that our hearts recoil against gigantic and unnatural excellence? It must be because perfection is unnatural, and because the sweetest charms and most endearing ties of society arise from mutual indulgence to each other's failings."

"I have been reading Lelund, and had begun by Miss desire to write remarks on it as I went along; but having seen hers, and your answer, I conceived it useless for me to go on, and have broken off in the middle, finished the book and sent it home. I am much pleased with the work, though I have of ten wished that the scheme of it had allowed a larger scope to the answers in defence of christianity, as his references would engage one in a dreadful long course of reading, such a one as I am sure I shall never attempt. In general I think Dr. L.--writes with candour and moderation, though I cannot acquit him of deviating a little from it in some few passages. Perhaps I am particularly nice in this respect. All reasoners ought to be perfectly dispassionate, and ready to allow all the force of the arguments they are to confute. But more especially those who argue in behalf of christianity, ought carefully to preserve the spirit of it in their manner of expressing themselves. I have so much honour for the christian clergy, that I had much rather hear them railed at, than hear them rail, and I must say that I am often grievously offended with the generality of them for their method of treating all who differ from them in opinion."

"I am grieved to hear that you have suffered so much with the head-ache, for though you have learnt of your friend Epictetus to talk of the head-ache as if it were no evil, I, who hold all that stuff in mortal contempt, and who know you with all your stoical airs, to be made of nothing better than flesh and blood like my own, am not at all comforted by any of your jargon, nor yet, by your desiring me not to concern myself about you. Till I have learnt the art of converting my heart into a flint, of your master Epictetus, who has not yet been able to teach it you, I must and will concern myself about you. And I expect you, like an honest christian, to concern yourself about me, and to be very

glad to hear that I am wonderfully amended, and that my spirits have been pure well for this week past, notwithstanding a great cold, which has given me numberless pains, and prevented my enjoying the fine weather as much as I wished. I find myself almost as philosophical as you about all illnesses that do not affect my spirits, and am quite thankful and happy with a hundred head-aches, as long as they hold up and enable me to be agreeable."

"How much am I, and how much are the Miss Burrowses obliged to you, for the very valuable and delightful acquisition you have made for us in Mrs. Montagu's acquaintance. We all congratulated each other, as on a piece of high preferment, when she was so kind to invite us to dinner the other day; as we looked upon it as a happy token of her inclination to admit us to something like intimacy. I begin to love her so much that I am quite frightened at it, being conscious my own insignificance will probably always keep me at a dis tance that is not at all convenient for loving. We had no other company at dinner except Mr.a very clever agreeable man; I want to know something about his inside. Did you ever dissect his heart? or is it like another gentleman's, of whom Mrs. M. said that to look into his heart, would be to spoil one's own pleasure, like a child, that breaks his plaything to see the inside of it."

"The Abbé Reynal dined at Mrs. Boscawen's at Glanvilla, about ten days ago, and she was so obliging to ask Mrs. A. Burrows and me to meet him in the afternoon. I was exceedingly entertained, and not a little amazed, (notwithstanding all I had heard about him) by the unceasing torrent of wit and stories, not unmixed with good sense, which flowed from him; he had held on at the same rate from one at noon, (when he arrived at Glanvilla) and we heard that he went the same evening to Mrs. Montagu's, in Hill Street, and kept on his speed till one in the morning. In the hour and half I was in his company, he uttered as much as would have made him an agree able companion for a week, had he allowed time for answers. You see such a person can only be pleasing as a thing

to wonder at once or twice. His conversation was, however, perfectly inoffensive, which is more than his writings promise; his vivacity, and the vehemence of his action, (which, however, had not

any visible connexion with his discourse) were amusing to me, who am little accustomed to foreigners. Mrs. Boscawen is a very good neighbour to us here, and a most delightful companion every where. I never knew her in finer spirits than of late. One could not but make a comparison much to her advantage, between the overwhelming display of the abbe's talents, and that natural, polite, and easy flow of wit and humour which

enlivens her conversation."

