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posed to those displayed in their works. But the principles of human conduct seldom admit of being reduced into general rules. For they are so much modified by prejudice, custom, and original peculiarities of mind, that they vary in different persons, and in the same person under different impressions. The inference indeed is deduced from part al views, and superficial enquiry. It is opposed by the laws of reason and the dictates of common sense. Can we conceive that men willingly devote their chief attention to objects in which they are not interested? or, that they passively sacrifice the ener gies of their minds to whim or eaprice? The conduct of hundreds must carry conviction to every candid mind, that the supposition originates from a fallacy of observation. The characters to which it refers, may rather be deemed exceptions from a more universal rule. It is true, that they who investigate subjects connected with human life, must obey the unbiassed results of judgment in instructing others, and that in proportion as they fear to teach what is right, or try to defend what the general sense of mankind condemns, their characters sink in the public esteem. Self interest must, therefore, be the motive of those, who are careless whether they shall enlighten or injure society, and labour merely that they may catch the voice of popular ap. plause. They must often be led to recommend the virtues they never practise, and to deliver sentiments, the force of which they never feel. They must also be compelled to reprobate vices, to the perpetration of which they are peculiarly inclined, and, by consequence, to condemn the conduct they daily pursue. I hese constitute the lowest and most mercenary tribe of authors. Their labours, however, may be crowned with success, and many may attest the salubrity of their maxins, whom they have confirmed in the pursuit of happi. June 1806. 1

ness, and animated amidst the perplexities of life. But when they are traced into the thronged walks of life, they are seen openly violating the principles which it has been the business of their lives to impress upon others. Their deviations from duty, and degeneracy of manners, con. vey an explicit disavowal of the influence and tendency of all their doctrines. Thus the imaginary phantom dissipates at a nearer approach, and leaves the mind enveloped in uncertainty and doubt.

When we meet with such authors, if we would profit by their labours, we must overlook their inconsistencies, and recollect that virtue posseses such dignity as to awe her inveterate foes into reverence, and constrain them to become her strenuous defenders, in spite of the inherent corruption which unfits them for obeying her laws.

It must be acknowledged, that ma ny who have long felt, and acted from convictions of principle, have sacrificed their integrity to sudden or violent temptation. Thus a palpable contrariety has arisen between their characters and writings. Their perseverance has relaxed; and they have secretly languished under the corroding dominion of vice, which they endeavoured to conceal from the world, on account of the character they formerly supported by their works, and by their example. Tho' they have,written from nobler and more disinterested motives than the authors of whom I formerly took notice, still it must be confessed, their conduct has been injurious to the cause in which they were embarked.

In this case, the inconsistency of character seems chiefly to arise from the peculiar temptations to which sensibility of passion exposes men of cultivated understandings. Great sensibility depends, in some measure, on the original conformation of the human mind. But as its connection with delicacy of taste is almost universak, whether a man inherits it from

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nature or acquires it from habit; if his genius lead him to consecrate his life to intellectual pursuits,his passions uniformly become stronger in proportion as his nobler faculties are improved; and, though never too violent for the guidance of reason, they do not remain stationary or inactive. "The greatest geniuses," says an elegant author, have commonly the strongest affections; as, on the other hand, the weaker understandings have gennerally the weaker passions; and it is fit the fury of the coursers should not be too great for the strength of the charioteer *.

When a man of genius possesses this delicacy of passion, and keeps it ander proper controul, honour and dignity adorn his personal character, and reflect irresistible lustre on the authority of his precepts. Impressed with the important tendency of his doctrines, and anxious to evince their possibility, be points out the way, and proposes the reward of faithful endeavours.

