" -fee; but what I want in youth, I will make up in umor. Not Swift so loved his Stella, Scarron . or Waller his Saccharissa. Tell me, in answer at you approve and honor the proposal." and honor the proposal! The coward was writing to his friends this while, with sneering allusions to foolish Bramine. Her ship was not out of the Downs, arming Sterne was at the "Mount Coffee-house," & sheet of gilt-edged paper before him, offering that - treasure his heart to Lady P—————, asking whether it her pleasure to see him unhappy? whether it added to her that her eyes and lips had turned a man into a fool? oning the Lord's Prayer, with a horrible baseness of kisshemy, as a proof that he had desired not to be led into ion, and swearing himself the most tender and sincere r the world. It was from his home at Coxwould that he w the Latin letter, which, I suppose, he was ashamed to auto English. I find in my copy of the Letters, that there note of I can't call it admiration, at Letter 112, which seems nounce that there was a No. 3 to whom the wretched wornold scamp was paying his addresses; * and the year after, ving come back to his lodgings in Bond Street, with his Sentimental Journey" to launch upon the town, eager as ver for praise and pleasure-as vain, as wicked, as witty, "To MRS. H—. "Coxwould, Nov. 15, 1767. Now be a good dear woman, my H, and execute those commissions well, and when I see you I will give you a kiss - there's for you! But I save something else for you which I am fabricating at a great rate, and LAC IN HY Seunental Journey,' which shall make you cry as much as it has útected me, or I will give up the business of sentimental writing..... "I am yours, &c. &c., TO THE EARL OF ——— "T. SHANDY." "Coxwould, Nov. 28, 1767. HD - "Ps with the greatest pleasure I take my pen to thank ecoxags for your letter of inquiry about Yorick: he was worn out, key by girls and body, with the Sentimental Journey.' 'Tis true, then, si text hitseif, or his reader will not; but I have torn my Lo neces by my feelings: I believe the brain stands as ecruiting as the body. Therefore I shall set out for Ja of next month, after having recruited myself a week had solace myself with my wife (who is come from raci, Lave long been a sentimental being, whatever hank to the contrary.” as false as he had ever been death at length seized the feeble wretch, and, on the 18th of March, 1768, that "bale of cadaverous goods," as he calls his body, was consigned to Pluto.* In his last letter there is one sign of grace the real affection with which he entreats a friend to be a guardian to his daughter Lydia. All his letters to her are artless, kind, affectionate, and not sentimental; as a hundred pages in his writings are beautiful, and full, not of surprising humor merely, but of genuine love and kindness. A perilous trade, indeed, is that of a man who has to bring his tears and laughter, his recollections, his personal griefs and joys, his private thoughts and feelings to market, to write them on paper, and sell them for money. Does he exaggerate his grief, so as to get his reader's pity for a false sensibility? feign indignation, so as to establish a character for virtue? elaborate repartees, so that he may pass for a wit? steal from other authors, and put down the theft to the credit side of his own reputation for ingenuity and learning? feign originality? affect benevolence or misanthropy? appeal to the gallery gods with claptraps and vulgar baits to catch applause? How much of the paint and emphasis is necessary for the fair business of the stage, and how much of the rant and rouge is put on for the vanity of the actor. His audience trusts him: can he trust himself? How much was deliberate calculation and imposture how much was false sensibility and how much true feeling? Where did the lie begin, and did he know where? "In February, 1768, Laurence Sterne, his frame exhausted by long debilitating illness, expired at his lodgings in Bond Street, London. There was something in the manner of his death singularly resembling the particulars detailed by Mrs. Quickly as attending that of Falstaff, the compeer of Yorick for infinite jest, however unlike in other particulars. As he lay on his bed totally exhausted, he complained that his feet were cold, and requested the female attendant to chafe them. She did so, and it seemed to relieve him. He complained that the cold came up higher; and whilst the assistant was in the act of chafing his ankles and legs, he expired without a groan. It was also remarkable that his death took place much in the manner which he himself had wished; and that the last offices were rendered him, not in his own house, or by the hand of kindred affection, but in an inn, and by strangers. "We are well acquainted with Sterne's features and personal appearance, to which he himself frequently alludes. He was tall and thin, with a hectic and consumptive appearance."- Sir WALTER SCOTT. "It is known that Sterne died in hired lodgings, and I have been told that his attendants robbed him even of his gold sleeve-buttons while he was expiring." - Dr. FERRIAR. "He died at No. 41 (now a cheesemonger's) on the west side of Old Bond Street." - Handbook of London. but twenty-five; but what I want in youth, I will make up in wit and good-humor. Not Swift so loved his Stella, Scarron his Maintenon, or Waller his Saccharissa. Tell me, in answer to this, that you approve and honor the proposal." Approve and honor the proposal! The coward was writing gay letters to his friends this while, with sneering allusions to this poor foolish Bramine. Her ship was not out of the Downs, and the charming Sterne was at the "Mount Coffee-house," with a sheet of gilt-edged paper before him, offering that precious treasure his heart to Lady P, asking whether it gave her pleasure to see him unhappy? whether it added to