the consolations of religion than it did, and in some degree I have found consolation."

But notwithstanding these flattering expressions, he appears to have felt that he had but a short time to live, and it was probably about this period that his lines on the "Prospect of Death" were written, perhaps one of the most beautiful and affecting compositions in our language, and deriving peculiar interest from the resignation which they evince for the awful summons that was so near at hand :

"On my bed, in wakeful restlessness,
I turn me wearisome; while all around,
All, all, save me, sink in forgetfulness;
I only wake to watch the sickly taper

Which lights me to my tomb.-Yes, 'tis the hand
Of Death I feel press heavy on my vitals,
Slow sapping the warm current of existence.
My moments now are few-the sand of life
Ebbs fastly to its finish. Yet a little,
And the last fleeting particle will fall,
Silent, unseen, unnoticed, unlamented.
Come then, sad Thought, and let us meditate
While meditate we may.

I hoped I should not leave

The earth without a vestige; Fate decrees
It shall be otherwise, and I submit
Henceforth, O world, no more of thy desires!
No more of Hope! the wanton vagrant Hope;
I abjure all. Now other cares engross me,
And my tired soul, with emulative haste,

Looks to its God, and prunes its wings for Heaven."

On the 22nd of September he wrote to Mr. Charlesworth, and his letter indicates the possession of higher spirits and more sanguine hopes, than almost any other in his correspondence. He went to London about the end of that month, on a visit to his brother Neville, but returned to college within a few weeks, in a state which precluded all chance of prolonging his existence; but still he did not cease to hope, or rather perhaps to cheat his brother into it, that he should recover; for in a letter addressed to him, which was found in his pocket after his decease, dated Saturday, 11th October, he says,

"I am safely arrived, and in college, but my illness has increased upon me much. The cough continues, and is attended with a good deal of fever. I am under the care of Mr. Farish, and entertain very little apprehension about the cough; but my over-exertions in town have reduced me to a state of much debility; and, until the cough be gone, I cannot be permitted to take any strengthening medicines. This places me in an awkward predicament; but I think I perceive a degree of expectoration this morning, which will soon relieve me, and then I shall mend apace..

"Under these circumstances I must not expect to see you here at present; when I am a little recovered, it will be a pleasant relaxation to me. Our lectures began on Friday, but I do not attend them until I am better. I have not writ

ten to my mother, nor shall I while I remain unwell. You will tell her, as a reason, that our lectures began on Friday. I know she will be uneasy if she do not hear from me, and still more so, if I tell her I am ill.

"I cannot write more at present than that

I am

"Your truly affectionate Brother,

"H. K. WHITE."

A friend acquainted his brother with his situation, who hastened to him, but when he arrived he was delirious, and though reason returned for a few moments, as if to bless him with the consciousness that the same fond relative, to whose attachment he owed so much, was present at his last hour, he sunk into a stupor, and on Sunday, the 19th of October, 1806, he breathed his last.

Thus died, in his twenty-second year, Henry Kirke White, whose genius and virtues justified the brightest hopes; and whose extraordinary fitness for Heaven does not bring the consolation for his untimely fate which it ought. It is impossible to refrain from anticipating what his talents might have produced, had his existence been extended; and though it is extremely doubtful if he was capable of worldly happiness, there is a selfishness in our nature which makes us grieve when those who are likely to increase our wisdom, and intellectual pleasures, are hurried to the grave.

In whatever light the character of this unhappy youth be contemplated, it is pregnant with instruction. His talents were so precocious, that they became a warning that he was not destined for a long sojourn here. Their variety was as astonishing as their extent, and though much has already been said on the subject, there is yet room for more. Besides the poetical pieces in this volume, and his scholastic attainments, his ability was manifested in various other ways. His style was remarkable for its clearness and elegance, and his correspondence and prose pieces evince extensive information of a very miscellaneous kind. To a genius which has been seldom surpassed, he united the rarest and most important possession, of sound judgment and common sense. It is usually the misfortune of genius to invest ordinary objects with a meretricious colouring which perverts their forms and purposes; and still more to make its possessor imagine that it exempts him from attending to those strict rules of moral conduct to which others are bound to adhere, or in other words to neglect the sacred obligation that "to whom much is given from him will much be required." Nature, in Kirke White's case, appears, on the contrary, to have determined that she would, in one instance, prove that the highest intellectual attainments are strictly compatible with the possession of every social and moral. virtue. At a very early period religion became

the predominant feeling of his mind, and she imparted her sober and chastened effects to all his thoughts and actions. The cherished object of every member of his family, he repaid their affection by the most anxious solicitude for their welfare, offering his advice on spiritual affairs with impressive earnestness, and indicating in every letter of a voluminous correspondence, the greatest consideration for their feelings and happiness. For the last six years he deemed himself marked out for the service of his Maker, not like the member of a convent, whose duties consist alone in prayer, but in the exercise of the philanthropy which ought to be found in every parish priest. To qualify himself properly for the sacred office, he subjected his mind to the severest discipline; and he who may read his letters, will find in them evidence of rational piety, and an enlightened view of religious obligations which confer much greater honour upon his name, whether as proofs of talent, or of the qualities of the heart, than his poetical pieces.

Such was the character of Kirke White as he appeared to others; but there are minuter traits which no observer can catch, and which the possessor must himself delineate. Though early impressed with melancholy, it was never of a misanthropic nature, and at the same moment that despair and disappointment were gnawing his heart to the core, he was all sweetness and docility to others. A consciousness of the pos