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which he read; and some of his abridgments, wiih the observations by which he illustrated them, are written with singular conciseness and power. 'I know not,' said one of the most eminent English diplomatists, with whom he had afterwards very frequent communications, 'I know not where Lord C'ollingwood got his style, but he writes better ihan any of us.' His amusements were found in the intercourse with his family, in drawing, planting, and the cultivation of his garden, which was on the bank of the beautiful river Wansbeck. This was his favourite employment; and on one occasion, a brother Admiral, who had sought him through the carden in vain, at last discovered him wilh his gardener, old Scott, to whom he was much attached, in the bottom of a deep trench, which they were both busily occupied in digging."
In spring 1803. however, he was again callin! upon duty by his ancient commander, Admiral Cornwallis, who hailed him as he approached, by saying, "Here comes Collingwood !—the last to leave, and the first to rejoin me!" His occupation there was to watch and blockade the French fleet at Brest, a duty which he performed with the most unwearied and »crapulous anxiety.
"During this time he frequently passed the whole night on the quarter-deck,—a practice which, in circumstances of difficulty, he continued till the latest years of his life. When, on these occasions, he has told his friend Lieutenant Clavell, who had gained his entire confidence, that they must not feave the deck for the night, and that officer has endeavoured to persuade him that there was no occasion for it, as a good look-out was kept, and represented that he was almost exhausted with fatigue; the Admiral would reply, 'I fear you are. Von have need of rest; so go to bed, Clavell. and I will watch by myself.' Very frequently have they slept together on a gun; from which Admiral Collingwood would rise from time to time, to sweep the horizon with his night-glass, lest the enemy should escape in the dark."
In 1805 he was moved to the station off Cadiz, and condemned to the same weary task of watching and observation. He here writes to his father-in-law as follows :—
"How happy should I bp, could I but hear from home, and know how my dear girls are going on! Bounce is my only pet now, and he is indeed a good fellow; he sleeps by the side of my cot, whenever I lie in one. until near the time of tacking, and then marches off, to be out of the hearing of the guns, fir Iip is not reconciled to them yet. I am fully determined, if I can get home and manage it properly, to go on shore next spring for the rest of my life, for I nm very weary. There is no end to my business; I am at work from morning till even; but I dare fay I/ord Nelson will be out next month. He told me he should; and ihon what will become of me I do not know. I should wish to go home: but I must со or slay as the exigencies of the times require."
At last, towards the close of the year, the enemy gave some signs of an intention to come out—and the day of Trafalgar was at hand. In anticipation of it, Lord Nelson addressed the following characteristic note to his friend, which breathes in every line the noble frankness and magnanimous confidence of his soul:—
"They surely cannot escape us. I wish we could get a fine <hy. I send you my plan of attack, as far as a man dare venture to guess at the very uncertain position ihe enemy may be found in: but, my dear friend, it is to place you perfectly at ease
respecting my intentions, and to give full scope to your judgment for carrying them into effect. We can, my dear Coll., have no little jealousies: we have only one great object in view—that of annihilating our enemies, and gelling a glorious peace lor our country. No man has more confidence in another than I have in you; and no man will render your services more justice than your very old friend, Nelson And Bkohte."
The day at last came; and though it is highly characteristic of its author, we will not indulge ourselves by transcribing any part of the memorable despatch, in which Lord Collingwood, after the fall of his heroic commander, announced its result to his country. We cannot, however, withhold from our readers the following particulars as to his persona) conduct and deportment, for which they would look in vain in that singularly modest and generous detail. The first part, the editoi informs us, is from the statement of his confidential servant.
