himself, alfo, is but a poor creature; but this deficiency of character is made up for in Douglas, who is indeed a noble, confiftent perfonage, and is in fact the fupport of the piece.As to the language, it is a motley mixture of the poetical and fentimental, with a dafh, now and then, of the turgid and the mean. As to fentiment and moral, they are a ftrange mixture, likewife, of the fierce and the finicking of falfe delicacy and the true. The manners and mode of thinking of the times are, by no means, preferved; Elwina fometimes bluftering in the ftile of a Roman matron, and at others whining in the cant of a Quaker-preacher. But our readers may form fome judgment of these particulars by the following extracts.

RABY and ELWIN A.

EL. Where is my father? let me fly to meet him,
O let me clafp his venerable knees,

And die of joy in his belov'd embrace.

RABY (avoiding her embrace). Elwina.

EL. And is that all? fo cold?

RABY (fernly.) Elwina.

EL. Then I'm undone indeed! How ftern his looks!

I will not be repuls'd, I am your child,

The child of that dear mother you ador'd;

You fhall not throw me off, I will grow here,

And, like the patriarch, wrestle for a bleffing.

RABY (bolding her from him) Before I take thee in thefe

aged arms,

Prefs thee with tranfport to this beating heart,
And give a loofe to all a parent's fondness,
Anfwer, and fee thou answer me as truly
As if the dread enquiry came from heav'n :-
Does no interior fenfe of guilt confound thee?
Canst thou lay all thy naked foul before me?
Can thy unconfcious eye encounter mine?
Canft thou endure the probe, and never shrink?
Can thy firm hand meet mine and never tremble?
Art thou prepar'd to meet the rigid judge?
Or to embrace the fond, the melting father?
EL. Myfterious! to what am I referv'd?

RABY. Shou'd fome rafh man, regardless of thy fame,'
And in defiance of thy marriage vows,

Prefume to plead a guily paffion for thee,

What wou'dft thou do?

EL. What honour bids me do.

RABY. Come to my arms

EL. My father!

RABY. Yes, Elwina,

!

[they embrace.

Thou art my child-thy mother's perfect image.

EL.

EL. Forgive thefe tears of mingled joy and doubt;
For why that question? who should seek to please
The defolate Elwina?

RABY. But if any

Should fo prefume, can't thou refolve to hate him,
Whate'er his name, whate'er his pride of blood,
Whate'er his former arrogant pretenfions?

EL. Ha!

RABY. Doft thou falter? Have a care, Elwina.
EL. Sir, do not fear me; am I not you daughter?
RABY. Thou haft a higher claim upon thy honour;
Thou art Earl Douglas' Wife.

EL. (weeps.) I am indeed!
RABY. Unhappy Douglas!'
EL. Has he then complain'd?
Has he prefum'd to fully my white fame?
RABY. He knows that Percy-

EL. Was my deftin'd husband;

By your own promife mine, a father's promife,
And by a tie more strong, more facred ftill,
Mine, by the faft, firm bond of mutual love.

RABY. Now, by my fears, thy husband told me truth.'
EL. If he has told thee that thy only child

Was forc'd, a helpless victim to the altar,
Torn from his arms, who had her virgin heart,
And fore'd to make false vows to one the hated,
Then, I confefs, that he has told thee truth.

RABY. Her words are barbed arrows in my heart,
But 'tis too late. (afile) Thou haft appointed Harcourt
To see thee here by itealth in Douglas' abfence.

EL. No, by my life, nor knew I till this moment
That Harcourt was return'd. Was it for this
I taught my heart to ftruggle with its feelings?
Was it for this I bore my wrongs in filence?
When the fond ties of early love were broken,
Did my weak foul break out in fond complaints?
Did I reproach thee? Did I call thee cruel?
No-I endur'd it all; and weary'd heaven
To blefs the father who destroy'd my peace.

The above fcene is fenfible and fpirited; the following precedes a fituation that has a pretty theatrical effect. Sir Hubert, a knight just returned from the Crufade, is introduced to relate the fuccefs of the Chriftian arms against the Infidel.

Sir HUBERT, RABY, and ELWINA.

RABY. Welcome; thou gallant, Sir Hubert, welcome!
Welcome to Raby Caftle!-In one word,

Is the king fafe? Is Palestine fubdued?

SUB. The king is fafe, and Palestine subcued.

RABY.

RADY. Bleft be the god of armies! Now, Sir Hubert,
By all the faints thou'rt a right noble knight!
O why was I too old for this crufade ?

I think it wou'd have made me young again,
Cou'd I, like thee, have feen the hated Crefcent,
Yield to the Chriftian crofs.-How now, Elwina!
What! cold at news which might awake the dead!
If there's a drop in thy degenerate veins

That glows not now, thou art not Raby's daughter.
It is religion's caufe, the caufe of heav'n;

EL. When policy affumes religion's name,
And wears the fanctimonious garb of faith,
Only to colour fraud, and licenfe murder,
War then is tenfold guilt.

