next generation of his own countrymen do not appear to have known that such a man ever existed. Even after all the care of bibliographers and others, which has searched out the few facts embraced by this imperfect narrative, the name of Bellenden is only known in connexion with certain works, which are, it is true, reputed to be admirable of their kind, but, for every practical purpose, are almost as entirely lost to the world at large, as those libri perditi of Cicero, which he has himself alluded to with so much regret Nor can Bellenden be described as a man defrauded by circumstances of that fame which forms at once the best motive and the best reward of literature. He must have written with but very slender hopes of reputation through the medium of the press. It thus becomes a curious subject of speculation, that so much pains should have been bestowed where there was so little prospect of its reflecting credit or profit upon the labourer. And yet this seems to be rather in consequence of, than in defiance to the want of such temptation. The works of the ancient classics, written when there was no vehicle but manuscripts for their circulation, and a very small circle in which they could be appreciated, are, of all literary performances, the most carefully elaborated: those of the age when printing was in its infancy, such as the works of Bellenden and other great Latinists, are only a degree inferior in accuracy and finish; while these latter times, so remarkable for the facility with which the works of men of genius are diffused, have produced hardly a single work, which can be pointed to as a perfect specimen of careful workmanship and faultless taste. There is something not ungratifying in this reflection; it seems to atone to the great memories of the past, for the imperfect rewards which they enjoyed in life or in fame. If we could suppose that the lofty spirits who once brightened the lustre of knowledge and literature, and died without any contemporary praise, still look down from their spheres upon the present world, it would gratify the moral faculties to think of the pleasure which they must have, in contemplating their half-forgotten but unsurpassed labours, and in knowing that men yet look back to them as the giants of old who have left no descendants in the land. Thus even the aspirate "name" of Bellenden, which almost seems as if it had never had a mortal man attached to it, might reap a shadowy joy from the present humble effort to render it the justice which has been so long withheld.
BERNARD, made abbot of Aberbrothick in 1303, and the first chancellor of king Robert Bruce after his assumption of the crown in 1306, deserves a place in this work, as the supposed writer of that spirited remonstrance which the Scottish nobility and barons transmitted, in 1318, to the Roman pontiff, asserting the independency of their country. He held the great seal till his death in 1327. Crawford supposes that his surname was Linton.
BERRY, William, an ingenious artist, was born about the year 1730, and bred to the business of a seal-engraver. After serving an apprenticeship under a Mr Proctor at Edinburgh, he commenced business for himself in that city, and, soon became distinguished for the elegance of his designs, and the clearness and sharpness of his mode of cutting. At this time the business of a stone-engraver in the Scottish capital was confined to the cutting of ordinary seals, and the most elaborate work of this kind which they undertook, was that of engraving the armorial bearings of the nobility. Mr Berry's views were for several years confined to this common drudgery of his art; but, by studying some ancient entaglios, he at length conceived the design of venturing into that higher walk, which might be said to bear the same relation to seal-engraving, which historical painting does to portrait^painting. The subject he chose for his first essay was a head of Sir Isaac Newton, which he executed with such precision and delicacy, as astonished all who had an opportunity of observing it. The modesty of Mr
