The literary fund was not then established, or his latter days might have been rendered more comfortable. This admirable institution, as is very well known, has frequently administered, in hours of suffering and anguish, substantial consolation to afflicted and expiring genius. It is to be hoped that its powers may be yet further extended, and that by timely interference the extreme of suffering may be prevented, that talent may not be checked in its ardent career from the want of aid and encouragement, nor undertakings suffered to fall to the ground, and be the cause of ruin to the original contriver, merely from the want of oil to facilitate the motion of the machine. Where, or under what circumstances, the person of whom we are speaking, paid the last debt of nature, is not recorded, but this slight tribute seems affectionately paid by our Sexagenarian to his memory. Among the various incidents of his wayward passage through life, he used to relate one which appears worth commemorating. Whilst he exercised his occupation of a watchmaker in Maiden-lane, he was on some occasion or other in his shop at a very early hour in the morning, expecting any thing but a customer. An old man, of very mean appearance as to dress and person, presented himself, and desired to see one of the most valuable watches in his possession, and one that without any consideration of price, he could conscientiously recommend. Our friend John happened to have a repeater by him, made by one of the first artists, and of the goodness of which he thought very highly. This he accordingly produced. The old man, after taking a few minutes to examine it, enquired the price.—“Fifty guineas.”—“Is that the lowest?”—“It is.” The money was immediately paid, and the old gentleman, on leaving the shop, gave his card of address. He turned out to be the celebrated Mr. Elwes of avaricious memory, and he frequently called afterwards in Maiden-lane, to express his satisfaction with his purchase. Utrumque in alto ventus est exin velum vertatur. CHAPTER XXXIV. “Many are the characters who pass through the vale of life, who in their time contributed to the improvement of society by their accomplishments, rendered service to literature by their learning, and enlivened and delighted numerous circles by their wit, who have been suffered to pass away, as though they had never been, without any memorial of their talents, or their virtues. To plant one slip of myrtle or of laurel round the graves of such, to rescue from ‘dumb forgetfulness’ even the few who have been comprehended within the limited circle of our own personal knowledge, cannot surely be deemed an unamiable, nor altogether a useless office.” With such an apostrophe, the Sexagenarian commences the notes, which are here modified and curtailed, of the individuals next introduced. Two of the same name first present themselves—_sed valde dissimiles_.