, and prove that the artift was capable of producing things more ftudied and more finifhed; though in fuch a fubterranean fituation, almost void of light, where the delicacy of a finifhed work would have been in a great measure thrown away; thefe artists (as the Romans did in their beft ages, when employed in fuch fepulchral works) have in general contented themfelves with flightly expreffing their

thoughts.

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Method of guarding againf fmutty Crops of Wheat, by a due Preparation of the Seed.

GENTLEMEN,

་་་

To the Authors of the BRITISH MAGAZINE,

S the fmut in wheat is an evil St greatly complained of, and not without fome reason, among farmers, I have no doubt but your readers will be well pleased to be informed of a means of preventing the damage which is annually experienced in this refpe&t.

As I write from experience, what I communicate may be depended on; and I have great foundation for thinking it will be found of particular fervice to fuch of your readers as are practical farmers, and who yet are unacquainted with the method I intend to recommend.

I have, for many years paft, efcaped having fmutty crops, by a proper care of the feed-wheat before it is put into the ground; and the method I purfue, though efficacious, is in itfelf fimple and cheap.

I take four bushels of pigeons dung, which I put into a large tub; on this I pour a fufficient quantity of boiling water, and, mixing them well together, let them fand fix

hours, till a kind of ftrong 1ye is made, which, at the end of that time, the groffer matter being fubfided, I caufe to be carefully drained off, and put into a large keeve, or tub, for ufe.

This quantity is fufficient for eighty bufhels of feed-wheat.

My next care is to shoot into this fteep a manageable quantity of my feed, which is immediately to be violently agitated, with either birchen brooms, or the rudders that are made ufe of in ftirring the malt in the mash tub in a brewing-office. As the light grains rife, they muft be diligently fkimmed off; and after the feed has been agitated in this manner for the fpace of perhaps half an hour, it may be taken out of the fteep, and fown out of hand, with great fafety ; and I can venture to fay, that if the land is in good heart, and has been properly tilled, it will not, when fown with thefe precautions, produce a fmutty crop. I am,

&c.

Poetical

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Poetical ESSAYS for OCTOBER, 1764.

A CANTAT A.

RECITATIVE.

HUS of his Delia, forc'd away,

TH

An anxious swain was heard to say:-His folded arms and head reclin'd,

Expreft the tempest in his mind.

AIR.

Olet the lonely grove,
Refponfive to my woes,
Tell my departed love

How much my bofom glows.

For you, my abfent Maid,
I quit all circles gay,
And feck the filent fhade,

And thun the light of day.

That day, which once fo bright
Arofe when you were here,
Sets low'ring into night,

Since you no more appear.
Me, in the dusky gloom,

Let weeping CUPIDS join:
To me let SORROW Come,
And mingle woes with mine.
With thefe I'll spend my days,

From every fcené retir'd,
Where erst I tun'd the lays

Our mutual flame inspir'd. Thro' vallies and o'er bills

Our filent courfe we'll fteer; And fwell the weeping rills

With many a penfive tear. There oft, in happier loves,

The downy flocks combine;
And, as kind Nature moves,

Obey its call divine.
O wou'd the fates decree,

Dear Maid! whom I adore,
You thus fhou'd live with me

What cou'd the gods give more?

RECITATIVE.

The Shepherd paus'd, o'ercome with grief;
When fee divineft Hope arife;
ITer fmiling face foretold relief,
And pleafure fparkled in her eyes.

Placed before the shining fair
Were bright palaces of air,
Villas fine and gardens rare,
With many a glitt'ring crown;

But the regions left behind,

Of dry fands and foil unkind, Overcast with pain the mind, And fright th'afstonish'd fun.

AIR by HOPE.

To fortune never yield,
Nor let thine adverse fare furprize;
Thy blifs may be conceal'd

In what has fill'd thy breaft with fighs,
By conftancy you'll gain,

But never, never by despair,

What thus you with in vain-
The prefence of thine abfent fair.

Quick from these vales retreat,
O Youth! of heart and foul fincere,
New pleasures thou shalt meet;
But thou can't never find them here.
In lovely Delia's arms,
Poffeft of every social blifs,

Thou shalt forget all harms.

Adieu ! 'Tis Hope who tells you this.
IL PENSEROSO,

The DUPE.

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YES, Chloe once I loved, 'tis true;

And Chloe faid, the lov'd me too; But, oh! too foon may jealous eyes Could fee, that of her faithless beart, Myrtillo had the greater part

And all her vows to me were lyes.
O what cou'd equal my furprize!

11.
Chloe, faid I, and cou'dst thou bear
With me thy live-long life to fhare;
'When that Myrtillo, happy fwain!
Is all thy dazzled foul's delight,
Thy with by day, thy wish by night?
Believe me, Chloe, you'd sustain
But very ill the hated chain.
III.

Chloe replied, Indeed, my dear, blush fuch mortal founds to hear.

And

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My hopes too fupprefs'd—and when ba
nish'd from thee,

The joys of this life are infipid to me.
DAMON.

Each morn as I ramble the meadows along,
How sweetly refounds the wood-chorifters
[tive and gay,

fong;

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ELEGIAC BALLA D.

WHERE now is that fun of repofe,

That once used to fmile on this
breaft,

On the morn that fo genially rofe,
And at eve fet fo kindly in reft?

Alas! all withdrawn from my fight,
On the morning no longer it beams
And, instead of contentment at night,
Spreads horror alone in my dreams.

O Belmour! why e'er did I hear
What I knew must be death to believe?
Or drink up a strain with my ear,
When I faw it was meant to deceive?

To whom, tell me now, can I speak,

That will not reproach and exclaim ?
And read through the blush on this cheek,
That guilt is the parent of fhame?
In vain the dark grove do I try,

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At church, in the moment of pray'r,
Remorfe lifts her terrible rod,

And harrows my foul with defpair,
Tho' I kneel at the throne of my God,

When the flocks on the plains are all fpor-Tis just ;-and I cannot upbraid,
And nature's enliven'd by Phoebus's ray;
When pleasures and honour with freedom
unite,
[delight:
And gladness and mirth add new scenes of

For Belmour yet (wells in my eye;
And this bofom, though bafely betray'd,
Still heaves with too tender a figh!

โก

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