his grandfather; and was, with his brother,
who died afterwards unmarried, left to the care of his grandmother, who
managed the estate.

From school he was sent in 1732 to Pembroke College in Oxford, a society
which for half a century has been eminent for English poetry and elegant
literature. Here it appears that he found delight and advantage; for
he continued his name in the book ten years, though he took no degree.
After the first four years he put on the civilian's gown, but without
showing any intention to engage in the profession. About the time when
he went to Oxford, the death of his grandmother devolved his affairs
to the care of the Rev. Mr. Dolman, of Brome in Staffordshire, whose
attention he always mentioned with gratitude. At Oxford he employed
himself upon English poetry; and in 1737 published a small Miscellany,
without his name. He then for a time wandered about, to acquaint himself
with life, and was sometimes at London, sometimes at Bath, or any other
place of public resort; but he did not forget his poetry. He published
in 1741 his "Judgment of Hercules," addressed to Mr. Lyttelton, whose
interest he supported with great warmth at an election: this was next
year followed by the "Schoolmistress."

Mr. Dolman, to whose care he was indebted for his ease and leisure, died
in 1745, and the care of his own fortune now fell upon him. He tried
to escape it awhile, and lived at his house with his tenants, who were
distantly related; but, finding that imperfect possession inconvenient,
he took the whole estate into his own hands, more to the improvement of
its beauty than the increase of its produce. Now was excited his delight
in rural pleasures and his ambition of rural elegance; he began from
this time to point his prospects, to diversify his surface, to entangle
his walks, and to wind his waters, which he did with such judgment
and such fancy as made his little domain the envy of the great and
the admiration of the skilful; a place to be visited by travellers and
copied by designers. Whether to plant a walk in undulating curves, and
to place a bench at every turn where there is an object to catch the
view, to make the water run where it will be heard, and to stagnate
where it will be seen, to leave intervals where the eye will be pleased,
and to thicken the plantation where there is something to be hidden,
demands any great powers of mind, I will not inquire: perhaps a sullen
and surly spectator may thin