This will be the fame of Watt with future generations; and it is sufficient for his race and his country. But to those to whom he more immediately belonged, who lived in his society and enjoyed his conversation, it is not, perhaps, the character in which he will be most frequently recalled -most deeply lamented or even most highly admired.Independently of his great train of attainments in the mechanics, Mr. Watt was an extraordinary, and in many respects a wonderful man. Perhaps no individual in his age possessed so much and such varied and exact information-had read so much, or remembered what he had read so accurately and well.

He had infinite quickness of apprehension, a prodigious memory, and a certain rectifying and methodizing power of understanding, which extracted something precious out of all that was presented to it. His stores of miscellaneous knowledge were immense and yet less astonishing than the command which he had at all times over them. It seemed as if every subject that was casually started in conversation with him, had been that which he had been last occupied in studying and exhausting; such was the copiousness, the precision, and the admirable clearness of the information which he poured out upon it without effort or hesitation.

Nor was this promptitude and compass of knowledge confined in any degree to the studies connected with his ordinary pursuits. That he should have been minutely and extensively skilled in chemistry and the arts, and in most of the branches of physical science, might perhaps have beer. conjectured; but it could not have been inferred from his usual occupations, and probably is not generally known, that he was curiously learned in many branches of antiquity, metaphysics, medicine, and entomology, and perfectly at home in all the details of architecture, music, and law. He was well acquainted, too, with most of the modern languages and familiar with their most recent literature. Nor was it at all extraordinary to hear the great mechanician and engineer detailing and expounding, for hours together, the metaphysical theories of the German logicians, or criticising the measures or the matter of German poetry.

In his temper and dispositions he was not only kind and affectionate, but generous and considerate of the feelings of all around him, and gave the most liberal assistance and encouragement to all young persons who showed any indi

cations of talent, or applied to him for patronage or advice. His health, which was delicate from his youth upwards, seemed to become firmer as he advanced in years. His friends in Edinburgh never saw him more full of intellectual vigor and colloquial animation-never more delightful or more instructive-than in his last visit to Scotland, in autumn, 1817. Indeed, it was after that time that he applied himself, with all the ardor of early life, to the invention of a machine for mechanically copying all sorts of sculpture and statuary, and distributed among his friends some of its earliest performances, as the productions of a young artist just entering on his 83d year.

This happy and useful life came at last to a gentle close. He expressed his sincere gratitude to Providence for the length of days with which he had been blessed, and his exemption from most of the infirmities of age, as well as for the calm and cheerful evening of life that he had been permitted to enjoy, after the honorable labors of the day had been concluded. And thus, full of years and honors, in all calmness and tranquillity, he yielded up his soul, without a pang or struggle, and passed from the bosom of his family to that of his God!

LESSON XCVIII.

Death and character of Howard.—CLARKE.

Ir had almost been his daily custom, at a certain hour, to visit Admiral Priestman, but, failing of his usual call, the Admiral went to know the cause, and found him sitting before a stove in his bed-room. Having inquired after his health, Mr. Howard replied, that his end was fast approaching, that he had several things to say to his friend, and thanked him for calling.

The Admiral endeavored to turn the conversation, imagining the whole might be merely the result of low spirits; but Mr. Howard soon assured him it was otherwise, and added, "Priestman, you style this a very dull conversation, and endeavor to divert my mind from dwelling on death; but I entertain very different sentiments. Death has no terrors for me: it is an event I have always looked to with cheerfulness, if not with pleasure; and be assured that it is to me a more grateful subject than any other.".

He then spoke of his funeral, and cheerfully gave directions concerning the manner of his interment. "There is a spot," said he, "near the village of Dauphigny, which would suit me nicely; you know it well, for I have often said I should like to be buried there; and let me beg of you, as you value your old friend, not to suffer any pomp to be used at my burial; nor any monument, nor monumental inscription whatsoever to mark where I am laid; deposit me quietly in the earth, place a sun-dial over my grave, and let me be forgotten."

A letter at this time arriving from England, containing pleasing information of his son, it was read aloud by his servant; upon the conclusion of which, Mr. Howard, turning his head, said, "Is not this comfort for a dying father?" He then made the Admiral promise to read the service of the Church of England over his grave, and that he should be buried in all respects according to the forms of his own country.

Having succeeded in his application, the countenance of Mr. Howard brightened, a gleam of evident satisfaction came over his face, and he prepared to go to bed. He then made his will; shortly after which, symptoms of delirium appeared.

