wise, innumerable tumults must have arisen, and the good order of the world been continually broken and disturbed, while a variety of persons were striving who should get the first occupation of the same thing, or disputing which of them had actually gained it. As human life also grew more and more refined, abundance of conveniences were devised to render it more easy, commodious, and agreeable; as, habitations for shelter and safety, and raiment for warmth and decency. But no man would be at the trouble to provide either, so long as he had only an usufructuary property in them, which was to cease the instant that he quitted possession; if, as soon as he walked out of his tent, or pulled off his garment, the next stranger who came by would have a right to inhabit the one, and to wear the other. In the case of habitations, in particular, it was natural to observe, that even the brute creation, to whom every thing else was in common, maintained a kind of permanent property in their dwellings, especially for the protection of their young; that the birds of the air had nests, and the beasts of the field had caverns, the invasion of which they esteemed a very flagrant injustice, and would sacrifice their lives to preserve them. Hence a property was soon established in every man's house and homestall; which seem to have been originally mere temporary huts or movable cabins, suited to the design of Providence for more speedily peopling the earth, and suited to the wandering life of their owners, before any extensive property in the soil or ground was established. And there can be no doubt, but that movables of every kind became sooner appropriated than the permanent substantial soil; partly because they were more susceptible of a long occupance, which might be continued for months together without any sensible interruption, and at length by usage ripen into an established right; but principally because few of them could be fit for use, till improved and meliorated by the bodily labor of the occupant; which bodily labor, bestowed upon any subject which before lay in common to all men, is universally allowed to give the fairest and most reasonable title to an exclusive property therein.

THE LAWYER'S FAREWELL TO HIS MUSE.

As by some tyrant's stern command
A wretch forsakes his native land,
In foreign climes condemn'd to roam
An endless exile from his home;
Pensive he treads the destined way,
And dreads to go, nor dares to stay;

Till on some neighboring mountain's brow
He stops, and turns his eyes below:
Then, melting at the well-known view,
Drops a last tear, and bids adieu;
So I, thus doom'd from thee to part,
Gay Queen of Fancy and of Art,
Reluctant move, with doubtful mind,
Oft stop and often look behind.

Companion of my tender age,
Serenely gay, and sweetly sage,
How blithesome were we wont to rove
By verdant hill or shady grove,
Where fervent bees, with humming voice,
Around the honey'd oak rejoice,
And aged elms with awful bend
In long cathedral walks extend!

Lull'd by the lapse of gliding floods,
Cheer'd by the warbling of the woods,

How bless'd my days, my thoughts how free
In sweet society with thee!

Then all was joyous, all was young,

And years unheeded roll'd along:

But now the pleasing dream is o'er,

Those scenes must charm me now no more;
Lost to the fields, and torn from you,-
Farewell!-a long, a last adieu.

Me wrangling courts, and stubborn law,
To smoke, and crowds, and cities, draw:
There selfish faction rules the day,
And pride and avarice throng the way;
Diseases taint the murky air,
And midnight conflagrations glare;
Loose revelry and riot bold

In frighted streets their orgies hold;
Or, where in silence all is drown'd,
Fell Murder walks his lonely round;
No room for peace, no room for you,
Adieu, celestial nymph, adieu!

Shakspeare no more, thy sylvan son,
Nor all the art of Addison,

Pope's heaven-strung lyre, nor Waller's ease,
Nor Milton's mighty self, must please:
Instead of thee a formal band

In furs and coifs around me stand;
With sounds uncouth and accents dry,
That grate the soul of harmony:
Each pedant sage unlocks his store

Of mystic, dark, discordant lore;

And points with tottering hand the ways
That lead me to the thorny maze.

37

There, in a winding close retreat,
Is justice doom'd to fix her seat;
There, fenced by bulwarks of the law,
She keeps the wondering world in awe;
And there, from vulgar sight retired,
Like eastern queens, is more admired.

O let me pierce the secret shade
Where dwells the venerable maid!
There humbly mark, with reverend awe,
The guardian of Britannia's law;
Unfold with joy her sacred page,
Th' united boast of many an age;
Where mix'd, yet uniform, appears
The wisdom of a thousand years.
In that pure spring the bottom view,
Clear, deep, and regularly true;
And other doctrines thence imbibe
Than lurk within the sordid scribe;
Observe how parts with parts unite
In one harmonious rule of right;
See countless wheels distinctly tend
By various laws to one great end:
While mighty Alfred's piercing soul
Pervades and regulates the whole.

Then welcome business, welcome strife,
Welcome the cares, the thorns, of life,
The visage wan, the purblind sight,
The toil by day, the lamp at night,
The tedious forms, the solemn prate,
The pert dispute, the dull debate,
The drowsy bench, the babbling Hall,
For thee, fair Justice, welcome all!
Thus, though my noon of life be past,
Yet let my setting sun, at last,
Find out the still, the rural cell,
Where sage Retirement loves to dwell!
There let me taste the homefelt bliss
Of innocence and inward peace;
Untainted by the guilty bribe,
Uncurs'd amid the harpy tribe;
No orphan's cry to wound my ear;
My honor and my conscience clear;
Thus may 1 calmly meet my end,
Thus to the grave in peace descend.

SAMUEL JOHNSON, 1709-1784.

