434 Ijife^ Genius^ and Personal Habits of Becmck. 



fling around each bird and figure the most beautiful and appro- 

 priate scenery, but revelling in exuberance of imagination, 

 drops, on almost every leaf, some gem of genius, " to point a 

 moral or adorn a tale." These fling on our sunny memories 

 gleams and glances of nature, that impulsively shed on the 

 feelings a delicate mental and bosom emotion, hidicating the 

 presence and influence (and probably constituting much) of 

 that fine but indefinable power called genius; whence ema- 

 nating on congenial dispositions, like rich tones on accordant 

 vibrations, awaken, in successive combination, all the melodious 

 harmonies of the heart. 



" Now the storm roars around me; row the bloom 



Of earth, her greenery, and her pleasantries, 



Are shrunk once more into their wint'ry tomb. 



And the fire sparkles, and the lamp supplies 



Its evening gleam — where is my paradise? 



With White my spirit finds beloved employ, 



A sage who cared not how the world would prize 



His sylvan strolls, so naught might him annoy, 

 Roaming through Selborne's woods, in loneliness and joy. 



With Bewick's comic burin next enchanted, 

 I pass, through groups grotesque, to lonely places. 

 And find how there his curious spirit panted 

 For Nature, ev'n in her minutest traces j 

 Clasping unto our sympathy's embraces 

 All creatures of her solitary reign j 

 Dwellers of sedgy pools, heaths, parks, and chaces. 

 The mountain cliff, and desolated fane, 

 And all the drear wild charm of northern isle and main." 



In his Memoir he has detailed his sentiments on the purity 

 of representation and free government, in a manner worthy 

 the pen of a Bacon or Locke; a history of the art of wood- 

 engraving ; and observations on the progress of his own mind. 

 Though some of his less important opinions may, to persons 

 who knew him not, appear but as whimsical fancies, they 

 are the levities of a great and benevolent soul, that, like the 

 brilliant air-bubbles of a deep clear fountain, rise playfully to 

 the surface, without sullying its purity. The style is plain and 

 simple, but sinewy and nervous, marking his character as much 

 as his manners and even his dress, and is strongly tinctured, 

 as was his conversation, with broad Northumbrian and Scot- 

 tish provincialisms, which, particularly when he read it aloud, 

 strengthened the efficiency. The narrative is replete with 

 anecdote, especially in the earlier parts, wittily recorded, and 

 morally applied, and very much reminded me of that of the 

 excellent Benjamin Franklin ; indeed, to that good and great 

 man, both in his religious and political sentiments, he appeared 

 to bear a nearer resemblance than to any other. He was 



