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circumstances, we really are not aware either | ready to run back naked to the deserts, as on the how he could have lived more for himself, or Mediterranean coast of Africa. These, tell him, less for others, than he had been all along are the grand scenes for the true philosopher, for doing. But we leave now the painful task of Tour of Europe is like the entertainment that Pluthe the world, to contemplate. commenting upon this book, as a memorial tarch speaks of, which Pompey's host of Epirus of his character; and gladly turn to those parts gave him. There were many dishes, and they had of it, from which our readers may derive more a seeming variety; but when he came to examine unmingled amusement. them narrowly, he found them all made out of one hog, and indeed nothing but pork differently disguised.

The wit which it contains is generally strong and coarse, with a certain mixture of profanity which does not always seem to consort well with the episcopal character. There are some allusions to the Lady of Babylon, which we dare not quote in our Presbyterian pages. The reader, however, may take the following:

"Poor Job! It was his eternal fate to be persecuted by his friends. His three comforters passed sentence of condemnation upon him; and he has been executing in effigie ever since. He was first bound to the stake by a long catena of Greek Fathers; then tortured by Pineda! then strangled by Caryl; and afterwards cut up by Westley, and anatomised by Garnet. Pray don't reckon me amongst his hangmen. I only acted the tender part of his wife, and was for making short work with him! But he was ordained, I think, by a fate like that of Prometheus, to lie still upon his dunghill, and have his brains sucked out by owls. One Hodges, a head of Oxford, now threatens us with a new Auto de Fè."-p. 22.

We have already quoted one assimilation of the Church to the Ark of Noah. This idea is pursued in the following passage, which is perfectly characteristic of the force, the vulgarity, and the mannerism of Warburton's writing:

"You mention Noah's Ark. I have really forgot what I said of it. But I suppose I compared the Church to it, as many a grave divine has done before me.-The rabbins make the giant Gog or Magog contemporary with Noah, and convinced by his preaching; so that he was disposed to take the benefit of the ark. But here lay the distress; it by no means suited his dimensions. Therefore, as he could not enter in, he contented himself to ride upon it astride. And though you must suppose that, in that stormy weather, he was more than half-boots over, he kept his seat and dismounted safely, when the ark landed on Mount Ararat. Image now to yourself this illustrious Cavalier mounted on his hackney: and see if it does not bring before you the Church, bestrid by some lumpish minister of state, who turns and winds it at his pleasure. The only difference is, that Gog believed the preacher of righteousness and religion." pp. 87, 88. The following is in a broader and more ambitious style, yet still peculiar and forcible. After recommending a tour round St. James' Park, as far more instructive than the grand tour, he proceeds

"This is enough for any one who only wants to study men for his use. But if our aspiring friend would go higher, and study human nature, in and for itself, he must take a much larger tour than that of Europe. He must first go and catch her undressed, nay, quite naked, in North America, and at the Cape of Good Hope. He may then examine how she appears cramped, contracted, and buttoned close up in the straight tunic of law and custom, as in China and Japan; or spread out, and enlarged above her common size, in the long and flowing robe of enthusiasm amongst the Arabs and Saracens; or, lastly, as she flutters in the old rags of worn-out policy and civil government, and almost

"Indeed I perfectly agree with you, that a scholar by profession, who knows how to employ his time in his study, for the benefit of mankind, would be more than fantastical, he would be mad, to go ram

bling round Europe, though his fortune would per-
mit him. For to travel with profit, must be when
his faculties are at the height, his studies matured,
But to
and all his reading fresh in his head.
waste a considerable space of time, at such a period
of life, is worse than suicide. Yet, for all this, the
knowledge of human nature (the only knowledge,
in the largest sense of it, worth a wise man's con-
cern or care) can never be well acquired without
seeing it under all its disguises and distortions, ari-
sing from absurd governments and monstrous reli-
gions, in every quarter of the globe. Therefore, I
think a collection of the best voyages no despicable
part of a philosopher's library. Perhaps there will
be found more dross in this sort of literature, even
when selected most carefully, than in any other.
But no matter for that; such a collection will con-
tain a great and solid treasure."—pp. 111, 112.

