early associations seems to have left my memory; and often as I sit opposite his picture in my drawing room, are scenes of our dear early days brought vividly before my mind. Alas! the last time we met, when he was last in England, he felt our approaching separation so strongly, that as we were moving about London in a cab, he stopped it, and said, 'Wait here, I must get out.' He said no more, but I lost sight of him, and waited for a long time. But he never came back, and I received a note from him next morning to tell me, 'My dear-I could not say good-bye; my heart was too full; I knew we should never meet again in the flesh;' and so we parted. Our first friendship was formed at Easton, where we were placed for tuition under our kind friend, Mr. Monro. There were eight of us. Happy days were those. He was a first-rate classic. From thence he went up to Trinity, and I to St. Johns, about 1808. He often passed his vacations at my father's house, and was a great favourite with everybody. Some years ago he went with me, at the request of the vicar of to preach a charity sermon, and when we arrived in the vestry, we found a note addressed to his lordship, requesting he would on no account read the Communion-service at the altar. He observed it was a very extraordinary request, and asked me to account for it. I told him what I believed was true, that the vicar had a very weak voice, and could not make himself heard in the body of the church, and did not like any other person to do differently from himself. On which he doubled up the note, and said he should carry it home to Quebec, and have it framed and glazed, and placed in his study as a direction by a vicar how a Bishop ought to comport himself in church. However, we did read the service, of course, in the chancel and at the altar.

"His mind had always a religious tone and bias, and I never knew him allow the least approach to irreverence of any kind in his presence, even at his earliest youth. He

was my earliest, dearest friend, and there never was any person out of my own immediate family, for whom I entertained so great a regard and affection. All my children. and Mrs. were greatly attached to him."

I have given this extract, though part of it anticipates the course of my narrative, to shew how lasting was the mutual influence of his early attachments, as well as because it is characteristic of him in some other points.

He became a scholar of Trinity College, but as his tastes were strongly bent towards classical rather than to mathematical studies, he took his degree, in 1810, without honours. The number of his own books at that time, as exhibited in a catalogue which has been preserved, would now be considered surprisingly small, and proves how willingly he must have had recourse to other means of improvement which were within his reach. One of the tutors of his college, writing to his brother, so long afterwards as 1821, says, "I need not tell you how pleasing to me all my tutorial reminiscences are, when I think of you and your brother. I have often regretted that his acquirements and amiable talents should have so little chance of being known in this country; the examination which he passed for the scholarship in Trinity College was certainly that of no ordinary scholar; his copy of Latin verses and the accuracy of his English translation from the Greek I remember to have been much commended by the seniors." But the tutor who knew most of him, and for whom he entertained a reverent affection to the day of his death, was the late Rev. J. K. Miller, a man of unaffected piety and wonderful humility of mind, as well as an accomplished scholar. In a letter written nearly forty years after he had left Cambridge, Mr. Miller says, in reference to a charge to the clergy of the diocese of Quebec, then recently published, "I have been, indeed, especially pleased with it, and have not only read it over more than once, but made an object of reading it to a coterie of special friends, who, I was persuaded,

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would hear it with the same gratification as that which it gave me; that is, the same in kind, but in degree it could not be so, from their want of personal acquaintance with the author. And from hence arose a peculiar accession to my pleasure; because I traced in the charge, throughout, those tokens of identity of mind and feeling, with which I became acquainted early, and which are such interesting and powerful corroborations of truth,-truth in which we are all transcendently interested, and which we are bound to seek and to prove. Every page, every paragraph, almost every sentence, reminded me that I was listening (a curious metaphor as applied to reading, but intelligible,) to the same earnest-hearted, thoughtful, intelligent, discriminating friend whom I was early connected with as a pupil. Our hearts were then lighter than the discipline of life and probation of the world and a sense of the highest things have allowed them to continue, uniformly at least. Yet I hope that even then there was a sense of something far more deeply interfused' than the atmosphere which immediately surrounded us, and that we have still been living for the same end, and had the same love of truth in view, and embraced it as it has more opened itself out to our ken, and proving all things' have endeavoured to hold fast that which is good,' and still to 'walk by the same rule, to mind the same thing.' I persuade myself that I trace in this last, as well as in all previous compositions (to me an unsatisfactory word) of yours, successive evidences of this persevering course of mind. And while it is gratifying to do so, as a personal reminiscence, it is also didactic and edifying, as maturing sober convictions of what is true and indestructible. The individuality and identity and originality of mind which I trace in your writings is by no means inefficient as a power of spiritual suasion of the highest order. It is an evidence that you have gone to the root of the matter yourself, that you have not traded on other men's labours, or sworn to their words,'