But, on the other hand, when the intellectual balance is destroyed, the passions become wayward and unruly, from being deprived of the support and countenance of reason. By imperceptible degrees, their delicacy degenerates into an irritability of temper, and they soon usurp authority over judgement. They foster, at last, the same vicious indulgencies as in those who acknowledge no Other motives of action than their pre dominant appetites suggest to them. Philosophy cannot teach men to divest themselves of humanity. Tho' their feelings are refined, still they retain their vigour, and render them obnoxious to all the sorrows and vexations of life. Calm and deliberate reflection strengthens their other faculties, and qualifies them to discern theproper means of attaining rational comfort and enjoyment. In the closet they form their schemes, conduct

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their measures, and publish to the world the unbiassed maxims of speculative virtue. From abstract reasonings on the dignity of their principles, and the cogency of the arguments on which they insist, they flatter themselves that they are fortified against the contagion of example, and fitted to contemplate the actions of others with the coolness of indifference. But follow them into the world, and they will sometimes be found sacrificing their best dispositions, and most permanent interests to the prejudices or solicitations of those around them. The inspiration of the closet is past. The still voice of reason is hushed by the syren tongue of dissimulation, or is overpowered by the clamours of promis. cuous multitudes. Conscience is lulled into a momentary calm, and its suggestions are dismissed without consideration. The virtues cherished in solitude, and strengthened by frequent meditation, give place to the tumults of disordered reason. The action of the nobler faculties is suspended, and liberty of thought is ob. structed by passion. They are exposed to the vitiated habits, and passions, and example of others: and are driven about by a variety of impulse, and solicited by motives which never intruded into their retirements. They feel their inability for the contest, and, because they have not leisure to examine or deliberate, they choose what they have repeatedly taught others to reject. Foibles that allure the unthinking into excess and intemperance in gratification, betray them also when they are hurried into action without being prepared. Their fortitude forsakes them in the trying hour of temptation, or of difficulty; and they forget the dignity of virtue, renounce her authority, and trample on her most sacred laws.

Thus, they who have stood high in the literary world have shewn themselves as vicious and unprinci

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pled as them whose ignorance they pitied and despised; and have convinced mankind of a truth they do not readily admit, that the philosopher reasons on common affairs, where his passions are influenced, in the same spirit and weakness with those who never speculate on more elevated subjects. R. M.

(To be continued.)

pay that respect which is due to his memory, and to record some memorial of his character and his name.

The gaiety and amusements of fashionable life were congenial with his youth, and lively disposition. The uncommon fineness of his face, his stature, general prepossessing appearance and address, distinguished him from the crowd, and ensured him that reception, which is always gratifying and frequently dangerous to a young man just entering upon Yet it did not intoxicate him,

Some Account of the late Dr GLOVER. life.

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SIR,'

DMUND GLOVER, Esq. M. D. was born in the neighbourhood of Mallow, in the county of Cork. In early life he lost his father; was the second son of a numerous family, over which his mother watched with tenderness, and to whom, and to him in particular, she looked for the happiness and support of her widowhood and age. He was educated under Mr Bulkley, and in the autumn of 1802 repaired to Edinburgh, to prosecute the study of medicine, which he had chosen for his profession. In September 1805, he obtained the degree of doctor of medicine. In the spring and winter of that year, he twice officiated as clinical clerk to Dr Duncan. He was elected one of the presidents of the Royal Physical Society; but during his presidency, and soon after he had entered on the office of clinical clerk to Dr Home, jun. a second attack of disease, which baffled the skill of his medical attendants, cut short his existence, in the 22d year of his age.

These few dates and particulars comprise the principal incidents of a life, thus spent, and thus early terminated. Yet he died, not unknown, unwept, nor unhonoured; and by the event, which has bereft his friends of all but the remembrance of him, a sacred duty devolves upon them to

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it did not in the least throw a veil over the natural and open qualities of his heart. His company was courted, and he was highly caressed; yet no man had less artifice or affectation, and he always retained that honesty, affability, and frankness which characterised him. These qualities much endeared him to his friends, rendered him esteemed by a nume. rous acquaintance, and generally admired in public or in private life. The steadiness with which he prepa. red for his examinations antecedent to his degree, the examinations which he passed, his repeated selection by the clinical professor as his clerk, the manner in which he executed that office, and in which he presided over the Physical Society, gave promise of considerable eminence in his profession when maturer life and enlarged experience should present motives for industry, and call for the sacrifice of pleasure on the altar of duty.