These, we think, are favourable specimens of wit, and of power of writing. The bad jokes, however, rather preponderate. There is one brought in, with much formality, about his suspicions of the dunces having stolen the lead off the roof of his coachhouse; and two or three absurd little anecdotes, which seem to have no pretensions to pleasantry-but that they are narratives, and have no serious meaning.

To pass from wit, however, to more serious matters, we find, in this volume, some very striking proofs of the extent and diligence of this author's miscellaneous reading, particularly in the lists and characters of the authors to whom he refers his friend as authorities for a history of the English constitution. In this part of his dialogues, indeed, it appears that Hurd has derived the whole of his learning, and most of his opinions, from Warburton. The following remarks on the continuation of Clarendon's History are good and liberal:

"Besides that business, and age, and misfortunes had perhaps sunk his spirit, the Continuation is not so properly the history of the first six years of Charles the Second, as an anxious apology for the share himself had in the administration. This has hurt the composition in several respects. Amongst others, he could not, with decency, allow his pen that scope in his delineation of the chief characters of the court, who were all his personal enemies, as he had done in that of the enemies to the King and monarchy in the grand rebellion. The endeavour to keep up a show of candour, and especially to prevent the appearance of a rancorous resentment, has deadened his colouring very much, besides that it made him sparing in the use of it; else, his inimitable pencil had attempted, at least, to do justice to Bennet, to Berkley, to Coventry, to the nightly cabal of facetious memory, to the Lady, and, if his excessive loyalty had not intervened. to his infamous master himself. With all this, I am apt to think there may still be something in what I said of the nature of the subject. Exquisite virtue and

enormous vice afford a fine field for the historian's genius. And hence Livy and Tacitus are, in their way, perhaps equally entertaining. But the little intrigues of a selfish court, about carrying, or defeating this or that measure, about displacing this and bringing in that minister, which interest nobody very much but the parties concerned, can hardly be made very striking by any ability of the relator. If Cardinal de Retz has succeeded, his scene was busier, and of a another nature from that of Lord Clarendon."-p. 217.

"As to the Archbishop, he was certainly a virtuous, pious, humane, and moderate man; which last quality was a kind of rarity in those times. I think the sermons published in his lifetime, are fine moral discourses. They bear, indeed, the character of their author,-simple, elegant, candid, clear, and rational. No orator, in the Greek and Roman sense of the word, like Taylor; nor a discourser, in their sense, like Barrow;-free from their irregularities, but not able to reach their heights; on which account, I prefer them infinitely to him. You cannot sleep with Taylor; you cannot forbear thinking with Barrow; but you may be much at your ease in the midst of a long lecture from Tilfotson, clear, and rational, and equable as he is. Perhaps the last quality may account for it." pp 93, 94. The following observations on the conduct of the comic drama were thrown out for Mr. Hurd's use, while composing his treatise. We think they deserve to be quoted, for their clearness and justness:

"I thank God that I can now, with some assur ance, congratulate with myself on the prospect of your Lordship's safe and speedy recovery from your sad disaster.

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Mrs. Warburton's last letter was a cordial to His account of Tillotson seems also to be me; and, as the ceasing of intense pain, so this fair and judicious. abatement of the fears I have been tormented with for three or four days past, gives a certain alacrity to my spirits, of which your Lordship may look to feel the effects, in a long letter!

"And now, supposing, as I trust I may do, that your Lordship will be in no great pain when you receive this letter, I am tempted to begin, as friends usually do when such accidents befal, with my reprehensions, rather than condolence. I have often wondered why your Lordship should not use a cane in your walks! which might haply have prevented this misfortune! especially considering that Hea. ven, I suppose the better to keep its sons in some sort of equality, has thought fit to make your out. ward sight by many degrees less perfect than your inward. Even I, a young and stout son of the church, rarely trust my firm steps into my garden, without some support of this kind! How improvident, then, was it in a father of the church to commit his unsteadfast footing to this hazard!"' &c. . p. 251. There are many pages written with the same vigour of sentiment and expression, and in the same tone of manly independence.

