unless the rank and fortune require diamond buckles. Paste or Bristol stones should never approach a gentleman of any age. Roomy shoes, not of varnished leather. Broad shoebuckles, well polished. Cleanliness is an ornament to youth, but an indispensable necessity to old age. Breeches, velvet or velveteen, or some other solid stuff. There may be serious objections to reviving the trunk breeches of our ancestors. I am afraid that hoops would follow in their train. But the flapped waistcoat, the deep cuffs, and guarded pocket-holes, the low collar, I should hail with pleasure; that is, for grandfathers and men of grandfatherly years. I was about to add the point-lace ruffles, cravat, and frill, but I pause in consideration of the miseries and degraded state of the lacemakers.

"I sat in a pew directly opposite to Pupilia, her mama, and sisters. He that left the receipt of custom, might have called to mind Juvenal's 'digitis aut septem aut quatuor,' the thin light partition applying to both cases. I have felt such a separation myself. The text, Romans ii. v. 16, In the day when God shall judge the secrets of men,' &c. Sermon good-not too long. The secrets of men taken for their thoughts. More might have been said about the means of excluding evil thoughts, and procuring good ones, as prayer, reading, employment, lawful diversions for introverted self-watchfulness, thinking about one's thoughts, is a morbid state.

"Dined with Montanus, who was about to dine with the betrayer of Wallace. Weather soaking, smoking, misty, and disagreeable, yet not altogether without beauty. The opening mists have shown some fine effects of light in the hills, and the perfect stillness of the lakes in the early morning, beneath the overhanging steam, looked patient and devout. I have been very steady, tolerably diligent, but not very successful; yet on the whole I shall enter chapel to-morrow with a consciousness that my last Sunday's prayers have not been unanswered."

In the year 1845, he lost his mother, an event to which allusion has already been made. The following beautiful verses, addressed to a lady in a letter, may suffice to show his feelings on this occasion :

"Sweet Lady, 'twas my wish to write unto thee

In such quaint wise as we were wont to talk,
When I was fain, in quaint odd stuff, to woo thee
To mirth with wit, that was like ball-room chalk.
But since I saw thee I have had a loss-
I am alone, of hope and kin bereaven;
Another nail is struck into my cross,

To drive my lagging soul from earth to heaven.
Oh, Anna, hadst thou but my sister been,
And plucked with me the foxglove, tall and gay,
I might have told thee all my heart does mean,
And all the worth of her that's gone away.

Had I a sister, or a sister's friend,

Though mute in sorrow, sitting by my side,
Then tears, soft tears and holy, would descend,
And sorrows gush in self-o'ertaking tide.

But unto thee a sister not akin

In blood, but yet a sister of my soul,

(For rarely have I met among the din

Of the world's wheels that aye impetuous roll;

A spirit quiet, mirthful yet sedate,

Queen of itself, and just as mine should be,-
Had I sustained aright the awful weight

And duty of my place and destiny,

As thine, kind partner of my hope and creed)—
What can I say? In very truth, 'tis sad

To show the drear November seed

To one who saw the April flower so glad.

Far off we are. I cannot bid thee sigh,

Though well thou mayest, for sorrows sharp and near;
So long we laughed together, thou and I,

How can we manage to combine a tear?

"HARTLEY COLERIDGE."

The same event is thus referred to in a marginal note to the life of Roscommon, by Anderson, in which the following passage occurs :—

"At Caen he is said by Aubrey to have had some preternatural intelligence of his father's death; but the name of Aubrey cannot recommend any account of that kind to credit in the present age." Upon this my brother observes— "I do not reject all tales of this kind. I do believe that there is a mysterious sympathy between all nature and all created beings, which sometimes rises above the horizon of consciousness. Though I cannot say that I had a distinct consciousness of my dear mother's departure, yet I had for some days previous to it so strong a boding of approaching ill, that, when the black letter came, I recognised the fulfilment of a dark oracle."

In the year 1847, he was invited to deliver a lecture on poetry at Kendal, a task which he performed very much to the delight and satisfaction of his audience. His own account of his performance, contained in a letter to his sister, is as follows:

"DEAR SARA,——

66

Nab, April 10, 1847.

"This is not the long letter which I have been so long engaged upon, but it may serve to explain why that epistle is not forthcoming according to promise.

"You have probably been informed that I delivered a lecture in the Museum of the Natural History Society, of

Kendal, on the Final Cause of Poetry, which went off pretty well upon the whole, though some complained that it was too abstruse; and the term 'final cause' was objected to as obsolete. However, I gave such satisfaction to as large an audience as a room, pretty well crammed with cases of minerals and stuffed animals, could accommodate, as to be requested to give readings of the English poets, with observations interspersed, which came off on the 8th and 9th ult.* I am now engaged to continue those readings, taking Dryden, Pope, and their followers and compeers, for the subject. Compeers, in fact, they had none, and I believe that their indisputable pre-eminence in their own way for a time exalted them to a higher place among poets in general than

*The following remarks on my brother's powers as an elocutionist are abridged from the memoranda of Mr. Joseph Burns, late of Hawkeshead, in Lancashire, a gentleman to whose friendship my brother was indebted for much kindness and hospitality:

"In addition to these rare accomplishments, he was gifted with elocutional powers of a high order. His readings were delivered with energy, deep pathos, keen discernment, and varied modulation of tone. His choice selections were from the dramas of Shakspeare, and in particular from Othello. The villainy of Iago and the jealousy of the Moor were depicted with incomparable force and grandeur. The chamber-scene, in 'Sardanapalus,' another of his favourites, was delivered by him with electrifying effect. Milton he recited with not less skill; and Eve's supplication to Adam, after her transgression, was given in a deep, tender, pathetic strain, which kindled pity in every heart."

Several of the poems in the following collection were addressed to this gentleman, or to different members of his family. In particular, the beautiful lines to a friend suffering from a recent bereavement; the sonnet entitled "Childhood," and that "To an Infant," immediately following.

they actually deserved. This is fixed for Monday, 2nd inst. When over I will finish and dispatch the packet, which will respond to all your epistles, for I fear to say how long."

In the year 1848-the last which was allowed him in this probationary state-he appears again to have roused himself. Mr. Moxon had placed the sheets of his Massinger into his hand to be corrected for a second edition. This drew from him the following reply

"DEAR SIR,

:

"It is not without some degree of shame and misgiving that I venture to address you, after so long an interruption of our correspondence,-med culpâ, med culpáas the Papists say (à-propos de bottes, you are not, I presume, the Bibliopole that has joined the Church of Rome,) and after leaving an incomplete work so long on your hands; I am somewhat emboldened, however, by your confidence, in trusting the introduction into my hands for revision. Our excellent friend, Mr. Robinson, shall have no trouble about it. With your leave I will omit some of that irrelevant matter, for which I was soundly castigated by Mr. Howitt's 'honest editor of the Atlas,' and supply the place with stuff more pertinent. I am not angry with my critics. Rather, I am glad of the experience they have afforded me. I feel like a soldier that has smelt gunpowder, and found that he can stand fire. I will never be snuffed out with an article, I assure you. I know not whether it be worth while to reply to a more insidious attack in an obscure, and, I believe, defunct journal, the 'Metropolitan Conservative,' which, after some sham commendation, and an insinuation that I availed myself, without acknowledgment, of my father's sayings, accused me of using the word 'Catholic' as synonymous with Papist, which I have carefully guarded against, more perhaps in compliance with my father's scruples than with my own.