Thro' his protracted, painful, and fatal illness, he had every attention and assistance which numerous kind friends, and the most skilful of the medical profession could supply. His sufferings were acute, and he at length sunk under them. About an hour before his death, he was free from pain, knew and spoke to the friend who was attending him, and about eleven at night, without a struggle or a groan, serenely breath

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ed his last. His remains were fol. lowed to the grave by the medical professors, and a concourse of friends, and fellow students. Few during their academical course, and so short a life, have been so generally known and lamented. He will live long in the remembrance of all who knew and loved him. In the commerce, or in the repose and retirement of future life, when the companions of bis youth, his pleasures, and his studies, review the persons and scenes with which they were early familiar, Glover will recur to the memory, associated with the pursuits, the happiness and the objects of former days.

If manly grace, if vigorous beauty's bloom

Could soothe the ruthless tyrant of the tomb;

If kindness ministering to a youth beloved,

If friendship e'en to its last office proved, If public sympathy, or secret prayer, That love or anguish mingled with despair,

If aught of human skill had power to

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Report of a Committee of the Horticul tural Society of LONDON, containing a View of Improvements which may be made in gardening. Drawn up at their request, by T. A, KNIGHT, Esq.

WERE it possible to ascertain

the primeval state of those vegetables which now occupy the attention of the gardener and agriculturist, and immediately, or remotely, conduce to the support and happiness of mankind; and could we trace out the various changes which art or accident has, in successive genera. tions, produced in each, few enquiries would be more extensively interesting. But we possess no sources from which sufficient information to

direct us in our enquiries can be derived; and are still ignorant of the native country, and existence in a wild state, of some of the most im

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portant of our plants. We, however, know, that improved flowers and fruits are the necessary produce of improved culture; and that the off spring, in a greater or less degree, inherits the character of its parent. The austere crab of our woods has thus been converted into the golden pippin; and the numerous varieties of the plumb, can boast no other pa rent than our native sloe. Yet few experiments have been made, the object of which has been new productions of this fort; and almost every ameliorated variety of fruit appears to have been the offspring of accident, or of culture applied to other purposes. We may therefore infer, with little danger of error, that an ample and unexplored field for future discovery and improvement lies before us, in which nature does not appear to have formed any limits to the success of our labours, if proper ly applied.

The physiology of vegetation has deservedly engaged the attention of the Royal and Linnean Societies; and much information has been derived from the exertions of those learned bodies. Societies for the improvement of domestic animals, and of agriculture in all its branches, have also been established, with success, in almost every district of the British empire. Horticulture alone appears to have been neglected, and left to the common gardener, who generally pursues the dull routine of his predecessors; and, if he deviates from it rarely possesses à sufficient share of science and information, to enable him to deviate with success.

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rors of ignorance, and to expose the misrepresentations of fraud; the ad. vantages which the public may ultimately derive from the establishment, will probably exceed the most sanguine hopes of its founders.

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Horticulture, in its present state, may, with propriety, be divided into two distinct branches, the useful and the ornamental; the first must occupy the principal attention of the members of the society, but the second will not be neglected; and it will be their object, wherever it is practicable, to combine both.

Experience and observation appear to have sufficiently proved, that all plants have a natural tendency to adapt their habits to every climate in which art or accident places them: and thus the pear tree, which appears to be a native of the southern parts of Europe, or the adjoining parts of Asia, has completely natu ralized itself in Britain, and has acquired, in a great number of instances, the power to ripen its fruit in the early part, even of an unfavoura ble summer; the crab tree has, in the same manner, adapted its babits to the frozen climate of Siberia. But when we import either of these fruits, in their cultivated state, from happier climates, they are often found incapable of acquiring a perfect state of maturity, even when trained to a south wall.

As the pear and crab tree, in the preceding cases, have acquired powers of ripening their fruits in climates much colder than those in which they were placed by nature, we have some grounds of hope, that the vine and peach tree may be made to adapt their varieties to our climate, and to ripen their fruits without the aid of artificial heat, or the reflection of a wall; and though we are at present little acquainted with the mode of culture best calculated to produce the necessary changes in the consti tution and habit of plants, attentive

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