RABY. Blafpheming girl!

EL. 'Tis not the crofier, nor the pontiff's robe,
The faintly look, nor clevated eye,

Nor Paleftine deftroy'd, nor Jordan's banks
Delug'd with blood of flaughter'd infidels,
No, nor th' extinction of the Eastern world,
Nor all the mad, pernicious, bigot rage

Of your crufades, can bribe that Pow'r, who fees
The motive with the act. O blind to think
That cruel war can please the prince of peace!
He, who erects his altar in the heart,
Abhors the facrifice of human blood,
And all the falfe devotion of that zeal,

Which maflacres the world he died to fave.

RABY. O impious rage! If thou wou'dit fhun my curfe, No more, I charge thee.- --Tell me, good Sir Hubert, Say, have our arms atchiev'd this glorious deed

(I fear to afk,) without much Chriftian bloodshed? EL. Now Heaven fupport_me!

[afide.

Sir HUB. My good lord of Raby,
Imperfect is the fum of human glory!
Wou'd I cou'd tell thee that the field was won,
Without the death of fuch illuftrious knights,

As make the high flush'd cheek of victory pale,
EL. Why thou'd I tremble thus?

RABY. Who have we lost?

[afide.

Sir HUB. The noble Clifford, Walfingham, and Grey,

Sir Harry Haftings, and the valiant Pembroke.

All men of choiceft note.

RABY. O that my name

Had been enroll'd in fuch a list of herces!

If I was too infirm to ferve my country,

I might have prov'd my love by dying for her.

But the want of farther room compels us to finish here.

THE

APPENDIX

TO THE

SIXTH VOLUME

OF THE

LONDON REVIEW

A LETTER to JOS DPH PRIESTLEY, L L. D. F. R. S. on the Publication of his Difquifitions on MATTER and SPIRIT, &c. By WILLIAM KENRICK, LL. D.

SIR,

As I learn, from your late Anfwer to Letters on Materialism*, that you do not think me at prefent, 16 very much your friend +," it is poffible that, before I clofe the epiftolary expoftulation, in which I propose to indulge myfelf, you will think me much lefs fo And yet, Sir, with a fincerely profeffed admiration of your talents and fiequently as fincere an approbation of your fentiments, it is well known, that I have repeatedly expreffed both, with the moft cordial warmth of eulogium.-I prefume not that the fuff age, of fo unpopular a writer as myself, required either your regard or acknowled_ement; it might yet, one would naturally think, have prevented fo ungrateful a return as the infinuation, that I am in fome degree your enemy. Not having the pleafure of your perional acquaintance, it would be impertinent in me to profess my*A work, of which fome account is given in the fifth vol of the Lon

don Review.

See the Appendix to Dr. P's Difquifitions on Matter and Spirit, p. 205. VOL. VI. 3 P felf

felf particularly your friend; fo far, nevertheless, as you are a friend to truth, I will take upon me to declare, that I am "very much" fo. At the fame time, I must take the liberty to fay that, it is juft fo far and no farther-Amicus Plato, -Amicus Socrates, &e. On this frank, though antiquated, maxim, you will, alfo, account for the freedom, with which I may be led to treat you, in future; a freedom for which I shall make no apology, as the occafion will, I hope, always carry with it a fufficient juftification,

The anonymous author of a new paniphlet, now lying be fore me, obferves, that "When the public have once conceived a great opinion of any man's abilities, they give him credit, for whatever he chufes to advance; and whoever should endeavour to perfuade them that they have been mistaken, will meet with an indifferent reception, and may probably be confidered as offering them an infult. This makes it neceffary, that the republic of Letters fhould never be without fome bold critic, in every branch of learning, to bring a man's pretenfions to a ftrict examination, before his reputation get to fuch a height as to be of pernicious example."-Having rafhly taken upon myfelf, long ago, the ungrateful office of one of thefe bold critics, it is too late, twenty years after, to affect the modefty of fuppofing myfelf unqualified to difcharge my duty in the department of my peculiar application. This, Sir, is the theory of phyfics, or the fyftematical principles of natural philofophy; a fcience which Lord Bacon juftly reprefents as the bafis or foundation of all human knowledge..

While Dr. Frieftley engaged the attention of the public, in the character of a politician, a rhetorician, a moralist, a grammarian, or a divine, I fubmitted the confideration of his respective me its to others; contenting myfelf with admiring the verfatility of his genius and the rapidity of his compofition. la taking up even the bufinefs of philofophy, while he confined bimfelf to the chemical and experimental part of it, I either ftill remained filent, or candidly declared the obligations, which philofophical fcience might owe him, for his difcoveries; although the cui-bono in their application remains as yet problematical. When he entered the lifts as a metaphyfician, I could not refrain from expreffing my public affent to the juftice and propriety of his conclufions, though drawn from premifes, of which I then prefined him more fully mafter than he appears at preient to have been. In his entering upon the theory of phyfics, and the difcuffion of the principles of natural philofophy, I could as little help regarding him as invading a province, in