he succeeding January the
mournful history is closed in the following most touching words:--

Jan. 20, 1846.--You may think how lonely I am. _Obliviscere populum
tuum et domum patris tui_, has been in my ears for the last twelve
hours. I realize more that we are leaving Littlemore, and it is like
going on the open sea.

I left Oxford for good on Monday, February 23, 1846. On the Saturday
and Sunday before, I was in my house at Littlemore simply by myself,
as I had been for the first day or two when I had originally taken
possession of it. I slept on Sunday night at my dear friend's, Mr.
Johnson's, at the Observatory. Various friends came to see the last of
me--Mr. Copeland, Mr. Church, Mr. Buckle, Mr. Pattison, and Mr. Lewis.
Dr. Pusey, too, came up to take leave of me; and I called on Dr. Ogle,
one of my very oldest friends, for he was my private tutor when I was
an undergraduate. In him I took leave of my first College, Trinity,
which was so dear to me, and which held on its foundation so many who
have been kind to me, both when I was a boy and all through my Oxford
life. Trinity had never been unkind to me. There used to be much
snapdragon growing on the walls opposite my freshman's rooms there,
and I had for years taken it as the emblem of my own perpetual
residence, even unto death, in my University.

On the morning of the 23rd I left the Observatory. I have never seen
Oxford since, excepting its spires, as they are seen from the railway.

What an exceeding sadness is gathered up in these words! And yet the
impress of this time left upon some of Dr. Newman's writings seems, like
the ruin which records what was the violence of the throes of the
long-passed earthquake, even still more indicative of the terrible
character of the struggle through which at this time he passed. We have
seen how keenly he felt the suspicious intrusions upon his privacy which
haunted his last years in the Church of England. But in "Loss and Gain"
there is a yet more expressive exhibition of the extremity of that
suffering. He denies as "utterly untrue" the common belief that he
"introduced friends or partisans into the tale"; and of course he is to
be implicitly believed. And yet ONE there is whom no one who reads the
pages can for a moment doubt is there, and that is Dr. Newman himself.
The weary, unresting, hunted condition of the leading figure in the
tale, with all its accompaniment of keen,