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the day that La Trobe called, "Mr. Hoole read prayers to Johnson, and a male congregation of friends." In fact, every incident connected with the visit, is circumstantially disproved. Of the letters of Mr. Winstanley, unless some better evidence be in the possession of our author of such a correspondence having passed between his ancestor and Dr. Johnson, we cannot but regard it as more than doubtful, considering the minute accounts we have of every minute of Dr. Johnson's time, and every movement of his during those last days. The slight evidence that satisfies families on such occasions, in almost anything that in the slightest degree interests their vanity, must be so familiar to every one, that we are not surprised at our author's credulity, if it ultimately appear that he has no additional evidence to produce on the subject.

A short time before his death, Johnson asked Dr. Brocklesby, his physician, as a man in whom he had confidence, to tell him plainly whether he would recover. "Give me," said he, " a direct answer." The doctor, having first asked him if he could bear the entire truth, declared, that in his opinion, without a miracle, he could not reCover. "Then," said Johnson, "I will take no more physic-not even my opiates; for I have prayed that I may render up my soul to God unclouded." For a while, in pursuance of this resolution, he took only the weakest kind of sustenance.

He was

He

told this was likely to have the very effect he dreaded; and he then said, "I will take anything but inebriating sustenance." Mr. Strahan and Mr. Hoole attended him to the last. asked Hoole to write down Reynolds's compliance with three bequests which he solemnly made of him—" To forgive him thirty pounds which he had borrowed of him, to read the Bible, and never to use his pencil on a Sunday." Boswell gives us a memorandum of Brocklesby:-"For some time before his death all his fears were calmed and absorbed by the prevalence of his faith and his trust in the merits and propitiation of Jesus Christ. He talked often to me about the necessity of faith in the sacrifice of Jesus, as necessary beyond all good

works whatever, for the salvation of mankind. He pressed me to study Dr. Clarke, and to read his sermons. I asked him why he pressed Dr. Clarke, an Arian. Because,' said he, he is fullest on the propitiatory sacrifice.'

We have transcribed these passages from Boswell for the purpose of showing how deeply and how truly impressed with religious hope Johnson was at the close of life. It has become necessary, because any fact, supported by doubtful evidence, is very apt to share the fate of the evidence, and be itself disbelieved. We think it highly likely that some tradition of a letter from Johnson to Winstanley has been preserved in Winstanley's family; and that the tradition has gradually increased till the story has assumed its present dimensions. The letter is not said to have been shown to any one, but is referred to as repeated by Mr. Storey to Hannah More. Does the letter exist? Does any one exist who has it? Has any one ever seen it? A second letter is mentioned from the same Mr. Winstanley to Dr. Johnson-does any one know anything about it? Two letters are said to have been written to Winstanley, by Johnson's desire-one by Sir John Hawkins-are these preserved? If there be any family tradition of these matters, we trust our author will have the opportunity of telling us in some future edition of his " "pleasant and profitable" book.

And now we cannot lay down the volume without saying, that it contains great variety of matter that will be to many very entertaining. The author, too, has great admiration for Johnson, out of which feeling his book has grown. We think it probable, from the tone of many of the discussions, that he is a clergyman, but not to be described as belonging to any party in the Church. He is plainly an amiable man, whose leisure is occupied with studies in which he seems to find great enjoyment. We transcribe his graceful conclusion:

"And now, gentle reader, we must come to a close. Adam Clarke, in speaking of a small town in the Land's End, in Cornwall, tells us that, on the sign of an inn, as you come from the Land's End, are these words

Croker's Boswell, 807.

'The first inn in England;' and on the reverse are the following- The last inn in England.' Reader! you will soon have come from first to last in this my book, wherein I trust you have not been wearily detained; at all events, let me hope that your duty hath pardoned any want of entertainment in my efforts; for, as has been said, 'Personal gratitude, and personal affection to the good and great who have closed their scene upon earth, are elevated sentiments. They are debts of honour to the departed spirit.' But, reader, you will soon have passed from first to last in your mortal career; and while you derive, throughout your course on earth, much instruction from Dr. Johnson's life and writings, may you have a fair hope of the mercy of God in your entrance upon eternity!

"Let me conclude with Dr. Johnson's own words. 'There are few things,' he writes in the last number of his Idler, 'not purely

evil, of which we can say, without some emotion of uneasiness, this is the last. Those who never could agree together, shed tears when mutual discontent has determined them to final separation of a place which has been frequently visited, though without pleasure, the last look is taken with heaviness of heart. . . . The termination of any period of life reminds us that life itself has likewise its termination: when we have done anything for the last time, we involuntarily reflect that a part of the days allotted us is past, and that as more is past there is less remaining.'

