his education had not been liberal, his philosophical attainments were such that he was enrolled a Fellow of the Royal Society. Shortly after the great earthquake at Lisbon, he formed the resolution of visiting that city, but on his way thither was taken by a French privateer, and carried a prisoner to France. He here learned experimentally the miseries of confinement; the latent sympathies of his soul were awakened; and the future direction of his time and his talents, which has gained him immortal fame, was probably owing, in a great measure, to this personal misfortune.

On his return from captivity, the philanthropy of his disposition now began to display itself by numerous acts of pure benevolence. He projected many improvements on his small domain; as much to give employment to the poor as to gratify his own taste; he built cottages for some of the poor, and others he clothed. Industry and sobriety, however, were the only passports to his favour; and thus in a moral, as well as a charitable view, his conduct became exemplary.

In 1773 he was created high sheriff of the county of Bedford, an office which, as he emphatically observes, "brought the distress of prisoners more immediately under his notice;" and this recalling the sufferings of his own captivity, led him to form the benevolent design of visiting all the prisons and places of confinement throughout England, for the humane purpose of alleviating the iniseries of the sufferers, and meliorating their condition. This project, which gave full latitude to the philanthropy of his heart, he accomplished with indefatigable zeal; and being examined before the House of Commons on the subject of prisons, he received the thanks of the senate for his exertions; and had the felicity to find that his voluntary labours had not been wholly in vain, as they excited the attention of the legislature, and were, in some measure, productive of the benefits proposed by them.

Having again and again inspected the receptacles of crime, of poverty, and misery, throughout Great Britain and Ireland, he extended his views to foreign countries. With this design, he travelled three times through France, four times through Germany, five times through Holland, twice through Italy, once through Spain and Portugal

and also through Denmark, Sweden, Russia, Poland, and part of Turkey. These excursions occupied, with some short intervals of rest at home, the period of twelve years; and never before was such a considerable portion of an individual's life applied to a more benevolent and laudable purpose, without a motive of interest or pleasure, save the virtuous satisfaction of relieving the most miserable portion of his fellow-creatures.

His "State of the Prisons in England and Wales, with preliminary observations, and an account of some Foreign Prisons," was first published in 1777; and, in "Appendixes," he continued his remarks on the countries which he visited in succession. Such an aggregate of private misery, of insensibility in gaolers, and neglect or cruelty in magistrates, was never before exhibited to the commiseration or abhorrence of mankind.

By his sister, who died unmarried, he gained a liberal accession of fortune; which, in his own opinion, could not be spent to a better purpose, than in the relief of poignant misery, shut up from every eye, except that of the most active benevolence.

While engaged in one of his last peregrinations of love and charity to the human race, his singular worth had made such an impression on the public mind, that a liberal subscription was opened to defray the expense of erecting a statue to his honour while yet alive. The principles of Howard were abhorrent from ostentation: his services to mankind were not baits for praise. When he heard of this scheme, "Have I not," said he, "one friend in England who will put a stop to such a proceeding?" The design was accordingly dropped; but, to the credit of the subscribers, the money collected was principally applied to the relief of captive indigence and misfortune.

"An Account of the principal Lazarettos in Europe," with various papers relative to the plague, and further observations on prisons and hospitals, made its appearance in 1789. In this publication Mr Howard announced his intention of again quitting his country, for the purpose of revisiting Russia, Turkey, and some countries of the East. "I am not insensible," observes he, "of the dangers that must attend such a journey. Trusting, however, in the protection of that kind Providence, which has

hitherto preserved me, I calmly and cheerfully commit myself to the disposal of unerring wisdom. Should it please God to cut off my life, in the prosecution of this design, let not my conduct be uncandidly imputed to rashness or enthusiasm, but to a serious, deliberate conviction, that I am pursuing the path of duty; and to a sincere desire of being made an instrument of more extensive usefulness to my fellow-creatures, than could be expected in the narrow circle of retired life." The event which his mind seemed to presage, and for which he had prepared himself, by deprecating invidious reflections, actually took place. Having spent some time at Cherson, a new Russian settlement, where the malignity of disease had cut off thousands of that nation, as much from ignorance and neglect, as from the natural insalubrity of the place, his benevolence prompted him to visit a young lady, who lay dangerously ill of an epidemic fever, in order to administer some medicines for her relief; he caught the distemper, and soon became the victim of his own humanity! Prince Potemkin, hearing of his illness, sent his own physician to attend him; but all was in vain, the days of his life were numbered, the measure of his labours was complete, and he died on the twelfth day. He was buried in the garden of a French gentleman in the neighbourhood; and barbarous as was the country in which he made his exit, the grave of our virtuous philanthropist was not unwatered by a tear. In Britain, the news of his death was received with the sincerest regret: it was announced in the London Gazette, a compliment which no private subject ever received before; and all ranks were eager to testify their regard to the memory of a man who had merited so well of human nature in general, and who will ever be an ornament to the country that gave him birth.

