Thefe various afperfions I bore with confiderable firmnefs, till I was charged with want of genius. This, as it was a novel accufation, and as I was confcious of its falfehood, I ought to have fpurned with contempt. But, I confefs, it produced the oppofite effect. In endeavouring to refute the charge, I was insensibly led into thofe unhappy mistakes, which I had most resolutely determined to avoid.

To acquire a popularity, which I had unjustly forfeited, my first step was to adapt myself to the prejudices of my fellow-ftudents. I allowed that the government had faults; and I loudly inveighed against the severity, with which fome of my claffmates were treated at the exhibition of their themes. I took but little pains with these exercises myself, left I fhould appear to be anxious for "parts."

By degrees I was led to abjure mathematics; the languages. foon followed; nor did I arrive at the fummit of College favour, till I affumed the right of directing my own ftudies, and of treating with heedlefs neglect the ftated exercises of my inftructors. But what contributed moft to this change in my sentiments and conduct, was the affignment of a part at Exhibition, which I with my flatterers were pleased to consider beneath my merit.

From that moment I fwore revenge. On the evening of Exhibition I reforted to a tavern, and, with fome rakes from Boston and a few College bloods, I got very drunk. When I had fo far recovered, that I could ftagger into College yard, I yelled, and fwore, and broke windows, till I was tired, and than finished the night in gambling and caroufing.

From this period I remifsly attended recitations and prayers. I was feveral times fined. Once I was privately admonished, and I narrowly escaped a threatened fufpenfion.

As a natural confequence of neglecting ftudies, I affociated with unprincipled companions and contracted bad habits. I conftantly ftrove by what arts I fhould oppose and perplex government. Profaneness, although I had been accustomed to confider it beneath a gentleman, I began to employ as my familiar language. As for lying, I thought it not only expedient, but commendable, when used to deceive my inftructors.

But the worft effect I experienced was a love of ftrong liquors. At first I found them difguftful. I could drink only wine, and

that in moderate quantities. This foon became too weak to fatisfy my raging appetite, till by degrees I contracted an inveterate habit of intemperance.

What promoted my diffipation was admiffion into the Pig Club. Here I found ample scope for irregular indulgence. I was one of the first to approve an abfurd motion, once made by a member, that it fhould be an established rule before parting for every one to get drunk. I alfo clamorously applauded a moft impious bleffing, which was on a certain occafion afked, and which threw the whole Club into a tumultuous fhout of praise.*

It is true, I fometimes felt rebukes of confcience, when I recollected my early inftructions and refolutions, and when I accidentally met my virtuous friends. But I was in a great meafure relieved from these momentary pangs by having the credit among my companions of an extraordinary genius. They took unwearied pains to proclaim it to the world. But for this purpofe they used to mention not so much what I had done, as what I could do. They conftantly maintained my great fuperiority to all thofe, who were obliged to earn their reputation with the government by hard ftudy.

To preferve as well as to gain renown from fuch friends, I had recourfe to fome of the methods, which you, my dear Studiofus, in a late communication fo very juftly expofed. I particularly remember, that, when I was about to copy a poem, which had coft me much time and exertion, I went to a claffmate's room to borrow pen, ink, and paper, under the pretence, that I was deftitute of these conveniences, and that I wished to compofe my task under a fhady tree. In about three hours I returned with my poem completed, and written without blots. By this artifice I attracted general attention, and received indif criminate praise.

I had, indeed, sense enough to feel my real inferiority to feveral others. But I took care to make myself more celebrated. Thus while my induftrious fellow-ftudents were poring over Locke, Euclid, and Conic Sections, I was curforily reading Shakespeare's plays, and committing fome of his most striking

*I am happy to hear, that this Club has fince affumed another name, and more decent manners.

paffages to memory, that I might employ them, as occafion fhould require. While they were deeply immured in their ftudies, I was often in company. In this way I acquired a confidence and volubility on popular topics, of which they were deftitute. I took particular care to familiarize the anecdotes. contained in Bofwell's life of Johnson, and every other circumstance relating to this truly great fcholar. Hence, while my plodding claffmates were endeavouring in vain to intereft parties in their abftrufe fpeculations, I could entertain them whole evenings by agreeable ftories refpecting the celebrated Doctor.

