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The just ideas, and varied improvements, introduced by Kent, and fince perfected by Brown, have adorned many parts of England with exquilite beauty. Upon the whole, towards the end of king George the Second's reign, the professors of the fine arts, and the lovers and judges of them were encreasing ; exhibitions of pictures were begun under the auspices of the Premium Society; and the way was prea paring for the noble revolution that was afterwards accomplished, and which will form one of the most pleafing subjects of our future history.

• Our survey of things, brief as it was intended to be, would he imperfect, if we did not take some notice of the distinguished figure made by the writers in Scotland during this period, and especially in the latter part of it, when a wonderful ardour for literary eminence, and elegant compofition, animated the gentlemen who ina habited that division of the united kingdoms. In philosophy we have already mentioned Maelaurin; and Simpson might be added in mathematics. Blackwell might justly bave been celebrated for his depth in antient literature, if he had not disgraced it by pedantry and affectation. The Scottilh authors have particularly applied themselves to metaphysical difquifitions, and the cultivation of sentimental ethics. The turn begun by Hutchinson was greatly improved, and appears ed in many ingenious productions, by which the knowledge of the principles and affections of the human mind has been highly promoted. When we fpecify Hume, Lord Kaims, Reid, and Adam Sinichy we speak of them only historically, without confidering how far their respective fystems are founded in truth. Neither do we enter into the question, whether the English Hartley may, in any respect, have been more successful in explaining the mental constitution. The progrefs of society and manners hath, likewife, been deeply investigated by the writers of North Britain, and several of their works of this kind will hereafter be noticed. We should remember, also, that to North Britain we are indebted for Hume and Robertson, our two classic historians. Arbuthnot and: Thomson were natives of that country, though they refided wholly in England. In short, Scotland had its full share in contributing to the literary glory of the age.

"Nor is Ireland to be forgotten in our present survey. Ireland can boast of her Swift and her Berkley : Ireland can say that, in liberal Theology, she hath produced an Abernetly, a Clayton, and a Leland; and that we owe to her another Leland, the translator of Demofthenes, and the historian of Philip of Macedon. It may be added in her favour, that the hath adorned England with fome eminent names that will occur in the prosecution of our design,

In reflecting upon the period we have thus briefly described, we perceive it to have been an active and busy one, with regard to the cultivation of knowledge and literature. A vast number of important subjects were discussed in it, and the discussion of the effected a great revolution in the sentiments of the kingdom. Extraordinary tight was thrown on the very first objects that can demand the attention of man. Human reason, on the whole, was much improved,


and a candid and enlarged turn of thinking increased. It wasa peculiarly agreeable circumstance that the Itate of things was progressive; since the latter part of the reign of King George II, was not only fplendid in arins and commerce, but in the rising situation of every liberal art. What hath been the subsequent condition of science

, learning, and taste; what improvements have been made in them; what changes have taken place; and what have become the prę: vailing opinions and literary pursuits of the present, will, in the course of our undertaking, be the subjects of distinct and particular enquiry. our underte

It has been conjectured that the publication before us is superintended by Dr. Kippis ; and that a large proportion of it is of his compofition. We pretend not to know whe ther this be exaetly the case : but we can assure the public, that the work is by no means unworthy of the pen and reputation of Dr. Kippis, and we hope that it will be continued with the fame diligence ability, and candour which have bitherto diftingujihed it.

ART. X L Ami des Enfans, par M. Berquin. Å Londres, cheza

Elmsley: 24 vols., il. iś. cousus. 1782, 1783. The Children's Friend. Translated from the French of M. Bere

quin. London. Cadell and Elmsley.*.1783. THE 'first volume of this work appeared in France in

the month of January 1782, and in March 17849 foon after it was completed, it obtained the prize adjudged by the French Academy to the most useful publication of the year. Before that, the French nation had received the volumes, as they appeared, with merited applause ; to which is now added the general approbation of the English reader. M. Berquin has therefore every reason to be fatisfied with himself and his performance.

