which
the author paints the good part of those equivocal characters that he
brings upon his stage: James has his generosity, and his silly wife her
good nature; Matthews her starts of kindness; and Old Bath, in his
sister's dressing-gown, cooking possets for her, is really an amiable
object, whom we like while we laugh at him. A great deal of tenderness
and love goes along with this kind of laughter, and it was this mixed
feeling that our author liked so to indulge himself in, and knew so well
how to excite in others. Whenever he has to relate an action of
benevolence, honest Fielding kindles as he writes it: some writers of
fiction have been accused of falling in a passion with their bad
characters: these our author treats with a philosophic calmness: it is
when he comes to the good that he grows enthusiastic: you fancy that you
see the tears in his manly eyes; nor does he care to disguise any of the
affectionate sympathies of his great, simple heart. This is a defect in
art perhaps, but a very charming one.

For further particulars of Fielding's life, we recommend the reader to
consult Mr. Roscoe's biography. Indeed, as much as any of his romances,
his own history illustrates the maxim we have just quoted from Amelia.

Want, sorrow, and pain subdued his body at last, but his great and noble
humor rode buoyant over them all, and his frank and manly philosophy
overcame them. His generous attachment to his family comforted him to
the last; and though all the labors of the poor fellow were only
sufficient to keep him and them in a bare competence, yet it must be
remembered, to his credit, that he left behind him a friend who valued
him so much as to provide for the family he had left destitute, and to
place them beyond the reach of want. It is some credit to a man to have
been the friend of Ralph Allen; and Fielding before his death raised a
monument to his friend a great deal more lasting than bronze or marble,
placing his figure in the romance of Tom Jones under the name of
Allworthy. "There is a day, sir," says Fielding in one of his
dedications to Mr. Allen, "which no man in the kingdom can think of
without fear, but yourself--the day of your death." Can there he a finer
compliment? Nor was Fielding the man to pay it to one whom he thought
was undeserving of it.

Never do Fielding's courage, cheerfulness, and affection forsake him; up
to the last days of his life he is laboring still for his children. He
dies, and