of money, and so also are those who are aiming at becoming authors and artists. In such cases they found Mr. Rogers a kind friend, ready not only with his advice but with his purse. The same generous feelings led him also to find a place in his poems, or in the notes at the end, to mention with honour each of those poets and friends whom he might feel his equals and whom the world might think his rivals. Byron he speaks of both in Human Life' and in 'Italy.' Crabbe's power of describing he praises in Italy.' Moore he calls 'a poet of such singular felicity as to 'give a lustre to all he touches.' Of Wordsworth he quotes a noble sonnet.' Of Scott he gives us some lines not elsewhere published. his friend Cary's Translation, but clever 'Letters to Julia' he speaks of as admirably written, and to his early friend Richard Sharp, who late in life published some Epistles in Verse, he kindly gives the title of a poet. With the same wish to please he mentions Eastlake the painter, and Herschell the astronomer, he quotes Lord John Russell's definition of a proverb; and in the edition of his works which is ornamented with the designs of Stothard and Turner, he styles them two artists who would have done honour to any age or country.

He quotes Dante from
Luttrell's little known

In his later years he usually spent some weeks every autumn at Broadstairs, where he lived at the hotel with his old friend Mr. Maltby. He went down with his own horses, and slept at Rochester and Canterbury to break the journey. At Canterbury he always went into the Cathedral to hear the service chanted. One

h

year he was recognised by the clergyman in authority, who to show his respect to the poet sent a verger to ask him which chant he would like to have performed. And this marked civility was repeated every year as he passed through that city. He was, of course, gratified by the attention; but his pleasure in the music was sadly lessened by it. It broke the charm to find that the clergymen were thinking of him, while he had been willing to fancy that they were at their devotions. During his last few years he spent the three winter months at Brighton, in the same house with his sister, who died only a year before himself.

My uncle's conversation could hardly be called brilliant. He seldom aimed at wit, though he enjoyed it in others. He often told anecdotes of his early recollections and of the distinguished persons with whom he had been acquainted. These he told with great neatness and fitness in the choice of words, as may be understood by an examination of the prose notes to his poems. But the valuable part of his conversation was his good sense joined with knowledge of literature and art, and yet more particularly his constant aim at improvement, and the care that he took to lead his friends to what was worth talking about. I never left his company without feeling my zeal for knowledge strengthened, my wish to read quickened, and a fresh determination to take pains and do my best in every thing that I was about. He trained his mind to look for the beautiful and the good in all that came before him. He had acquired the 'habit of looking every'where for excellencies and not for faults, whether in

'art or nature, whether in a picture, a poem, or a character.' He describes himself as having

A passionate love for music, sculpture, painting,

'For poetry, the language of the gods,

'For all things here, or grand or beautiful,

'A setting sun, a lake among the mountains,

'The light of an ingenuous countenance,

'And what transcends them all, a noble action.'

In his old age, as is usual, he returned to the recollections of his youth. He talked much of Mrs. Barbauld, of Dr. Price who had lived next door to his father at Newington Green, and of Dr. Enfield's review of his first poem. He then very much cultivated the society of the younger members of his family, and his conversation was never better than when he was speaking to children. They listened with equal delight and improvement. His words were as winning as they were. wise

'Praising each highly, from a wish to raisé
'Their merits to the level of bis praise.'

He then regretted that he had not married and taken upon himself the duties of a husband and a father. He would quote Goldsmith's description of the Vicar of Wakefield, who united in himself the three greatest characters in the world; he was a priest, a husbandman, and the father of a family. My uncle wished that to his character of a man of letters and a man of business, he could himself have added that he had educated a family of children. The

very last addition to his poems were the lines advising young men to marry, beginning

'Hence to the Altar.'

In early life he had been of a weak constitution, which showed itself in a pale and sickly coun

tenance

'From his cheek, ere yet the down was there,
'Health fled.'

This made him more than usually careful in his manner of living; and he grew stronger as he grew older. He was active in his habits; and when advanced in years was still a great walker. He was not easily tired. He had no sofa or arm-chair in that room of his house in which he for the most part lived, and he never made use of either till he broke his leg at the age of eighty-six. When that misfortune befell him, nothing could be better than the manner in which he bore it. He was henceforth, for what remained of life, to be confined to the bed or chair. But he never murmured, and he spoke of his accident with regret only for the trouble that he gave to others. He often made use of the words of Galileo ; 'If it has pleased God that I should be lame, ought 'not I to be pleased?' He died at his house No. 22, St. James's Place, on the 18th of December, 1855, full of years and honour. His memory had latterly rather failed him; but it was only during the last eighteen months, when he was more than ninety years of age, that life began to be a burden to him, and the visits

of his friends troublesome. Till then he had lived alone; but when his health failed, a niece devoted herself to him, to supply that watchful care which his sinking powers required, but were unable to ask for. He was buried agreeably to his own wish in Hornsey Churchyard, in the same grave with his unmarried brother and sister.

After his death his valuable works of art, pictures, drawings, engravings, vases, sculpture, coins, and books were sold by auction, at a sale which lasted twenty-two days, and produced a large sum, making the property that he left behind him, about what he used to wish it to be, not much more or less than what he inherited. But the proportions into which it was divided, were very remarkable; the house and its contents produced a sum equal to three times that portion of his property which had brought him an income.

In religion and politics, Mr. Rogers ended life with nearly the same opinions that he began with opinions which in his youth were frowned upon by the worldly and the timid, and which shut out their owners from many social advantages, but were less unpopular in his later life. When a young man he had followed Charles Grey in signing an address to the nation, in favour of a Reform in Parliament; and when an old man he congratulated the same statesman, in a copy of verses, on his services to the cause of liberty, when that great measure became law. When young he had given his help to Allen and Fox, the benevolent Quakers, in establishing the Borough Road School, for the education of the poor of every