The public are indebted to the author for a work that was very much wanted; as the books of the kind we have hitherto been in poffeffion of were but ill calculated to answer the end proposed ; as most of them were trifling and despicable compositions, and many of thein had rather an immoral than a moral tendency.*

With regard to the plan and design of the work, Mr. Bers quin must fpeak for himself. He informs us in his Prospectus, that he has two things in view. ".To furnish amusement "6 to children, and at the same time lead them naturally

Ve mult except from this general censure the little that Mro. Barbauld has done in this way, and at the same time expre.s our regreț for her not having done more.

ENG. Rev. FEB. 1785. I

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“ to virtue by invariably painting it in the most amiable “ form. Inttead of those extravagant tales, and absurd won“ ders which have so misled their imaginations, they will “ here meet only with such events, as they may observe dai“ ly happening in their own families. No attempt is made " to inipire fentiments which they cannot comprehend : It " is only with one another that they are brought into action, " with their parents, + their family domeftics, and the ani“ inals to which they are accustomed. They are made to

speak the language of fimplicity and nature. Keenly “ interested in every event, they abandon themselves to all “theartlets emotions of their early pallions. From this, in their

own faults they will feel their punishment, and in the “ pleasure of doing well heir reward. Every thing con

curs to inspire a love of virtue, as the means of hap

piness, and a deteftation of vice, as the source of mor"tification and misery. It is hardly necessary to observe “ that this work is equally suited to children of both sexes. " While mere children, so imperceptible is the difference of their characters and pursuits, that separate lessons are by “ no means necessary. And an attention has been paid to

bringing them together as often as possible, with the design of “ promoting that intimate union and affection between bro" thers and sisters, which we must ever see with pleasure.

Variety has been studied in the different little pieces • contained in each volume.”

We thall not proceed further in translating Mr. Berquin's Prospectus ; as what we have already laid before the public gives sufficient information with regard to the plan and object of the performance. It will be necessary however to add that each volume contains a short dramatic piece ; 'written with interest, and level to the capacities of children. It is intended that families should join in the representation of these Dramas ; that children, while the heart and understanding are improved by the moral of the piece, may be brought to speak with propriety, and may acquire that degree of assurance, and that grace and ease which are of advantage in the world. The author informs us that he employed Moliere's expedient before he sent any of his articles to the press.

is The effect of every one “ of them,” says he,“ has been tried upon children " more or less advanced in age and understanding, and



* We have not omitted translating “ Les compagnons de leurs 6 jeux” through inittake; but becaute we think that children who

s brought into action with one another," are children brought into action with “ their playtellows, and consequently, that Coinpagnons de leurs jeux" is a tautology.


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“ whatever appeared not to engage their attention was ex


A more happy method of insuring success could not have been devised." Besides the Dramas we have mentioned, each little volume contains a variety of stories, many of them in the dramatic form ; all tending either to mend the heart, or to correct the understanding. Poetical pieces are sometimes inserted, which have the same objects in view.

As a specimen at the same time of the original work and the translation, we shall present our readers with the story of

• THE CANARY BIRD. • Canary-birds' to fell! who'll buy Canary-birds ? choice, fine Canary-birds! cried a voice that was passing by the house where Jamima lived. Jamima heard it, and running to the window, looked into every part of the itreet. She then saw a man carrying upon his head a great cage filled with Canary-birds. They hopped so lightly from perch to perch, and-warbled so sweetly, that Jamima, in the eagerness of her curiosity, almost threw herself out of the window, in order to see them yet nearer.

• Miss, said the man, will you buy a Canary-bird ?

• I will, If I may, answered Jamima ; but I must not of my own accord: if you'll wait a little, I'll run and ask leave of papa.

• The man readily agreed to wait; and seeing a large post at the other end of the street, he went thither, and rested his cage upon

it. Jamma, in the mean time, ran to her father's room, and, quite out of breath, called out: Papa! papa! pray come to the window! pray come directly! • Mr. GODFREY. And what is the hafte?