The abstemiousness of Mr Howard was very great; and to this cause the prolongation of his life, amidst infection and disease, may in a great measure be ascribed. He totally avoided the use of animal food; and at one time lived almost wholly on potatoes; at another, on tea, bread, and butter. No convivial invitations, however. honourable, were accepted by him; his only delight con-, sisted in visiting the abodes of misery, that he might be the happy instrument of alleviating its oppression.

His nonument in St Paul's cathedral is at once a proof of national genius and national gratitude. The inscription tells us, with truth, "that he trode an open but unfrequented path to immortality, in the ardent and unremitted exercise of Christian charity ;" and concludes, may this tribute to his fame excite an emulation of his truly honourable actions!" MAVOR.

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VIII. The Vision of Mirza.

WHEN I was at Grand Cairo, I picked up severa Oriental manuscripts, which I have still by me. Among others, I met with one entitled THE VISIONS OF MIRZA, which I have read over with great pleasure. I intend to give it to the public when I have no other entertainment for them and shall begin with the first vision, which I have translated word for word as follows:

"On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the custom of my forefathers, I always keep holy, after having washed myself, and offered up my morning devotions, I ascended the high hill of Bagdat, in order to pass the rest of the day in meditation and prayer. As I was here airing myself on the tops of the mountains, I fell into a profound contemplation on the vanity of human life; and passing from one thought to another, surely, said I, man is but a shadow, and life a dream. Whilst I was thus musing, I cast my eyes towards the summit of a rock that was not far from me, where I discovered one in the habit of a shepherd, with a musical instrument in his hand. As I looked upon him, he applied it to his lips, and began to play. The sound of it was exceedingly sweet, and wrought into a variety of tunes that were inexpressibly melodious, and altogether different from anything I had ever heard; they put me in mind of those heavenly airs that are played to the departed souls of good men, upon their first arrival in paradise, to wear out the impressions of their last agonies, and qualify them for the pleasures of that happy place. My heart melted away in secret raptures.

1 had been often told, that the rock before me was the

haunt of a genius, and that several had been entertained with music who had passed by it; but never heard that the musician had before made himself visible. When he had raised my thoughts by those transporting airs which he played, to taste the pleasures of his conversation, as I looked upon him like one astonished, he beckoned to me, and by the waving of his hand directed me to approach the place where he sat. I drew near with that reverence

which is due to a superior nature; and, as my heart was entirely subdued by the captivating strains I had heard, I fell down at his feet and wept. The genius smiled upon me with a look of compassion and affability that familiarized him to my imagination, and at once dispelled all the fears and apprehensions with which I approached him. He lifted me up from the ground, and taking me by the hand, Mirza, said he, I have heard thee in thy soliloquies; follow me.

He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, and placing me on the top of it, Cast thy eyes eastward, said he, and tell me what thou seest. I see, said I, a huge valley, and a prodigious tide of water rolling through it. The valley that thou seest, said he, is the vale of misery, and the tide of water that thou seest, is part of the great tide of eternity. What is the reason, said I, that the tide I see rises out of a thick mist at one end, and again loses itself in a thick mist at the other? What thou seest, said he, is that portion of eternity which is called time, measured out by the sun, and reaching from the beginning of the world to its consummation. Examine now, said he, this sea that is bounded with darkness at both ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in it. I see a bridge, said I, standing in the midst of the tide. The bridge thou seest, said he, is human life,-consider it attentively. Upon a more leisurely survey of it, I found that it consisted of threescore and ten entire arches, with several broken arches, which, added to those that were entire, made up the number about a hundred. As I was counting the arches, the genius told me, that this bridge consisted at first of a thousand arches; but that a great flood swept away the rest, and left the bridge in the ruinous condition I now beheld it but tell me further, said he, what thou discoverest on it. I see multitudes of people passing over

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