The Sun. — 1822-08-03 (London, England)

LETTER.  • Sfit.—You have now for many years filled the dignified and arduous office of Professor of Greek in the University of Cambridge ; and it seems to be the .opinion of all, that you have flllei it with zeal and ability. During that period, you must I:a7e been led, by inclination as well as by duty, to an animated and ardent study .of Greek literature ; and you have not disdained to endeavour to catch a few of those rays of glory which it st.ll continues to reflect upon its satellites. If I am correctly informed, the same altar which received the first fruits of your youthful talents, is to be covered by the riper produce of your manhood ; so that, if not an inspired, you may certainly .be considered _an unwearied, votary. lam willing to believe, "that you possess that first attribute of genius, the power of intense fervid admiration ; and you have certainly been contemlating for years. an object of the most radiant and matchless beauty. Under these circumstances, I shall not insult you, by attempting to express the passionate and devoted attachment which you must feel for Greece, its inhabitants, its very soil; the fountain of your mental cultivation, the basis of your literary reputation. It must .be "/a love without reproach or blame,' originating in beauty, and sustained by gratitude: What then must have been the feelings with which you viewed the first convulsive starts, which shewed that this object of youl adoratioik was about to rouse itself from its long and •deathlike sleep;--with what interest,or rather with what agony, must you have seen it toss and writhe upon its bed of torture ! But when it had actually risen in its wrath, when it had put forth its regenerated strength,and was struggling furiously with the demons of tyranny and superstition„ and lust, and rapine, Sand murder, -which :were endeavouring to load it with triple chains, you too must surely have felt the" certaminis guadia," azid have burnt to assist, as you could not partake, in tie strife.' You will pardon '.me for having. thuslar, perhaps presumptuously, attempted to deScribe emotions which have been confined to your own breast. I am now come to a point where imagina- don must stop. "I must now record your actions, or nothing. With the history of these, however, you have not thought proper to supply the world ; and we are consequently bound to believe that you have been unable or unwilling to pass the narrow bound which parts thought and action' and that you have suffered some of the noblest feelings of the human mind to decelerate into a barren sympathy. In dragging you and your brother. Professors before the tribunal of public opinion, it will easily be believed that I am actuated by the purest motives—it matters not whether lam - acquainted with any or all of you. personally ; I have not done, nor can have done, any thing to forfeit my indefeasible right • 'of examining the conduct of those holding pdblic situations. -If I can shew what you night have done in this most holy cause, and prove (which, however, is self-evident), that you ought to have done it, what shall prevent me from inflicting the censure which your omission has deserved? not even the fear of wounding the feelings of otherwise respectable and eminent individuals—  'EA),ocaoc paAto-r` ErtrlE rrc TaAa.nrctifou GTEYW, OsAouo-a Bpocv rt .iCEOVOY PappapoVc,