He could not easily endure a rival in any branch of literature, but, without entering into his failings, it may easily be conceded that he had not in his time many equals. His talents were so various, his productions so numerous, and of many of them it may truly be asserted, that they were so valuable and so instructive, that who can call to memory without a sigh that his latter hours were darkened by poverty. He excited in the writer of these brief notices the sincerest esteem and regard, notwithstanding that, after having for years enjoyed his most intimate familiarity, he by an untoward accident provoked his displeasure. The accident was this. When employed in writing the incidents of his own life, with the view of publication, Mr. C. applied to the Sexagenarian to revise the manuscript and correct the press. This appeared to be both a difficult and a perilous office; the well-known irritable temper of the author presented itself as a frightful spectre to the imagination, breathing discontent, impatience, and dispute. The same misfortune, however, ensued from declining, as perhaps would have resulted from the performance of the task. Mr. C. was much offended, and the intimacy became less and less cordial. Alas, poor ghost! Mild, good, amiable, and ingenious, another personage presents himself; but however earnest the disposition might be to increase, rather than detract, from his honours, candour and truth compel the peremptory decision, that he can only be classed among the minor poets. He was an elegant scholar, and his versification evinced much facility of composition, and no inconsiderable portion of taste; but his translation of Horace was never exceedingly popular, nor did it pass, it is believed, to a second edition. It may appear singular, but it is nevertheless true, that though sometimes heavy and prosaic, and defective in energy, the work of old Francis is still referred to, and keeps its place in our libraries. Subsequently to the Horace, a volume of poems was published by this author, which were characterized by the same qualities of good taste, by easy and often elegant versification, but the reader would look in vain for “thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.” Another friend and contemporary might, if he had so pleased, have asserted higher claims as a poet, but he exercised the talent for amusement only, though he sometimes made use of it as an accompaniment to labours of a more serious and exalted kind. He was a philosopher in every sense of the word; a most elegant classical scholar; and there were few branches of science in which he was not well versed. But his great distinction was an accurate and familiar knowledge of natural history in all its branches.