JAMIMA. Why here's a man that sells Canary-birds: I dare fay he has got more than an hundred; a great large cage quite full of them upon his head!

Mr. ĠODFREY. And why are you in such joy about it?.
! JAMIMA. Why, papa, because I want that is, I mean, if
you will give me leave-I wish I might buy one.
* Mr. GODFREY. But have you any money?

JAMIMA. O yes, papa, I have enough in iny purse.
" Mr. GODFREY. And who will feed the poor thing?
JAMIMA. I will,


I'll feed him myielf. You shall see me: 0,1 am sure he will be very glad to be my bird.

Mr. GODFREY. Ah! I fear-
• JAMIMA. What, papa ?
• Mr. Godfrey. That you will let him die of hunger, or thirst.

JAMIMA. I, papa!I let him die of hunger, or thirit! O no, indeed.
I will never touch a morsel of breakfast myself, till I have fed him.

• Mr. GODFREY. O Jamima, Jamima, how giddy you are! And one fingle day's forgetfulness will kill him.

Jamima, however, gave such fair promises to her father ; the pleaded, entreated, hung by the skirt of his coat, and begged his confent' with so much earnestness, that Mr. Godfrey, at length, could no longer refuse it.

• He then took her hand, and led her into the street. They foon came up to the man, and chuse the most beautiful bird that was in his I 2


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cage: his feathers were of the brightest yellow, and he had a little black crest on the top of his head.

• Who, now, was so happy as Jamina? She gave her purse to her papa, that he might pay for it; and he then took money from his own to buy a very handsome cage, with two pretty drawers to hold feed, and a water glass of crystal.

• No sooner had Jamima fixed her new favourite in its little palace, than the few all over the house, calling her mama, her fifters, and even all the servants, to show them the bird which her papa had permitted her to buy. When any of her young friends came to see her, the first words she said to them, were always: Do you know I have got the prettiest Canary-bird in the whole world? he is as yellow as gold, and he has a blaek tuft upon his head, just like the feathers in mama's hat. But come, and you shall fee it: his name is Darling. I chriftened him myself,

• Darling was highly in favour, and fared extremely well under the care of Jamima. The moment the rofe every morning, her first thought was to procure him fresh feed, and the clearest water. Whencver there were any cakes or biscuits at her father's table, Darling had his share firft. She had always some little bits of sugar in reserve for himn : and his cage was garnished all round with chick-weed, and various good little things.

• Darling was not ungrateful for her attentions; he foon learnt to distinguish Jamima from the rest of the family; and the initant he heard her footitep, he fluttered his little wings, and chirped without ceafing. Jamima almoft eat him up with killes.

In about a week he began to sing, and his fong was the prettiest in the world. Sometimes he would warble his wild notes fo long, that she feared he must have died with fatigue in the middle of his little air; then, after a few moments reft, he would begin agains - more sweetly than ever, and with fo clear and brilliant a tone, that he was heard all over the house.

Jamima, seated by the side of his cage, spent whole hours in liftening to him. Her work was frequently thrown aside, that nothing might interrupt her looking at him: and when he had delighted her with all his little songs, she entertained him, in her turn, with an air apon the bird organ, which he presently Itrove to imitate.

By degrees, however, these pleasures became familiar, and loft their power of charming. Her father one day made her a present of a book of prints; and the was so much taken up with admiring them, that Darling was neglected. Still he fluttered his little wings, and chirped, the instant he saw Jamima; but Jamima no longer heard him.

• Near a weck now passed, and Darling had neither fresh chickweed, nor biscuit. He suug the prettiest little songs that famima had taught him ; he even composed new ones for her himself; but all in vain : Jamima had other things in her head.

• It was now her birth-day; and her godfather presented her with a great jointed doll. This doll, which she called Colombine, com: pleated the downfall of Darling. From the times he rofe, to the hour of going to bed, the had no thought, and no employment, but to drels and undress, again and again, this dumb litele Colombine; to

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