sposition. They were truly
Christian-like; inasmuch as a fond and large spirit of benevolence was
always beating in his bosom, and mantling over a countenance of
singular friendliness of expression. He had the _power_ of saying
sharp and caustic things, but he used his "giant-strength" with the
gentleness of a child. His letters, of which many hundreds have fallen
to my lot, are a perfect reflex of his joyous and elastic mind. There
was not a pupil under his care who looked forward to a _holiday_ with
more unqualified delight than _he_; and when we strayed together
beneath, or upon the heights of, the Dover Cliffs (where I _last_ saw
him, in the summer of 1840) he would expatiate, with equal warmth and
felicity, upon the Abbey of St. Rhadagund, and the Keep of Dover
Castle. Our visit to Barfreston Church, in the neighbourhood, can
never be effaced from my mind. His mental enthusiasm and bodily
activity could not have been exceeded by that of the Captain of Harrow
School. He took up my meditated "History of the Dover" as if it were
his own work; and his success, in cause of subscription, in most
instances, was complete.

And now, after an intimacy (minutely recorded in my _Reminiscences_)
of thirty-three years, it has pleased God to deprive me of his genial
and heart-stirring society. His last moments were of those of a
Christian--"rooted and built up" in THAT belief, which alone sustains
us in the struggle of parting from those whom we cherish as the most
idolised objects upon earth! It was towards sun-set that I first
paused upon his tomb, in the church-yard, near the summit of Harrow
Hill. For a few moments I was breathless--but _not_ from the steepness
of the ascent. The inscription, I would submit, is too much in the
"minor key." It was the production of his eldest son, who preferred
to err from under-rating, rather than over-rating, the good qualities
of his parent. For myself--

"As those we love decay, we die in part;
String after string is severed from the heart!"
&c. &c. &c.

THOMSON.

On the death of Mr. Drury, his small library, the remains of his
former one, was sold by auction; and those classical books,
interleaved, and enriched with his manuscript notes, brought large
prices. One manuscript, of especial celebrity--_Childe Harold_--given
him by the Author, his pupil, Lord Byron--became the property of its
publisher, Mr. Murray; who purchased it upon terms at once marking his
high