guarded by anathemas. Rarely could he be accused of substituting assertion for argument, or vehemence for illustration.

Let it not be supposed, that, because Mr. Drew shone as a metaphysician, metaphysics were always the burden of his friendly conversations. "Such," remarks the gentleman whose words we have just quoted, and who speaks from personal observation,"such was not Mr. Drew. Desirous of suiting his conversation to the capacities and circumstances of those into whose company he was thrown, an obliging freeness of communication rendered him at once the delight and oracle of the social circle. He evinced an agreeable facility in seizing on the passing topic, on which he was sure either to cast additional light, or give the current of observation some new and interesting turn. Anxious to hear him talk, company sometimes unfairly pressed for his opinions. On this account, his hours of cessation from professional labour were not always those of relaxation."

Though delighted to mix with those individuals, from whose stores of knowledge he might enrich his own, yet he did not like, when desirous of unbending his mind in the society of friends, to be baited and worried, as he sometimes was, by paradoxes and per

* The Bard of Sheffield, at the close of a letter to Mr. Drew, in 1825, writes, "Permit me to add, that I recollect, with great pleasure, a brief interview with you at Liverpool, some years ago, at Mr. Byrom's. You may, perhaps, not have forgotten it. Ever since I have felt myself to be truly your friend,

JAMES MONTGOMERY."

plexing questions. This was a tax upon his good nature which, though rarely evaded, was paid rather from courtesy than choice. He was best pleased to follow the ordinary course of useful conversation, and occasionally throw in some of his own happy touches and illustrations. Sometimes, indeed, he would spontaneously take up, as a text, some expression which had been casually dropped, dilate upon it-view it in its various bearings — pursue it to its remote consequences and unconsciously gratify and engage the attention of his friends by continuous remarks of half an hour's duration. A gentleman recently informed the writer, that he was witness to an instance, about the year 1804, in which some one having, in Mr. Drew's company, accidentally struck a chord to which his inmost soul vibrated, he entered at once upon the subject -a completely abstract one -and delivered his thoughts on it for two successive hours, with scarcely any interruption or intermission. Still he greatly disliked being dragged into a discussion; and when this was attempted by individuals with whom he could, without incivility, use the freedom, he would remark, "I do not want to be set at work, but to enjoy a holiday." To the members of his family he has said, "I have often refused an invitation, where I had reason to believe I should be looked upon as the lion of the company, and expected to exhibit for their gratification."

The following letters will, perhaps, be accepted as a further illustration of Mr. Drew's personal character, and a fitting termination of this imperfect sketch.

"St. Austell, July 29th, 1809.

"MY DEAR FRIEND,

I

"How is it that your letters are all tinctured with an air of melancholy and sadness? perceived it in the first letter you sent me-questioned you upon it when I saw you-and now find it again renewed, without being able, in either stage, to discover the cause. To cherish this propensity, you well know, is not the way to be a true disciple of Zeno, No doubt, the ills of life have occasionally strewed your path with thorns; but, when you contrast them with the blessings you enjoy, you must acknowledge that you have more occasion for gratitude than complaint. Remember, that none but children will fall over straws, Every person is called to struggle with adversity; it is a condition of our existence; and, if all were to measure their portion by what you suffer, it would require a large asylum to hold the afflicted. I am not, however, friendly to inconsiderate levity; it dissipates the mind, and renders it as unfit for sober thought, as gloom does for social converse. There is a happy medium between these two extremes, which fits us for every department, and ennobles human nature.

"I am really pleased with your description of the poor old man,

Whose trembling limbs had borne him to your door,' and with those fine and varied feelings to which his venerable appearance gave rise. Your notices are minute, your details ample, and the features well discriminated. Yet in all methought I saw

The poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling.'

You have learnt, I perceive, to enhance your charities, by the manner in which you bestow them.

"You really made me smile, when I perused that part of your letter which related to myself. I should like to have heard you proposing questions, and making inquiries, which none in company could answer so well as yourself. As to the little tale which your sister has heard, of a gentleman calling on me for a book which he had previously seen, but thought I did not understand, it is all fabulous-no such thing ever existed. My life has furnished but little variety. That part which relates to my literary acquirements, you may see in the introduction to my new Essay on the Resurrection,' and in the Weekly Entertainer' about three or four weeks since. In this latter, it was copied from Mr. Polwhele's History of Cornwall. It is a letter which I wrote to Mr. Polwhele, in consequence of his request to furnish him with some memoirs of my life. But he, instead of working on the materials I sent him, gave a literal copy of my letter to the world.

"As to politics, I am sure we shall not differ. I was once severely tossed on that unfathomable sea, but have been on shore for many years. On those heroes whose names fill the world with their renown, I lately expressed my opinion in the following lines :

"What are those men, whose names create such dread, Napoleon living, or a Cæsar dead?

One for his crimes was from the senate hurl'd,

One still survives the terror of the world.

What are the deeds from which they gather fame?

Plain, wilful murder, with another name.

And such as shine in honour's foremost place,

Are licensed butchers of the human race."

To these sentiments permit me to add another, in the words of Cowper:

'O for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
'Of unsuccessful, or successful war,
'Might never reach me more!'

When I began this letter, it was my intention to pursue those reflections which you started, on the various dispensations of Providence in the motley appearances of human life; but my paper was full before I was aware. This I may renew in a future letter. I shall be glad to hear from you as soon as you have opportunity, and beg, if any difficulty occurs to your mind which you think I am able to remove, that you will communicate it without reserve, and with all the readiness that freedom and confidence can inspire.

"You plainly perceive, that I cannot write much more. I have only room to wish you every blessing for time and eternity, and to assure you that I am your sincere friend, and shall be ever ready to render you all the service in my power.

"Miss Hooke, Wembury, Plymouth.”

"SAMUEL DREW."

"MY DEAR JOHN AND ANNA,

"38, Newgate-Street, London December 30, 1824.

"Having nothing to communicate to one

which I wish to conceal from the other, I address you both on the same sheet, not having time to write to each separately.

We have received the old coins, for which I feel much obliged. I will take care that Dr. C-— shall not rob me of these. I find they are troublesome things to have. Without shewing them they lose half their value; if presented to a person that has no taste for antiquities of this kind, they excite