"'I entered the Admiral's cabin,' he observed, 'about daylight, and found him already up and dressing. lie asked if I had seen the French fleet; and on my replying that I had not, he told me to look out at them, adding, that, in a very short lime, we should see a great deal more of them. 1 then observed a crowd of ships ю leeward; but I could not help looking, with still greater interest, at ¡he Admiral, who, during all this time, was shaving himself with a composure that quite astonished me!' Admiral Collingwood dressed himself that morning with peculiar care; and soon after, meeting Lieutenant Clavell, advised him to pull off hit boots. 'You had better,' he said, 'put on ulk stockings, as I have done: for if one should get a shot in the leg, they would be so much more manageable for the surgeon.' He then proceeded to visit the decks, encouraged the men to the discharge of their duty, and addressing the officers, said to them, 'Now, gentlemen, let us do something to-day which the world may talk of hereafter.'
"He had changed his flat! about ten days before the action, from the Dreadnought; the crew of which had been so constantly practised in the exercise of the great guns, under his daily superintendence, that few ships' companies could equal them in rapidity and precision of firing. He had begun by telline them, that if they could fire three welldirected broadsides in five minutes, no vessel could resist them ; and, from constant practice, they were enabled to do во in three minutes and a hall. But though he left a crew which had thus been disciplined under his own eye, there was an advantage in the change ; for the Royal Sovereign, into which he went, had latelv returned from England, and as her copper was quite clean, she much outsailed the other ships of the lee division. While they were running down, the well-known telegraphic signal was made of ' England expects every man 10 do hi« duty." When ihe Admiral observed it first, he said that he wished Nelson would make no more signals, for they all understood what they were to do: but when the purport of it was communicated to him he expressed great delight and admiration, and made it known to the officers and ship's company. Lord Nelson had been requested by Captain Blackwood (who was anxious for the preservation of so invaluable a life) to allow some other vessel to take the lead, and at last gave permission that the Téméraire should go a-head of him; but resolving to defeat the order which he had given, he crowded more sail on the Victory, and maintained his place. The Royal Sovereign was far in advance when Lieutenant Clavell observed that the Victory was setting her studding sails, and with that spirit of honourable emulation which prevailed between the squad- „__ rons, and particularly between these two ships, he
pointed it out to Admiral Collingwood, and requested his permission to do the same. “The ships of our division,' replied the Admiral, “are not yet sufficiently up for us to do so now; but you may be getting ready.' The studding sail and royal halliards were accordingly manned, and in about ten minutes the Admiral, observing Lieutenant Clavell's eyes fixed upon him with a look of expectation, gave him a nod; on which that officer went to Captain Rotherham and told him that the Admiral desired him to make all sail. The order was then given to rig out and hoist away, and in one instant the shi was under a crowd of sail, and went rapidly ... The Admiral then directed the officers to see that all the men lay down on the decks, and were kept quiet. At this time the Fougueux, the ship astern of the Santa Anna, had closed up with the intention of preventing the Royal Sovereign from going through the in. and when Admiral Collingwood observed it, he desired Captain Rotherham to steer immediately for the Frenchman and carry away his bowsprit. To avoid this the Fougueux backed her main top sail, and suffered the Royal Sovereign to pass, at the same time beginning her fire; when the Admiral ordered a gun to be occasionally fired at her, to cover his ship with smoke. “The nearest of the English ships was now distant about a mile from the Royal Sovereign; and it was at this time, while she was pressing alone into the midst of the combined fleets, that Lord Nelson said to Captain Blackwood, ‘See how that noble fellow, Collingwood, takes his ship into action. . How I envy him ''. On the other hand, Admiral Collingwood, well knowing his comman. der and friend, observed, ‘What would Nelson ive to be here!’ and it was then, too, that Admiral illeneuve, struck with the daring manner in which the leading ships of the English squadrons came down, despaired of the issue of the contest. In [...g the Santa Anna, the Royal Sovereign gave er a broadside and a half into her stern, tearing it down, and killing, and wounding 400 of her men; then, with her helm hard a-starboard, she ranged up alongside so closely that the lower yards of the two vessels were locked together. The Spanish admiral. having seen that it was the intention of the Royal Sovereign to engage to leeward, had collected all his strength on the starboard; and such was the weight of the Santa Anna's metal, that her first broadside made the Sovereign heel two streaks out of the water. Her studding.sails and halliards were now shot away; and as a top-gallant studdingsail was hanging over the gagway hammocks, Admiral Collingwood called out to Lieutenant Clavell to come and help him to take it in, observ. ing that they should want it again some other day. These two officers accordingly rolled it o up and placed it in the boat.”"
