been a very stupid one, or the decease of the aged and venerable poet must have been studiously concealed from them.

In presenting a general view of the character of Dr. Young, assisted by the brief and scattered notices of him which history has preserved, we may first mention, as very prominent, that melancholy disposition which is usually characteristic of poetic genius, but which, as in Cowper and Henry Kirke White, and others, occasionally alternated with a gay and buoyant frame of mind. The melancholy temperament caused him in his solitary walks to select the church-yard in preference to a more cheering scene: and also to prefer a solitary to a social ramble. While he excelled in conversation and occasionally indulged in mirth and lively satire, he loved to meditate for hours in uninterrupted solitude. Nor is this surprising when we discover the admirable results of those meditative hours. They must have proved hours of the richest luxury.

The turn of his mind (says the Annual Register) was naturally solemn; and he usually, when at home in the country, spent many hours of the day walking in his own church-yard among the tombs. His conversation, his writings, had all a reference to the life after this; and this turn of disposition mixed itself even with his improvements in gardening. He had, for instance, an alcove painted as if with a bench to repose on. Upon coming up near it, however, the deception was perceived, and this motto appeared :—

"Invisibilia non decipiunt,"

the meaning of which is," The things unseen do not deceive us." Yet, notwithstanding this gloominess of temper, he was fond of innocent sports and amusements: he instituted an assembly and a bowling green in the parish of which he was rector, and often promoted the gaiety of the company in person. His wit was generally piquant, and ever levelled at those who testified any contempt for decency and religion.

His melancholy turn of mind is further discovered in a passage in one of his earliest poems, "The Last Day," where he denominates his muse "The Melancholy Maid,"

"Whom dismal scenes delight,

Frequent at tombs, and in the realms of night."

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But his melancholy was so modified by science, philosophy, and reli gion, that it was never allowed to infringe upon the sober duties and realities of life. It did not render him indifferent to the interests and welfare of society. He appeared among his acquaintance "neither as a man of sorrow," nor yet as a fellow of infinite jest." We are informed that the dignity of a great and good man appeared in all his actions and in all his words; that when he conversed on religious subjects his manner was cheerful and happy; that, as in his writings, death, futurity, judgment, and the everlasting state were his common topics. His piety was neither enthusiastic nor gloomy. In the performance of all the public and private duties of religion he was regular and constant.

It may aid us, perhaps, in discovering the lights and shades of Young's character to introduce some shrewd observations of Beattie, the sweet poet of Scotland. He says :—

"When I first read Young my heart was broken to think of the poor man's afflictions. Afterwards I took it into my head that where there was so much lamentation there could not be excessive suffering; and I could not help applying to him sometimes these lines of a song,

"Believe me the shepherd but fayns
He's wretched to show he has wit."

On talking with some of Dr. Young's friends in England, I have since found that my conjectures were right; for that while he was composing the "Night Thoughts" he was really as cheerful as any other man."

A satisfactory explanation of this apparent incongruity we have found in Boswell's Life of Johnson, in the account which he furnishes of an interview had by himself and Dr. J. with the son of Dr. Young at the old homestead after the decease of his father. Boswell having observed to Mr. Young that he had been informed that his father was a cheerful man, the latter answered :-" Sir, he was too well-bred a man not to be cheerful in company, but he was gloomy when alone. He never was cheerful after my mother's death, and he had met with many disappointments."

An instance at once of his pensive turn of mind and his cheerful

ness of temper in society is found in a playful incident which he related to a friend when walking in his garden. "Here," said he, "I had put a handsome sun-dial with this inscription Eheu fugaces! which (speaking with a smile) was sadly and promptly verified, for by the next morning my dial had been carried off."

In his domestic and private character he was as amiable, as in his religious character he was venerable. One who knew him intimately gives us this interesting account of him :-"His politeness was such as I never saw equalled: it was invariable. To his superiors in rank, to his equals, and to his inferiors, it differed only in the degrees of elegance. I never heard him speak with roughness to his meanest servant: yet he well knew how to keep up his dignity, and, with all the majesty of superior worth, to repress the bold and the forward. In conversation upon lively subjects, he had a brilliancy of wit which was peculiar to himself. I know not how to describe it, but by saying, that it was both heightened and softened by the great and the amiable qualities of his soul. I have seen him ill and in pain, yet the serenity of his mind remained unruffled. I never heard a peevish expression fall from his lips; nor was he, at such times, less kindly and politely attentive to those around him, than when in the company of strangers, who came only to visit him for the first time."

