As we have never laid claim to any extraordinary measure of sensibility, it may be supposed that they who have so long wielded the scourge of criticism, and bathed their hands in the blood of so many ill-fated candidates for fame, must have extinguished the usual feelings and weakness of our nature. Yet, incredible as it may seem, we do confess, with all our obduracy, that we cannot remain wholly unaffected, when we announce, that with the present number, our labours in the Anthology are to be brought to a close. After having for so many years found, in preparing materials for this work, the amusement and solace of our leisure hours, and in the little circle, which interest in its weifare has weekly brought together, an innocent and cheerful, if not always very philosophick relaxation, we feel, in finally dismissing it from our hands, something of that sadness steal over us, which is experienced in losing a good-natured and long-tried, though not perhaps very valuable friend.

Farewell!

I could have better spared a better man.
O! 1 shall have a heavy miss of thee.

We do not suppose that the intention we have thus announced will spread much consternation, or that the absence of the Anthology will create any very alarming vacuum in the literary world. There may be some who will remember us with kindness, and a few with regret; but on the whole we are in

clined to think that the waves will roll as peacefully, and the skies appear as blue, and the sun shine as gaily, on the day of our departure, as though we still existed. Such is the fate which, from the nature of our work, we have always expected to be heirs to. He who writes for a journal, must not be disappointed, though his fame should moulder a good deal sooner than the pyramids of Egypt.

In arriving at the termination of labours, which, if not very important, have at least been long continued, it is natural to inquire to what purpose we have toiled. In looking back on our pages we find, as in every fair review of human life, some things to regret; some things of no very positive character; and some, pacê omnium bonorum, be it said, which we are disposed to regard as not wholly vain and unprofitable. We do confess, for in our last moments it becomes us to be honest, that in reviewing our labours, we find some criticisms on our conscience, in which a juvenile love of point and smartness may have betrayed us into asperity and want of candour, and in which we may seem to have thought too much of the reputation of the reviewer, and too little of the rights and feelings of the author. We must in fairness also own, that it has been incident to our lucubrations to be sometimes crude and indigested, and sometimes meagre and weak; and our remarks have been usually delivered in quite as oracular a tone as was justified either by the authority of the criticks, or the intrinsick weight of their judgments. We make these frank acknowledgments of our faults, because we would willingly go out of the world in charity with all mankind. They are the faults of youth; and young men, we know, are always dogmatical and usually vain.

But we will not affect more humility than we feel. The Anthology, though never what we or its friends could have wished to see it, has yet some claims on the regard of the publick. The leading objects to which it has been devoted are such as we can never be ashamed to have pursued, however we may regret the imperfection of our approaches to them. cultivate and gratify the taste of the lovers of polite letters, has been the principal design of our Miscellany, though we have rejected nothing which might appear to aid the general cause of sound science, In pursuing this design we have endeavour

To

ed always to feel and to recognize the obligation which is laid on every writer to regulate and sanctify all his speculations by a supreme regard to the interests of virtue and religion. In conducting our critical department we have had a task of more delicacy, in executing which from its very nature we could not hope for universal approbation. With whatever faults, however, it may have been chargeable, of this at least we are sure; that we have never knowingly suffered any sentiment of personal hostility to mingle with any of our criticisms; nor have we ever used the immunities of invisibility to shelter us in launching the "firebrands, arrows and death" of slander and malignity. We claim also this merit, that we have never lent ourselves to the service of any party, political or theological; we have never courted the suffrages of the great vulgar, nor attempted to enlist the prejudices of the small; have never felt, in any discussion in which we have been engaged, that we have had any other cause to serve than that of truth and good learning. On this subject we speak confidently. Of the soundness of the great principles in politicks and religion, which we have advanced, we can deliberately re-affirm our honest conviction. We claim the praise of having been uniformly true to them; and on this ground it is, that in going off the scene, we do not fear to say to the spectators: Plaudite, om

nes.

