poem, "The Shipwreck," which he published in 1762, and on which his chief claim to merit rests. Early in 1769 his "Marine Dictionary" appeared, which has been spoken highly of by those who are capable of estimating its merits. In the latter part of the same year he embarked in the Aurora, for India, but the vessel was never heard of after she passed the Cape, "so that the poet of the Shipwreck may be supposed to have perished by the same species of calamity which he had rehearsed."1 The subject of the Shipwreck and the fate of its author, bespeak an uncom mon partiality in its favor. If we pay respect to the ingenious scholar, who can produce agreeable verses amidst the shades of retirement or the shelves of his library, how much more interest must we take in the "ship-boy on the high and giddy mast," cherishing refined visions of fancy at the hour which he may casually snatch from fatigue and danger! His poem has the sensible charm of appearing a transcript of reality, and from its vividness and power of description, powerfully interests the feelings, and leaves a deep impression of truth and nature on the mind. THE VESSEL GOING TO PIECES.-DEATH OF ALBERT, THE COM MANDER. With mournful look the seamen eyed the strand Swift from their minds elapsed all dangers past, Down-prest by watery weight the bowsprit bends, 1 Campbell's Specimens, vol. vi. p. 98. The heart that bleeds with sorrows all its own, Inclosed with all the demons of the main, For Heaven's sweet help their suppliant cries implore; With horror fraught, the dreadful scene drew near! In vain the cords and axes were prepared, Then headlong plunging, thunders on the ground, Earth groans! air trembles! and the deeps resound! Her giant bulk the dread concussion feels, And quivering with the wound, in torment reels; At length asunder torn, her frame divides, As o'er the surge the stooping main-mast hung, Next, O unhappy chief! th' eternal doom For him, alas! who never shall return; With want and hardships unforeseen enclosed: CATHERINE TALBOT. 1720-1770. CATHERINE TALBOT, the only daughter of Rev. Edward Talbot, Archdeacon of Berks, was born in the year 1720. She early exhibited strong marks of a feeling heart, a warm imagination, and a powerful understanding. To these natural talents were added all the advantages of a thorough education founded on Christian principles. In 1741 she was introduced to the celebrated Miss Elizabeth Carter, with whom she maintained the most close and intimate friendship to the close of her life. At what age she began to write for the public eye, does not appear; but it is certain that her talents and at tainments early introduced her into a valuable literary acquaintance, of which Archbishop Secker, and Dr. Butler, the author of the "Analogy," may be named. But great as were her talents, and brilliant as her accomplishments, she possessed qualities of infinitely more importance both to herself and society. Her piety was deep and ardent: it was the spring of all her actions, as its rewards was the object of all her hopes. Her life, however, affords but little scope for narrative; passing on in a smooth, equable tenor, without dangers or adventures. But she was not of a strong constitution, and the disease to which she had long been subject—a cancer—at length made rapid strides upon her delicate frame, and she expired on the 9th of January, 1770. The chief publications of Miss Talbot are, "Reflections on the Seven Days of the Week," which have passed through numerous editions, twentysix Essays," five "Dialogues," three "Prose Pastorals," a "Fairy Tale," three "Imitations of Ossian," two "Allegories," No. 30 of the "Rambler," and a few "Poems;" all of which may be read with great profit, as the production of one who possessed the most exquisite qualities both of the head and heart.2 A SENSE OF GOD'S PRESENCE. Let me ask myself, as in the sight of God, what is the general turn of my temper, and disposition of my mind? My most trifling words and actions are observed by Him: and every thought is naked to His eye. Could I suppose the king, or any the greatest person I have any knowledge of, were within reach of observing my common daily behaviour, though unseen by me, should I not be very particularly careful to preserve it, in every respect, decent and becoming? Should I allow myself in any little froward humors? Should I not be ashamed to appear peevish and ill-natured? Should I use so much as one harsh or unhandsome expression even to my equal, or my meanest inferior, even were I ever so much provoked? Much less should I behave irreverently to my parents or superiors. This awful Being, in whom I live and move, and from whom no obscurity can hide me, by whom the very hairs of my head are all numbered, He knows the obligations of every relation in life. He sees in their full light the 1 This lady died in 1806, consequently beyond the period (1800) to which I have been obliged to restrict myself in the preparation of this work, in order to do any justice to our earlier writers. 2 Read-edition of her works, by Rev. M. Pennington;-a notice of her life in Drake's Essays, vol v, and some notices in Sir Egerton Brydges's “Censura Literaria.” reciprocal duties of parents and children, of husbands and wives, of neighbors and fellow-servants. He knows the aggravated guilt of every offence against these ties of society, however we may be disposed to treat them as trifles: and every piece of stubbornness and pride, of ill-humour and passion, of anger and resentment, of sullenness and perverseness, exposes us to His just indignation. Reflections on Sunday. SELF-EXAMINATION. That I may be better in future, let me examine a little what temper I have been in the last twenty-four hours. In general, perhaps, I can recollect nothing much amiss in it: but let me descend to particulars. Things are often very faulty, that appear at first sight very trifling. Perhaps I have so fond a conceit of myself as to think that I can never be in the wrong. Has any uneasiness happened in the family this last day? Perhaps I think the fault was wholly in others, and the right entirely on my side. But ought I not to remember, that in all disputes, there is generally some fault on both sides? Perhaps they begun :—but did not I carry it on?-They gave the provocation:-but did not Ι I take it?-Am not I too apt to imagine that it would be mean entirely to let a quarrel drop, when I have a fair opportunity to reason, and argue, and reproach, to vindicate my injured merit, and assert my right? Yet, is this agreeable to the precepts and example of Him, "who, when he was reviled, reviled not again?” Is it agreeable to His commands, who has charged me, if my brother trespass against me, to forgive him, not seven times only, but seventy times seven? Is it agreeable to that Christian doctrine which exhorts us, not to think of ourselves highly, but soberly, as we ought to think: and that, in lowliness of mind, every one should think others better than himself? And alas, how often do I think this disrespect, though a slight one, provoking to me? This situation, though a happy one, not good enough for me? How often have I had in my mouth that wise maxim, that a worm, if it is trod upon, will turn again! Wretch that I am, shall I plead the example of a vile worm of the earth for disobeying the commands of my Saviour, with whom I hope hereafter to sit in heavenly places ?1 ALL CAN DO GOOD. Reflections on Monday. Every one of us may in something or other assist or instruct some of his fellow-creatures: for the best of human race is poor 1 It is proper to observe that this excellent illustration of these unchristian passions, though expressed in the first person, conveys no sort of idea of the mild and humble disposition of the writer hel self. |