We have little more to say of this curious volume. Like all Warburton's writings, it bears marks of a powerful understanding and As a memorial of his peran active fancy. sonal character, it must be allowed to be at least faithful and impartial; for it makes us acquainted with his faults at least, as distinctly as with his excellences; and gives, indeed. the most conspicuous place to the former. It has few of the charms, however, of a collection of letters;-no anecdotes-no traits of simplicity or artless affection;-nothing of the softness, grace, or negligence of Cowper's correspondence and little of the lightness or the elegant prattlement of Pope's or Lady Mary Wortley's. The writers always appear busy, and even laborious persons, and persons who hate many people, and despise many more.-But they neither appear very happy, nor very amiable; and, at the end of the book, have excited no other interest in the reader, than as the authors of their respective publications.

"As those intricate Spanish plots have been in use, and have taken both with us and some French writers for the stage, and have much hindered the main end of Comedy, would it not be worth while to give them a word, as it would tend to the further illustration of your subject? On which you might observe, that when these unnatural plots are used, the mind is not only entirely drawn off from the characters by those surprising turns and revolutions, but characters have no opportunity even of being called out and displaying themselves; for the actors of all characters succeed and are embarrassed alike, when the instruments for carrying on designs are only perplexed apartments, dark entries, disguised habits, and ladders of ropes. The comic plot is, and must indeed be, carried on by deceit. The Spanish scene does it by deceiving the man through his senses;-Terence and Moliere, by deceiving him through his passions and affections. And this is the right way; for the character is not called out under the first species of deceit,-under the second, the character does all."-p. 57.

memory, we think it our duty to lay one of them at least before our readers. Warburton had slipped in his garden, and hurt his arm; whereupon thus inditeth the obsequious Dr.

Hurd:

There are a few of Bishop Hurd's own letters in this collection; and as we suppose they were selected with a view to do honour to his

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(November, 1811.)

Memoirs of the Political and Private Life of James Caulfield, Earl of Charlemont, Knight of St. Patrick, &c. &c. By FRANCIS HARDY, Esq., Member of the House of Commons in the three last Parliaments of Ireland. 4to. pp. 426. London: 1810.*

THIS is the life of a Gentleman, written by a Gentleman,—and, considering the tenor of many of our late biographies, this of itself is no slight recommendation. But it is, moreover, the life of one who stood foremost in the political history of Ireland for fifty years preceding her Union,-that is, for the whole period during which Ireland had a history or politics of her own-written by one who was a witness and a sharer in the scene, a man of fair talents and liberal views, and distinguished, beyond all writers on recent politics that we have yet met with, for the handsome and indulgent terms in which he speaks of his political opponents. The work is enlivened, too, with various anecdotes and fragments of the correspondence of persons eminent for talents, learning, and political services in both countries; and with a great number of characters, sketched with a very powerful, though somewhat too favourable hand, of almost all who distinguished themselves, during this momentous period, on the scene of Irish affairs.

From what we have now said, the reader will conclude that we think very favourably of this book: And we do think it both entertaining and instructive. But (for there is always a but in a Reviewer's praises) it has also its faults and imperfections; and these, alas! so great and so many, that it requires all the good nature we can catch by sympathy from the author, not to treat him now and then with a terrible and exemplary severity. He seems, in the first place, to have begun and ended his book, without ever forming an idea of the distinction between private and public history; and sometimes tells us stories about Lord Charlemont, and about people who were merely among his accidental acquaintance, far too long to find a place even in a biographical memoir;-and sometimes enlarges upon matters of general history, with which Lord Charlemont has no other connection, than that they happened during his life, with a minuteness which would not be tolerated in a professed annalist. The biography again is broken, not only by large patches of historical matter, but by miscellaneous reflections, and anecdotes of all manner of persons; while, in the historical part, he successively makes the most unreasonable presumptions on the reader's knowledge, his ignorance, and his curiosity,-overlaying him, at one time,

with anxious and uninteresting details, and, at another, omitting even such general and summary notices of the progress of events as are necessary to connect his occasional narratives and reflections.

