with every friend to human happiness. They shall therefore be exterminated. For the dawnings of benevolence, the harbingers of a better state of things, have dissipated the mists which hung upon the horizon, and the day-star of science is rapidly approaching the meridian, driving before it the glooms of superstition. The children of indigence are learning to reason, and the exercises of intellect are becoming familiar even among the heirs of poverty.

THE PONDERER. No. 34.

But let my due feet never fail
To walk the studious cloister pale,
And love the high embowed roof
With antique pillars massy proof,
And storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light;
There let the pealing organ blow
To the full voic'd quire below,
In service high and anthems clear,

As may with sweetness, through mine ear
Dissolve me into extasies,

And bring all heaven before mine eyes.

MILTON.

EVERY species of information which imme

diately tends to increase the sources of innocent pleasure, or to give interest to objects which, from being familiar, have lost the charms of novelty, may with the strictest propriety be denominated important. It was from this conviction that a former number of the Ponderer was appropriated to a review of some of those associations, which combine with the several objects of my native city; and it is for the same reason that I propose to dedicate the present number to a survey of Bristol Cathedral, principally as it is connected

with any character of interest or eminence in the history of literature.

I

Whenever I visit the cathedral, I seldom fail to enter it from the cloisters, because by this means pass under that venerable Saxon arch which at present forms the entrance to the Lower Green, but which was anciently the principal entrance to St. Augustine's monastery, and is now all that remains of that once splendid structure, either to point out its situation, or to exhibit a specimen of its former beauty and magnificence. The admirer, however, of ecclesiastical architecture will not fail frequently to contemplate this interesting specimen, nor while passing under it to notice the pleasing effect produced by the intersections of the circular arches in the walls of each side; because, from the observation of the effect thus produced, it is highly probable, that the pointed architecture of cathedrals derived its origin.

In the deanery adjoining this arch resided, for a short period, the celebrated Warburton, who held this preferment from the year 1757 till he obtained a mitre in 1760..

The entrance to the cloisters of the cathedral is intimately associated with the memory of Mrs. Robinson, who, in the days of innocence and

youth, frequently listened from this spot to the majestic swellings of its solemn organ, with all the ardent enthusiasm of opening genius, heightened by the purer feelings of virtue and devotion. Poor Mrs. Robinson! how frequently have these recollections prompted the sigh of commiseration for thy frailties and thy follies; and in the bitternesss of my anguish how often have I execrated the paltry attractions of a transitory world, which could seduce from rectitude mind so admirably calculated for attaining eminence, both in virtue and literature, as thine unquestionably was! But peace to thy spirit! Let me remember the aberrations of genius only to avoid them; or if duty impose the imperious necessity of recording them, let me still remember that they are sacred, and let the only object of the record be to caution others from similar deviations.

a

From the cloisters the ascent into the cathedral is to the transept nearly opposite the south aisle. Under the first pillar, at the entrance to this aisle, is a flat stone inscribed with the name of Hesketh. The stone describes it to be Dame Harriet Hesketh, eldest daughter of Ashley Cowper, and widow of Sir Thomas Hesketh, Bart. a lady who will be entitled to a place in the tablet of memory, as the friend and correspondent of the

amiable Cowper, when the little distinctions of rank and wealth will be entirely forgotten.

In this aisle is a monument to the memory of the Rev. Samuel Love, son of that master of the free-school in Pyle-street by whom Chatterton was dismissed as a dull boy incapable of improvement! Mr. S. Love died in the 29th year of his age, and is represented to have possessed considerable talents. The lines on his monument are from the pen of Mrs. Hannah More, and are amply entitled to commendation for their simplicity and pathos. Notwithstanding my conviction that inscriptions of this kind lose much of their effect when abstracted from their surrounding scenery, I am tempted to transcribe these lines, from an apprehension that they are not so generally appreciated as their merits deserve.

When worthless grandeur decks th' embellish'd urn,
No poignant grief attends the sable bier;

But when distinguish'd excellence we mourn,
Deep is the sorrow, genuine the tear.

Stranger! shouldst thou approach this awful shrine
The merits of the honor'd dead to seek,

The friend, the son, the christian, the divine,

Let those who knew him, those who lov'd him, speak.

Oh! let them, in some pause from anguish, say
What zeal inspir'd, what faith enlarged his breast,
How soon th' unfetter'd spirit wing'd its way
From Earth to Heaven, from blessing to be blest.