had treated him ungenerously, he was not eafily reconciled. He used a maxim, however on fuch occafions, which is worthy of being obferved and imitated. I never (faid he) will be a revengeful enemy; but I cannot, it is not in my nature, to be half a friend.' He was in this temper quite unfufpicious; but if fufpicion was once awaked in him, it was not laid afleep again without difficulty.

He was no œconomift; the generofity of his temper prevented him from paying a proper regard to the use of money: He exceeded therefore the bounds of his paternal fortune, which before he died was confiderably encumbered. But when one recollects the perfect paradife he had raised around him, the hofpitality with which he lived, his great indulgence to his fervants, his charities to the indigent, and all done with an estate not more than three hundred pounds a year, one should rather be led to wonder that he left any thing behind him, than to blame his want of economy. He left however more than fufficient to pay all his debts; and by his will appropriated his whole estate for that purpose.

It was perhaps from fome confiderations on the narrowness of his fortune, that he forbore to marry; for he was no enemy to wedlock, had a high opinion of many among the fair fex, was fond of their fociety, and no ftranger to the tendereft impreffions. One, which he received in his youth, was with difficulty furmounted, The Lady was the fubject of that fweet paftoral, in four parts, which has been fo univerfally admired; and which, one would have thought, must have fubdued the loftieft heart, and foftened the most obdurate.

His perfon, as to height, was above the middle stature, but largely and rather inelegantly formed: His face feemed plain till you converfed with him, and then it grew very pleafing. In his drefs he was negligent, even to a fault; though when young, at the Univerfity, he was accounted a beau. He wore his own hair, which was quite grey very early, in a particular manner; not from any affectation of fingularity, but from a maxin he had laid down, that without too lavish a regard to fashion, every one fhould dress in a manner most suitable to his own perfon and figure. In short, his faults were only little blemishes, thrown in by nature, as it were on purpofe to prevent him from rifing too much above that level of imperfection allotted to humanity.

His character as a writer will be distinguished by fimplicity with elegance, and genius with correctnefs. He had a fubli

mity

mity equal to the highest attempts; yet, from the indolence of his temper, he chofe rather to amufe himself in culling flowers at the foot of the mount, than to take the trouble of climbing the more arduous fteps of Parnaffus. But whenever he was difposed to rise, his steps, though natural, were noble, and always well fupported. In the tenderness of elegiac poetry he hath not been excelled; in the fimplicity of paftoral, one may venture to fay, he had very few equals. Of great fenfibility himself, he never failed to engage the hearts of his readers; and amidst the niceft attention to the harmony of his numbers, he always took care to express with propriety the fentiments of an elegant mind. In all his writings, his greatest difficulty was to pleafe himself. I remem ber a paffage in one of his letters, where, fpeaking of his love-fongs, he fays-- Some were written on occafions a good deal imaginary, others not fo; and the reafon there are fo many is, that I wanted to write one good fong, and could never please myfelf.' It was this diffidence which occafioned him to throw afide many of his pieces before he had bestowed on them his laft touches. I have fuppressed several on this account; and if among those which I have felected, there fhould be difcovered fome little want of his finishing polish, I hope it will be attributed to this caufe, and of courfe be excufed; yet I flatter myself there will always appear fomething well worthy of having been preferved. And tho' I was afraid of inferting what might injure the character of my friend, yet, as the sketches of a great mafter are always valuable I was unwilling the Public fhould lofe any thing material of fo accomplished a writer. In this dilemma it will eafily be conceived that the task I had to perform would become fomewhat difficult. How I have acquitted myself the Public must judge. Nothing, however, except what he had already published, has been admitted without the advice of his moft judicious friends, nothing altered, without their particular concurrence. It is impoffible to please every one; but 'tis hoped that no reader will be fo unreasonable, as to imagine that the author wrote folely for his amufement: His talents were various; and though it may perhaps be allowed, that his excellence chiefly appeared in fubjects of tenderness and fimplicity, yet he frequently condefcended to trifle with thofe of humour and drollery: Thefe, indeed, he himself in fome measure degraded by the title which he gave them of Levities:

Tt2

Levities: But had they been entirely rejected, the Public would have been deprived of fome jeux d' efprits, excellent in their kind, and Mr. Shenftone's character as a writer would have been but imperfectly exhibited.

But the talents of Mr. Shenstone were not confined merely to poetry; his character, as a man of clear judgment, and deep penetration, will beft appear from his profe works. It is there we must fearch for the acutenefs of his understanding, and his profound knowledge of the human heart. It is to be lamented indeed, that fome things here are unfinished, and can be regarded only as fragments: Many are left as fingle thoughts, but which, like the fparks of diamonds, fhew the richnefs of the mine to which they belong; or like the foot of a Hercules, difcover the uncommon ftrength, and extraordinary dimenfions of that hero. I have no apprehenfion of incurring blame from any one, for preferving thefe valuable remains: They will difcover to every reader the author's fentiments on several important fubjects. And there can be very few, to whom they will not impart many thoughts, which they would never perhaps have been able to draw from the fource of their own reflections.