We shall add only what he says in his letter to Mr. Blackett of Lord Nelson:—
“When my dear friend received his wound, he immediately sent an officer to me to tell me of it,and give his love to me! Though the officer was directed to say the wound was not dangerous, I read in his countenance what I had to fear; and before the action was over, Captain Hardy came to inform me of his death. I cannot tell you how deeply I was affected; my friendship for him was unlike any. thing that I ho left in the navy; a brotherhood of
* “Of his economy, at all times, of the ship's stores, an instance was often mentioned in the navy as having occurred at the battle of St. Vincent. The Excellent shortly before the action had bent a new sore-topsail; and when she was closely engaged with the St. Isidro, Captain Collingwood called out to his boatswain, a very gallant man, who was shortly afterwards killed, "Bless me ! Mr. Peffers, how came we to forget to bend our old top-sail? They will quite ruin that new one. It will never be worth a farthing again.'”
more than thirty years. In this affair he did nothing without my counsel : we made our line of battle together, and concerted the mode of attack, which was put in execution in the most admirable style, I shall grow very tired of the sea soon; my health has suffered so much from the anxious state I have been in, and the fatigue I have undergone, that I shall be unfit for service. The severe gales which immediately followed the day of victory ruined our prospect of prizes.”
He was now elevated to the peerage, and a pension of 2000l. was settled on him by parliament for his own life, with 1000l. in case of his death to Lady Collingwood, and 500l to each of his daughters. His Royal Highness the Duke of Clarence also honoured him with a very kind letter, and presented him with a sword. The way in which he received all those honours, is as admirable as the services by which they were earned. On the first tidings of his peerage he writes thus to Lady Collingwood:–
“It would be hard if I could not find one hour to write a letter to my dearest Sarah, to congratulate her on the high rank to which she has been advanc. ed by my success. Blessed may you be, my dear: est love, and may you long live the happy wife of your happy husband: I do not know how you bear
our honours; but I have so much business on my }. from dawn till midnight, that I have hardly time to think of mine, except it be in gratitude to my King, who has so graciously conferred, them upon me. But there are many things of which I might justly be a little proud—for extreme pride is foly—that I must share my gratification with you. The first is the letter from Colonel Taylor, his Ma. jesty's private secretary to the Admiralty, to be communicated to me. I enclose you a o: of it. It is considered the highest compliment the King can pay; and, as the King's personal compliment, I value it above everything. But I will tell you what I feel nearest to my heart, after the honour which his Majesty has done me, and that is the praise of every officer of the fleet. There is a thing which has made a considerable impression upon me. A week before the war, at Morpeth, I dreamed dis. tinctly many of the circumstances of our late battle off the enemy's port, and I believe I told you of it at the time: but I never dreamed that I was to be a peer of the realm . How are my darlings? I hope they will take pains to make themselves wise *: good, and fit for the station to which they are raised
And again, a little after:—
“I labour from dawn till midnight, till I can hard: ly see; and as my hearing fails me too, you w have but a mass of infirmities in your poor Lord, whenever he returns to you. I suppose I must no; be seen to work in my garden now but tell old Scott that he need not be unhappy on that account. Though we shall never again be able to plant the Nelson potatoes, we will have them of some other sort, and right noble cabbages to boot, in great Pes: section. You see I am styled of Hethpople and Caldburne. Was that by your direction? I should prefer it to any other title if it was; and I rejoice, my love, that we are an instance that there are other and better sources of nobility than wealth.”