"So is it with the author in writing a book-so is it with the reader in reading it! And to all men there is a time when it must be said then cometh the end."

To Johnson and to Boswell we must on some future day return.

HOPE.

I.

A fairy sprite, with wing of gold,

Paused on a headland proud and steep,
When morning's sun his beams unrolled;
And far below, wild, dark, and deep,
The waters heaved their waves in pride,
And onward to destruction flew,

With gloom and rage, as in full tide

The demons stormed heaven's towers anew;
And while her harp beside she strung,
"Twas thus the wandering spirit sung.

II.

I take my rest in fairy bower,

Where budding trees are waving o'er,
And wreathed around each loveliest flower
That ever Nymph or Dryad wore ;

The chaste moon goes upon her way,

To guard the earth, and light the sky;

The silvery clouds around her play,

Bright with the beams of majesty;

Heaven's countless stars with radiance glow
And ocean murmurs calm below.

III.

Ere morning's cherub at dawn awakes,

Or shakes to the sun her radiant wings,

When the song of prayer from the forest breaks,
And earth her tribute of incense flings,

I gather the pearls that shining sleep
In violet, rose, and lily pale,

From fairest flowers, that lowly weep
In lone recesses of the vale;

I deck my crown with each bright gem,
To form my worshipper's diadem.

VOL. XXXVI.-NO. CCXIV.

2 K

the day that La Trobe called, "Mr. Hoole read prayers to Johnson, and a male congregation of friends." In fact, every incident connected with the visit, is circumstantially disproved. Of the letters of Mr. Winstanley, unless some better evidence be in the possession of our author of such a correspondence having passed between his ancestor and Dr. Johnson, we cannot but regard it as more than doubtful, considering the minute accounts we have of every minute of Dr. Johnson's time, and every movement of his during those last days. The slight evidence that satisfies families on such occasions, in almost anything that in the slightest degree interests their vanity, must be so familiar to every one, that we are not surprised at our author's credulity, if it ultimately appear that he has no additional evidence to produce on the subject.

A short time before his death, Johnson asked Dr. Brocklesby, his physician, as a man in whom he had confidence, to tell him plainly whether he would recover. "Give me," said he, "a direct answer. The doctor, having first asked him if he could bear the entire truth, declared, that in his opinion, without a miracle, he could not recover. "Then," said Johnson, "I will take no more physic-not even my opiates; for I have prayed that I may render up my soul to God unclouded." For a while, in pursuance of this resolution, he took only the weakest kind of sustenance. He was told this was likely to have the very effect he dreaded; and he then said, "I will take anything but inebriating sustenance." Mr. Strahan and Mr. Hoole attended him to the last. asked Hoole to write down Reynolds's compliance with three bequests which he solemnly made of him" To for give him thirty pounds which he had borrowed of him, to read the Bible, and never to use his pencil on a Sunday." Boswell gives us a memorandum of Brocklesby:66 For some time

He

before his death all his fears were calmed and absorbed by the prevalence of his faith and his trust in the merits and propitiation of Jesus Christ. He talked often to me about the necessity of faith in the sacrifice of Jesus, as necessary beyond all good

*

works whatever, for the salvation of mankind. He pressed me to study Dr. Clarke, and to read his sermons. I asked him why he pressed Dr. Clarke, an Arian. Because,' said he, 'he is fullest on the propitiatory sacrifice.""

We have transcribed these passages from Boswell for the purpose of showing how deeply and how truly impressed with religious hope Johnson was at the close of life. It has become necessary, because any fact, supported by doubtful evidence, is very apt to share the fate of the evidence, and be itself disbelieved. We think it highly likely that some tradition of a letter from Johnson to Winstanley has been preserved in Winstanley's family; and that the tradition has gradually increased till the story has assumed its present dimensions. The letter is not said to have been shown to any one, but is referred to as repeated by Mr. Storey to Hannah More. Does the letter exist? Does any one exist who has it? Has any one ever seen it? A second letter is mentioned from the same Mr. Winstanley to Dr. Johnson-does any one know anything about it? Two letters are said to have been written to Winstanley, by Johnson's desire-one by Sir John Hawkins-are these preserved? If there be any family tradition of these matters, we trust our author will have the opportunity of telling us in some future edition of his " "pleasant and profitable" book.

