[1] See Mirror, vol. xi. p. 2.
    [2] Athenaeum, No. 180—­an opinion to which we beg to
        subscribe.

It is gratifying to learn that the erection of a colossal statue of George III. on Snow Hill, in the Long Walk, is in progress.  This is a testimony of the filial affection of the late King, and should not be overlooked in his character.

* * * * *

STERNE’S ELIZA.

(To the Editor.)

Though a perusal of your pages evidently shows that you wish more for original communications than to copy from any one, yet the extreme beauty of the following article (which I exactly copy as it appeared translated in the European Magazine for March, 1784) makes one hope to see it revived or preserved in the Mirror.

A constant reader.

“For the European Magazine.

“Mrs. Draper, the lady who has been so celebrated as the correspondent of Mr. Sterne, under the name of Eliza, will naturally attract the notice of the Public.  That she was deserving of the encomiums bestowed upon her by that admirable writer will appear from the following eulogium, written by the excellent Abbe RAYNAL, which I transmit to you for publication in your next Magazine.—­I am yours, &c.  A.T.

“Territory of Anjengo,[3] thou art nothing; but thou hast given birth to Eliza.  A day will come, when these staples of commerce, founded by the Europeans on the coasts of Asia, will exist no more.  Before a few centuries are elapsed, the grass will cover them, or the Indians, avenged, will have built upon their ruins.  But if my works be destined to have any duration, the name of Anjengo will not be obliterated from the memory of man.  Those who shall read my works, or those whom the winds shall drive towards these shores, will say—­There it is that Eliza Draper was born; and if there be a Briton among them, he will immediately add, with the spirit of conscious pride—­And there it was that she was born of English parents.

    [3] A town of Hindoostan, in Travancore.

“Let me be permitted to indulge my grief, and to give a free course to my tears!  Eliza was my friend.  Reader, whosoe’er thou art, forgive me this involuntary motion;—­let my mind dwell upon Eliza.  If I have sometimes moved thee to compassionate the calamities of the human race, let me now prevail upon thee to commiserate my own misfortune.  I was thy friend without knowing thee; be for a moment mine.  Thy gentle pity shall be my reward.

“Eliza ended her days in the land of her forefathers, at the age of three-and-thirty.  A celestial soul was separated from a heavenly body.  Ye who visit the spot on which her sacred ashes rest, write upon the marble that covers them:  In such a year, in such a month, on such a day, at such an hour, God withdrew his spirit, and Eliza died.