At this time he had not heard that it was intended to accompany his dignity with any pension; and though the editor assures." that his whole income, even including his full pay, was at this time scarcely 1100l. a year, he never seems to have wasted a thought" such a consideration. Not that he was not" all times a prudent and considerate person; but, with the high spirit of a gentleman, and an independent Englishman, who had mad"
h's own way in the world, he disdained all sordid considerations. Nothing can be nobler, or more natural, than the way in which he expresses this sentiment, in another letter to his wife, written a few weeks after the preceding:—
"Many nf the Captains here have expressed a desire that I would give them a general nonce whenever I go 10 courl; and if they are within five hundred miles, they will come up 10 attend me '. Now ell this is very pleasing; but, alas! my love, until we have peace, I shall never be happy: and yet, how we are to make it out in peace, I know not,— with high rank and no fortune. At all events, we can do as we did before. It i« Irue I have the chief command, but there are neither French nor Spaniards on the sea, and our cruisers find nothing but neutrals, who carry on all the trade of the enemy. Our prizes you see are lust. Villeneuve'8 ship had a great deal of money in her, but it all went to the bottom. I am afraid the fees fur this patent will be large, and pinch me: But never mind; let others solicit pensione, I am an Englishman, and will never ask for money as a favour. How do my darlings goonf I wish you would make them write to me by turns, and give me the whole history of their proceedings. Oh! how 1 shall rejoice, when I come home, tu find them as much improved in knowledge as I have advanced them in station in ihe worla: But take care they do not give themselves foolish aire. Their excellence should be in knowledge, in virtue, arid benevolence to all; but most to those who are humble, and require iheir aid. This is true nobility, and is now become an incumbent duty on them. I am out of all patience with Bounce. The consequential airs he gives himself »ince lie became a Right Honourable dog, are insufferable. He considers it benenth his dignity to play with Commoners' dogs. and. truly, thinks that he docs them grace when hn condescends to lift up his leg against them. This. 1 think, is carrying the in(olence of rank to the extreme; but he is a dug that (¡oes it.—25th December. This is Christmas-day; a merry and cheerful one, I hope, to all my darlings. May God bless u*, and grant that we may pass the next together. Everybody is very good to me; but his Majesty'« letters are mv pride: U is there 1 feel the object of my life attained."
And again, in the same noble spirit is the following to his father-in-law :—
"I have only been on shore ОПОР since I loft England, and do not know when I shall go agnin. I am unceasingly writing, and the day is not lonf? enough for me to get through my business. I hope mv children ore every day acquiring some knowledge, and wish them to write a French letter everv day to me or their mother. I «hall read them all when I come home. If there were an opportunity, I should like them to be taught Spanish, which is the most elegant language in Europe, and very easy. 1 hnrdly know how we shall be able to support the dignity to which his Mfijeety has been pleased to гаке me. Let others plead for pensions; 1 can be rich without money, by endeavouring to be supo, rior to everything poor. I would have my services to my country unstained by any interested motive; and old Scott and I can go on in our cabbage-garden without much greater expense than formerly. But I have had a great destruction of my furniture nnd stock; I have hardly a chair that has not a shot in it. and many have lost both legs and arms—without hope of pension! My wine broke in moving, and my pigs slain in battle; and these are heavy losses where they cannot be replaced
"I suppose I shall have great demands on me for patents and fees: But we must pay for being great. 1 get no prize-money. Since I left England, I have received only 183Í., which has not quite paid for my wine; but I do not care about being rich, if we can
but keep a good fire in winter. How I long to hare a peep into my own house, and a walk in my own garden! It is the pleasing object of all my hopes."