The most conspicuous and extraordinary of his irregularities, however, is that of his style-which touches upon all the extremes of composition, almost in every page, or every paragraph;-or rather, is entirely made up of those extremes, without ever resting for an instant in a medium, or affording any pause for softening the effects of its contrasts and transitions. Sometimes, and indeed most frequently, it is familiar, loose, and colloquial, beyond the common pitch of serious conversation; at other times by far too figurative, rhetorical, and ambitious, for the sober tone of history. The whole work indeed bears more resemblance to the animated and versatile talk of a man of generous feelings and excitable imagination, than the mature production of an author who had diligently corrected his manuscript for the press, with the fear of the public before his eyes. There is a spirit about the work, however,-independent of the spirit of candour and indulgence of which we have already spoken,-which redeems many of its faults; and, looking upon it in the light of a memoir by an intelligent contemporary, rather than a regular history or profound dissertation, we think that its value will not be injured by a comparison with any work of this description that has been recently offered to the public.

The part of the work which relates to Lord Charlemont individually, though by no means the least interesting, at least in its adjuncts and digressions,-may be digested into a short summary. He was born in Ireland in 1728; and received a private education, under a succession of preceptors, of various merit and assiduity. In 1746 he went abroad, without having been either at a public school or an university; and yet appears to have been earlier distinguished, both for scholarship and polite manners, than most of the ingenuous youths that are turned out by these celebrated seminaries. He remained on the Continent no less than nine years; in the course of which, he extended his travels to Greece, Turkey, and Egypt; and formed an intimate and friendly acquaintance with the celebrated David Hume, whom he met both at Turin and Paris-the President Montesquieu--the Marchese Maffei--Cardinal Albani

tion of one brief reference to the revolution of 1782. which I retain chiefly to introduce a remarkable letter of Mr. Fox's on the formation and principles of the new government, of that

I reprint only those parts of this paper which relate to the personal history of Lord Charlemont, and some of his contemporaries with the excepLord Rockingham-the Duc de Nivernois— and various other eminent persons. He had rather a dislike to the French national character; though he admired their literature, and the general politeness of their manners.

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In 1755 he returned to his native country, at the age of twenty-eight; an object of interest and respect to all parties, and to all individuals of consequence in the kingdom. His intimacy with Lord John Cavendish naturally disposed him to be on a good footing with his brother, who was then Lord Lieutenant; and "the outset of his politics," as he has himself observed, "gave reason to suppose that his life would be much more courtly than it proved to be." The first scene of profligacy and court intrigue, however, which he witnessed, determined him to act a more manly part "to be a Freeman," as Mr. Hardy says, "in the purest sense of the word, opposing the court or the people indiscriminately, whenever he saw them adopting erroneous or mischievous opinions." To this resolution, his biographer adds, that he had the virtue and firmness to adhere; and the consequence was, that he was uniformly in opposition to the court for the long remainder of his life!

which his youth had been delighted, and those patriotic duties to which he had devoted his middle age. The sittings of the Irish Academy, over which he presided from its first foundation, were frequently held at Charlemont House ;-and he always extended the most munificent patronage to the professors of art, and the kindest indulgence to youthfu! talents of every description. His health had declined gradually from about the year 1790; and he died in August 1799,-esteemed and regretted by all who had had any opportunity of knowing him, in public or in private, as a friend or as an opponent.-Such is the sure reward of honourable sentiments, and mild and steady principles!

To this branch of the history belongs a considerable part of the anecdotes and characters with which the book is enlivened; and, in a particular manner, those which Mr. Hardy has given, in Lord Charlemont's own words, from the private papers and memoirs which have been put into his hands. His Lordship appears to have kept a sort of journal of every thing interesting that befel him through life, and especially during his long residence on the Continent. From this document Mr. Hardy has made copious extracts, in the earlier part of his narrative; and the general style of them is undoubtedly very creditable to the noble author, a little tedious, perhaps, now and then,-and generally a little too studiously and maturely composed, for the private memoranda of a young man of talents ;-but always in the style and tone of a gentleman, and with a character of rationality, and calm indulgent benevolence, that is infinitely more pleasing than sallies of sarcastic wit, or periods of cold-blooded speculation.

