hundreds of his conversations would be as valuable as Johnson's; though he never talked for effect. I will mention two which impressed me, as being the first and last I had with him. When I called on him, soon after his arrival, I remarked, that his house and garden were pleasant and secluded: he replied, that he preferred walking in the streets, and observing the faces of the passers-by, to the finest natural scene. The last time I spoke to him was at our amateur concert: after it concluded, which was with the overture to Freyschutz, he said, he used to prefer the simple ballad, but he now, by often hearing more scientific music, began to like it best. I have no doubt he had a most critical musical ear; as every one must have perceived who heard him read. I never heard mo beautifully correct recitative."

CHAPTER X.

1823-1832.

ANNUAL

THE CLOSING YEARS OF MR. CRABBE'S LIFE. EXCURSIONS.-DOMESTIC HABITS.-VISITS TO PUCKLECHURCH.-HIS LAST TOUR TO CLIFTON, BRISTOL, ETC. -HIS ILLNESS AND DEATH.- HIS FUNERAL.

Ir now remains to sum up this narrative with a few particulars respecting the closing years of Mr. Crabbe's henceforth retired life. Though he went every year to Mr. Hoare's, at Hampstead (the death of the head of that family having rather increased than diminished his attachment for its other members), and each season accompanied them on some healthful excursion to the Isle of Wight, Hastings, Ilfracombe, or Clifton; and though, in their company, he saw occasionally not a little of persons peculiarly interesting to the public, as well as dear to himself,-as, for example, Mr. Wilberforce, Mrs. Joanna Baillie, Miss Edgeworth, and Mrs. Siddons, and though, in his passings through town, he generally dined with Mr. Rogers, Lord Holland, and Mr. Murray, and there met, from time to time, his great brothers in art, Wordsworth and Southey, for both of whom he felt a cordial respect and affection,-still, his journals, in those latter years, are so briefly drawn up, that, by printing them, Į should be giving little more than a list of names,

While, at home, he seldom visited much beyond the limits of his parish - the houses of Mr. Waldron and Mr. Norris Clark being his more familiar haunts; and in his own study he continued, unless when interrupted by his painful disorder, much of the habits and occupations which have already been described, comprising poetry, and various theological essays, besides sermons; of all of which specimens may hereafter be made public. The manuscript volumes he left behind him at his death, not including those of the rough copies of his published works, amount in number to twenty-one. The gradual decline of his health, but unshaken vigour of his understanding, will be, perhaps, sufficiently illustrated by the following extracts from his note-books, and his own letters to his friends and family:

"Aldborough, October, 1823. "Thus once again, my native place, I come

Thee to salute - my earliest, latest home:
Much are we alter'd both, but I behold

In thee a youth renew'd

whilst I am old.

The works of man from dying we may save,
But man himself moves onward to the grave."

To Mrs. Leadbeater.

"Trowbridge, June, 1824. "I must go to town, and there be stimulated by conversations on the subjects of authorships, and all that relates to the business of the press. I find, too, that I can dedicate more time to this employment in London than in this seat of business, where every body comes at their own time; and, having driven the mind from its purposes, leave a man to waste no small portion of it in miscellaneous reading, and other amusement, such as nursing and construing the incipient meanings that come

and go in the face of an infant. My grand-daughter and I begin to be companions; and the seven months and the seventy years accord very nicely, and will do so, probably (the parties living), for a year or two to come; when, the man becoming weaker and the child stronger, there will come an inequality to disturb the friendship."

"I think something more than two years have passed, since the disease, known by a very formidable name, which I have never consented to adopt, attacked me. It came like momentary shocks of a grievous toothache; and, indeed, I was imprudent enough to have one tooth extracted which appeared to be most affected; but the loss of this guiltless and useful tooth had not one beneficial consequence. For many months the pain came, sometimes on a slight touch, as the application of a towel or a razor, and it sometimes came without any apparent cause, and certainly was at one time alarming, more especially when I heard of operations, as cutting down and scraping the bone, &c.; but these failing, and a mode of treating the disease being found*, I lost my fears, and took blue pills and medicines of like kind for a long season, and with good success."

To a Lady at Trowbridge.

"Beccles, May 10. 1825. "A letter from my son to-day, gives me pain, by its account of your illness: I had hope of better information; and though he writes that there is amendment, yet he confesses it is slow, and your disorder is painful too. That men of free lives, and in habits of intemperance, should be ill, is to be expected; but we are surprised, as well as grieved, when frequent attacks of this kind are the lot of the temperate, the young, and the careful: still, it is the will of Him who afflicts not his creatures without

The kind and skilful physician on whose advice my father relied was Dr. Kerrison, of New Burlington Street

a cause, which we may not perceive, but must believe; for He is all wisdom and goodness, and sees the way to our final happiness, when we cannot. In all kinds of affliction, the Christian is consoled by the confiding hope, that such trials, well borne, will work for glory and happiness, as they work in us patience and resignation. In our pains and weakness we approach nearer, and learn to make our supplications to a merciful Being, as to a parent, who, if he doth not withdraw the evil from us, yet gives us strength to endure and be thankful. — I grant there is much that we cannot know nor comprehend in the government of this world; but we know that our duty is to submit, because there is enough we can see to make us rest in hope and comfort, though there be much that we cannot understand. We know not why one in the prime of life should suffer long; and, while suffering, should hear of threescore persons, of every age and station, and with minds some devoted to their God, and others to this world altogether, all in one dreadful moment to be sunk in the ocean, and the stillness of death to surround them. But though this and a number of other things are mysteries to us, they are all open to Him from whom nothing can be hidden. Let us, then, my dear Miss W. have confidence in this, that we are tried, and disciplined, and prepared for another state of being; and let not our ignorance in what is not revealed, prevent our belief in what is. I do not know,' is a very good answer to most of the questions put to us by those who wish for help to unbelief. But why all this? will you ask: first, because I love you very much, and then you will recollect that I have had, of late, very strong admonition to be serious; for though the pain of itself be not dangerous, yet the weakness it brought on, and still brings, persuades me that not many such strokes are needed to demolish a frame which has been seventy years moving, and not always regulated with due caution.