In the midst of all those great concerns, it is delightful to find the noble Admiral writing thus, from the Mediterranean, of his daughter's sick governess, and inditing this postscript to the little girls themselves :—
"How sorry am I for poor Miss !I am
sure you will spare no pains for her; and do not lose eight of her when she goes to Edinburgh. Tell her that she must not want any advice or any comfort; but I need not say this to you, my beloved, who are kindness itself. I am much obliged to the Corporation of Newcastle for every mark which they give of their esteem and approbation of my service. But where shall we find a place in our small house for all those vases and epergnest A kind letter from them would have gratified me as much, and have been less trouble to them." "My darlings, Sarah and Mary,
"I was delighted with your last letters, my blessings, and desire you to write to me very often, and tell me all the news of the city of Newcastle and town of Morpeth. I hope we shall have many happy days, and many a good laugh together yet. Be kind to old Scott; and when you see him weeding my i
iv oaks, give the old man a shilling! "May God Almighty bless you.
The patent of his peerage was limited to the heirs mole of his body; and, having only daughters, he very early expressed a wish that it might be extended to them and their male heirs. But this was not attended to. When he heard of his pension, he wrote, in the same lofty spirit, to Lord Baiham, that if the title could be continued to the heirs of his daughters, he did not care for the pension at all! and in urging his request for the change, he reminded his Lordship, with an amusing naivete, that government ought really to show some little favour to his daughters, considering that, if they had not kept him constantly at sea since 1793, he would probably have had half a dozen sons by this time, to succeed him in his honours!
It is delightful to read and extract passages like these; but we feel that we must stop; and that we have already exhibited enough of this book, both to justify the praises we have bestowed on it, and to give our readers a full impression of the exalted and most amiable character to which it relates. We shall add no more, therefore, that is merely personal to Lord Collingwood, except what belongs to the decay of his health, his applications for recall, and the death that he magnanimously staid to meet, when that recall was so strangely withheld. His constitution had been considerably impaired even before the action of Trafalgar; but in 1808 his health seemed entirely to give way; and he wrote, in August of that year, earnestly entreating to be allowed to come home. The answer to his application was, that it was so difficult to supply his place, that his recall must, at all events, be suspended. In a letter to Lady Collingwood, he refers to this correspondence, and after mentioning his official application to the Admiralty, he says :—
"What their answer will be, I do not know yet; but I had before mentioned my declining health to Lord Mulgrave, and he tell« me in reply, lhat he | hopes I will stay, for he knowe nol how to supply my place. The impression which his letter made ¡ upon rne was one of grief and sorrow: first, that with such a list as we nave—including more than a hundred admirals—there should be thought to be any difficulty in finding a successor nf superior ability in me; and next, thai there should be any obstacle i \ the way of the only comfort and happiness lhat I j Inve to louk forward to in this world."
In answer to Lord Mulgrave's statement, lie afterwards writes, that his infirmities had sensibly increased: but "I have no object in the world that I put in competition with my public duty; and so long as your lordship thinks it proper to continue me in this command, my utmost efforts shall be made to strengthen the impression which you now have; but I still hope, that whenever it may be done with convenience, your lordship will bear in mind my request." Soon after he writes thus to his family:—"I am an unhappy creature—old and worn out. I wish to come to England; but some objection is ever made to it." And,: again, "I have been very unwell. The phy-; sician tells me that it is the effect of constant confinement—which is not very comfortable, as there seems little chance of its being other- , wise. Old age and its infirmities are coming on me very fast; and I am weak and tottering on my legs. It is high time I should return to England; and I hope I shall be allowed to do it before long. It will otherwise be too late."
