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LIFE OF EDMOND MALONE.

From these and similar taxations he was glad seek refuge at the sea-side in a visit to his co-executor Metcalfe.[1] Here a new scene opened in rank,

    me to observe (after, young as I am, being in many parts of the world, abroad and at home, in most kinds of weather, and knowing well the plains of Salisbury) that there is nothing represented but what may be within the boundaries of nature. That I think it necessary for you to transport your soul into the very body of a scene, since the piece is entirely in action, in order to see and enjoy every object in its true colour (for if it cannot withstand such, it will be unworthy of me); that, after being brought to the depth of the scene by this first canto, I have a second to introduce you therefrom, and I think with more pleasing and change of variety.

    “In the second canto are seen the clouds, the lightning, the rain, and the wind to pass away by degrees, the village getting lighter, &c, &c.; clouds, in patches, floating in the heavens; with several other representations. The whole ending with a view of Emma, dead, by the side of her weeping lover, and the plains, &c, &c.; the sun shining, and the clouds level, reclined on the horizon; which canto, containing about five hundred lines, remains among my papers, and to your service. “Such lines, sir, have dropped almost spontaneously from my pen, and you have them nearly as they fell. But, notwithstanding, be so good, if such be entertaining to you, as not to excuse but point me my errors and imperfections; for I can freely submit to your advice, and calmly guide my pen amidst either censure or praise. Criticism is an ornament worthy of a bosom.

    “The following section, sir, I will extract for you immediately on receiving a few lines from you by post or otherwise; tending to entertain you in the vacant time—a piece entirely novel, written in rhyme, which likely you will be more partial to. Otherwise, if not agreeable, I will call and receive, begging pardon for the liberty taken.

    “And now, after stretching out my hand to present you this extract, I once more return to the fields and society of the Muses, while others are mad with a few weeds of fame and money. An inheritance on the Elysian heights, the fields of Nature, with an asylum in the arms of Genius, is the only desire and wish of,

    Sir,

    Your most humble and obedient servant

    (while to you and all a stranger),

    John Phelps Tucker.”At Mr. Kendricks,
     Little Bath Street,
      Cold Bath Square,
       No. 5, ———n, 1797.

  1. Little of this gentleman appears to have been recorded, excepting that he valued and sought the best literary society, and kept—one of its pleasant accompaniments—a good table. He was in the House of Commons several years; his name appears in the round robin attached