friends can never avoid making on such occasions, that he would submit himself to the care of a physician—"Don't talk of my disease," he answered, "I have no disease but old age. I know that Mrs Drummond and my son are of a different opinion; but why should I distress them sooner than is necessary. I know well that no physician on earth can do me the smallest service: for I feel that I am dying; and I thank God that my mind is prepared for that event. I leave this world in peace and good-will to all mankind. You know the dread I have had of outliving my faculties; of that I trust there is now no great probability, as my body decays so fast. My life has been a long one, and prosperous, on the whole, beyond my deserts : but I would fain indulge the hope that it has not been useless to my fellow creatures."
A week before he died, lord Kames took a final farewell of his old friends and professional companions, on that bench to which he had been so long an ornament. He parted from each as a private friend, and on finally retiring from the room, is said to have turned round on the sorrowful group and bid his adieu in an old favourite epithet, more expressive of jovial freedom than of refinement. He died on the 27th of December, 1782, in the 87th year of his age. We have narrated the events of his life with so much detail, that a summary of his character is unnecessary; he is said to have been parsimonious, but if the epithet be applicable, the private defect will be forgotten in the midst of his public virtues. He possessed the dangerous and powerful engine of sarcasm; but he used it to heal, not to wound. The following instance of his reluctance to give pain, to be found in a letter to Mr Creech, is so characteristic of a truly worthy man, that we cannot abstain from quoting it. "In the fifth volume of Dodsley's collection of poems, there is one by T—— D—— at page 226, which will make a good illustration of a new Rule of Criticism that is to go into the new edition of the Elements ; but, as it is unfavourable to the author of that poem, I wish to know whether he is alive; for I would not willingly give pain."
HOME, John, an eminent dramatic poet, was born at Leith on the 22d of September, (O.S.) 1722. He was the son of Mr Alexander Home, town-clerk of Leith, whose father was the son of Mr Home of Flass, in Berwickshire, a lineal descendant of Sir John Home of Cowdenknowes, from whom the present earl of Home is descended. John Home, who during his whole life retained a proud recollection of his honourable ancestry, was educated, first at the grammar school of his native town, and then at the university of Edinburgh. In both of these seminaries, he prosecuted his studies with remarkable diligence and success. While he attended the university, his talents, his progress in literature, and his peculiarly agreeable manners, soon excited the attention, and procured in no small degree the favour, both of the professors and of his fellow students. He here formed an acquaintance which lasted through life, with many of those eminent men, who elevated the literary character of Scotland so highly during the eighteenth century. After qualifying himself by the ordinary course of studies, to undertake the duties of a clergyman in the Scottish church, he was licensed to preach on the 4th of April, 1745.
The natural character of Home was ardent and aspiring. Under the meek garb of a Scottish licentiate, he bore a heart which throbbed eagerly at the idea of military fame, and the whole cast of his mind was romantic and chivalrous. It might have been expected that, in the celebrated quarrel which divided the national mind in 1745, such a person would have been unable to resist the temptation of joining prince Charles. It happened, however, that the chivalry of Home was of a whiggish cast, and that his heart burned for civil freedom as well as for military glory. He therefore became a volunteer in a royal corps which was raised at Edinburgh to repel the attack of the Chevalier. This corps,
