If, like the mathematician, he can establish one point, it ascertains
another. We may deem his pursuit one of the most arduous, and attended
with the least profit: his emoluments consist in the returns of pleasure
to his own mind.

The historian only collects the matter of the day, and hands it to
posterity; but the antiquarian brings his treasures from remote ages,
and presents them to this: he examines forgotten repositories, calls
things back into existence, which are past; counter-acts the efforts of
time, and of death; possesses something like a re-creative power;
collects the dust of departed matter, moulds it into its prestine state,
exhibits the figure to view, and stamps it with a kind of immortality.

Every thing has its day, whether it be a nation, a city, a castle, a
man, or an insect; the difference is, one is a winter's day, the other
may be extended to the length of a summer's--an _end_ waits upon all.
But we cannot contemplate the end of grandeur, without gloomy ideas.

Birmingham is surrounded with the melancholy remains of extinguished
greatness; the decayed habitations of decayed gentry, fill the mind with
sorrowful reflections. Here the feet of those marked the ground, whose
actions marked the page of history. Their arms glistened in the field;
their eloquence moved the senate. Born to command, their influence was
extensive; but who now rest in peace among the paupers, fed with the
crumbs of their table. The very land which, for ages, was witness to the
hospitality of its master, is itself doomed to stirility. The spot
which drew the adjacent country, is neglected by all; is often in a
wretched state of cultivation, sets for a trifle; the glory is departed;
it demands a tear from the traveller, and the winds teem, to sigh