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of eminence. We need not follow him through his college career, but we shall let Mr Russell tell it in his own affectionate and fervent manner.

"For a short period he prosecuted his studies with such effect as to render it a matter of regret to all who were interested for him, that he did not persevere in his efforts, and that he allowed any trifling interruptions to divert him from his object. He evinced, indeed, a solidity of understanding and a clearness of conception, which, with ordinary diligence and proper management, might have soon made him master of all those branches of learning required in the Fellowship course of the Dublin University; but, the habits of his mind and the peculiarity of his disposition, and the variety of his taste, seemed adverse to anything like continued and laborious application to one definite object. It was a singular characteristic of his mind that he seldom read any book throughout, not even those works in which he appeared most to delight. Whatever he read,' he thoroughly digested and accurately retained, but his progress through any book of an argumentative or speculative nature, was impeded by a disputative habit of thought, and a fertility of invention which suggested ingenious objections, and started new theories at every step. Accordingly, this constitution of mind led him rather to investigate the grounds of an author's hypothesis, and to satisfy his own mind upon the relative probabilities of conflicting opinions, than to plod on patiently through a long course, merely to lay up in his memory the particular views and arguments of each writer, without consideration of their importance or their foundation. He was not content to know what an author's opinions were, but how far they were right or wrong. The examination of a single metaphysical speculation of Locke, or a moral argument of Butler, usually cost him more time and thought than would carry ordinary minds through a whole volume. It was also remarkable, that in the perusal of mere works of fancy-the most interesting poems and romances of the day, he lingered with such delight on the first striking passages, or entered into such minute criticism upon every beauty and defect as he went along, that it usually happened, either that the volume was hurried from him, or some other engagement interrupted him before he had finished it. A great portion of what he had thus read he could almost repeat from memory; and while the reeollection afforded him much ground of future enjoyment, it was sufficient also

to set his own mind at work in the same direction.

"The facility of his disposition also exposed him to many interruptions in his studies. Even in the midst of the most important engagements, he had not resolution to deny himself to any visitor. He used to watch anxiously for every knock at his door, lest any one should be disappointed or delayed who sought for him; and, such was the good-natured simplicity of his heart, that, however sorely he sometimes felt the intrusion, he still rendered himself so agreeable even to his most common-place acquaintances, as to encourage a repetition of their importunities. He allowed himself to become the usual deputy of every one who applied to him to perform any of the routine collegiate duties which he was qualified to discharge; and thus his time was so much invaded, that he seldom had any interval for continued application to his own immediate business. Besides, the social habit of his disposition, which delighted in the company of select friends, and preferred the animated encounter of conversational debate to the less inviting exercise of solitary study; and his varied taste, which could take interest in every object of rational and intellectual enjoyment, served to scatter his mind, and divert it from that steadiness of application which is actually necessary for the attainment of distinguished eminence in any pursuit."

Like most men of genius, Mr Wolfe, although alive to gaiety, and of a temper the reverse of austere, was prone to a pensive melancholy-and a disappointment in his first and only love, very early in life confirmed, perhaps for the remainder of his days, this tendency to serious and mournful meditation.

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Something, perhaps, may be discovered in the latter poems, beyond the mere inspiration of the muse; and it might therefore appear inexpedient to pass by without some short notice, a circumstance in the life of our author, so interesting as that which the reader may have already suspected. With the family alluded to in these poems, he had been for some time in habits of the most friendly intercourse, and frequently had the happiness of spending a few days upon a visit at their country residence, sharing in all the refined pleasures of their domestic circle, and partaking with them in the exhilarating enjoyment of the rural and romantic scenery around them. With every member of the family he soon became cordially intimate; but with onethis intimacy gradually and almost un

consciously grew into a decided attachment. The attainment of a fellowship would indeed have afforded him means sufficient to realize his hopes; but, unhappily, the statute which rendered mar, riage incompatible with that honourable station, had been lately revived. His prospects of obtaining a competency in any other pursuit were so distant and uncertain, that the family of the young lady deemed it prudent at once to break off all further intercourse, before a mutual engagement had actually taken place.

"How severely this disappointment pressed upon a heart like his, may easily be conceived. It would be injustice to him to deny that he long and deeply felt it; but he had been habitually so far un.. der the influence of religious principles, as to feel assured that every event of our lives is under the regulation of a wise Providence, and that by a resigned acquiescence in his arrangements, even our bitterest trials may be overruled for our best interests-our truest happiness. This

All things look'd so bright about thee,
That they nothing seem without thee,
By that pure and lucid mind
Earthly things were too refined.
Like the Sun, &c.

