composures, and help to wipe off the censures which the numerous labours of the muses are justly charged with.  If (says he) it shall serve any of these purposes, I shall be satisfied, though I gain no reputation by it among those who read a new poem with no other view, than to pass a judgment on the abilities of the author.’  When the antagonists of Pope were threatened with the publication of the Dunciad, Mr. Mitchel had some suspicion that he himself was to be stigmatized in it:  conscious that he had never offended Mr. Pope, he took an opportunity to write to him upon that subject.  He informed him, that he had been an admirer of his writings; that he declined all connexion with those men, who combined to reduce his reputation, and that when no offence was given, no resentment should be discovered.  Mr. Pope, upon receiving this letter from Mitchel, protesting his innocence as to any calumny published against him, was so equitable as to strike him out of his Dunciad, in which, by misrepresentation he had assigned him a place.

* * * * *

Mr. Mitchel lived in good correspondence with many of the most eminent wits of the time, and was particularly honoured with the friendship of Aaron Hill, esq; a gentleman of so amiable a disposition, that whoever cultivated an intimacy with him, was sure to be a gainer.  Once, when Mr. Mitchel was in distress, Mr. Hill, who could not perhaps conveniently relieve him by pecuniary assistance, gave him a higher instance of friendship, than could be shewn by money.  He wrote a beautiful dramatic piece in two acts, called The Fatal Extravagant, in which he exposed the hideous vice of gaming.  This little dramatic work is planned with such exquisite art, wrought up with so much tenderness, and the scenes are so natural, interesting and moving, that I know not if Mr. Hill has any where touched the passions with so great a mastery.  This play met the success it deserved, and contributed to relieve Mr. Mitchel’s necessities, who had honour enough, however, to undeceive the world, and acknowledge his obligations to Mr. Hill, by making mankind acquainted with the real author of The Fatal Extravagant.  As this was a favour never to be forgotten, so we find Mr. Mitchel taking every proper occasion to express his gratitude, and celebrate his patron.  Amongst the first of his poems, is An Ode, addressed to Mr. Hill, which is one of the best of his compositions.  The two last stanza’s are as follow,

  Heedless of custom, and the vulgar breath,
  I toil for glory in a path untrod,
  Or where but few have dared to combat death,
  And few unstaggering carry virtue’s load. 
    Thy muse, O Hill, of living names,
  My first respect, and chief attendance claims. 
  Sublimely fir’d, thou look’st disdainful down
  On trifling subjects, and a vile renown. 
  In ev’ry verse, in ev’ry thought of thine,
    There’s heav’nly rapture and design. 
    Who can thy god-like Gideon view[A],
    And not thy muse pursue,
  Or wish, at least, such miracles to do?