And it was too late! He was not relieved— and scorning to leave the post assigned to him,! while he had life to maintain it, he died at it, in March, 1810, upwards of eighteen months' after he had thus stated to the government his reasons for desiring a recall. The following is the editor's touching and affectionate account of the closing scene—full of pity and of grandeur—and harmonising beautifully with the noble career which was destined there to' be arrested :—
"Lord Collingwood had been repeatedly urged by his friends to surrender his command, and to seek in England that repose which had become so necessary in his declining health; but his feelings , on the subject of discipline were peculiarly strong, »nd he had ever exacted the most implicit obedience from others. He thought it therefore his duty not to quit the post which had been assigned to him, until he should be duly relieved,—and replied, ' that his life was his country's, in uAatever vtay it might
be required of him.' When be iroored in the hirhuur of Port Mahon, on the 25ih of Februiry, h>was in a state ot great suffering and dVbiliry; «nd having been strongly recommended by his medica* attendants to try the effect of gentle exercse on horseback, he went immediately on enure, accompanied by his friend Captain Hallowell, who left la ship to attend him in his illness: but it was then :» late. He became incapable of bearing the elieh:e»: fatigue; and as it was represented to him thai h» return to England wae indispensably necesury lot the preservation of his life, he, on the 3d ot March, surrendered his command to Rear Admiral Minir. The two following days were spent in umucceaflu. attempts to warp the V ille de Paris out of Port Mihon; but on the 6th the wind came round to \ttt westward, and at sunset the ship succeeded in clearing the harbour, and made sail for England. \Vn*a Lord Collingwood was informed that he was ae^n at sea, he rallied fora time his exhausted strenz-h. and said to those around him, 'Then I may yet lire to meet the French once more." On the morning of the 7th there was a considerable swell, and Ьш friend Captain Thomas, on entering his cabin, observed, that he feared the motion ot the vessel asturbed him. ' No, Thomas,' he replied; ' I am now in a slate in which nothing in this world can dí-тигЬ me more. I am dying; and I am sure it mu¿: be consolatory to you, and all who love me. to s« how comfortably I am coming to my end.' He lold one of his attendants that be had endeavoured to revi?«, as far as was possible, all the actions of his past life. nnd that he had the happiness to say, that nothing gave him a moment's uneasiness. He spoke a: times of his absent family, and of the doubtful contest in which he was about to leave his country involved, but ever with calmness and perfect resign»tion to the will of God; and in this blessed start oí mind, after taking an affectionate farewell oí his attendants, he expired without a struggle at six o'clock in the evening of that day, having attained tbe ac? of fifty-nine years and six months.
"After his decease, it was found that, wiih ib« exception of tbe stomach, all the other organs ot life were peculiarly vigorous and unimpaired: tod from this inspection, and the age which the furviriri^ members of his family have attained, there is етегг reason to conclude that if he had been earlier rflieved from his command, he would still have Ъ*<~\ in the enjoyment of the honours and rewards «turn would doubtless have awaiied him on hi* return u England."
The remainder of this article, containing discussions on the practices of flogging in the Navy, and of Impressment (to both whirh Lord Collingwood, as well as Nelson, weropposed), is now omitted ; as scarcely possessing sufficient originality to justify its repubbcation, even in this Miscellany.
Narrative of a Journey through the Upper Provinces of India from Calcutta to Bombav. 18Î4. 1825 (with Notes upon Ceylon); an Account of a Journey to Madras and the Sovtkrra Province-!, 1826; and Letters written in India. By the late Right Reverend Recimlp Heber, Lord Bishop of Calcutta. Second Edition. "2 vols. 8vo. London: 182S.
This is another book for Englishmen to be proud of—almost as delightful as the Memoirs of Lord Collingwood, and indebted for its attractions mainly to the same cause—the singularly amibb'e and exalted character of the
person to whom it relates—and that сотЫмtion of gentleness with heroic ambition. a:i I simplicity with high station, which we wTMM still fondly regard as characteristic of ouromi nation. To us in Scotland the combinât)«
m this instance, even more admirable lhati in that of the great Admiral. We have no Bishops on our establishment; and have been accustomed to think that we are better without them. But if we could persuade ourselves that Bishops in general were at all like 15 shop Heber, we should tremble for our Presbyterian orthodoxy; and feel not only veneraiion, but something very like envy for a communion which could number many such men among its ministers.