3. "Go, thou vision wildly gleaming, Softly on my soul that fell; Go, for me no longer beamingHope and Beauty! fare ye well! Go, and all that once delighted Take, and leave me all benighted; Glory's burning-generous swell, Fancy and the Poet's shell.

Go, thou vision," &c.

The following verses are no less pathetic-but Mr Russell does not hint whether they too were inspired by any real event.

SONG. Air-Gramachree.

1.

circumstance, perhaps, weakened the sti. "If I had thought thou could'st have

mulus to his exertions for the attainment of a fellowship, but he had long before relaxed them; it does not, however, appear that it had any influence in determining the choice of his profession, as the prevailing tendency of his mind had always been towards the sacred office of the ministry."

This is well said—and probably the following beautiful verses have some relation to reality. They are to us exceedingly beautiful-not only in thought and feeling, but in expression -and are sufficient of themselves, had Mr Wolfe written nothing else (and would he had written more than he

did), to prove that he had the deep and fine sensibility of the poet. The pathos is pure and tender as the moonlight.

SONG.

1.

"Go, forget me-why should sorrow
O'er that brow a shadow fling?
Go, forget me-and to-morrow

Brightly smile and sweetly sing.
Smile-though I shall not be near thee:
Sing-though I shall never hear thee:
May thy soul with pleasure shine
Lasting as the gloom of mine.
Go, forget me, &c.

2.

"Like the Sun, thy presence glowing, Clothes the meanest things in light; And when thou, like him, art going, Loveliest objects fade in night.

died,

I might not weep for thee; But I forgot, when by thy side,

That thou could'st mortal be; It never through my mind had past, The time would e'er be o'er, And I on thee should look my last,

And thou should'st smile no more!

2.

"And still upon that face I look,

And think 'twill smile again; And still the thought I will not brook,

That I must look in vain!

But when I speak-thou dost not say, What thou ne'er left'st unsaid,

And now I feel, as well I may,

Sweet Mary!-thou art dead!

3.

"If thou would'st stay, e'en as thou art, All cold, and all serene

I still might press thy silent heart,
And where thy smiles have been!
While e'en thy chill bleak corse I have,
Thou seemest still mine own,
But there I lay thee in thy grave-
And I am now alone!

4.

"I do not think, where'er thou art, Thou hast forgotten me;

And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart,

In thinking too of thee;

Yet there was round thee such a dawn,
Of light ne'er seen before,
As fancy never could have drawn,
And never can restore!"

Charles Wolfe had no sooner lost her by separation, whose image was to be with him always, than he was deprived of another dear friend by death

"In a short time after this severe disappointment, and a few days previous to his ordination (which took place in November 1817), his feelings received another shock by the death of a *dear fellowstudent, one of his most valued and intimate friends. Under the deep impression of two such afflictive trials, he was obliged to prepare for a removal from society which he loved,-from the centre of science and literature to which he was so much devoted, to an obscure and remote country curacy in the north of Ireland, where he could not hope to meet one individual to enter into his feelings, or to hold communion with him upon the accustomed subjects of his former pursuits. He felt as if he had been transplanted into a totally new world, as a missionary abandoning home and friends and cherished habits, for the awful and important work to which he had solemnly devoted himself."

At first he engaged in a temporary curacy not far from the situation in which he was afterwards permanently fixed-at Ballyclog, Tyrone-and in a letter written to a friend, dated Dec.

11, 1817, he says, "I am now sitting by myself opposite my turf fire, with my Bible beside me, in the only furnished room of the Glebe-House, surrounded by mountains, frost and snow, and by a set of people with whom I am totally unacquainted, except a disbanded artillery man, his wife and two children, who attend me, the churchwarden and clerk of the parish. Do not, however, conceive that I repine; I rather congratulate myself on my situation." In a very short time he was settled at Castle Caulfield, and the following letter was written on his re

turn to his parish, after a short visit to Dublin.

“C. Caulfield, Jan. 28, 1818. "MY DEAR

"A man often derives a wonderful advantage from a cold and fatiguing journey, after taking leave of his friends, viz. he understands the comfort of lolling quietly and alone by his fire-side, after his arrival at his destination- a pleasure which would have been totally lost, if he had been transported there without difficulty and at once, from the region of friendship and society. Every situation borrows much of its character from that by which it was immediately preceded. This would have been all melancholy and solitude, if it had immediately succeeded the glow of affectionate and literary conviviality; but, when it follows the rumbling of a coach, the rattling of a postchaise, the shivering of a wintry night's journey, and the conversation of people to whom you are almost totally indifferent, it then becomes comfort and repose. So I found at my arrival at my own cottage, on Saturday; my fire-side, from contrast, became a kind of lesser friend, or at least, a consolation for the loss of friends.

