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"Epitaph on Grotius, at Delft, in the New Church.

"Prodigium Europæ, docti stupor unicus orbis,
Naturæ augustum se superantis opus,
Ingenii cœlestis apex, virtutis imago,
Celsius humanâ conditione decus;
Cui peperit Libani lectos de vertice cedros
Defensus veræ religionis honor;
Quem lauru Mavors, Pallas decoravit olivâ,
Quum bello et paci publica jura daret;

Quern Tamesis Batavæ miraclum &

Vidit, & adscrivit Sueonis aula sibi,

sequana terræ

Grotius hic situs est-tumulo discedite, quos non
Musarum & Patriæ fervidus urit amor."

June 1, 1808.

N° XXXVII.

Story of an Eccentric Character.

TO THE RUMINATOR.

SIR,

As you love to ruminate on the energies and varieties of the human character, you will not perhaps dislike the account of a very extraordinary one, that came within my observation a few years ago, of which I shall be glad if this communication draws forth any further intelligence.

In the skirts of one of our few remaining ancient forests, near which however were several venerable mansions still inhabited by respectable families, stands in a recluse dingle a solitary cottage, which yet exhibits marks of neatness and elegance superior to its rank. I never pass this cottage without many mingled emotions of anxiety and respect. I think. ten years have elapsed this very spring, since I was in the habits of meeting almost daily in its environs a young man of most interesting but neglected appearance, whose air had every appearance of education and high birth. He seemed reserved, and desirous to avoid notice; but my curiosity was awakened, and I traced him, without being seen, to

this cottage, where I soon learned that he had taken up his abode.

ance;

I gradually insinuated myself into his acquaintand in some degree won his confidence, though there were many parts of his story, which I never could penetrate. The name he assumed was Longford; but that undoubtedly was not his real name. His countenance was uncommonly handsome, except that it was somewhat severe and "Sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought."

His eyes, though generally gloomy, reflected at times every variation of the soul. He was dark, tall, muscular, but rather thin; and, if his mien was too often languid, it occasionally displayed vigour and activity.

For what purpose he had sought this retreat, and whence he had immediately come, I never could entirely satisfy myself. He discovered at times the strongest marks of pride and ambition of any man with whom I have ever conversed. Indeed the fragments of mysterious story, which I gradually extracted from him, would, if true, account for these strong traits of character.

He appeared to be labouring under some vehement disappointment; and struggling with terrific difficulties. His melancholy, though interesting, was generally painful; and seemed to depress his

faculties. I have met him day after day, when he scarce spoke. Then all at once the vein of eloquence would seem to flow upon him; and he would pour forth the treasures of a mind full of sentiment and imagery with such a felicity of expression and sweetness of voice as seemed to be little short of inspiration.

It was on one of these occasions that by good luck a friend was with me, whose prejudices had hitherto resisted all belief in my account of this wonderful young man. He was absolutely overpowered with astonishment; but, before we parted, invited him to his house with such a mixture of awe and kindness in his manner, as won its way at once to Longford's proud but grateful heart, and induced him to embrace an offer of hospitality, which in common cases he would sullenly have rejected.

At the table of this friend I first saw him in mixed society. He did not then equal the expectations which had been formed of him: he was silent, shy, nervous, and almost awkward: in answering questions he was confused and deficient in language; and my friend almost relapsed into his former scepticism. Even his eyes lost their fire; and he looked mortified and unlike himself. Towards the close of the evening however he recovered a little; and one or two flashes restored him to my friend's good opinion,

We knew not how he employed himself in his cottage: 'it was probable that he read; but there were no signs of any great number of books about him. Somewhere he had certainly had an opportunity of reading; for his memory was most richly stored, particularly with history. If he had not much opportunity of reading, he certainly wrote a great deal; and I suspect was occupied in digesting some mighty plan of which his head seemed full. The common people called him " the crazy man;" and after a little while took very slight notice of his peculiarities. A villager and his wife lived under the same roof; and these appeared to be his only attendants. He was indifferent to show and luxury, and so engrossed by the internal operations of the mind, that all trivial outward circumstances were utterly unheeded by him.

But yet he was not inattentive to objects of beauty and sublimity. I never saw an eye which glowed with more fire and admiration at the scenery of Nature. His heart and fancy seemed as tremulous as the strings of the Eolian harp; and to vibrate with responsive harmony. His tongue indeed often died away in murmurs, but his countenance spoke the intenseness of his pleasure. It was generally of a solemn tone, but it now and then relaxed into a heavenly smile. He has leaned against an old tree or thrown himself on the grass

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