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A well-authenticated original painting of BEN JONSON, from a fine picture, formerly the property of Joseph Ritson, Esq. and now in the possession of Mr. Hill, will shortly be engraved for this work,"

That the interesting memoir of MONTGOMERY might be complete in one number, we haye, on this occasion, presented our readers with an extra half sheet.

We regret that Mr. Lofft's two beautiful sonnets on the death of our lamented friend, H. K. White, came too late for the present number,

E. D. of Norwich, with his last letter, observes, "I have one more yet to send," we reply, another and "another yet." E. D. and Q. Z. will be pleased to address themselves to the editor, at Messrs. Vernor, Hood, and Sharpe.

We thank Marcius for his ingenious communications,

Mr. Pratt's "New Year's Gift" was very acceptable.

Of the Russian Soldier, by I. K. of Ashford, we can only insert the first stanza-It is too affecting,

"I Tremble all o'er, Can thou Leave me, my love
O why wilt thou wander afar

O how will the heart of poor Emaline rest

Should her Kutozow fall in the war

As she spoke, o'er her cheeks like the lilies so pale
the torrent of sorrow did flow

Should'st thou fall in the battle, O what will I do
O how can I live Kutozow"

The remarks on Massinger, by a Squire of Alsatia, printed this month, are excellent.

Our "humble servant, J. D. Booty," seems inclined to be our imperious lord and master. His friendship for us gets the better of his judgment. He has not considered these matters sufficiently, nor weighed our former reply with candour.

Mr. Holloway's contributions are always welcome. in our next.

The Contrast

The favours of Mr, Norrington, and those of P. W. of Manchester, have been received.

The Epigram sent to us a second time, by O. C. T. of Chelsea, «ሩ on reading the Public Characters of the brain-sick Rosa Matilda, in the Morning Post, must," says he, "have escaped your eye." It cercertainly did into the fire! O. C. T. has before written epigrams, that had no need of it.

To the request of J. M. L. with some verses on a Primrose, we cannot accede. His communications we have no objection to, but his terms are not admissible according to our rules.

We thank an Expectant for his hint, which we have adopted. Hia << interesting observations," during his travels, will be very acceptable.

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[With a Portrait.]

JAMES MONTGOMERY, the author of the Wanderer of Switzer land, &c. and the subject of this short biographical sketch, was born in Scotland, at Irvine, in Ayrshire, November 4, 1771: his father was a Moravian minister. In the fifth year of his age his parents removed with him to Grace-hill, in the county of Antrim, Ireland. In the following year he was separated from them for ever, and placed in the seminary of the United Moravian Brethren, at Fulneck, near Leeds, in Yorkshire. His parents were, afterwards, sent as missionaries to the West Indies, to preach, to the poor negro slave, the consoling doctrine of another and a better world; "where the wretched hear not the voice of the oppressor," and where " the servant is free from his master:" in this service both died. In the Fulneck academy, amongst a people remarkable for their ardour in religion, and their industry in the pursuit of useful learning, James Montgomery received his education. He was intended for the ministry, and his preceptors were every way competent to the task of preparing him for the important office for which he was designed. His studies were various: the French, German, Latin, and Greek languages; history, geography, and music; but a desire to distinguish himself as a poet, amongst his schoolfellows, soon interfered with his more beneficial pursuits. When only ten years old, he began the unprofitable employment of writing verses, which was continued, with unabating ardour, till the period when he quitted Fulneck, in 1787: they were chiefly on religious subjects. This early devotion to poetry he has ever regarded as the source of many troubles. It was this unpropitious attachment which, at school, stood in the way of his improvement; this, which finally altered his destination in life, and seduced him to exchange an almost mo nastic seclusion from society, for the hurry and bustle of a world, which, hitherto, has but ill repaid him for the sacrifice

When removed from Fulneck, the views of his friends were so far changed, that we find him placed by them in a retail shop at Mirfield, near Wakefield. Here, though he was treated with great kindness, and had only too little business, and too much leisure to attend to his favourite employment, he became exceedingly disconşolate, and, after remaining in his new situation about one year and a half, he privately absconded, and, with less than five shillings in his pocket, and the wide world before him, began his career in pursuit of fame and fortune. His ignorance of mankind, the result of his retired and religious education; the consequent simplicity of his manners, and his forlorn appearance, exposed him to the contempt of some, and to the compassion of others, to whom he applied. The brilliant bubble of patronage, wealth, and celebrity, which floated before his imagination, soon burst, and on the fifth day of his travels he found a situation, similar to the one he had left, at the village of Wath, near Rotherham. A residence in London was the object of his ambition; but wanting the means to carry him thither, he resolved to remain in the country till he could procure them: accordingly, he wrote to his friends, amongst the Moravian brethren, whom he had forsaken, requesting them to recommend him to his new master, conscious they had nothing to alledge against him, excepting the imprudent step of separating himself from them; and not being under articles of apprenticeship at Mirfield, he besought them not to compel him to return. He received from them the most generous propositions of forgiveness, and an establishment more congenial to his wishes. This he declined, frankly explaining the causes of his late melancholy, but concealing the ambitious motives which had secretly prompted him to withdraw from their benevolent protection. Finding him unwilling to yield, they supplied his immediate necessities, and warmly recommended him to the kindness of the master he had chosen. It was this master, with whom he re mained only twelve months, that, many years afterwards, in the most calamitous period of Montgomery's life, sought him out amidst his misfortunes, not for the purpose of offering consolation only, but of serving him substantially by every means in his power. The interview which took place between the old man and his former servant, the evening previous to his trial at Doncaster, will ever live in the remembrance of him who can forget an injury, but not a kindness. No father could have evinced a greater affection for a darling son: the tears he shed were honour