The notion entertained of a Bishop, in our antiepiscopal latitudes, is likely enough, we admit, not to be altogether just:—and we are tar from upholding it as correct, when we say, lhat a Bishop, among us, is generally supposed to be a stately and pompous person, clothed in purple anil fine linen, and faring sumptuously every day—somewhat obsequious to persons in power, and somewhat haughty and imperative to those who are beneath him— with more authority in his tone and manner, than solidity in his learning; and yet with much more learning than chanty or humility —very fond of being called my Lord, and driving about in a coach with mitres on the panels, but little addicted to visiting the sick and fatherless, or earning for himself the blessing of those who are ready to perish—
decorous in manners, but no foe to luxurious indulgences—rigid in maintaining discipline among his immediate dependents, and in exacting the homage due to his dignity from the undignified mob of his brethren; but perfectly willing to leave to them the undivided privileges of teaching and of comforting their people, and of soothing the sins and sorrows of their erring flocks — scornful, if not openly hostile, upon all occasions, to the claims of the People, from whom he is generally sprung —and presuming every thing in favour of the royal will and prerogative, by which he has been exalted—setting, indeed, in all case?, a much higher value on the privileges of the few, lhan the rights that are common to all, and exerting himself strenuously that the tormer may ever prevail—caring more, accordingly, for the interests of his order than the general good of the church, and far more for the Church than for the Religion it was established to teach—hating dissenters still more bitterly than infidels — but combating both rather with obloquy and invocation of civil penalties', than with the artillery of a powerful reason, or the reconciling influences of an humble and holy life—uttering now a»d then haughty professions of humility, iind regularly bewailing, at fit seasons, the severity of those Episcopal labours, which sadden, and even threaten to abridge a life, which to all other eyes appears to flow on in almost unbroken leisure and continued indulgence!
This, or something like this, we take to be the notion that most of us Presbyterians have been used to entertain of a modern Bishop: and it is mainly because they believed that
the rank and opulence which the station implied, were likely to realise this character in those who should be placed in it, that our ancestors contended so strenuously for the abrogation of the order,-and thought their Reformation incomplete till it was finally put down — till all the ministers of the Gospel were truly pastors of souls, and stood in no other relation to each other than as fellowlabourers in the same vineyard.
If this notion be utterly erroneous, the picture which Bishop Heber has here drawn of himself, must tend powerfully to correct if. If, on the other hand, it be in any respect just, he must be allowed, at all events, to have been a splendid exception. We are willing to take it either way. Though we must say that we incline rather to the latter alternative—since it is difficult to suppose, with all due allowance for prejudice?, that our abstract idea of a Bishop should be in such flagrant contradiction to the truth, that one who was merely a fair specimen of the order, should be most accurately characterised by precisely reversing every thing that entered into that idea. Yet this is manifestly the case with Bishop Heber—of whom we do not know at this moment how we could give a better description, than by merely reading backwards all we have now ventured to set down as characteristic of his right reverend brethren. Learned, polished, and dignified, he was undoubtedly; yet far more conspicuously kind, humble, tolerant, and laborious— zealous for his church too, and not forgetful of his station; but remembering it more for the duties than for the honours that were attached to it, and infinitely more zealous for the religious improvement, and for the happiness, and spiritual and worldly good of his fellowcreatures, of every tongue, faith, and complexion: indulgent to all errors and infirmities—liberal, in the best and truest sense of the word—humble and conscientiously diffident of his own excellent judgment and neverfailing charity—looking on all men as the children of one God, on all Christians as the redeemed of one Saviour, and on all Christian teachers as fellow-labourers, bound to help and encourage each other in their arduous and anxious task. His portion of the work, accordingly, he wrought faithfully, zealously, and well; and, devoting himself to hie duty with a truly apostolical fervour, made no scruple to forego, for its sake, not merely his personal ease and comfort, but those domestic affections which were ever so much more valuable in his eyes, and in the end, we fear, consummating the sacrifice with his life! If such a character be common among the dignitaries of the English Church, we sincerely congratulate them on the fact, and bow our heads in homage and veneration before them. If it be rare, as we fear it must be in any church, we trust we do no unworthy service in pointing it out for honour and imitation to all; and in praying that the example, in all its parts, may promote the growth of similal virtues among all denominations o' Christians, in every region of the world.