There may be some who, in taking their last leave of the Anthology, may be prompted by kindness, or curiosity, or both, to inquire why we are now induced to discontinue it. We answer, that we are influenced not by one, but many reasons; the weight of which we have long felt, though we have hesitated to obey them. At the commencement of the year we hinted at some of the inconveniences which arise from the manner in which the Anthology has been conducted, and suggested our hopes that we should be relieved from them by giving the principal care of the publication to a permanent editor. In this we have been disappointed, from the inadequacy of the receipts of the Anthology to repay the labour of any gentleman to whom we should be willing to confide it. Our auxiliaries also, at no time numerous, though always valuable, have lately been diminished. Our own ranks too have been thinned by desertion and death, and many of us feel the claims of pro

fessional duties to all the time we can command. Upon the whole, too, the Anthology has perhaps lived long enough, and its future existence, at least for the present, would be forced and unnatural. It may be, however, that at some future day we shall attempt to revive it, and possibly in a new form and under brighter auspices. With this mysterious and prophetick intimation any of our readers, who may find themselves disconsolate at its loss, may endeavour to comfort themselves.

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It now only remains that we should offer our thanks to the friends who have aided us by their contributions, and rewarded us by their approbation. The assistance we have received, though not frequent nor great, has been from sources to which any one might be proud to owe an obligation. If we felt at liberty, we might flatter ourselves very agreeably by enumerating the names of those who have occasionally condescended to grace the pages of the Anthology with their writings. We regret that we have not been able to secure to them a less perishable existence. In returning our thanks for the patronage we have received, our gratitude may be the more valuable as it is not to be very widely distributed. Yet though we have never been in danger of being intoxicated by universal applause, we have been animated by the praises and support of those from whom they are most grateful. We must content ourselves with a general acknowledgment of our obligation. We cannot however, refuse ourselves the gratification of an expression of our thanks to our friend Dennie of the Port Folio, who has so often cheered us by his kind and generous encouragement. We offer him our cordial wishes for the success of his labours, and hope they may receive a more solid compensation than the feeble whispers of our praise.

In taking our final leave of the public, we yet linger awhile. It is because we have a mournful duty to perform. It would be unjust that the pages, of the Anthology should be closed without at least a passing tribute to the memory of a man to whose zeal and activity we owe it, that our work did not perish at its birth. Though the pressure of other cares had prevented him from giving much direct assistance to us during the last years of his life; yet we were always sure of his smiles and good wishes. His short and active course is now ended ;

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but his bright example still remains, and "marshals us on" in the path of virtue and piety.

Peace to the memory of a man of worth,

A man of letters and of manners too.

FOR THE ANTHOLOGY.

EXTRACTS FROM THE JOURNAL OF A GENTLEMAN ON A
VISIT TO LISBON.

(Concluded from page 307)

THE nobility in this country are as poor as they are proud. Two or three have fortunes of five or six thousand pounds sterling a year. The rest dwindle into insignificant incomes. Titles are not hereditary. A duke or marquis enjoys his title by creation only. The honour is conferred in the same manner as that of knighthood in England. The servility of the Portuguese to their superiours is exceeded only by their fulsome politeness towards their equals. If they confined their civility to bows and scrapes, it would be well enough. I should have no manner of objection. But when they meet in the streets they embrace with the utmost ardour, and kiss each other. It is extremely pleasant to see two of these cleanly gentlemen hugging one another on a hot day, and it must, I conceive, be still more agreeable to the parties concerned. Peasants, ass-drivers, muleteers, and beggars, manifest in their rencounters a politeness as polished, and an affection equally ardent. They take off their hats, bow down to the ground, embrace, hold each other a long while by the hand, inquire afte the healths of themselves and of all their respective families, adding invariably, "Estou a seus ordens, estou seu criado.”

There are in Lisbon no literary journals of any kind. One miserable newspaper only called Diario de Lisboa is published weekly, which usually contains news six months old. All English newspapers are prohibited. The Madrid Gazette, which is but one degree better, is the only foreign paper taken at the coffee houses. There are in various parts of the town bookstalls and booksellers' shops. But they seldom contain any books worth buying, unless you are partial to the biography of