another of a more cheerful cast will regard as the innocent recreation of literature. If a man's favourite opinions happen to be assailed, we must lay our account in meeting nothing less than the charge of ignorance or prejudice. Sensibility to the literary reputation of friends seems also to be a very prominent and, not unamiable virtue among some, whose good opinions we should take no pains to alienate; and this adds one more to the catalogue of those difficulties not connected with the well or ill performance of our duties which we must sometimes contend with.

Since the readers of such a work as we wish the Anthology to be, must of necessity be not very numerous, the contrarieties of character and inclination, which we are often called on to gratify and regard, must sometimes occasion embarrassment, as well in our personal contributions, as in our selections for the work; and in our remarks on the works of others, since the adventurers for the meed of literary fame are few, and often personally known to us, an unwillingness to give offence is liable to check that boldness and freedom of criticism, which, however mortifying it may sometimes prove to individuals, is in the main a great publick good.

There are here no parties among literary and scientifick men; except political and religious parties, and such as spring merely from collisions among professional gentlemen. These parties, though they serve to sharpen the wits and raise the zeal of those who are engaged in them, do not necessarily promote the cause of learning; and they are sure to impair that of benevolence. We do not therefore voluntarily enlist in the service of any party; yet when we are either called in the way of defence, or impelled by a sense of duty, to become militant either in affairs of church or state, we do not shrink from the contest. We always lament the occasion, but cannot always refuse taking our share in resisting every species of bigotry and intolerance; especially in religion, where our highest interests are involved.

In countries where literature as such is as much a business as any profession or handicraft, and every caterer in letters knows what sort of guests he has to provide for, and how he can best gratify their tastes; with tolerable talents for his of fice, he is sure to derive a profit from his employment. Opposition strengthens his friends, and makes him more sedulous to please them; but the absence of it is indifference, fre

quently a fatal indifference. Here, on the other hand, union is strength, and opposition, to be harmless, must also be solitary and scattered.

One of the greatest inconveniences we experience from month to month is that which arises from the want of an editor devoted to the work, whose literary reputation would be in a measure at stake. Hitherto the receipts of the Anthology have not enabled us to make such a provision. One of our number has voluntarily assumed the responsibility of seeing the work through the press; and when the materials have not been furnished to his hands, he has been obliged to make such hasty selections, in order to complete the requisite number of pages, as his leisure amidst professional engagements would permit. For this evil we have the prospect of a speedy remedy, and if our hopes are not disappointed, the Anthology will be placed under the peculiar care of a gentleman, whose learning, talents, and taste, will enable him to make it all that its friends can desire. Those who have hitherto contributed to it, will still continue their exertions; and will, we hope, acquire new energy from the recollection that they are writing in the cause of a friend. If this should take place, we shall, we trust, be able, Paulo majora canere.

In looking over the contents of the Anthology for the last year, we find fewer occasions than we could wish, for expressing our thanks to correspondents. But we recollect with grateful pleasure the entertainment we have received from the journal of a tour in Spain, from the philological disquisitions of a distant correspondent, and from the delicate verses of the author of Myrtilla, who had before favoured us with that amusing, and highly poetical ballad, The Paint-King.

We have only to subjoin our thanks to new subscribers, and those who continue to patronize the Anthology. Our aim is to afford them rational entertainment: when they are disappointed, we are mortified. If we cannot always provide for them what we wish, we had rather put before them a dry morsel, than any thing nauseous or disgusting. In this way, if we are sometimes obliged to offer for their acceptance, what is not the best in its kind, we shall always, we hope, avoid offering that which is positively bad. The work, however, must be of no inconsiderable value, as a general repository of elegant letters, and will not be condemned by generous criticks, because it is not always equally interesting.

FOR THE ANHOLOGY.

EXTRACTS FROM THE JOURNAL OF A GENTLEMAN ON A

VISIT TO LISBON.

(Continued from page 369, vol. ix.)

Lisbon, September 19.

On Tuesday we went on shore for the second time. Not being able to get back early enough to go on board, we determined to remain in town for the night, and trust to fortune for a lodging. We found it, however, a more difficult matter than we had supposed to procure one. The coffee-house, for so it was called, where we dined, was unable to furnish a hole to put our heads in. As for beds, I question much whether they ever had such an article of furniture in the house. Indeed we dined there only by compulsion; for we could discover in the course of our inquiries no other place which seemed to promise any thing eatable; that is to say, any thing which our stomachs could swallow. Here they gave us soup and bouillè. The soup appeared to be the scourings of the kettle. The second course was an omelet mixed with tomates and garlick, fried in such villainous oil that I was nearly poisoned. We had afterwards a cat that weighed eight pounds; the landlord said it was a fricaseed rabbit.

