ROM the courts above a visitor But the dress of English Droll. For in that memorable year When Mercury turn'd auctioneer,2 'An Eleatic Philosopher, of Abdera in Thrace. Born 513; died 404, B. C. 2 In the "Sale of Philosophers," as described by Lucian, the heads of the different sects are brought to the hammer, Mercury being the auctioneer. Pythagoras fetches ten Minæ, Diogenes, with his rags and cynicism, two obols— he may do for a house-dog! Aristippus (the founder of the Cyrenaic sect) is too fine a gentleman for any body to Democritus and Heraclitus are alike unsaleable. Socrates, with whom Lucian seems to confound the Platonic philosophy, after being well ridiculed and abused, is bought by Dion, of Syracuse, for the large sum of two talents. Epicurus produces two Minæ. Chrysippus, the venture on. B Putting up for sale a number 3 Of rare wits, like household lumber! stoic, who gives some extraordinary specimens of his logic, "Once more, Democritus, arise on earth, How the Sage was rewarded will be seen by the following extract from an autograph letter (in the possession of Uncle Timothy) written by the excellent and learned Elizabeth Carter to Miss Highmore, dated April 23, 1752. "I extremely honour the just indignation you express Invited, I before had come, But that I should, abash'd and dumb, at the cold reception which has been given by a stupid, trifling, ungrateful world to the RAMBLER. You may conclude by my calling names in this courageous manner, that I am as zealous in the cause of this excellent paper as yourself. But we may both comfort ourselves that an author who has employed the noblest powers of genius and learning, the strongest force of understanding, the most beautiful ornaments of eloquence in the service of Virtue and Religion can never sink into oblivion, however he may be at present too little regarded." 6 6 Me, poor man! my library Was dukedom large enough." Uncle Timothy had been thinking of the nest-like little domicile of Democritus when he wrote the following WISH. One of those neat quiet nooks That into a garden looks Give me for myself and books, Not exactly in my dotage! No shrewish wife, no stupid kin, And let it be Where resounds the huntsman's horn, Let, each tuneless pause to fill, Glittering with celestial rays, Call me forth to prayer and praise Round the walls of my retreat, And fondly mark How, in each expressive face That heavenly spark! Charm'd by fancy, taught by truth, Ye were dear to me in sooth In the green leaf of my youth! Better known and understood, Ye are still more wise, more good Solacers of my solitude! And doubly dear! 7" Who, having claw'd or cuddled into bondage The thing misnamed a husband-" Tobin. No duns without, no quacks within, Ye have made (it else had been And strew'd my path (not always green!) Immortal blossoms of the mind In beauty born, by taste refined, Freshen❜d by the morning dews (Seated in my woodbine shade) And having struck the balance fair Our path beset, With what strength (not ours) we've striven, Can we hope to be forgiven What we humbly owe to heaven If we forget? The leaves of memory turning o'er, "Till nearer still the prospect grows And in the arms of death we close A life well-spent. |