Though very regular in his attendance on the Irish Parliament, he always had a house in London, where he passed a good part of the winter, till 1773; when feelings of patriotism and duty induced him to transfer his residence almost entirely to Ireland. The polish of his manners, however, and the kindness of his disposition, his taste for literature and the arts, and the unsuspected purity and firmness of his political principles, had before this time secured him the friendship of almost all the distinguished men who adorned England at this period. With Mr. Fox, Mrs. Burke, and Mr. Beauclerk-Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr. Johnson, Sir William Chalmers-and many others of a similar character-he was always particularly intimate. During the Lieutenancy of the Earl of Northumberland, in 1772, One of the first characters that appears on he was, without any solicitation, advanced to the scene, is our excellent countryman, the the dignity of an Earl; and was very much celebrated David Hume, whom Lord Charledistinguished and consulted during the short mont first met with at Turin, in the year 1750: period of the Rockingham administration;--and of whom he has given an account rather though neither at that time, nor at any other, more entertaining, we believe, than accurate. invested with any official situation. In 1768, We have no doubt, however, that it records he married; and in 1780, he was chosen Gene- with perfect fidelity the impression which he ral of the Irish Volunteers, and conducted him- then received from the appearance and conself in that delicate and most important com-versation of that distinguished philosopher. mand, with a degree of temper and judgment, But, with all our respect for Lord Charlemont, liberality and firmness, which we have no we cannot allow a young Irish Lord, on his doubt contributed, more than any thing else, first visit at a foreign court, to have been preboth to the efficacy and the safety of that most cisely the person most capable of appreciating perilous but necessary experiment. The rest the value of such a man as David Hume;of his history is soon told. He was the early and though there is a great fund of truth in patron and the constant friend of Mr. Grat- the following observations, we think they ilian; and was the means of introducing the lustrate the character and condition of the Single-Speech Hamilton to the acquaintance person who makes them, fully as much as of Mr. Burke. Though very early disposed to that of him to whom they are applied. relieve the Catholics from a part of their disabilities, he certainly was doubtful of the pru-unlike his real character than David Hume. The dence, or propriety, of their more recent pre-powers of physiognomy were baffled by his countetensions. He was from first to last a zealous,nance; nor could the most skilful in that science, active, and temperate advocate for parlia-pretend to discover the smallest trace of the faculmentary reform. He was averse to the Legis-ties of his mind, in the unmeaning features of his lative Union with Great Britain. He was uni- visage. His face was broad and fat, his mouth formly steady to his principles, and faithful wide, and without any other expression than that to his friends; and seems to have divided the the corpulence of his whole person was far better of imbecility. His eyes, vacant and spiritless; and latter part of his life pretty equally between fitted to communicate the idea of a turtle-eating althose elegant studies of literature and art by derman, than of a refined philosopher. His speech,

Nature, I believe, never formed any man more

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in English, was rendered ridiculous by the broadest Scotch accent; and his French was, if possible, still more laughable; so that wisdom, most certainly, never disguised herself before in so uncouth a garb. Though now near fifty years old he was healthy and strong; but his health and strength, far from being advantageous to his figure, instead of manly comeliness, had only the appearance of rusticity. His wearing an uniform added greatly to his natural awkwardness; for he wore it like a grocer of the trained bands. Sinclair was a lieutenant-general, and was sent to the courts of Vienna and Turin as a military envoy, to see that their quota of troops was furnished by the Austrians and Piedmontese. It was therefore thought necessary that his secretary should appear to be an officer; and Hume was accordingly disguised in scarlet.

ever showed a mind more truly beneficent than Hume's whole conduct with regard to Rousseau. That story is too well known to be repeated; and exhibits a striking picture of Hume's heart, whilst displays the strange and unaccountable vanity and madness of the French, or rather Swiss moralist. When first they arrived together from France, happening to meet with Hume in the Park, I wished him joy of his pleasing connection; and particularly! hinted, that I was convinced he must be perfectly happy in his new friend, as their religious opinions were, I believed, nearly similar. Why no, man,' said he, in that you are mistaken. Rousseau is not what you think him. He has a hankering after the Bible; and, indeed, is little better than a Christian, in a way of his own!'"-p. 120.

66

Having thus given an account of his exterior, it is but fair that I should state my good opinion of his character. Of all the philosophers of his sect, none, I believe, ever joined more real benevolence to its mischievous principles than my friend Hume. His love to mankind was universal, and vehement; and there was no service he would not cheerfully have done to his fellow-creatures, excepting only that of suffering them to save their own souls in their own way. He was tender-hearted, friendly, and charitable in the extreme."-pp. 8, 9.