We were about to give up the idea of a resting place in despair, when it was resolved as a dernier resort to make trial of a low-lived-looking sort of a wine-house, decorated with the sign of General Washington, hung out, I suppose, as a lure for such unfortunate Americans as may chance to pass by, whose patriotism is of a sufficiently substantial nature to supply the deficiency of other food. Even this house, uninviting as it appeared, was filled with English officers, in a similar predicament with ourselves. Such a miserable want is there in this vast city of any thing like a hotel. Mine host, whose tongue bespoke him a German, though he called himself an American, told us that it was out of his power to furnish us with beds, the only two he possessed being already bespoken. All the apartments in the house, except the billiard room, were also occupied. After a good deal of deliberation he said that provided we would consent to sleep on the billiard table, he would endeavour to provide us a couple of mattresses. Finding that there would be no possibility of bettering ourselves, we e'en thought best to take up with his proposal.

It was with no little difficulty that he was enabled to fulfil his promise. He succeeded at last in procuring two mattresses, but of such an appearance, that, unless I had been exceedingly weary, I should infinitely have prefered sitting up all night to reposing on them. Mine possessed every variety of hill and dale. In some parts its thickness was about an inch, and the materials with which it was stuffed were of so solid a nature, that it seemed to be filled with potatoes. Compared to it, Damien's couch of steel was a thrice driven bed of down. I passed

Such a miserable night,

"That as I am a christian, faithful man,

I would not spend another such a night,
Though 'twere to buy a world of easy days."

My couch possessed an infinity of nooks and corners, where its inhabitants lay in ambush, and from whence they sallied out by thousands to attack whoever was rash enough to trespass on their territories. Never before was martyr so flead.

Yet this was but one of the miseries. The house was part of a convent of barefooted friars, and the chapel belonging to it was contiguous to our bed-chamber; the rooms over head being wholly occupied by the reverend brothers. Thus during my intervals of rest from the work of destruction and bloodshed in which I was occupied, my ears were most agreeably entertained by the sonorous musick of our neighbours, who were chanting without ceasing a moment the whole night. I suppose they were singing anthems on their deliverance from the French. A certain convocation of politick dogs, of which the number here is incredible, likewise assembled before the house. These animals belong to nobody, but they prowl in herds about the streets at night, annoying every body. They were probably attracted by the sweet sounds that issued from the convent, and accordingly planted themselves under our windows, where they did all in their power to render the serenade more musical. The softness of the concert was moreover increased by a company of cats, that were courting in an adjacent lobby, and saying tender things to each other in most vile Portuguese.

Through the assistance of an English gentlemen, who is one of the factory here, we have succeeded to our satisfaction in procuring lodgings, and are already established in our new

quarters. Our house, which consists of eleven stories, is one of the highest in Lisbon. It is built on the declivity of a hill, and looks on the south toward the Tagus. We are lodged in the upper story, and occupy a suite of six apartments, so that there is a view from the balconies and windows on each side the house, and most beautiful indeed is the prospect. To be sure, it is something of a labour to climb up so high, and would not be very pleasant in case of an earthquake.

Our hostess is an Irish lady who has lived here many years. One of her countrymen not long since became enamoured of her charms, and persuaded her, nothing loth, to enter into the matrimonial state. No sooner, however, had the falsehearted swain got possession of the only treasures he was in love with, than he made off without saying adieu to his bride, leaving her to fine in secret, in which melancholy condition she has since continued. Her figure is not very striking, nor is her face remarkably prepossessing; though among Portaguese women she will pass for handsome. She is moreover somewhat declin'd into the vale of years, and has an unfortunate cast in one of her eyes, which induced me the first time I saw her to imagine, while she was speaking to me, that she was looking out of the window. The other, like Polonius's, purges continually thick amber and plumb-tree gum. Yet, to counterbalance any want of personal charms, she is a good housewife, and withal very pious. We have that rare luxury here, clean rooms and good beds, to know the value of which, it is necessary to pass such a night as I did on the billiard table.

My landlady, as I intimated, is a zealous catholick, and the walls of our apartments are decorated accordingly, with a profusion of saints. At the head of my bed hangs a picture of nossa senhora dos dolores, (our lady of sorrows,) representing the Virgin Mary holding the head of Christ in her lap, while six long swords are sticking through her body. The subject of another is the miraculous removal of the holy house from Jerusalem to Loretto. The Virgin Mary is seen flying through the air with a two story house of red brick under her His holiness the Pope is standing at the water side with his hands elevated in the act of catching it, accompanied by an elderly gentleman in a pea-green coat and tye-perriwig.

arm.

From morning till midnight a posse of beggars lay regular siege to the doors, which open immediately into the street, and if the waiter, (of whom there is seldom more than one,)