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while you have had a just respect for the conclusions at which the wise and good of older times have arrived, and in which they have found rest, consolation, and satisfaction. In fact, you have contributed a sensible share to the proving afresh of not new things, but things which have been from the beginning, yet partly over-laid and over-ridden, but which are never to be forgotten and can never be lost. I could willingly go into divers particulars of your lordship's charge, with which I have been cordially delighted, but I fear I shall be led into disproportionate lengths of remark, and indeed never find an end. With regard to * ***† I only demur to the courteous consideration which you have shewn towards them; yet, probably, you are right there, too, if I could see all. I am sure, however, I do not see enough in this case to entitle them, as of right, to so respectful a mention as you have made of them." Writing on the same subject to the Bishop's brother, Mr. Miller said, "It is so genuinely his own; the expression of his thoughtful, discerning, energetic, and yet delicate mind; so authentic, so conscientious, kind, candid, variously good, more than I can well particularly describe, that it has been quite refreshing to me to trace these evidences in it."

He was surrounded at Cambridge by friends whose affection continued unabated during their lives, and whose kindness his children, for his sake, have in many instances experienced. Like his companions at Easton, many of them became afterwards more or less conspicuous in their different callings. Among them was the late Dr. Chambers, whose refreshment in his busiest days was to read Eschylus in his carriage as he moved from house to house in his extensive practice. Their classical tastes were similar to his own, and many proofs of the accuracy and elegance of their scholarship might be produced. He had a wonderful memory for classical

† A party which had caused some trouble in the diocese.

literature, and especially for poetry in any language, and in his old age could quote at great length from authors whom he had not read since his youth. In the year 1855 he was travelling, on one of his shorter visitations, with a distinguished fellow of Magd. Coll., Oxford, who had taken duty near Quebec in a long vacation, and who was about half his age, and to beguile a somewhat tedious drive, they tried who could remember the greater number of classical quotations. He said afterwards, "I really believe B. began to think me quite a learned man, till we got upon some more modern subjects, and then he found me out." It may not be out of place here to record the impression made on his companion by his intercourse with him. Writing in 1863, he says, "The pleasant summer I spent under his hospitable roof gave me an opportunity of knowing what a great loss you must all feel it to be. I do not think I have ever come into similar contact with any one for whom I have felt a stronger regard and reverence. I felt always that I was with a man of gentle and warm heart, of singleness and simplicity of character, of delicately refined feelings, of high christian principle." †

In the account of one of his journeys as Archdeacon, when he was accompanied by a brother clergyman, still labouring in the diocese, he says, "I would you had heard how my companion, as we toiled along, beguiled the way through the midnight woods, by repeating from his favourite poets, to whose works the conversation chanced to lead, I believe a hundred lines at a time, and favoured by the darkness, which removed some of the checks upon his confidence, gave their full effect to many animated or touching lines."

† I cannot forbear from recording here the impression made upon the mind of another English clergyman, who, while an undergraduate, had paid a long vacation visit to Canada in 1845: "The best of the able account given in the Quebec Mercury (January 1863,) is, that it is every word true, and if anything under the truth. I shall never forget the impression which I received of the beauty of his character during the five happy weeks which it was my privilege to spend under his roof. He has ever since been my beau-ideal of a Christian Bishop."