"In London, where he often did me the honour to communicate the manuscripts of his additional Essays, before their publication, I have sometimes, in the course of our intimacy, asked him, whether he thought that, if his opinions were universally to take place, mankind would not be rendered more unhappy than they now were; and whether he did not suppose, that the curb of religion was necessary to human nature? The objections,' answered he, ' are not without weight; but error never in produce good; and truth ought to take place of all considerations.' He never failed, indeed, in the midst of any controversy, to give its due praise to every thing tolerable that was either said or written against him. His sceptical turn made him doubt, and consequently dispute, every thing; yet was he a fair and pleasant disputant. He heard with patience, and answered without acrimony. Neither his more scrupulous companions. His good sense, was his conversation at any time offensive, even to and good nature, prevented his saying any thing that was likely to shock; and it was not till he was provoked to argument, that, in mixed companies, he entered into his favourite topics."-p. 123.

His Lordship then tells a story in illustration of the philosopher's benevolence, which we have no other reason for leaving out-but that we know it not to be true; and concludes a little dissertation on the pernicious effects of his doctrines, with the following little anecdote; of the authenticity of which also, we should entertain some doubts, did it not seem to have fallen within his own personal knowledge.

"He once professed himself the admirer of a young, most beautiful, and accomplished lady, at Turin, who only laughed at his passion. One day he addressed her in the usual common-place strain, that he was abimé, anéanti-Oh! pour anéanti,' replied the lady, 'ce n'est en effet qu'une opération très-naturelle de votre systême.'"-p. 10.

The following passages are from a later part of the journal: but indicate the same turn of mind in the observer:

ner,

"Hume's fashion at Paris, when he was there as Secretary to Lord Hertford, was truly ridiculous; and nothing ever marked in a more striking manthe whimsical genius of the French. No man, from his manners, was surely less formed for their society, or less likely to meet with their approbation; but that flimsy philosophy which pervades and deadens even their most licentious novels, was then the folly of the day. Freethinking and English frocks were the fashion, and the Anglomanie was the ton du pais. From what has been already said of him, it is apparent that his conversation to strangers, and particularly to Frenchmen, could be little delightful; and still more particularly, one would suppose to Frenchwomen. And yet, no lady's toilette was complete without Hume's attendance! At the opera, his broad, unmeaning face was usually seen entre deux jolis minois. The ladies in France give the ton, and the ton, at this time, was deism; a species of philosophy ill suited to the softer sex, in whose delicate frame weakness is interesting, and timidity a charm. But the women in France were deists, as with us they were charioteers. How my friend Hume was able to endure the encounter of those French female Titans, I know not. In England, either his philosophic pride, or his conviction that infidelity was ill suited to women, made him always averse from the initiation of ladies into the mysteries of his doctrine." pp. 121, 122.

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Nothing," adds his Lordship, in another place,

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Another of the eminent persons of whom Lord Charlemont has recorded his impressions in his own hand, was the celebrated Montesquieu; of whose acquaintance he says, and with some reason, he was more vain, than of having seen the pyramids of Egypt. He and another English gentleman paid their first visit to him at his seat near Bourdeaux; and the following is the account of their introduction:

"The first appointment with a favourite mistress could not have rendered our night more restless than this flattering invitation; and the next morning we set out so early, that we arrived at his villa before he was risen. The servant showed us into his library; where the first object of curiosity that presented itself was a table, at which he had apparently been reading the night before, a book lying upon it open, turned down, and a lamp extinguished. Eager to know the nocturnal studies of this great philosopher, we immediately flew to the book. It was a volume of Ovid's Works, containing his Elegies; and open at one of the most gallant poems of that master of love! Before we could overcome our surprise, it was greatly increased by the entrance of the president, whose appearance and manner was totally opposite to the idea which we had formed to ourselves of him. Instead of a grave, austere philosopher, whose presence might strike with awe such boys as we were, the person who now addressed us, was a gay, polite, sprightly Frenchman; who, after a thousand genteel compliments, and a thousand thanks for the honour we had done him, desired to know whether we would not breakfast; and, upon our declining the offer, having already eaten at an inn not far from the house, Come, then,' says he, 'let us walk; the day is fine, and I long to show you my villa, as I have endeavoured to form it according to the EngI lish taste, and to cultivate and dress it in the English

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