I agree with you entirely, for few indeed are the branches of science, to the extension and improvement of which, his labours have not contributed. Voluminous as are the productions of his pen, and consisting, as they do, of historical and antiquarian researches, in almost every ramification of the Belles Lettres, envy itself can hardly single out one which has not obtained the gratitude of the particular class of readers, for whose amusement and benefit, they were more immediately intended. But this is not all, and abruptly to break off the delineation of the portrait here, would be ungenerous and unjust. He has done more; he has not only contributed to the interests of literature by his own individual exertions—he has been a patron to others. If his means did not permit him to be munificent, he was steady and constant in his assistance to those who wanted and required it. The benefit of his experience, of his advice and judgment, was at the service of every less practised writer. If a wrong path had been pursued, he pointed out the right, and thus has often prevented the waste both of time and talent. His benevolence was uncircumscribed, guided by no prejudice, restrained by no feelings of party. His patience and fortitude, and christian resignation, in the greatest trials to which humanity can be exposed, was almost without parallel, firm and unshaken. In return he has experienced universal sympathy and esteem, and will descend to his last home revered, honoured, and beloved. Well, but our table is not filled yet. Suppose we invite the LEARNED AUTHOR. Alas! so many of my learned friends, properly thus called, have paid the tribute of mortality, that I cannot be at a loss to know whom you mean. An admirable guest must he needs be at any table, for to the profoundest learning and acutest discernment, he joins the most affable and lively powers of conversation, and easily and cheerfully abstracts himself from the more abstruse objects of his thoughts, to contribute to the general festivity. Memory loves to retrace the earlier and brighter scenes of life, when the gratification now proposed was repeatedly enjoyed with this and other learned men, of whom many have fallen asleep. Where wit and humour, and a reciprocity of communication, not easily paralleled, diffused universal complacency. Where— Stop, stop—a truce to this melancholy mood, and let us consider the number of our party. The WITTY AUTHOR—THE SATIRIST—THE NOBLE AUTHOR—THE FACTIOUS AUTHOR—SYLVANUS URBAN—THE LEARNED AUTHOR. Six—with ourselves—Eight. Shall we not ask a female? Run over in your mind the Female Authors with whom we have acquaintance, and determine which of them you will invite. Shall it be Mrs. ⸺.