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ship: but when respect for friends does not lead us to be unjust to others, such partialities, being only grafts on those general principles, require no apology.

To speak the truth, this was one of the pleasures inseparable from my employment. It is like recovering objects from the end of a perspective, by bringing what was distant and almost out of sight, more full in view. And it may be observed, that as death levels all distinctions, so it levels all parties. We forget differences of opinion, and clashings of interest: the old affections return to their old place: we live, as it were, over again; and as Plato made knowledge to be only reminiscence, so may old regards, after a lapse of years, become intellectual acquisitions, and dispense present enjoy

ment.

Similar to these partialities may be considered some predilection for my old College. Towards the places of their education most people, I be- . lieve, are sensible of some prejudices, somewhat resembling the fondness which they feel for a parent. It is a natural affection, and may exist without any present interest or the slightest expectation and hence, as will be observed in the proper place, the more minute account of that college; not, perhaps, that I previously possessed more knowledge of that than of some

others: but I thought it a duty to acquire such a knowledge, and I felt a pleasure in the communication *.

But on these matters I dwell no longer, least I should intrude on the Introduction. It re

* This college-partiality had nearly prevailed on me to break in upon my general rule, to confine the narrative to the dead. For when writing the account of Emmanuel College, I was not wholly unacquainted with the writings of some learned men of this college, now living, and I noticed them with respect, and, indeed, the smallest pamphlet. which occurred to me as written by a member of that college, was duly registered. But on resurveying my mode of proceeding towards other colleges, and the effect which such particularizings left on the work (for every species of writing should present some unity of design), it occurred to me that academics in general might think I had already shewn sufficient college-partialities, and that to carry them further would look something like college-flirtations: so (for our first thoughts are not always our worst) I was brought back to my general rule, of confining the narrative to the dead; fearful, too, as I was, that readers might have just reason for addressing me with the rebuke of the Roman poet

-Amphora cœpit

Institui, currente rota, cur urceus exit?

Horat. Ars. Poet,

Such a course, then, would have broken in upon the uniformity of appearance, as well as upon general rules: but the above allusions will shew the order of particular affections, and the reality of my college feelings.

mains still to speak a few words in the way of acknowledgment and apology.

I acknowledge my obligations, then, to several kind friends both in town and country, who have occasionally assisted me in examining the proof sheets of these volumes, which, to one whose sight is treacherous, was an essential service, it having preserved me from several errors of the press, and often from errors of more consequence: I have, also, been obliged to others, for the loan of books, very serviceable to me in the course of the work. The acknowledgments in cases which concern the authenticating of any particular parts of the history, will be made in the proper place.

Room, and great room, there is also for apologies. Some apology should be made for the delay of the publication so long beyond the time announced; and, I fear, I must take the whole of the blame: none, at least, is attached to the proprietors of the work. The announcement, indeed, was theirs; though my engagement the occasion. But to enter on those particulars would answer no purpose here: and, persuaded I am, intelligent readers will think, that I should rather apologize for publishing so soon, than for delaying so long: they well know, that even the poet's Pegasus, winged and light, should not be kept always on a violent gallop;

but that the poor prose-pad, like a pedlar's, with more of burden on his back, than he well knows how to bear, should be left to take his slow, quiet pace. Such readers must perceive, that I am speaking what I cannot but feel. I entered on this work certainly with considerable materials, and, since engaging in it, in reading, in thinking, in correcting, and improving, I have proportioned my labours to my undertaking. But this tended to delay, not to expedition. It was like plying the bellows in a dark room, where you perceive light, as you enkindle a flame. For every step I advanced, I did but more clearly see, how much further I might go.

Here too readers, and some writers, may be reminded of the effect produced, by finding a pleasure in your employment. Notwithstanding what I have said of the poor pad, and his burden, they will recollect, that some burdens are sweet-you lose the sense of weight by the deceptions of fancy, and occasional rests; and in proportion as your journey becomes more agreeable, you are in danger of growing more dilatory. But besides all this:-After finishing, as I thought, or nearly finishing, my labours, I was visited by a long illness: my recovery was not expected: after feeling a little natural anxiety, among my last concerns, I had taken my leave of my poor papers. I had left them, I knew, in

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confusion, and they fell into worse disorder. Some parts were deposited, I doubt not, by myself, in some book, or among other miscellaneous papers; but my recollection failed me, and I was never able to recover them.-Here, then, fresh matter, new arrangement, and recomposition, became necessary. Happily, I found some of my old copy, from which my papers had been originally transcribed; my memoranda too were in a known place; I can with confidence, indeed, say, that these aberrations have led me to take a surer aim; that these mortifications have urged me to more diligence; that disappointments have excited stronger exertions, and that my confusions terminated, after great labour, in a better arrangement; so that, on a serious retrospect, I have abated my own chagrin; and, I hope the reader will have no reason to complain: for could the work have been expedited, it ought to have been delayed; and it is not for those who are creatures of circumstances, to aim at, or expect, impossibilities. The circumstances, which govern man's life become the rule by which candour should judge of his actions. Still the circumstances, as thus stated, have occasioned various interruptions, and unexpected delays.

Some omissions, and I fear two or three trifling repetitions, will be consequent upon these de

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