Meantime the veteran philosopher and historian, deriving little or no benefit from his visit to Bath, returned to die under his own roof. His decline was gradual; and, to the last, his most ultimate associates could not observe any diminution of gayety. He talked familiarly with them during their calls, and alluded to his approaching dissolution in a tone of whose levity even Dr. Smith, his most ardent admirer, could not approve. Whatever twinges of doubt or dread in regard to the future he might in his last hours experience, were encountered and borne with the semblance of indifference and tranquillity. He could not, indeed, feel the blessedness of those who have fought a good fight and kept the faith; nor could he, like Addison, exclaim with hopeful and serene resignation, “You see how a Christian can die:” but, five days before his last, he wrote, “I see death approaching gradually without anxiety or regret.” On the 25th of August, 1776, he breathed his last; and was buried in a cemetery on the Calton Hill, where a monument to his memory has since been erected. ROBERT SOUTHEY. Among “the laborers of literature” Southey was eminently distinguished by skill, regularity, perseverance, and other qualities hardly less essential to continuous and satisfactory success in his profession. Few men have practiced more resolute industry, or exhibited the literary character in a more estimable light; and his example, in this respect, is peculiarly worthy of being presented to the attention of aspiring and intellectual youths.