After this he ceased to speak. A physician was called in, who prescribed the musk draught. It was administered by Admiral Mordvinof, who prevailed on Mr. Howard to swallow a little; but he refused the rest, evincing great disapprobation. A rattling in the throat ensued, and he shortly after breathed his last.

"I cannot name this gentleman," says Mr. Burke, "without remarking that his labors and writings have done much to open the eyes and hearts of mankind. He visited all Europe, not to survey the sumptuousness of palaces, or the stateliness of temples; not to make accurate measurements of the remains of ancient grandeur; not to form a scale of the curiosities of modern art; not to collect medals or collate manuscripts, but to dive into the depth of dungeons; to plunge into the infection of hospitals; to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain; to take the gauge and dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt; to remember the forgotten, to attend to the neglected, to visit the forsaken, and to compare and collate the distresses of all men in all countries. His plan was original, and it was as full of genius as it was of humanity. It was a voyage of discovery; a circumnavigation of charity The benefit of his labor is felt more or

less in every country; and at his final reward, he will receive, not by retail, but in grōss, the reward of those who visit the prisoner.”

LESSON XCIX.

The Sultan and Mr. Haswell.*

Sult. ENGLISHMAN, you were invited hither to receive public thanks for our troops restored to health by your prescriptions. Ask a reward adequate to your services.

Hasw. Sultan, the reward I ask, is, leave to preserve more of your people still.

Sult. How more? my subjects are in health; no contagion visits them.

Hasu. The prisoner is your subject. There, misery, more contagious than disease, preys on the lives of hundreds sentenced but to confinement, their doom is death. Immured in damp and dreary vaults, they daily perish; and who can tell but that, among the many hapless sufferers, there may be hearts bent down with penitence, to heaven and you, for every slight offence-there may be some, among the wretched multitude, even innocent victims. Let me seek them out-let me save them and you.

Sult. Amazement! retract your application: curb this weak pity; and accept our thanks.

Hasw. Restrain my pity;—and what can I receive in recompense for that soft bond which links me to the wretched, and, while it soothes their sorrow, repays me more than all the gifts an empire can bestow!-But, if it be a virtue repugnant to your plan of government, I apply not in the name of Pity, but of Justice.

Sult. Justice!

Hasw. The justice that forbids all, but the worst of criminals, to be denied that wholesome air the very brute creation freely takes.

In the year 1786, says Mrs. Inchbald, (the authoress of the play from which the above interesting extract is selected,) Howard, under the name of Haswell, was on his philanthropic travels through Europe and parts of Asia, to mitigate the sufferings of the prisoners. He fell a sacrifice to his humanity; for visiting a sick person at Cherson, who had a malignant fever, he caught the infection, and died January 20, 1790, aged 70. A statue is erected to his memory in St. Paul's Cathedral, with a suitable inscription.

Sult. Consider for whom you plead-for men (if not base culprits) so misled, so depraved, they are dangerous to our state, and deserve none of its blessings.

Hasw. If not upon the undeserving-if not upon the wretched wanderer from the paths of rectitude where shall the sun diffuse his light, or the clouds distil their dew? Where shall spring breathe fragrance, or autumn pour its plenty?

Sult. Sir, your sentiments, still more your character, excite my curiosity. They tell me, that in our camps you visited each sick man's bed; administered yourself the healing draught*; encouraged our savages with the hope of life, or pointed out their better hope in death.-The widow speaks your charities, the orphan lisps your bounties, and the rough Indian melts in tears to bless you.-I wish to ask why you have done all this?-what is it that prompts you thus to befriend the miserable and forlorn?

Hasw. It is in vain to explain:-the time it would take to reveal to you

.

Sult. Satisfy my curiosity in writing then.

Hasw. Nay, if you will read, I'll send a book in which is already written why I act thus.

Sult. What book ? what is it called?

Hasw. "The Christian Doctrine." There you will find all I have done was but my duty.

Sult. Your words recal reflections that distract me; nor can I bear the pressure on my mind, without confessingI am a Christian!

LESSON C.

The monied man.-NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

OLD Jacob Stock! The chimes of the clock were not more punctual in proclaiming the progress of time, than in marking the regularity of his visits at the temples of Plutus in Threadneedle-street, and Bartholomew-lane. His devotion to them was ex'emplary. In vain the wind and the rain, the hail and the sleet, battled against his rugged front. Not the slippery ice, nor the thick-falling snow, nor the whole ertillery of elementary warfare, could check the plodding perseverance of the man of the world, or tempt

* Pron. drăft.