And now we cannot lay down the volume without saying, that it contains great variety of matter that will be to many very entertaining. The author, too, has great admiration for Johnson, out of which feeling his book has grown. We think it probable, from the tone of many of the discussions, that he is a clergyman, but not to be described as belonging to any party in the Church. He is plainly an amiable man, whose leisure is occupied with studies in which he seems to find great enjoyment. We transcribe his graceful conclusion :

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"And now, gentle reader, we must come to a close. Adam Clarke, in speaking of a small town in the Land's End, in Cornwall, tells us that, on the sign of an inn, as you come from the Land's End, are these words

Croker's Boswell, 807.

The first iun in England;' and on the reverse are the following- The last inn in England.' Reader! you will soon have come from first to last in this my book, wherein I trust you have not been wearily detained; at all events, let me hope that your duty hath pardoned any want of entertainment in my efforts; for, as has been said, 'Personal gratitude, and personal affection to the good and great who have closed their scene upon earth, are elevated sentiments. They are debts of honour to the departed spirit.' But, reader, you will soon have passed from first to last in your mortal career; and while you derive, throughout your course on earth, much instruction from Dr. Johnson's life and writings, may you have a fair hope of the mercy of God in your entrance upon eternity!

"Let me conclude with Dr. Johnson's own words. 'There are few things,' he writes in the last number of his Idler, 'not purely

evil, of which we can say, without some emotion of uneasiness, this is the last. Those who never could agree together, shed tears when mutual discontent has determined them to final separation of a place which has been frequently visited, though without pleasure, the last look is taken with heaviness of heart. The termination of any period of life reminds us that life itself has likewise its termination: when we have done anything for the last time, we involuntarily reflect that a part of the days allotted us is past, and that as more is past there is less remaining.'

"So is it with the author in writing a book-so is it with the reader in reading it! And to all men there is a time when it must be said then cometh the end."

To Johnson and to Boswell we must on some future day return.

HOPE.

I.

A fairy sprite, with wing of gold,

Paused on a headland proud and steep,
When morning's sun his beams unrolled;
And far below, wild, dark, and deep,
The waters heaved their waves in pride,
And onward to destruction flew,

With gloom and rage, as in full tide

The demons stormed heaven's towers anew; And while her harp beside she strung, 'Twas thus the wandering spirit sung.

II.

I take my rest in fairy bower,

Where budding trees are waving o'er,
And wreathed around each loveliest flower
That ever Nymph or Dryad wore;

The chaste moon goes upon her way,

To guard the earth, and light the sky;

The silvery clouds around her play,

Bright with the beams of majesty ;
Heaven's countless stars with radiance glow
And ocean murmurs calm below.

III.

Ere morning's cherub at dawn awakes,

Or shakes to the sun her radiant wings,
When the song of prayer from the forest breaks,
And earth her tribute of incense flings,

I gather the pearls that shining sleep
In violet, rose, and lily pale,

From fairest flowers, that lowly weep
In lone recesses of the vale;

I deck my crown with each bright gem,
To form my worshipper's diadem.

VOL. XXXVI.-NO. CCXIV.

2 K

IV.

The beam that gilds the snowy peak,
And darts within the sparkling billow,
That lights the heaven with glowing streak,
When earth wakes from her nightly pillow,
I treasure up in golden urn,

And there the sweets of morning bring,
Pure as the flames that ever burn

Where holiest to Jehovah sing;
I woo from the bright soul of air
The light his golden pinions bear.

The holy look of gladsome earth,
Like the sweet smile of infancy,
Ere clamours break upon her mirth,
And the battle of daily life runs high,
Is mine; and from the ocean's breast,
Eternal, glorious, and sublime,
I catch a beam for my own behest-

A ray that withers not with time;
From forest's song of prayer and love,
A dream of brighter lands above.

VI.

From all earth has of grand and fair,

From all her deeds of deathless fame,
From sparkling seas that onward bear
To glory's rest the warrior's name,
The hero's deed, the poet's song,

I catch a light long ages see;
While youthful aspirations throng,
For such bright immortality,
As, gazing on the golden skies,
The poet's deathless hopes arise.

VII.

And from the ancients' sacred dust,
Where fame her watch of ages keeps,

I bring a holier, brighter trust

A lofty dream that onward sweeps;

From spangled regions, where heaven's queen Sleeps dovelike in her silver rays,

From sunset's rich and glorious sheen,

From morning's bright and dazzling blaze;

From flowers below and stars above,

I deck my crown of truth and love.

VIII.

I paused at weeping Beauty's bower,

Her eye was dim, her cheek was pale,

Despair dragged on the weary hour,

Faint rose her sigh upon the gale; Unto her lip my bowl I gave,

The soul is sparkling in her eye;

She raised her from love's imaged grave,

And looked up to the spangled sky

"It is not, no, it cannot be !

Fate dares not sever thee and me!

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