Note 3, page 24, lines 21 and 22. Each has its motto: some contrived to tell, In monkish rhyme, the uses of a bell. The several purposes for which bells are used are expressed in two Latin verses of this kind. Note 4, page 25, line 18. But monuments themselves memorials need. Juvenal. Sat. x. l. 146. Note 5, page 31, last line. Regard the dead, but to the living live. It has been observed to me, that in the first part of the story I have represented this young woman as resigned and attentive to her duties; from which it should appear that the concluding advice is unnecessary; but if the reader will construe the expression "to the living live," into the sense-live entirely for · them, attend to duties only which are real, and not those imposed by the imagination, I shall have no need to alter the line which terminates the story. THE BOROUGH. LETTER III. THE VICAR-THE CURATE, &c. And telling me the sov'reign'st thing on earth Was parmacity for an inward bruise. Shakspeare.-Henry IV. Part I. Act 1. So gentle, yet so brisk, so wond'rous sweet, Churchill. Much are the precious hours of youth mispent Churchill. VICAR. The lately departed Minister of the Borough-His soothing and supplicatory Manners-His cool and timid Affections -No Praise due to such negative Virtue-Address to Characters of this Kind-The Vicar's Employments-His Talents and moderate Ambition-His Dislike of Innovation-His mild but ineffectual Benevolence-A Summary of his Cha racter. CURATE. Mode of paying the Borough-Minister-The Curate has no such Resources-His Learning and Poverty-Erroneous Idea of his Parent-His Feelings as a Husband and Father -The dutiful Regard of his numerous Family-His Pleasure as a Writer, how interrupted-No Resource in the Press-Vulgar Insult-His Account of a Literary Society, and a Fund for the Relief of indigent Authors, &c. Of most, all mention, memory, thought are past— To what famed college we our Vicar owe, No haughty virtues stirr'd his peaceful mind, He was his Master's soldier, but not one Fear was his ruling passion; yet was love, Its languid offerings to a listening maid; She, with her widow'd mother, heard him speak, Accuse me not that I approving paint |