But fince I have received the honours of the University, I have had time for cool reflection. My crimes and my errors ftare me in the face. For, though I reconciled myself to indolence at College by refolving to fludy clofely my future profeffion; yet I find by experience, that my refolutions were useless and vain. The habits of indolence contracted at the University I find it next to impoflible to reform. My reputation for a great genius affords me no affistance. On the other hand, it excites general indignation, that such talents should have been fo grossly neglected and perverted. So accustomed have I been to bad company, that I find gratification in no other.

I am forry to add, that my habits of intemperance continue and increase. Once or twice I have begun to amend; but then my nerves trembled to fuch a degree, that I was afraid, I should lofe my health; and I again returned to my cups.

The confequence is, my bufinefs is neglected. I am often tempted unjustly to retain in my own hands the money which belongs to my clients. My reputation is deftroyed. My affairs are embarraffed. My profpects are truly diftreffing. My firmeft refolutions of amendment have fo often failed, that I begin now to despair of ever returning to the paths of virtue.

In the anguifh of my foul I have given you this short history of my past life, and this melancholy description of my condition and my prospects. It will afford fresh confirmation of the doctrines you have always taught. That you may never have the mortification again to find your good inftructions fo ill requited is the fincere wish of your affectionate, though ingrateful

O. X.

FOR THE MONTHLY ANTHOLOGY.

Notices of Imitation and Plagiarism.

MR. PER-SE,

IN N reading the poets, I have generally obferved a chronological order. One of my greatest inducements to this course, was the pleasure resulting from tracing an idea or image from its first conception through all its different combinations, and its various degrees of expansion and decoration, till it had reached its full growth, showed its perfect beauty, and established all its natural relations. It was my object to have given the world a collection of this kind of hiftories of fentiments and plagiaries, which would have been more curious, than the labours and paintings of the virtuofi, who trace the progrefs of architecture from the rude hovel of the huntsman to the Corinthian column and the temple of Diana. In this occupation, and with this end, poetical reading afforded me a history of the progress of the human mind; and, as I am not a very ambitious pedant, I had refolved to be content with what reputation I should gain from communicating to the public my acquifition of genealogical knowledge. But my manufcripts have fuffered the fate of Lord Mansfield's. A fire, which an ancient poet would have kindled by fome malignant and envious fury, laid waste my treasure; and it was as rich a facrifice as Colly Cibber ever offered to dulness.

"Ignis edax fumma ad faftidia vento Volvitur," and I can prefent hardly any "Iliacis erepta ruinis." I have however found two fcraps, which perhaps might have been as well confumed, but which may afford fome little pleasure to the curious reader. Every one, who has read GOLDSMITH'S "TRAVELLER," must have been charmed with these beautiful lines:

"But me, not deftin'd fuch delights to share,
My prime of life in wandering spent and care,
Impell'd, with steps unceafing to pursue

Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view;
That, like the circle bounding earth and skies,

Allures from far; yet as I follow, flies:

My fortune leads"

In the mifcellanies of JOHN NORRIS, who wrote in the latter

part of the feventeenth century, there is a poem, called "THE INFIDEL," the two first stanzas of which bear fuch an evident refemblance, that it may be eafily concluded, they furnished Dr. Goldfmith with the ideas in the preceding paffage. They are these :

I.

Farewel, fruition, thou grand cruel cheat!

Which first our hopes doft raise, and then defeat.
Farewel, thou midwife to abortive blifs!

Thou mystery of Fallacies!

Distance prefents the objects fair,

With charming features and a graceful air;
Yet when we come to feize th' inviting prey,
Like a fhy ghost, it vanishes away.

II.

So to th' unthinking boy, the distant fky
Seems on fome mountain's furface to rely,
He with ambitious hafte climbs the afcent
Curious to touch the firmament;

But when with an unwearied pace
Arrived he is at the long-wifhed for place;
With fighs the fad defeat he does deplore;
His heaven is ftill as diftant, as before.

Here is merely refemblance. I proceed now to the expofure of plagiarism. In the popular poem of the Grave, there is every mark of imitation fo ftrong, that we cannot exeufe Blair for not giving credit, where he is fo large a debtor. "How fhocking muft thy fummons be, O death, To him that is at cafe in his poffeffion!

BLAIR.

Who, counting on long years of pleasure here, Is quite unfurnished for the world to come." This may be conceived as an imitation of a ftanza in an ode, which precedes the poem, that BLAIR has entirely incorporated with his own.

"Death can choose but be

To him a mighty misery,

Who to the world was popularly known,
And dies a ftranger to himself alone."

NORRIS.