SAMUEL JOHNSON, the Corypheus of English Literature of the eighteenth century, was born at Litchfield,' in Staffordshire, September 7th, 1709, and was educated at Pembroke College, Oxford. He gave early proof of a vigorous understanding and of a great fondness for knowledge; but poverty compelled him to leave the University, after being there three years, without taking a degree, and he returned to Litchfield in the autumn of 1731, destitute, and wholly undetermined what plan of life to pursue. His father, who had been a bookseller, and who had become insolvent, died in Decem. ber, and in the July following Johnson accepted the situation of usher of the grammar-school at Market-Bosworth, in Leicestershire. For this situation, however, he soon felt himself utterly unqualified by means of his natural disposition. Though his scholarship was ample, he wanted that patience to bear with dulness and waywardness, those kind and urbane manners to win love and respect, that tact in controlling and governing youth, and that happy manner of illustrating difficulties and imparting knowledge, which are as essential as high literary attainments to form the perfect schoolmaster. No wonder, therefore, that he quitted the high vocation in disgust. His scholars, doubtless, were quite as glad to get rid of him as he of them. Non omnes omnibus.

The next year he obtained temporary employment from a bookseller at Birmingham, and soon after, entered into an engagement with Mr. Cave, the editor of the Gentleman's Magazine, to write for that periodical. This, however, was not sufficient to support him, but Cupid happily came to his assistance; for he fell in love with a Mrs. Porter, a widow of little more than double her lover's age, and possessed of eight hundred pounds. They were married on the 9th of July, 1736, and soon after, Johnson took a large house near Litchfield, and opened an academy for classical education. But the plan failed, and he went to London, and engaged himself as a regular contributor to the Gentleman's Magazine. Here he shortly produced his admirable poem entitled "London," in imitation of the third satire of Juvenal. For it, he received from Dodsley ten guineas; it immediately attracted great attention, and Pope, as soon as he read it, said, "The author, whoever he is, will not be long concealed." His tragedy of "Irene," produced about the same time, was, as regards stage success, a total failure, though, like the Cato of Addison, it is full of noble sentiments. His pen was at this time continually employed in writing pamphlets, prefaces, epitaphs, essays, and biographical memoirs for the Magazine; but the compensation he received was small, very small; and it is distressing to reflect that, at this period, the poverty of this most distinguished scholar was so great, that he was sometimes obliged to pass the day without food.

In 1744 he published the "Life of Richard Savage," one of the best written, and most instructive pieces of biography extant, and which was at

1 Hence he has been frequently termed, "The Sage of Litchfield."

success.

once the theme of general admiration. In 1747 he issued his plan for his 'English Dictionary," addressed, in an admirably written pamphlet, to the Earl of Chesterfield, who, however, concerned himself very little about its The time he could spare from this Herculean labor, he gave to various literary subjects. In 1749 appeared his "Vanity of Human Wishes," an admirable poem in imitation of the tenth satire of Juvenal; and in the next year he commenced his periodical paper "The Rambler," which deservedly raised the reputation of the author still higher, and which, from the peculiar strength of its style, exerted a powerful influence on English Prose Literature. In 1755, appeared the great work which has made his name known wherever the English language is spoken-his long promised "Dictionary." Eight long years was he in bringing it to a completion; and considering the little aid he could receive from previous lexicographers, it was a gigantic undertaking; and most successfully and nobly did he accom. plish it. But just before it was published, Lord Chesterfield, with a meanness only equalled by his previous neglect, endeavored to influence Johnson to dedicate it to himself, and for this purpose he wrote two papers, in a periodical called "The World," highly complimentary of Johnson's learning and labors. Johnson was of course highly indignant, and addressed to him

One of the best proofs of its attractive power was given by Sir Joshua Reynolds, who said that, on his return from Italy, he met with it in Devonshire, knowing nothing of its author, and began to read it while he was standing with his arm leaning against a chimney-piece. It seized his attention so strongly, that, not being able to lay down the book till he had finished it, when he attempted to move, he found his arm totally benumbed.

The Rambler commenced on the 20th of March, 1750, and continued, every Tuesday and Saturday to March 14, 1752. Of the energy and fertility of resource with which this work was conducted, there can be no greater proof than that during the whole time, though afflicted with disease, and harassed with the toils of lexicography, he wrote the whole himself, with the exception of four or five numbers.

The French Academy of FORTY members were all engaged upon their boasted Dictionary, which, after all, was not equal to Johnson's single-handed labor. This gave rise to the following spirited lines from Garrick.

Talk of war with a Briton, he'll boldly advance,
That one English soldier will beat ten of France;
Would we alter the boast from the sword to the pen,
Our odds are still greater, still greater our men ;

In the deep mines of science, though Frenchmen may toil,

Can their strength be compared to Locke, Newton, and Boyle ?
Let them rally their heroes, send forth all their powers,

Their verse-men and prose-men; then match them with ours;

First Shakspeare and Milton, like gods in the fight,

Have put their whole drama and epic to flight;

In satires, epistles, and odes would they cope,
Their numbers retreat before Dryden and Pope;
And JOHNSON, well arm'd like a hero of yore,

Has beat FORTY French, and will beat forty more!

In his anger he exclaimed to his friend Garrick, "I have sailed a long and painful voyage round the world of the English language; and does he now send out two cock boats to tow me into harbor ?"