professional career as to be appointed, when just of age, townclerk of Nottingham, was suddenly snatched away by a fever. The doctor bore his grievous loss with exemplary resignation; but the struggle produced effects on his health which alarmed his friends. Symptoms resembling those of the fatal disease termed angina pectoris came on; indeed, it may be said, that he really laboured under an incipient state of this disorder. But time, medicine, and happier subjects of reflection, restored him to health and cheerfulness. He had the felicity of seeing two of his daughters most desirably settled in marriage. His remaining son bid fair to become all that the other had been. He was, therefore, fully entitled to enjoy himself in the domestic freedom he loved, and to confine his future exertions to those lettered employments which, to one of his industrious habits, were necessary to give a zest to social relaxation.

He had not yet completely detached himself from the business of tuition, when he undertook the most laborious of his literary tasks, an abridgment of Brucker's His

rory of Philosophy.' This work appeared in two volumes, 4to. in the year 1791, and would alone have been sufficient to establish the wri. ter's character as a master of the middle style of composition, and as a judicious selector of what was most valuable in the representation of manners and opinions. The original work has obtained a high reputation among the learned, for the depth of its researches, and the liberality of its spirit; but its Latin style is involved and prolix, and the heaviness that pervades the whole has rendered it rather a book for Occasional consultation than for di

rect perusal. Dr. Enfield's abridge ment is a work equally instructive and agreeable; and it may be pronounced that the tenets of all the leading sects of philosophers were never before in the English language displayed with such elegance and perspicuity. It was indeed his peculiar talent to arrange and express other men's ideas to the greatest advantage. His style, chaste, clear, correct, free from all affectation and singularity, was proper for all topics; and the spirit of method and order which reigned in his own mind, communicated itself to every subject which he touched upon. These qualities, together with that candour which was interwoven in his very constitution, especially fitted him to take a part in a literary journal; and to one of the most respectable of these works he was long a considerable contributor. The institution of a new magazine, under the name of the Monthly, which in its plan embraced a larger circle of original literature than usual with these miscellanies, engaged him to exercise his powers as an essayist on a variety of topics; and the papers with which he enriched it, under the title of the Inquirer, obtained great applause from the manly freedom of their sentiment, and the correct elegan.e of their language.

"Thus did his latter years glide on, tranquil and serene, in the bosom of domestic comfort, surrounded by friends to whom he became continually more dear, and in the midst of agreeable occupations. So well confirmed did his health appear, and so much did he feel himself in the full vigour and maturity of his powers, that he did not hesitate, in the year 1796, to associate himself with the writer of this account, one of his oldest and most intimate com

panions,

panions, in a literary undertaking of great magnitude, which looked to a distant period for its completion. Were it not the duty of mortals to employ their talents in the way they can approve, without regarding contingencies which they can neither foresee nor overrule, such an engagement, in persons descending into the vale of years, might be accused of presumption; but it implied in them no more than a resolution to act with diligence as long as they should be permitted to act to work while it is called today, mindful of that approaching night when no man can work. The composition, that of a General Biographical Dictionary, proved so agreeable to Dr. Enfield, that he was often heard to say, his hours of study had never passed so pleasantly with him; and the progress he made was proportioned to his industry and good-will. Every circumstance seemed to promise him years of comfort in store. He was happy himself, and imparted that happiness to all who came within the sphere of his influence. But an incurable disease was in the mean time making unsuspected advances. A scirrhous contraction of the rectum, denoting itself only by symptoms which he did not under stand, and which, therefore, he imperfectly described to his medical friends, was preparing, without pain or general disease, to effect a sudden and irresistible change. The

very day before this disorder mani fested itself he was complimented on his cheerful spirits, and bealthy looks, and himself confessed that he had nothing, bodily or mental, of which he ought to complain. But the obstruction was now form. ed. A sickness came on, the proper functions of the intestines were suspended, nothing was able to give relief; and after a week, passed rather in constant uneasiness than in acute pain, with his faculties entire nearly to the last, foreseeing the fa tal event, and meeting it with manly fortitude, he sunk in the arms of his children and friends, and expired without a struggle. This catastrophe took place on Nov. 3, 1797, in the fifty-seventh year of his life. The deep regrets of all who knew him-of those the most to whom he was best known-render it unnecessary to enter into any further description of a character, the essence of which was to be amiable. A man's writings have often proved very inadequate tests of his dispositions. Those of Dr. Enfield, however, are not. They breathe the very spirit of his gentle and generous soul. He loved mankind, and wished nothing so much as to render them the worthy objects of love. This is the leading character of the discourses selected for publication; as it is, indeed, of all he composed. May their effect equal the most sanguine wishes of their benevolent author!"

WE

TE staid long enough at Zuric to visit its first lite rary ornament, Lavater. It being known that he is willing to receive strangers, no traveller of any lettered curiosity passes through the town, without paying him the homage of a visit.

"He received us in his library, which was hung thick with portraits and engravings, of which he has a considerable collection, forming a complete study of the evervarying expression of the human face divine. Some very wise men, who admit of no scope to that fàculty of the mind called imagination, and are for ever bringing every theory to the square and the compass, consider his system of physiognomy as the fantastic vision of an heated brain; but though it may be difficult, it is surely ingenious and interesting to attempt, reducing to rules a science, which seems to be founded in nature. It is surely curious to analyse what it is so easy to feel, the charm of that expression, which is the emanation of moral qualities; that undefinable grace which is not beauty, but something more; without which its enchantments lose their power of fascination, and which can shed an animated glow, a spark of divinity, over the features of deformity; Mind, mind alone, bear witness earth,

and heaven,

The living fountain in itself contains
Of beauteous and sublime.'