able to his feelings, and were the best testimony to the conduct and integrity of James Montgomery.

From Wath he removed to London, having prepared his way by sending a volume of his manuscript poems to Mr. Harrison, then a bookseller in Paternoster-row. Mr. Harrison, who was a man of correct taste and liberal disposition, received him into his house, and gave him the greatest encouragement to cultivate his talents, but none to publish his poems; seeing, as he observed, no probability that the author would acquire either fame or fortune by appearing at that time before the public. The remark was just; but it conveyed the most unexpected and afflicting information our youthful poet, who yet knew little of the world except from books, and who had permitted his imagination to be dazzled with the accounts which he had read of the splendid success, and munificent patronage, which poets had formerly experienced. He was so disheartened by this circumstance, that, on occasion of a misunderstanding with Mr. Harrison, he, at the end of eight months, quitted the metropolis, and returned to Wath, where he was received with a hearty welcome by his former em ployer. While in London, having been advised to turn his atten tion to prose, as more profitable than verse, he composed an eastern story, which he took one evening to a publisher in the east end of the town. Being directed through the shop, to the private room of the great man, he presented his manuscript in form. The prudent bookseller read the title, marked the number of pages, counted the lines in a page, and made a calculation of the whole; then turning to the author, who stood in astonishment at this summary mode of deciding on the merit of a work of imagination, he very civilly returned the copy, saying, “Sir, your manuscript is too small-it won't do for me-take it to -, he publishes these kind of things." Montgomery retreated with so much confusion from the presence of the book seller, that, in passing through the shop, he dashed his unfortunate head against a patent lamp, broke the glass, spilled the oil, and making an awkward apology to the shopmen, who were tittering behind the counter, to the no small mortification of the poor author, he rushed into the street, equally unable to restrain his vexation or his laughter, and retired to his home, filled with chagrin and disappointment at this ludicrous and untoward misadventure.

From Wath, where Montgomery had sought only a temporary

residence, he removed in 1792; and engaged himself with Mr. Gales, of Sheffield, who then printed a newspaper, in which po pular politics were advocated with great zeal and ability. To this paper he contributed essays and verses occasionally; but though politics sometimes engaged the service of his hand, the Muses had his whole heart, and he sedulously cultivated their favour, though no longer with those false, yet animating hopes, which formerly stimulated his exertions. In 1794, when Mr. Gales left England, a gentleman to whom Montgomery was almost an entire stranger, enabled him to undertake the publication of the newspaper on his own account; but it was a perilous situation on which he entered: the vengeance which was ready to burst upon his predecessor soon fell upon him. At the present day it would scarcely be believed, were it not to be found in the records of a court of justice, that in 1795 Montgomery was convicted of having libelled the war, then carrying on between Great Britain and France, by publishing, at the request of a stranger, whom he had never before seen, a song written by a clergyman of Belfast, nine months before the war began. This fact was admitted in court; and though the name of this country did not occur in the libel, nor was there a single note or comment, of any kind whatever, affixed to the original words, which were composed at the time, and in censure of the Duke of Brunswick's procla mation and march to Paris, he was pronounced guilty, and sentenced to three months imprisonment, and a fine of twenty pounds. Mr. M. A. Taylor presided on this occasion. The first verdict delivered by the jury, after one hour's deliberation, was Guilty of publishing." This verdict, tantamount to an acquittal, they were directed to reconsider, and to deduce the malicious intention, not from the circumstances attending the publication, but from the words of the song: another hour's delibération produced a gene ral verdict of" Guilty."-This transaction requires no comment.


Scarcely had Montgomery returned to his home, when he was again called upon, to answer for another offence. A riot took place in the streets of Sheffield, in which, unfortunately, two men were shot by the military. In the warmth of his feelings he detailed the dreadful occurrence in his paper; the detail was deemed a libel, and he was again sentenced to six months imprisonment, and a fine of thirty pounds. The magistrate, who prosecuted him on this occasion, is now dead, and Montgomery would be the last man in the world who could permit any thing

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