uncle, Mr. Martin, a lieutenant-colonel, left him about 2000 pounds;
a sum which Collins could scarcely think exhaustible, and which he
did not live to exhaust. The guineas were then repaid, and the
translation neglected. But man is not born for happiness. Collins,
who, while he studied to live, felt no evil but poverty, no sooner
lived to study than his life was assailed by more dreadful
calamities--disease and insanity.

Having formerly written his character, while perhaps it was yet more
distinctly impressed upon my memory, I shall insert it here.

"Mr. Collins was a man of extensive literature, and of vigorous
faculties. He was acquainted not only with the learned tongues, but
with the Italian, French, and Spanish languages. He had employed
his mind chiefly on works of fiction, and subjects of fancy; and, by
indulging some peculiar habits of thought, was eminently delighted
with those flights of imagination which pass the bounds of nature,
and to which the mind is reconciled only by a passive acquiescence
in popular traditions. He loved fairies, genii, giants, and
monsters; he delighted to rove through the meanders of enchantment,
to gaze on the magnificence of golden palaces, to repose by the
waterfalls of Elysian gardens. This was, however, the character
rather of his inclination than his genius; the grandeur of wildness,
and the novelty of extravagance, were always desired by him, but not
always attained. Yet, as diligence is never wholly lost, if his
efforts sometimes caused harshness and obscurity, they likewise
produced in happier moments sublimity and splendour. This idea
which he had formed of excellence led him to Oriental fictions and
allegorical imagery, and, perhaps, while he was intent upon
description, he did not sufficiently cultivate sentiment. His poems