idnight vigils were cheered by no patronage, nor his
labours valued, till the eye that pored on the mutilated MS. was for
ever closed. Of all those curious works of the late Mr. STRUTT, which
are now bearing such high prices, all were produced by extensive
reading, and illustrated by his own drawings, from the manuscripts of
different epochs in our history. What was the result to that ingenious
artist and author, who, under the plain simplicity of an antiquary,
concealed a fine poetical mind, and an enthusiasm for his beloved
pursuits to which only we are indebted for them? Strutt, living in the
greatest obscurity, and voluntarily sacrificing all the ordinary views
of life, and the trade of his _burin_, solely attached to national
antiquities, and charmed by calling them into a fresh existence under
his pencil, I have witnessed at the British Museum, forgetting for
whole days his miseries, in sedulous research and delightful labour;
at times even doubtful whether he could get his works printed; for
some of which he was not regaled even with the Roman supper of "a
radish and an egg." How he left his domestic affairs, his son can
tell; how his works have tripled their value, the booksellers. In
writing on the calamities attending the love of literary labour, Mr.
JOHN NICHOLS, the modest annalist of the literary history of the last
century, and the friend of half the departed genius of our country,
cannot but occur to me. He zealously published more than fifty works,
illustrating the literature and the antiquities of the country;
labours not given to the world without great sacrifices. Bishop Hurd,
with friendly solicitude, writes to Mr. Nichols on some of his own
publications, "While you are enriching the Antiquarian world" (and, by
the Life of Bowyer, may be added the Literary), "I hope you do not
forget yourself. _The profession of an author, I know from experience,
is not a lucrative one._--I only mention this because I see a large
catalogue of your publications." At another time the Bishop writes,
"You are very good to excuse my freedom with you; but, as times go,
almost any trade is better than that of an author," &c. On these notes
Mr. Nichols confesses, "I have had some occasion to regret that I did
not attend to the judicious suggestions." We owe to the late THOMAS
DAVIES, the author of "Garrick's Life," and other literary works,
beautiful editions of some of our elder poets, which are now eagerly
sought after, yet