"I suppose you have read (for every body has) Pursuits of Literature;' and have felt the same indignation I did at the author, for making a she dog of Mrs. Montagu. And the same contempt for his taste, his spleen, envy, and non

sense, in that line which displays them

all.

"A she dog in sandals is not more absurd than a feeble yelp applied to one of the ablest as well as most ingenious criticisms that ever was written. Indisposed as I was against the author, by this and some other instances of ill nature, I cannot but acknowledge that some of his notes and préfaces testify a laudable zeal on the right side both in politics and religion, which should mollify our resentment against his scurrility and indecency."

This last passage, we quote as containing the only sentiment in these letters deserving of censure. Mrs. Chapone, in her better days,

was

a courageous and original thinker; her sentiments were obviously freer than those of her connections and associates in general; and more than one of our extracts

bears testimony to the tolerance, the enlightened candour with which she viewed differences in speculative opinion, and the dispassionate fairness which she desired to see introduced among theologians and reasoners of every class. Is it pos

sible that the same person should afterwards consider a furious zeal, real or affected, for what she regards as the right side in religion and politics, as any atonement for "scurrility and indecency?" But to all who are acquainted with the his tory of public opinion in this country, for the last half century, the two dates, 1754, and 1797, will account for this retrogradation of sentiment in a manner more disgraceful to the times than to the individual. The correspondence with Richardson, on the subject of filial obedience, which at the age of three and twenty Miss Mulso had the spirit to enter upon, does her the highest credit. Though that celebrated novellist, she was a warm admirer of the genius of sensible of his great deficiencies; his total want of learning, of enlargement of mind, and the spirit his system of parental authority are of philosophy. Her objections to stated with a clearness and energy which would do honour to the most practised writer and thinker.

"A king is vested with power over his subjects, that he may maintain order amongst them and provide for their safety and welfare. Parents have a natural authority over their children, that they may guide their steps during their infancy and youth, whilst their reason is too weak to be trusted with the direction of their own actions. But though this motive to obedience ceases when the children are grown up, and endued, as it may happen, with stronger reason than their parents; yet, then, love and gratitude take place, and oblige them to the same observance and submission to the will of their parents, in all cases except where a higher duty interferes, or where the sacrifice they are expected to make is greater than any degree of gra titude can require. For though gratitude may d mand hat those who, under God, vided for its support when I was inca were the authors of my life, and who propable of doing it myselt, should have a proper control over me, and that in ail reasonable instances my will should sub▸ mit to theirs; yet you must allow that co

suffer me to live, yet bid me destroy all the peace and happiness of my life, is to exact a much harder obedience, an obedience which no human creature can have a right to exact from another. Yet this was not all that was exacted from Clarissa by her Father and family. She was not only commanded to sacrifice her happiness but her innocence: the marriage they would have forced her to, would not only have plunged her into misery but guilt; a guilt no less black than that of solemn perjury before the altar of God. Can it then be made a doubt whether she had a natural right to refuse her obedience in this case, and, when brutal force was designed, to use every method her own prudence could suggest to get out of their power. Had she not a right to disclaim an authority which was made use of, not according to its true end, to promote her happiness, but to make her miserable? Not to lead her to good, but to drag her to sin and perdition? If then what she did was just and reasonable, why is she represented as continually afflicting her soul with remorse and fear, on account of this one action of self-defence, and suffering as much horror and dread from her father's diabolical curse, as if he had really the power of disposing of her happiness in the next world as well as in this! Why is Clarissa, who is drawn as a woman of so good an understanding, and who reasons so justly on all other subjects, to be so superstitious and weak in her apprehensions of parental authority? She is so fettered by prejudice that she does not allow her reason to

examine how far her conduct is to be justified or blamed; but implicitly joins with her father to condemn herself, when neither reason nor religion condemn her.. Does not this, in some measure, call in question the foundation of her other vir

tues, which, if not grounded on reason, but on blind prejudice and superstition, lose all their value? The enemies of virtue are too ready to accuse its followers of superstition, of laying themselves under restraints, which God and Nature never imposed on them. I would therefore have those characters, which are drawn as patterns of virtue, keep clear of superstition; and shew that the precepts of religion are most agreeable to reason and nature, and productive of our happiness, even in this world. Will you forgive me, dear sir, for making this objection to a character which is otherwise unexceptionable, and which is calculated to promote religion and virtue more than any fiction that ever appeared in the world? I dare say that you will be able to convince me that I have considered this part of the character in a wrong light; at least, if you take the pains to try, you will convince me that you do not think my opinion below your notice, and that you have more regard for me than I can any way deserve, but by the sincere esteem and affectionate value, with which I am good Mr. Richardson's obliged humble servant,

HESTER MULSO."

