He was born, if we mistake not, in the Island of St. Christopher’s, in the West-Indies. He was the presumed heir to considerable property, but this was the subject of legal dispute. In the interval, J⸺ was sent to England for his education, and being placed under the care of the late eminent surgeon, Mr. Bromfield, he was by that gentleman consigned to Doctor, at that time Mr. Parr. Mr. Parr having been disappointed in his views of succeeding Dr. Sumner in the head mastership of Harrow school, had established himself in its vicinity, at Stanmore, whither he brought with him many of his former pupils, sons of noblemen, and other distinguished persons. G⸺ soon gave proofs of the greatest abilities, and had he, fortunately for himself and the world, pursued his natural propensities for literary pursuits, he would, beyond all doubt, have shone as a star of the first magnitude, and avoided the miserable fate, which at a premature period, removed him from the world. But he was all fire—a real child of the sun—without deliberation or reflection, without care or thought of remoter consequences, he yielded implicitly to the first impulses of his mind, and was too proud and too lofty to retract or recede. Most unluckily, at the moment when G⸺ was beginning to feel the consciousness of his intellectual superiority, the poisonous and malignant seeds of the French Revolution had shewn their germs above the surface of the earth, and were advancing to an ill-omened maturity. The delusive cry of liberty always impresses the youthful mind with an impatient ardour, and when properly disciplined and restrained, may afterwards display itself in the zeal of a sound and honest patriotism, and eventually become the parent of every manly virtue. But when the object of this ardour takes a false name and wrong direction, when zeal is misled by an _ignis fatuus_, and not by the genuine flame of real liberty—when the name of liberty is made the stalking horse of ambition, the instrument of selfish ends and motives, the tool of the demagogue, the whoop of a low and sanguinary multitude, what great, what dire, and what deplorable mischiefs may be expected, we have too disastrous a proof in the source, progress, and history of the French Revolution.