They 'le say then he gathers vp money of others, To put to vse for increase; Ells he gathers it vp, to run awaye wu 't: Hearing a presse for souldiers theyle start, Their wiues then will saye, to presse wee yee maye: Much ado was eare they yeilded, Which if we performe the townsmen will storme; The constable 's warnde to th' sessions then, Vnwilling some goes, alas! Yet there may wit and experience lerne, If that he be not an asse. There shall he see the justices set, • This idea of pressing the wife for the husband is the subject of a humorous old song (Latinized by Bold), beginning, "I am a cunning constable," &c. Of which the second stanza is as follows: Where is your husband? Why truly He's gone abroad, a journey far. Do you not know when he comes back ? If I miss the man, I'll take the wife." [This note was extended for the purpose of casting a severe reflection upon the system of press-warrants. It is to be lamented that any thing so harsh should be necessary for our national bulwark, the navy; but it will not justify a repetition of the censure in the intemperate language adopted by Ritson.] Here Here three of O yeses, and Then shall he here the commission read, Though little he vnderstand.* Our free landed men are called for in then, To be of the great inquest, The chief of our townes, with hoare on their crownes, That what should be done knowes best. Choice men of euerye towne in the sheire, Three juries there must be more, Cal'd vnto the booke with here, sir, here!' The wisest of twentye before; Then there shall be see who right hath transgrest Punished for his offence, There shall be here a number amerc 't, Along of their negligence: What things are amisse, what doings there is, Justices charge them enquier, Fore clarke of the peace and baylies at least Verdicts must come from these juries then, Theyle not be tooke till next day by ten, Vnlesse that their clarkes do wright them. Ruff wordes or smooth are all but in vaine, All courts of proffit do savour, And though the case be neuer so plaine, Yet kissing shall go by fauour; Theyle punish the leastest, and fauour the greatest, Nought may against them proceede, And who may dare speak against one that is great, But now my constableship's neare done: Marke hearers, sayers and singers, There is not an officer vnder the sunne, But does looke through his fingers. Yet where I see one willing to mend, My counsel now vse, you that are to chuse, PUT ABLE MEN EUER IN PLACE; FOR KNAUES AND FOOLES IN AUTHORYTE DO BUT THEMSELUES AND THEIR COUNTRIE DISGRACE.” Conduit street. J. H. ART. XIV. The Ruminator. Containing a series of moral, sentimental, and critical Essays. SIR, No. XLII. Complaint of a Literary Man. TO THE RUMINATOR. To a mind like yours, constantly ruminating on the diversified and contradictory moral traits of our species, and touched with a keen sensibility at its failings and misfortunes, I feel an insurmountable impulse to open the anxieties of a melancholy and overloaded heart. If you cannot speak comfort to me, methinks the mere act of pouring out the fulness of my mind will give me relief. I am a man who have given up the principal part of my life to literature, which however I have done rather as an amusement than a business. I have read and written as whim directed, without any other view, than I am happy to see this word justified in Jamieson's Etymological Scotca Dictionary. Editor. that that of a pleasing occupation of my time, unless perhaps it was mingled with the hope of a reward in the acquisition of literary fame. Thus have I whiled away the vigour of my youth and my manhood; and the hour is arrived, when I look back on the precious time thus lost, with hesitation, regret, and a mixture even of awe and trepidation! For what are our faculties given us? Are they to end in their employment here, or in the worldly reputation they procure? These are questions which more than startle me at periods of serious thought! I look upon the great mass of mankind, and imagine that I see them employed still more unprofitably than I am. Their amusements are more sensual; and are productive of at least as little benefit to their fellowcreatures. If it be pleaded that their habits are less solitary, they still may be more selfish. The productions of the study are capable of a wider communication, than the exertions of conversation; and surely are in general of a more refined and improving nature. .. These thoughts intermix some rays of comfort at such hours of gloom! But, alas! the clouds close together again; and at moments I seem involved in impenetrable darkness. The acquisition of all I had sought for, books, knowledge, fame, I feel, like Solomon, to be mere vanity! The objects of my earthly idolatry, the great meteors of human genius, fade before my sight. They appear insignificant, and vapid, like myself; their talents wasted; and the monument of their works unworthy of the labour which it cost. Does this proceed from the disease of my mind; or from a just sense of the misapplication of its powers? Does it not whisper views of fame, and reward, beyond this world? and employments directed to effects of a higher kind, as the means? When the utmost purpose resulting from the employment of those mental faculties with which Providence has endowed us, is a barren exercise of the understanding or the fancy of others, how far short do they fall of their capabilities? They might at the same time instruct, refine, and exalt; direct the head; and elevate the heart! Had I, instead of wasting my life in idle inquiries on trifling subjects, and idle excursions of the imagination, bent my humble talents to acquire and convey solid knowledge, and delineate the visions of a better order of existence, perhaps even I might have secured a renown, which, while it never ceased to gratify me here, might have soothed my spirit hereafter! It is past the flight of Time is irrevocable; books lose their zest; the charms of learning have vanished; and fame, could I grasp it, is not worth the embrace! Such at least is the present unhappy state of my mind, Can you give me peace, Mr. Ruminator? Can you dissipate these clouds? And are you subject to no similar dejections? You seem to pursue your course without interruption through fair weather and foul! But perhaps I know not your difficulties. Like me, you may feel languor, disgust, despondence! O, Sir, how much luckier than I, are you then, who do not stop as I have done! "Tu ne cede malis; sed contra audentior ito!" I am, SIR, Your constant Reader, August 8, 1808. HOMUNCIO LITERARIUS. Το |