Richardson's part of this correspondence is not given; but few, we apprehend, at this time of day, will judge it possible satisfactorily to defend notions so tyrannical and superstitious; it appears from hints in Miss Mulso's subsequent letters to him and to Mrs. Carter, that he sought refuge in his talent for storytelling, and argued against the rights of all children, from instances of the misconduct of a few-the constant trick of weak reasoners on arbitrary principles.

THE life of Dr. Blair furnishes little that is interesting for the pen of the biographer. He advanced by an even and quiet tenor to the

attainment of the limited objects. of his ambition; his character possessed no bold features or striking peculiarities; and his private life

and dreaded the consequences to which they might then lead. He zealously op posed sending a deputation from the church to solicit his favour. He was aware of Sharp's disposition to betray the trust committed to him, and had early

information that he had done so. He afterwards shewed himself regardless of the power of a Primate, whom he could not respect. The vindictive spirit of the Archbishop soon drove him from St. Andrews, and he ended a life of uncom. mon usefulness and activity, in the parish of Aberdour, in the seventy-third year of his age."

Hugh Blair, the great-grandson of Mr. Robert Blair, was born in 1718. He went with honour through the usual course of education in the high school ofEdinburgh, and became a student in the university of that city in 1730, where he obtained distinction by his academical compositions. Having spent eleven years in the university in the study of literature, philosophy and divinity, he was licensed to preach by the presbytery of Edinburgh, and immediately laid the foundation of that fame as a pulpit orator, which he afterwards possessed in almost an unrivalled degree. In 1742 he was ordained minister of the church of Colisie to which he was presented by the Earl of Leven. Having spent ten months in this obscure situation, he was appointed second minister of the Canongate in Edinburgh, after a sharp contest with a powerfully supported competitor. He was afterwards minister of Lady Yester's church, and then of the high church of Edinburgh, a station which is regarded as the sumimit to which the ambition of a Scotch clergyman can aspire.

In 1763 a professorship of rhetoric was established by the town council of Edinburgh, to which Dr. Blair was appointed, and which was soon afterwards changed into a royal endowment. The fruits of this appointment are well known by the lectores which he published. .neq ctai 3515

In 1755 Dr. Blair bore a share in a work of which only two numbers appeared, under the title of the "Edinburgh review." A critique on Dr. Hutcheson's " system of moral philosophy" came from

his pen.

Dr. Hill speaks rather pointedly of the severity of criticism which was displayed in some articles of this work.

Among the pupils of Dr. Blair, Lord Melville is represented by Dr. Hill as one of the most distinguished and assiduous, and his instructor, we are told, ventured to predict the lustre of that career which he was destined to run, The pupil retained a grateful sense of the benefits which he derived from his preceptor's instructions, and found a corresponding steadiness on the part of the learned man whom he marked with the most flattering attention, and whose merit he believed he could hardly overrate. It is however acknowledged that the warmth of this affection was increased by the part which Dr. Blair embraced in politics, and "it was apparent to many, that in proportion as his lordship withdrew his friendship from some others of the men of letters in Scotland, he bestowed it upon him."

On the death of Dr. Robertson, Blair appears to have been considerably mortified by not receiving the appointment of principal of the university, for which he was marked out by the wishes of his friends and the expectation of the public, but which he lost by neglecting to make the customary and expected applications.

Without the advantage of a robust constitution, by temperance, and an habitual attention to health, he arrived to a very advanced period of life, without experiencing much the usual infirmities of age. He died, December 24th, 1800, in the eighty-third year of his age, in consequence of a disorder, the fa