so remarkable in the poetry of Goldsmith. We do not perceive much of his humour, but the restraint of sitting for his likeness would probably have in some measure erased that quality from the portrait; or perhaps Sir Joshua, who was a great master in those things, preferred the more serious expression of his friend. We unhesitatingly recommend this portrait as a fine work of art.

No. 116. PAUL WHITEHEAD.

From a Picture by Gainsborough, in the possession of Mrs. Morris. PAUL WHITEHEAD, to whom we have now the task of introducing the reader, has, it must be owned, but a heavy countenance, and a lack-lustre eye, which seems as it had never been washed in the bright waters of Castaly. His wig is carefully combed; his ruffles are drawn down with precision; he has a didactic finger, and a look like an old gentleman who has the literary mania upon him, but whose laurel (if ever it had leaves) has grown bare, prosaic, and sapless. We would have wagered a trifle against this author's verses if we had never read them; and this fact may be taken by the intelligent reader as no trifling evidence as to the authenticity of the portrait before him.

No. 117. DR. ARMSTRONG.

From a Miniature by Shelley, in the possession of the Publisher.

"DOCTOR ARMSTRONG's poem on Health is very well."-This is the report of Horatio Walpole. Nevertheless, it is, for a didactic poem, an agreeable poem; and it is moreover the poem which has alone given fame to its author. Armstrong is almost entirely un

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THOMAS PENROSE.

known, except as to his poem on "Preserving Health."-The face before us has a cunning look. Walpole asserts that the original Doctor was proud :-" His pride is most disgusting," he says; and adds, in a very pleasant unconscious way-" An author should either know or suppose, that there are in this enlightened country thousands of readers, who might perhaps write as well as himself on any topic-(!! we deny this, on the part of both poets and physicians)—but, who at any rate may be superior judges, though they be too lazy to call their taste into active exertion." We almost wonder that Walpole's vanity should get the better of his natural shrewdness so far as to induce him to let these sentences escape. For our own parts, we are glad of it, partly because it is a trait in the critic's character, and partly because we are quite sure that it relieved him from a fit of the spleen.

No. 118. THOMAS PENROSE.

From an original Picture, in the possession of Dr. Penrose.

We understand that this is an excellent likeness. is not one of our best prints.

Nevertheless, it

It is not one of our bijoux, as Mr.

(in Foote's farce) would say, who could praise all things from a cracked cup to a coronet. On the contrary, we are so full of our sincerity, that we beg the reader to observe that our friend MR. PENROSE has indubitable full cheeks-that he is corpulent beyond question that he has a sleek look, and an indifferent wig, and a curl on each side of his head like a cannon. What can we say of his verses after such a minute and matter of fact description ?-We must leave them to the generosity of the reader.

DAVID GARRICK.

No. 119. DAVID GARRICK.

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From a Picture by Gainsborough, in the Town Hall at Stratford-upon-Avon.

THIS strange fellow has a shrewd comic look, reader-do you not agree with us?-This was a man fit to play Ranger, Abel Drugger, and to keep the " table in a roar "—was he not?—ay, at least as much as our posthumous friend in Hamlet. GARRICK was beyond doubt a great actor,―greater, from all we can judge, however, in comedy than tragedy. His features seem to have accommodated themselves more readily to the turn of humour than to the throbs and agonies of tragic passion, and there is a quick flashing wit in his eye which could scarcely have been subdued, we should think, even by tears. Garrick failed in Othello, (Kean's masterpiece,) and that circumstance alone would prejudice us somewhat against his tragic acting, inasmuch as we hold Othello to be a great test of a tragic actor's powers. If he cannot top that part, in which he must, of necessity, mix up so much of the grand and the familiar, the tender, the sad, and the passionate together, it must be considered to speak to a certain extent against him. Even Hamlet, which comprises perhaps as many shades of passion and humour, is less difficult, because the distinctions are more marked and decided than in the story of the Moor. Nevertheless, Garrick was a great and delightful actor. He cut down some of the flourishing follies of the stage, and did good to what our critics call "the histrionic art." He was also something of an author, and altered some of the plays, and (we quote the advertisements) "by his judicious alterations rendered them worthy the approbation of the public." For ourselves, we still continue to read the originals.—The present engraving, although executed by our favourite Sharpe, is fleecy and unsatisfactory. We seem to look at the countenance of the author through a veil of muslin or a shower of rain. Nothing, however, can conceal that it is a fine, humorous, and charactertic portrait.

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DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.

No. 120. HENRY BROOKE.

From a Picture by his Nephew, Henry Brooke, in the possession of the Publisher.

THE author of Gustavus Vasa looks like an unaffected sensible man. Yet he deserted law for letters, and finally died in distress and insanity. He was an honest partizan, we believe, in politics, and certainly a benevolent man in private life. His two best known works are, histories of "The Earl of Essex," and “Gustavus Vasa,"-of which we prefer the latter, which coutains some eloquence, at least, if it be not very eminent for its poetry. Neither should we (nor can we ever) forget his "Fool of Quality "the delight of our play-hours, which was hoarded by our old schoolmaster in an old cupboard, together with Sir Charles Grandison, the Tatler, and five odd volumes of the Spectator, to be lent as a reward to the industrious and deserving. Although we did not entitle ourselves to many glimpses into these divine volumes, and in truth were given to other less literary recreations, we were not utterly without our claim to peruse them. And we reme nber well how we used to turn from Sir Charles Grandison and Miss Harriet Byron, to the sad and passionate Clementina, and from her, in turn, to the pleasant adventures of Mr. Henry Moreland (" the fool of quality,") and his tender oriental flower-the gentle and transformed Abénamin.

No. 121. DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.

From a Picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds, late in the possession of Mrs. Piozzi. WE are not here to inquire into DOCTOR JOHNSON's qualifications as a critic, into his essays in prose, or his general wisdom. As a poet, it is no slander to say that he was not one of the highest order. His imitation of Juvenal, which is spirited, is decidedly

WILLIAM WHITEHEAD.

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the best of his poetical compositions. His tragedy is tame and without a single dramatic qualification; and his Life of Milton is a sad stain upon his fame. Yet he was, as men go, a great inan, a shrewd man, quick in conversation, laborious, high spirited and benevolent. Shall we give up these things or forget them, because he had some infirmities of temper, or some frailties of criticism? Let us rather call to mind his spirited reply to Lord Chesterfield, his tenderness to his servant, his constant affection to his family, and the general tone of his writings, which almost universally tend to kindness and good feeling. He had the reasoning faculty in very great perfection, and did not allow it to lie idle, as his biographer amply proves. He is said to have carried a poor maimed beggar on his back along Ludgate Hill and Fleet Street, in defiance of the jeers and contempt of idle passengers, and this is alone sufficient to compensate for a folio of faults. The portrait here given is engraved after Sir Joshua Reynolds, and represents the author in his age. It is an undoubted likeness.

No. 122. WILLIAM WHITEHEAD.

From a Picture by Wilson, in the Collection of Earl Harcourt.

THIS is the head of WILLIAM WHITEHEAD, the poet laureat, and author of the dramas of "The Roman Father" and "Creusa." The Whiteheads (like the Wrongheads) were not a prepossessing family; and, yet this writer had the reputation of having been handsome in his youth. He was an amiable and inoffensive man, and was on that account, we suppose, vilified by Churchill, who was the common slanderer of his time. The fact of Garrick refusing to let one of Whitehead's plays be performed unless he would conceal his name, shows, at once, the paltry time-serving spirit of the