But I believe little need be faid to recommend the writings of this gentleman to public attention. His character is already fufficiently established. And if he be not injured by the inability of his Editor, there is no doubt but he will ever maintain an eminent ftation among the best of our English writers. R. DODSLEY.

TH

A man of words and not of deeds,
Is like a garden full of weeds----

ANONYMOUS.

HE human mind has been, for time immemorial, compared to a garden; where the virtues are flowers, and the vices weeds. But as this is a very general allufion, perhaps it will be worth while to carry the thing a little further; methinks one might lay out, as the Gardeners fay, every particular man's mind, or mental garden; and it would be pleafant, not only to examine whether there were more weeds or more flowers in it, but also to defcribe the several species of each that seem to be predominant, by their likeness to fome

known

known weeds or flowers, in fome certain property or other. A man of words and not of deeds, is like a garden full of weeds, fays my motto. Infincerity is, indeed, a very thriving plant: But it grows in different men, under the form of weeds, very different in their nature, and their appearance.

Pollanthes, the Courtier, is a garden full of Primroses: The first opening of your mouth, the very earliest breath you draw in his prefence, calls him into vernal bloom and genial efflorefcence; every thing you fay and do gives him fo much pleafure, that he cannot help expanding all the fenfitive faculties of his foul to you. Would you have him efteem you? He cannot but efteem a perfon whom he knows not how to admire enough. Do you hope for his good offices? To be fure he will be proud to ferve one whom he is happy to esteem.---- He is all fpring; all openness and condescension : He prevents your wishes; he furprizes you with the most unexpected blooming, if I may be allowed the expression, of goodness and humanity: But it is like the blooming of a Primrofe; it comes to nothing, and it is good for nothing. It is the produce of to-day's fun, which the improved warmth of to-morrow's will deftroy: It is the effect of those fainter, paler rays, which give neither glowing hue nor real vigour. You may look for it again when the Rofe has got its fcent, and the Carnation its colours; but it will then be withered and forgotten.

Melanous is another man of words, and not of deeds; and whoever has any thing to do with him, or to expect from him, will find him a garden over-run with Brambles. He has the art of twifting himself about your very foul: Though you feel him prick you, though you know him to be all entanglement, as it were, he will contrive to make it almost impoffible for you to get clear of him. When you catch him hurting you in any part, you may wifh and try probably to difengage yourself and to quit him; but it is in vain; he will cling to you in another part, where you did not think of him, and be ready to draw you into a new embaraffment, before you have fairly broke through the old one. Under the appearance of fingular friendship and affection, he will plant a thoufand Thorns in your breaft, and endeavour to make you believe, that it is all out of zeal for your intereft. The longer you trust him, the more clofe you will find his embrace, but you will find at the fame time, that he embraces only

to

to hamper and torment you. In short, like the real Bramble, he will hold you faft to him with one thorn, and tear your flesh in that very instant with another.

Eulethon never refufed any thing that was afked him; nor ever performed any thing that he promised: A kind of drowsy indifference prevents his attending either to your application, or his own engagement beyond the prefent minute. When you ask a favour, he does not recollect that it is improper or impoffible he should oblige you----though his telling you fo would probably be the greatest favour he can do you. Whatever you want, you have his promise in an instant; and you may have it to depend upon for ever, if you pleafe, for any thing that Eulethon will do toward performing it. If you ask him for the performance, he has forgot that promife; but he will give you another for it, which he will remember juft as well. The poorest moralist in the world may easily note the weeds which fuch a garden is full of; and may juftly fay, that it is a spot overgrown with Pop pies.

Megafcopus is a man, not benevolent, but fubject to momentary fits of good will. He has plann'd a thousand schemes of kindness and generofity, and spent many a folitary quarter of an hour, in contriving how to bring them about; he has drawn out in his mind the advice that would make one man happy; he has calculated the fum that would fet another at eafe; and the neat expedient that would restore another to peace and ferenity. Could you fee his heart at thofe periods, you would think it impoffible for any one to be difcontented or unhappy near him. And yet no man can produce an inftance where Megafcopus was not niggardly, selfish, obstinate, over-bearing: With a plentiful fortune he fees twenty relations in diftrefs; he lets his neighbours quarrel, and his tenants be ruined, without giving himself a moment's trouble to prevent it: He has never made a friend, nor given away a fhilling.He is a mere hot-bed; and the virtues of his heart, as he thinks them, are only mushrooms, that rise and disappear, and rife and difappear again, with no effect, and to no fort of purpose.

Philatus entered into public life, with a mind that deferved to be called a garden: It was full of all the choiceft flowers of virtue, good humour, and good breeding. He preferved it for fome time in perfect beauty and order, till an

unlucky