"familiar with distress. As yet dazzled with the splendour of that sun to which you have restored me, I have been wandering the streets to find "some friend that would assist, or relieve, or re"member me; but my friends, my family, and re"lations are all dead, and I am forgotten. Permit "me then, O Chinvang, to wear out the wretched "remains of life in my former prison; the walls of my dungeon are to me more pleasing than the "most splendid palace; I have not long to live, and "shall be unhappy except I spend the rest of my days where my youth was passed; in that prison "from which you were pleased to release me.'

66

66

The old man's passion for confinement is similar to that we all have for life. We are habituated to the prison, we look round with discontent, are displeased with the abode, and yet the length of our captivity only increases our fondness for the cell. The trees we have planted, the houses we have built, or the posterity we have begotten, all serve to bind us closer to earth, and embitter our parting. Life sues the young like a new acquaintance; the companion as yet unexhausted, is at once instructive and amusing, it is company pleases, yet for all this it is but little regarded. To us, who are declined in years, life appears like an old friend; its jests have been anticipated in former conversation; it has no new story to make us smile, no new improvement with which to surprise, yet still we love it: destitute of every enjoyment still we love it; husband the wasting treasure with increased frugality, and feel all the poignancy of anguish in the fatal separation.

Sir Philip Mordaunt was young, beautiful, sincere, brave, an Englishman. He had a complete fortune of his own, and the love of the king his master, which was equivalent to riches. Life opened all her treasure before him, and promised a long

suc

He came, tasted of

as ingusted even in the an aversion to living, was the same circle; had tried found them all grow weaker If life be in youth so displeaso himself, "what will it appear on; if it be at present indifferent, en be execrable." This thought imedection; till at last, with all the verted reason, he ended the debate Had this self-deluded man been apstence grows more desirable to us e exist, he would have then faced old shrinking, he would have boldly dared served that society, by his future asich he basely injured by his desertion. Adieu.

LETTER LXXIII.

- Chi Altangi, to Fum Hoam, first Presithe Ceremonial Academy at Pekin, in

ading the news-papers here, I have reckoned not less than twenty-five great men, seventeen great men, and nine very extraordinary men in an the compass of half a year. These, say the tes, are the men that posterity are to gaze at admiration; these the names that fame will be oyed in holding up for the astonishment of sucwg ages. Let me see-forty-six great men in

half

half a year, amount just to ninety-two in a year.I wonder how posterity will be able to remember them all, or whether the people, in future times, will have any other business to mind, but that of getting the catalogue by heart.

Does the mayor of a corporation make a speech? he is instantly set down for a great man. Does a pedant digest his common place-book into a folio? he quickly becomes great: Does a poet string up trite sentiments in rhyme? he also becomes the great man of the hour. How diminutive soever the object of admiration, each is followed by a crowd of still more diminutive admirers. The shout begins in his train, onward he marches toward immortality, looks back at the pursuing crowd with self-satisfaction; catching all the oddities, the whimsies, the absurdities, and the littlenesses of conscious greatness, by the way.

I was yesterday invited by a gentleman to dinner, who promised that our entertainment should consist of an haunch of venison, a turtle, and a great man. I came according to appointment. The venison was fine, the turtle good, but the great man insupportable. The moment I ventured to speak, I was at once contradicted with a snap. I attempted, by a second and a third assault, to retrieve my lost reputation, but was still beat back with confusion. I was resolved to attack him once more from entrenchment, and turned the conversation upon the ment of China: but even here he asserted, snapped, and contradicted as before. Heavens, thought I, this man pretends to know China even better than myself! I looked round to see who was on my side, but every eye was fixed in admiration on the great I therefore at last thought proper to sit silent, and act the pretty gentleman during the ensuing

man;

conversation.

govern

When

ecured a circle of admis here as he thinks proezevation of sentiment, or ransgresses the common Stakes even a tea-pot for a toat his thoughts are fixed on eets: to speak and to act like the stube no greater than they. There dity in the very idea of greatness; An astonished at a thing very much rselves.

ze Tartars make a Lama, their first care him in a dark corner of the temple; here st half concealed from view, to regulate the is hands, lips, and eyes; but, above all, senced gravity and silence. This, however, Sute prelude to his apotheosis; a set of emissaes are dispatched among the people to cry up his picty, gravity, and love of raw flesh; the people take them at their word, approach the Lama, now become an idol, with the most humble prostration; he receives their addresses without motion, comences a god, and is ever after fed by his priests with the spoon of immortality. The same receipt in this country serves to make a great man. The idol

keeps close, sends out his little emissaries to be arty in his praise; and straight whether statesman rxuthor, he is set down in the list of fame, con

ng to be praised while it is fashionable to praise, or while he prudently keeps his minuteness concealfrom the public.

I have visited many countries, and have been in etes without number, yet never did I enter a town wch could not produce ten or twelve of those little great men; all fancying themselves known to the rest

e world, and complimenting each other upon bir extensive reputation. It is amusing enough

when

when two of those domestic prodigies of learning mount the stage of ceremony, and give and take praise from each other. I have been present when a German doctor, for having pronounced a panegyric upon a certain monk, was thought the most ingenious man in the world; till the monk soon after divided this reputation by returning the compliment; by which means they both marched off with universal applause.

The same degree of undeserved adulation that attends our great men while living, often also follows him to the tomb. It frequently happens that one of his little admirers sits down big with the important subject, and is delivered of the history of his life and writings. This may properly be called the revolutions of a life between the fireside and the easy-chair. In this we learn, the year in which he was born, at what an early age he gave symptoms of uncommon genius and application, together with some of his smart sayings, collected by his aunt and mother, while yet but a boy. The next book introduces him to the university, where we are informed of his amazing progress in learning, his excellent skill in darning stockings, and his new invention for papering books to save the covers. He next makes his appearance in the republic of letters, and publishes his folio. Now the colossus is reared, his works are eagerly bought up by all the purchasers of scarce books. The learned societies invite him to become a member; he disputes against some foreigner with a long Latin name, conquers in the controversy, is complimented by several authors of gravity and importance, is excessively fond of egg-sauce with his pig, becomes president of a literary club, and dies in the meridian of his glory. Happy they, who thus have some little faithful attendant, who never forsakes them, but prepares to wrangle and to praise

against