"Nothing could be more fortunate than the state of things during my absence; there was no duty to be performed; and of this I am the more sensible, as I had scarcely arrived before I met a great supply of business, such as, I should have been very much concerned, if it had occurred in my absence. I have already seen enough of service to be again fully naturalized. I am again the weatherbeaten curate: I have trudged roadsforded bogs-braved snow and rain-become umpire between the living-have counselled the sick-administered to the dying-and to-morrow shall bury the dead. Here have I written three sides without coming to the matter in hand.

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* "The Editor cannot forbear indulging his feelings by a brief record of the lamented friend, alluded to in the above passage. The name of Hercules Henry Graves, with whom we were both united in bonds of the closest intimacy, will not be read even by a common acquaintance without awakening sentiments of regret for the loss which society has sustained in the early removal of so much intellectual and moral worth. He was the second son of the learned and excellent Dean Graves, Professor of Divinity in the Dublin University.-With talents at once solid and shining, he combined an invincible perseverance, a masculine strength of understanding, and an energy of spirit which crowned his academic labours with the most distinguished honours, and afforded the surest pledge of rapid advancement to professional eminence. These rare endowments of mind were accompanied by qualities of greater value, a high moral taste-a purity of principle-a generosity of spirit-and an affectionate temperament of heart,-which secured him the respect and regard of every individual of his widely-extended acquaintance.

"This happy union of mental and moral qualities was set off by a constant flow of good humouran equability of temper, and frankness and cordiality of manners, which diffused an instantaneous glow of exhilaration through every circle in which he appeared. He was on the point of being called to the Irish bar, and was universally allowed to be the most promising aspirant of his contemporaries to its honours and emoluments, when, unhappily, his health began to break down. He was ordered to the south of France, where he died in November, 1817, in the fear of God and the faith of Jesus Christ,' as he himself wished it to be recorded on his tomb."

Wr Wolfe possessed every quality that a Country Curate ought to possess except a strong constitution. He was a tall, robust, handsome man, with a penetrating yet gracious aspect, but the seeds of disease were beginning, we suspect, to swell, before he went to Castle Caulfield. We wish we had room for more of his letters, (which by the way do not seem very well arranged -nor is the narrative quite distinct hereabouts,) yet, we believe, that to feel them properly, they must be read along with the story of his life. The letters, though very short, afford pleasant glimpses into the routine of his daily duties.

"I have had no such signal adventures to communicate. Alas! I have no disasters now to diversify my life-not having many of those enjoyments which render men obnoxious to them, except when my foot sinks up to the ancle in a bog-as am looking for a stray sheep. My life is now nearly made up of visits to my parishioners-both sick and in health. Not

I

withstanding, the parish is so large that I have yet to form an acquaintance with a very formidable number of them. The parish and I have become very good friends: the congregation has increased, and the Presbyterians sometimes pay me a visit. There is a great number of Methodists in the part of the parish surrounding the village, who are many of them very worthy people, and among the most regular attendants upon the Church. With many of my flock I live upon affectionate terms. There is a fair proportion of religious men amongst them, with a due allowance of profligates. None of them rise so high as the class of gentlemen, but, there is a good number of a very respectable description. I am particularly attentive to the school: there, in fact, I think most good can be done, and besides the obvious advantages, it is a means of conciliating all sects of Christians, by taking an interest in the welfare of their children.

"Our Sunday-school is very large, and is attended by the Roman Catholics and Presbyterians:-the day is never a Sabbath to me; however, it is the kind of labour that is best repaid, for you always find that some progress is made,—some fruit soon produced; whereas, your labours with the old and the adult often fail of producing any effect, and, at the best, it is in general latent and gradual. "Yours, &c.

C. W."

The sphere of duty in which Mr Wolfe was engaged, was extensive and laborious. A large portion of the parish was situated in a wild hilly country, covered with bogs and trackless wastes, and the population was so scattered, that it was a work of no ordinary difficulty to keep up that intercourse with his flock, upon which the success of a Christian minister so much depends. But in a short time the effects of his zeal, his piety, his impressive style of preaching, and his affectionate concern with his parishioners, were visible in the crowded and attentive congregations that began to gather round him. A large portion of the Protestants in his parish were Presbyterians, and no small number were of the class of Wesleyan Methodists. He maintained with these two bodies of Christians the most kindly intercourse, and entered familiarly into discussions on the subjects upon which they were at issue with him. Some of the Methodists, on a few occasions, sought to put his Christian character to the test, by purposely using harsh and humiliating expressions towards him, in their conversations upon the nature of religion. This strange mode of inquisition he was enabled to bear with the meekness of a child; and some of them afterwards assured him, that they considered the temper with which such a trial was endured, as a leading criterion of true conversion, and were happy to find in him so unequivocal proofs of a regenerate spirit.

