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à void.” But if the journey through the earlier part of life is marked with little variety, that by which he “ goeth to his long home" is necessarily uniform. Una senum facies. The complexion of old age will be sometimes less wrinkled with care, and sometimes less furrowed with sorrow; it may even be placid with contentment, or may wear a smile of joy in a retrospect of the past, or anticipation of future happiness. But some of the evils which the Roman satirist has forcibly, though coarsely, described, or those which the Preacher has drawn with greater delicacy and more of poetic imagery, must, by destroying the vigour of life, deprive it in some degree of its powers of active employment. Happy they, who, having borne the burthen and heat of the day, having devoted their early morn and noon-day strength to the service of their Maker, and the use of the talents he has given them, can see, without regret, the shades of evening lengthen around them, and retire to the exercise of domestic virtues and private benevolence, devotion, and heavenly meditation. Happy their country, which nurses in its bosom a race of virtuous, vigorous sons, training them to be active in labour and sage in counsel, to improve the country and adorn the town.

66 Bold, firm, and graceful are thy generous youth,

By hardship sinew'd, and by danger fired.
Mild are thy glories too, as o'er the plains

Of thriving peace thy thoughtful sires preside;
In genius and substantial learning high ;
For every virtue, every worth renown'd;

Sincere, plain-hearted, hospitable, kind.
To the strength and firmness of youth, Mr.
Bowdler added much of tenderness * and kind

* Mr. Bowdler shall be his own portrait painter, in order to shew these features. Extract from a letter to his youngest sister, dated Jan. 9, 1777.

“ If you were in a little better spirits, my Harriet, I would laugh at you for suffering yourself to be so easily taken in by a few soft things in my former letter, as if I in reality felt that tenderness which I pretended to express. Do you imagine I have really any regard for you? - Nay, if you are convinced of it, 'tis in vain for me to attempt to disprove it, and, therefore, I never will try at it again as long as I live; but, on the contrary, (as those who are so easily deceived, deserve to be deceived) I will do every thing in my power to strengthen the delusion. If you and 'I were to correspond frequently upon such subjects, I have à notion I could hum you nicely, for I either have a deal of the pathetic, or else can assume it, so as to deceive even myself.' · But I fancy, 'tis as well as it is, for I doubt we should do each other, any good ; and their wise wisdoms, the world, would laugh most unconscionably at our folly in writing such stuff at five and twenty and thirty, as a girl and boy of fifteen ought to be whipped for. Yet, begging pardon of their worships, if there is a pleasure in madness known only to madmen, there is a charm in sensibility which the world cannot match. To dry the tears of the widow; to produce the first smile in the countenance of sadness; to take part of the load off the afflicted, and see them support the remainder with less difficulty ; to rub off the little ruggedness of their road (each one of which appeared to them a mountain); and to perceive their looks brighten at one's approach, - give me heartfelt delight; and I their toys to the great children leave.'

ness : to the wisdom of age much of cheerful-
ness, thankfulness, and benevolence. His was not
that comfortless state, which the author of the
Rambler has described, “ worn with labours,
harassed with anxieties, tortured with diseases, in.
capable of feeling any gladness of its own, or any
satisfaction from the contemplation of the pre-
sent.” It was that which the same writer has
described, when warmed with poetic fire,
“ An age that melts in unperceived decay, ,

And glides in modest innocence away;
Whose peaceful day benevolence endears,
Whose night congratulating conscience cheers.”

But, alas ! alas ! even this is vexation of spirit. I see those whom my soul holds dearest languishing in pain, disease, and sorrow, and am unable to afford them any relief. I see my sister, from whose good sense and affection I promised myself so much happiness through life, sunk into a state which I dread even to think of; and even you, whose cheerfulness and good humour seemed inexhaustible, are grown grave and disconsolate in the very spring time of life, when youth and health are in their highest vigour. I am almost tempted to cry out with Othello, Why, why is this?" and am forced to repeat my favourite maxim,

• Man was not made to question, but adore.'” The following is an expression of kindness towards his eldest sister, who was then fallen into a state of ill health.

“ Aug. 12th, 1777. “ Give my kind love to all who think it worth accepting, but keep a large slice for yourself, for you never will meet with any more sincere and lasting : use it as you will, you shall not wear it out; and (unless you survive me) it will prove an estate for life free from all deductions."

Though anticipating, perhaps, some of the evils of age before they came upon him, and therefore desirous to withdraw, almost prematurely, from social and from busy scenes, yet it was with no feeling of disappointment or discontent. Having (to adopt the language of one of his favourite authors) “ trod with cautious step the chequered paths of life, he was ready to quit its vain scenes without a trouble or a fear." He retired, uti conviva satur ; expressing a devout thankfulness for the blessings which had been vouchsafed him, and the comforts he was still permitted to enjoy. The following is an extract from a letter, written nine months before his death, to Rowland Burdon, Esq., with whom he had maintained a friendship unabated by time or distance; quo nemo erat amicior nec charior, vir conjunctissimus * et amantissimus.

“ Eltham, 230 Sept. 1822. “ My good Friend, 6 A long and fine summer has passed since I received your kind letter of June 6, but our worthy friend Bramwell

* Mr. Burdon was united to Mr. Bowdler not less by religious and political principle than by that mutual regard which had grown up from their early years, and acquired strength by being exercised when it was most needed. 66 Your father's friendship,” says Mr. B., in a letter addressed to the author of this Memoir, never shewed itself in so decisive a shape during my prosperity, for I often invited him in vain to Grosvenor Square ; but he needed no invitation when he heard of my disaster, and was among the first to shew me kind and useful attention: a part of his character deserving to be recorded, and which you may introduce in any way you may

think

proper.'

66

T

has, probably, informed you that my old carcase has given way, and now totters pretty much. My head fails as much as my body. I am no longer fit for any business, and I have more writing than is good for me. I wish, however, to say-God be with you, and your wife, and your children.

My sisters are well, and have both made me a very kind visit to take leave.—Though so deaf, and my head so weak that I cannot enjoy company at all, and wish to spend much of each day alone; yet I rejoice at having prevailed on our excellent friend, Miss Duff Macfarlane, to spend the approaching winter here. Whether I live or die, she will be a great support and comfort to my wife and daughter; and while I survive, and retain any mental faculties, it will be a delightful resource to me to see them at meals and at other times, and enjoy their kind attentions. In a word, and to conclude,

Ten thousand, thousand, precious gifts

My daily thanks employ.' I am free from pain and sickness, can feel the kindness of my friends, relish my food, can walk a mile, sleep pretty well, my eyes serve me as well as for many years past. What can I say more? Oh, how thankful I ought to be, when beside and beyond all these comforts, I can look up to heaven, and, relying on my Saviour's merits, entertain a humble but firm hope, that I shall be admitted as a door-keeper in the house of my God for ever!”

Mr. Bowdler had been through life an early riser, and continued to be so in his latter years. The first hours of the morning were employed in reading the Scriptures and in private devotion. His family and servants were regularly called to

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