A similar testimony is borne to him as a man and a companion, by Dr. Warton, who knew him well. He describes him as one of the most amiable and benevolent of men; most exemplary in his life and sincere in his religion; in conversation none said more brilliant things. Lord Melcombe, who was an excellent judge of wit and humour, says that when Young and Voltaire visited him at Eastbury, the English poet was far superior to the French in the variety and novelty of his bons mots and repartees. Tscharner, a noble foreigner, having spent four days with Dr. Young, in a letter to Count Haller, states that, at Welwyn, the author tastes all the ease and pleasure man can desire; that everything about him shows the man, each individnal being placed by rule; that all is neat, without art; that he is very agreeable in conversation, and extremely polite.

His well known epigram on Voltaire may here be quoted as an

instance of his indulgence in the sallies of wit, though it may be regarded also as an example of his habitual indignation against indecency and irreligion. These were ever condemned in unmeasured tones by his satiric muse. Voltaire, when in England, had, in his presence, ridiculed Milton's allegory of Sin and Death; upon

which Young, jealous of the reputation of his countryman, extemporaneously replied:

"Thou art so witty, profligate, and thin,

Thou seem'st a Milton with his Death and Sin."

His satires abound in similar effusions of wit and humour, directed against the folly of being devoted to Fashion, and of aiming to appear what we are not. Some selections will serve to illustrate our author's aptitude for creating this kind of entertainment.

"The Court affords

Much food for satire: it abounds in lords,
'What lords are those saluting with a grin?
One is just out, and one as lately in.
'How comes it then to pass we see preside
On both their brows an equal share of pride??
Pride, that impartial passion, reigns through all
Attends our glory, nor deserts our fall."

Speaking of some who strive to appear gay and happy, through the impulses of ambition, while their real circumstances in life prompt far other feelings, he says:

"Hence aching bosoms wear a visage gay,
And stifled groans frequent the ball and play.
Completely dup'd by Monteuil and grimace.
They take their birth-day suit, and public face:
Their smiles are only part of what they wear,
Put off at night with Lady Bristol's hair.
What bodily fatigue is half so bad?

With anxious care they labor to be glad."

The low and unintellectual partialities of some men are thus characterized :—

"The dunghill-breed of men a diamond scorn

And feel a passion for a grain of corn :—

Some stupid, plodding, money-loving wight,

Who wins their hearts by knowing black from white,
Who with much pains, exerting all his sense,

Can range aright his shillings, pounds, and pence."

Extravagant professions of love, in courtship, are thus satirised.

"Phillis and her Damon met.

Eternal love exactly hits her taste:
Phillis demands eternal love at least.
Embracing Phillis with soft-smiling eyes.
Eternal love I vow the swain replies:
But say, my all, my mistress and my friend!
What day next week th' eternity shall end?"

Of the fair sex he produces several sketches which abound in wit and humor. We have space for only two or three.

"Lemira's sick; make haste; the doctor call:

He comes; but, where's his patient? at the ball.

The doctor stares; her woman curtsies low,
And cries, My lady, sir, is always so:

Diversions put her maladies to flight;

True she can't stand, but she can dance all night.
I've known my lady (for she loves a tune)
For fevers take an opera in June:

And, though perhaps you'll think the practice bold,
A midnight park is sovereign for a cold :
With colics breakfasts of green fruit agree;
With indigestions, supper just at three.'
A strange alternative, replies Sir Hans,
Must women have a doctor or a dance?
Though sick to death, abroad they safely roam,
But droop and die, in perfect health, at home:
For want-but not of health, are ladies ill;
And tickets cure beyond the doctor's bill "

"Fair Isabella is so fond of fame,

That her dear self is her eternal theme:

Through hopes of contradiction oft she'll say

Methinks I look so wretchedly to-day!" "

The only apology for occupying so much space with the foregoing quotations is the desire to convey to those who have not read his