"Lavater is a venerable-looking old man, with a sharp long face, high features, and a wrinkled brow: he is tall, thin, and interesting in bis figure; when serious he has a look of melancholy, almost of in

quietude; but when he smiles, his countenance becomes lighted up with an expression of sweetness and intelligence.

he

"There is a simple eloquence in his conversation, an effusion of the heart extremely attractive: speaks French with some difficulty, and whenever he is at a loss for an expression has recourse to German, which I in vain begged a Swiss gentleman, who was of our party, to translate for me: he told me, that for the most part the German words Lavater employed were compound-epithets of his own framing, which had peculiar energy as he used them, but which would be quite vapid and spiritless in translation.

"The great rule of moral conduct, Lavater said, in his opinion, was, next to God, to respect time. Time he considered as the most valuable of human treasures, and any waste of it as in the highest degree immoral. He rises every morning at the hour of five; and though it would be agreeable to him to breakfast immediately after rising, makes it an invariable rule to earn that repast by some previous labour; so that if by accident the rest of the day is spent to no useful purpose, some portion of it may at least be secured beyond the interruptions of chance.

"Lavater gave us a most pleasing account of morals in Zuric. He had been a preacher of the gospel, he said, in that town thirty years; and so incapable were the citizens of any species of corrup tion, that he should have rendered himself ridiculous had he ever during that long period preached a

Sermon

sermon against it,

since it was a vice unknown. At what a disstance,' thought I, am I arrived 'from London and Paris.' "When we took our leave of Lavater, he begged we would write our names and place of abode in a book, which he appropriates to the use of inscribing the long list of his foreign visitors. An hour after my return from his house he came to pay me a visit, which I was taught to consider as an unusual compliment, since it is his general rule not to return the visits of strangers. Religion was the theme of his discourse, and he talked of its pleasures, its consolations, and its hopes, with a solemn sort of enthusiastic fervor, which shewed how much his heart was interested in the subject, and how warmly his sensibility was awake to devotional feelings. Although his zeal was not without knowledge, yet it was somewhat difficult to discover what was his system of belief: whether he was of Paul or Apollos, a follower of Calvin according to the established creed of the Swiss church, or whether he was not in some sort the framer of a new doctrine himself.

"One of my fellow-travellers, who was anxious to wrest from the venerable pastor his confession of faith, brought in review before him the various opinions of the fathers, orthodox and heretic; from Justin Martyr and Origen, down to the bishop of St. David's and Dr. Priestley. But Lavater did not appear to have made polemics his

study; he seemed to think right and wrong, in historical fact, of far less importance than right and wrong in religious sentiment; and above all, in human action. There was more of feeling than of logic in his conclusions; and he appeared to have taken less pains to examine religion, "than to apply its precepts to the regulation of those frailties and passions of the human beart, the traces of which, hidden from others, he had marked with such admirable accuracy in the character and expression of outward forms. For myself, I own the solemn, meek, affectionate expression of Lavater's pious sentiments, were peculiarly soothing to my feelings, after having been so long stunned with the cavils of French philosophers, or rather the impertinent comments of their disciples, who are so proud of their scepticism, that they are for ever obtruding it in conversation. The number of those disciples is augmented since the revolution, which has spread far and wide the writings of Rousseau and Voltaire; and every Frenchman, after having read those authors, though he may nei ther have taste enough to admire the charms of their genius, or vir. tue to feel the philanthropy of their sentiments, has, at least, ac quired sufficient knowledge to assume the appellation of philosopher, and prove his claim to that title by enlisting himself under the banner of infidelity, without knowing the use of his arms.”

MAN.

HE valley of Kashmire is of an elliptic form, and extends about ninety miles in a winding direction from the south-east to the north-west. It widens gradually to Islaamabad, where the breadth is about forty miles, which is continued with little variation to the town of Sampre, whence the mountains by a regular inclination to the westward, come to a point, and divide Kashmire from the territory of Muzzufferabad. To the north and north-east, Kashmire is bounded by what is here termed the mountains of Thibet; a branch, I apprehend, of that immense range, which rising near the black sea, penetrates through Armenia, and skirting the south shore of the Caspian, extends through the north-east provinces of Persia, to Thibet and China. On the south-east and south, it is bouned by Kishtewar, and on the southwest and west, by Prounce, Muzzufferabad, and some other independent districts,

"The Jalum, the western of the Punjab rivers, having received the numerous rivulets of the valley, and the overflowing water of the lakes, becomes a spacious stream, and is discharged through the mountains Dear the town of Baramoulah,

where its current, from the decli vity of the land, runs with rapid force. At Baramoulah the Kashmirians say Solomon rent the mountains, and gave a passage to the waters, which, from the beginning of time, had floated on their plains.

"About eight miles to the westward of the city, the Jalum is joined by a small river called the Chote, or little Scind, which, I was informed by a Kashmirian Pundit, arises in the Thibet mountains, and is the only stream not produced within the valley. Previously to the Mahometan conquest of India, Kashmire was celebrated for the learning of its Bramins and the magnificent construction of its temple. The period of its subjection to the Mahometans is not recorded in any history that I have seen, but we may believe, that a country, containing a valuable commerce and a profusion of natural beauties, would at an early date have attracted their notice and invited their conquest. It was governed in a long series of succession, by a race of Tartar princes, of the Chug or Chugatay tribe, until the year 1586, when Acbar subdued it; aided more, it is said, by intrigue, than the force of his arms. Kashmire remained

annexed