her triumph that her eyes and lips had turned a man into a fool? -quoting the Lord's Prayer, with a horrible baseness of blasphemy, as a proof that he had desired not to be led into temptation, and swearing himself the most tender and sincere fool in the world. It was from his home at Coxwould that he wrote the Latin letter, which, I suppose, he was ashamed to put into English. I find in my copy of the Letters, that there is a note of I can't call it admiration, at Letter 112, which seems to announce that there was a No. 3 to whom the wretched wornout old scamp was paying his addresses; * and the year after, having come back to his lodgings in Bond Street, with his "Sentimental Journey" to launch upon the town, eager as ever for praise and pleasure-as vain, as wicked, as witty, *To MRS. H—. "COXWOULD, Nov. 15, 1767. "Now be a good dear woman, my H―, and execute those commissions well, and when I see you I will give you a kiss - there's for you! But I have something else for you which I am fabricating at a great rate, and that is my Sentimental Journey,' which shall make you cry as much as it has affected me, or I will give up the business of sentimental writing..... "I am yours, &c. &c., "TO THE EARL OF "T. SHANDY." "COXWOULD, Nov. 28, 1767. "MY LORD, 'Tis with the greatest pleasure I take my pen to thank your lordship for your letter of inquiry about Yorick: he was worn out, both his spirits and body, with the Sentimental Journey.' 'Tis true, then, an author must feel himself, or his reader will not; but I have torn my whole frame into pieces by my feelings: I believe the brain stands as much in need of recruiting as the body. Therefore I shall set out for town the twentieth of next month, after having recruited myself a week at York. I might indeed solace myself with my wife (who is come from France); but, in fact, I have long been a sentimental being, whatever your lordship may think to the contrary." - as false as he had ever been - death at length seized the feeble wretch, and, on the 18th of March, 1768, that "bale of cadaverous goods," as he calls his body, was consigned to Pluto.* In his last letter there is one sign of grace - the real affection with which he entreats a friend to be a guardian to his daughter Lydia. All his letters to her are artless, kind, affectionate, and not sentimental; as a hundred pages in his writings are beautiful, and full, not of surprising humor merely, but of genuine love and kindness. A perilous trade, indeed, is that of a man who has to bring his tears and laughter, his recollections, his personal griefs and joys, his private thoughts and feelings to market, to write them on paper, and sell them for money. Does he exaggerate his grief, so as to get his reader's pity for a false sensibility? feign indignation, so as to establish a character for virtue? elaborate repartees, so that he may pass for a wit? steal from other authors, and put down the theft to the credit side of his own reputation for ingenuity and learning? feign originality? affect benevolence or misanthropy? appeal to the gallery gods with claptraps and vulgar baits to catch applause? How much of the paint and emphasis is necessary for the fair business of the stage, and how much of the rant and rouge is put on for the vanity of the actor. His audience trusts him : can he trust himself? How much was deliberate calculation and imposture how much was false sensibility and how much true feeling? Where did the lie begin, and did he know where? "In February, 1768, Laurence Sterne, his frame exhausted by long debilitating illness, expired at his lodgings in Bond Street, London. There was something in the manner of his death singularly resembling the particulars detailed by Mrs. Quickly as attending that of Falstaff, the compeer of Yorick for infinite jest, however unlike in other particulars. As he lay on his bed totally exhausted, he complained that his feet were cold, and requested the female attendant to chafe them. She did so, and it seemed to relieve him. He complained that the cold came up higher; and whilst the assistant was in the act of chafing his ankles and legs, he expired without a groan. It was also remarkable that his death took place much in the manner which he himself had wished; and that the last offices were rendered him, not in his own house, or by the hand of kindred affection, but in an inn, and by strangers. "We are well acquainted with Sterne's features and personal appearance, to which he himself frequently alludes. He was tall and thin, with a hectic and consumptive appearance."— Sir WALTER SCOTT. "It is known that Sterne died in hired lodgings, and I have been told that his attendants robbed him even of his gold sleeve-buttons while he was expiring." Dr. FERRIAR. "He died at No. 41 (now a cheesemonger's) on the west side of Old Bond Street." - Handbook of London. " г 5. Regnet and his uneasy ap les. He is always lookdet hertain whether I think SH, coaxing, and imast 1 cave - own now that I'm u ant resist this." The humor n le pretended to succeed, poured nges from a bird; they lose no eir hearty great laugh out Cade them. But this manI make you ery too- never ir pernit his audience repose: when Les le Dist rouse you, and turns over TSUS TE Add whispers a nasty story. The Ke Niat humorist. He goes to work i sad Sood: paints his face, puts on his leg totes, and lays down his carpet and tumbles = Same de Sentimental Journey," and see in er te beberste propensity to make points and seek E- rets to Dessein's Hotel," he wants a carriage Pirs, he goes to the inn-yard, and begins what besiness" at once. There is that little carCessligeante). "Four months had elapsed since La dusted its career of Europe in the corner of Mona Jesse's erach-yard. and having sallied out thence l-op besiness at first, though it had been t to purses on Mount Sennis, it ha |