Mr. Love was himself no ordinary poet, as the following elegant effusion of his pen sufficiently proves. Not long before his death, a redbreast took up its abode on one of the pinnacles of the great organ in Bristol cathedral, where, during the time ot divine service, it never failed to accompany the solemnity with its melody. This incident Mr. Love thus improved : Sweet social bird, whose soft harmonious lays Nor dread the chilling frost, nor boist'rous wind. No cautious gunner, whose unerring sight Peace then, sweet warbler, to thy flutt'ring heart: While crowds below, their willing voices raise, Each tongue with music, and each heart with fire. The Editor has often heard this extraordinary bird, and witnessed with pleasure its ready obedience to the call of the old verger, from whose hand it received the morning and evening crums of bread, which prolonged its existence till the winter of the year 1781. ON THE REV. SIR JAMES STONHOUSE, BART. M. D. HERE rests awhile, in happier climes to shine, "Twas his, like LUKE, the double task to fill, You, whose awakened hearts his labours blest, Were nobler fame than marble can bestow; He died December the 8th, 1795, in the 80th year of his age. BE FAITHFUL. Sir James Stonhouse was, for more than twenty years, physician to the infirmary at Northampton, of which excellent charity he was, indeed, the founder. In 1763 he took orders, and obtained first the living of Little Cheverel, in Wiltshire, to which, afterwards, was added that of Great Cheverel, and this was all the preferment he ever obtained. His first wife Anue, the eldest daughter of John Neale, Esq. of Allesley, near Coventry, died at Northampton, and lies in the church of All Saints, in that town. His second wife was Sarah, the only child of Thomas Ekins, Esq. whose estate she inherited. Dr. Doddridge was her guardian; but he died before her marriage. Dr. Stonhouse was an admirable preacher, and truly evangelical, without the least approximation to enthusiasm. The following encomium by his friend Hannah More, written on the fly leaf of Saurin's Sermons, which she had borrowed of the doctor in 1775, is no exaggeration. EPITRE AU DR. STONHOUSE SUR LES SERMONS DE M. SAURIN. Ces divines ardeurs, cette sainte éloquence, Ces sublimes pensées, ces conceptions immenses, Ces essors évangeliques, cette humilité profonde, En t'ecoutant, Docteur, les mêmes beautés m'enchantent, These Lines may be thus literally translated. Extent of knowledge, perfect charity, That dread of vice, of virtue such a love, That calm indifference to this changing scene, In hearing thee, these beauties charm mine ear; His cloak and spirit left, then wing'd to heav'n his way. * 2 Kings, ii. 31. ON SARAH STONHOUSE Second wife of Sir James Stonhouse, Bart. COME, Resignation! wipe the human tear, Truth, meekness, patience, honour'd shade, were thine; And holy hope, and charity divine; Though these thy forfeit being could not save, Oh! if thy living excellence could teach, BE SERIOUS. ON MR. SHAPLAND, An eminent Apothecary in Bristol. WOULDST thou inquire of him who sleeps beneath, Stranger! this building fallen to decay, The soul of friendship-milk of human kind. His art forbade th' expiring wretch to die, Empower'd the nerveless tongue once more to speak, Restor❜d its lustre to the sunken eye, And spread fresh roses on the livid cheek. Each various duty bound on social man, Twas his with glowing duty to perform, As crystal pure, his stream of conduct ran, Unstain'd by folly, undisturb'd by storm With me, then, stranger! mourn departed worth · Live as he liv'd-and fear not then to die.* Dr. Stonhouse had the highest esteem for Mr. Shapland, who attended his family, as well as that of Mrs. More, even after he had left off general practice. Dr. Stonhouse, in 1789, presented to Mr. Shapland a piece of plate " as a testimony of his gratitude for the restoration of health, through the blessing of God." The Editor trusts to be excused for subjoining to the sepulchral Inscriptions, the following "Lines, which were suggested by seeing a rustic structure in Mrs. Hannah More's Garden, at Barleywood, and hearing it called a Classical Temple." What have we here?—a temple! if 'tis such, |