"It is no weak proof of the Christian spirit to be able to recognize the loveliness and sublimity of true piety, in the lowliest or most forbidding forms-to discern its excellence, though dwarfed by intellectual littleness, or degraded by the mean garb of ignorance-to revere it, even when surrounded by the most ludicrous accompaniments. It is, on the contrary, an index of spiritual dulness-perhaps, of mental incapacity, to undervalue or despise any form of sound religion, merely on account of such disadvantageous associations. But, our author held the great truths of Christianity so close to his heart, that nothing could intervene to cloud their beauty: his spiritual taste and perspicacity was such, that it quickly descried, and (as by a magnetic attraction) embraced a kindred spirit in whatever guise it appeared. It could separate the dross;-it could detach the grosser

elements; and delighted to look forward to that happy time when the spirit of genuine religion, however depressed by the meanness of the subject in which it happens to dwell, or disfigured by the unhappy combinations with which, here on earth, it may be attended, will assuredly shine forth in all its radiant purity and native grandeur.

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But his useful life passed" in his great taskmaster's eye," was drawing fast to a close, and to its exceeding great reward. What more affecting than the following picture?

"During the year that the typhus fever raged most violently in the north of Ireland, his neighbourhood was much afflicted with the disease; and thus, the important duty of visiting the sick (which to him was always a work of most anxious solicitude,) was vastly increased; and he accordingly applied with indefatigable zeal in every quarter of his extended parish, in administering temporal and spiritual aid to his poor flock. In the discharge of such duties, he exposed himself to frequent colds; and his disregard of all precaution, and of the ordinary comforts of life to which he had been accustomed, soon, unhappily, confirmed a consumptive tendency in his constitution, of which some symptoms appeared when in col

"The success of a Christian pastor depends almost as much on the manner as the matter of his instruction. In this respect, Mr W. was peculiarly happy, especially with the lower classes of the people, who were much engaged by the affectionate cordiality and the simple earnestness of his deportment towards them. In his conversations with the plain farmer or humble labourer, he usually laid his hands upon their shoulder, or caught them by the arm; and, while he was insinuating his arguments, or enforcing his appeals with all the variety of simple illustrations, which a prolific fancy could supply, he fastened an anxious eye upon the countenance of the person he was addressing, as if eagerly awaiting some gleam of intel- lege. His frame was robust, and his geligence, to show that he was understood and felt.

"The solemnity—the tenderness the energy-of his manner, could not fail to impress upon their minds, at least, that his zeal for their souls was disinterested and sincere.

"The state of gross demoralization in which a large portion of the lower classes in his parish was sunk, rendered it necessary for him sometimes to adopt a style of preaching not the most consonant to his own feelings. His natural turn of mind would have led him to dwell most upon the loftier motives-the more tender appeals-the gentler topics of persuasion with which the gospel abounds; but, the dull and stubborn natures which he had to encounter, frequently required 'the terrors of the Lord' to be placed before them: the vices he had to overthrow called for the strongest weapon he could wield. He often, indeed, sought to win such souls unto Christ, by the attractive beauties and the benign spirit of the Gospel; but alas !—

'Leviathan is not so tamed.'

Amongst the people whom he had to address, he found drunkenness and impurity, and their base kindred vices, lamentably prevalent; and therefore he felt it necessary to stigmatize such practices in the plainest terms :-he could not find approach to minds of so coarse an order, without frequently arraying against them

neral health usually strong; but, an habitual cough, of which he himself seemed almost unconscious, often excited the apprehensions of his friends; and at length, in the Spring of 1821, the complaint, of which it seemed the forerunner, began to make manifest inroads upon his constitution. No arguments, however, could for a long time dissuade him from his usual work. So little did he himself regard the fatal symptoms, that he could not be prevailed upon to relax his parochial labours. At length, however, his altered looks, and other unfavourable symptoms, appeared so alarming, that some of his most respectable parishioners wrote to his friends in Dublin to urge them to use their influence in persuading him to retire for awhile from his arduous duties; and to have the best medical advice for him without further delay. But, such was the anxiety he felt for his parish, and so little conscious did he seem of the declining state of his health, that no entreaties could avail,"

About the middle of May 1821, he was hurried off to Scotland by the importunate entreaties of a kind and vafued brother clergyman in his neighbourhood, in order to consult a physician celebrated for his skill in such cases; we presume, Dr Gregory. On his way to Edinburgh, he happened to fall in with a deputation from the Irish Tract Society, who were going to that city to hold a meeting for the promotion of their objects; and, not

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