of man, his conversation always diffused a feeling of cheerfulness and enjoyment among those who had the happiness of being admitted to his society. Accessible to all, he had the rare power of setting the humblest and most diffident at their ease, without losing for an instant his own place as their superior.

Thus fitted for the exalted position for which Providence had designed him, he was raised to the episcopal bench in the thirty-second year of his age,-one and twenty years before the consecration of any of our existing prelates, so that at the time of his death he had been fifty-seven years a bishop, and had presided over the Church in Ireland as its primate for forty years,—a longer period than the primacy had been held by any prelate for nearly a thousand years.

During that eventful period, when more than once the very existence of the Established Church in that country was threatened, his moderation, his good sense, his practical wisdom, his straightforward high-minded integrity, his prompt decision, and his unbending firmness, did more, under an overruling Providence, towards carrying it safely through its difficulties, than any other cause that can be assigned. For, however men might differ from him in opinion, he had the confidence and respect of every party, religious and political. They

might be annoyed, because they could not gain him over to their side, or induce him to withdraw his opposition to their measures; but in their hearts they reverenced him, as the very soul of honour, as one whom no human being could persuade to deviate from what he believed to be his duty, whom nothing on earth could induce to adopt or sanction a crooked line of policy to gain the most desirable of objects. Raised, not merely by birth and station, but infinitely more by the known rectitude of his principles and the purity of his motives, far above all suspicion of selfishness, every act of his public life bore on it the impress of his

The Bishop of Winchester was consecrated in 1826.

noble, single-hearted simplicity of purpose. Every step he took added to the weight and influence of his character. If he did not please all, it was only because no man can be honest who does so. Men might think him mistaken; but all moderate, all prudent men, all, in truth, who had much regard for their own reputation, wished to appear, at least, to differ from him as little and as seldom as possible. They were conscious, when they ventured to oppose his judgment, that sensible people were apt to think they must be in the wrong.

How much this universal veneration for the character of a man in his exalted station must have acted as a safeguard to the Church which he adorned by his virtues, how much it must have assisted to raise the Established Church in public estimation, it is needless to point out. A bishop who is universally respected must do good by the mere force of his character. In the homage they pay to his virtues, men unconsciously learn to reverence the order of which he is a member, and to love the Church of which he is the representative. How great then, how wide, must have been the beneficial influence of the character of a prelate, to whom all parties, friends and foes, have, for more than half a century, conceded the pre-eminence, as one of the best and wisest men of his day. The impression made by such a character will survive beyond the generation that has grown up under his paternal rule. The influence of such a man cannot terminate with his life. In uniting the friends of the Church, in softening the asperities of dissent, in abating prejudice and disarming hostility, it will be felt for many a day to come.

One of the most remarkable proofs of public respect which any man ever received, was given to the late Archbishop in 1855, when he completed the fiftieth year of his episc pate. On that memorable and affecting occasion, the venerable Primate received, among several other testimonials of affection and respect, an address of congratulation,—which, it

was understood, was written by the Archbishop of Dublin,-with the signatures of every one of the Irish bishops, and of 1,980 of the clergy; in point of fact, of every single clergyman in Ireland who was not prevented by absence, illness, or accident from signing it. Such a document, as far as any record remains, is without parallel in the history of our Church, either here or in the sister country. Two sentences from this address will deserve to be transcribed:

"Your Grace has now been enabled, by the Divine goodness, to fill the office of a chief pastor in the Lord's flock for no less than half a century; during an eventful period, marked by most important changes, and agitated by many distracting controversies. And although, during that period, we have not all taken the same views with your Grace on several public questions, there has been among us all but one sentiment of admiration for your high and honourable resolve to discharge your duty conscientiously, with firmness, tempered by mildness and urbanity; for your un wearied devotedness to the labours of a most arduous and important office; for the splendid munificence with which you have supported the dignity of your See; and for the boundless liberality of your public and private charities."

No

These sentences contain a faithful portrait of this great and good man. one ever united in a more remarkable degree, mildness with firmness, the dignity of the nobleman and the prelate, with the unassuming modesty of the gentleman and the humility of the Christian. But that which was the most striking feature of his character, and which is most distinctly present to the writer of this address, was his munificence-a largeness of heart, in which few ever equalled him, fewer still could have surpassed him. There have been those, who have spent fortunes on some hobby, some favourite scheme of charity or benevolence. One Iman has laid out vast sums building or restoration of a church; another, on hospitals or schools; an

on the

The entire body of the Irish clergy at the time numbered about 2,100.

other, on some literary or scientific institution. And such men, too much absorbed in the particular matter to which they give their thoughts, are not always found so prompt, as might be wished, to attend to any others. Nor have those, who have been most applauded for their public acts of munificence, been always equally willing to do good in secret, by assisting the struggles of the deserving, and lightening the burdens of the poor. But it was the character of this prelate, that he confined his munificence to no one class of

objects; but wherever he found any just, any reasonable claim on his bounty, whatever might be the nature of the claim, he was ready to attend to it. If ever man understood the blessedness of giving, he did. It seems to have constituted the happiness of his existence.

He took no position in the scientific world, he had no scientific reputation to preserve, no ambition to make one. And yet what enthusiast in the cause of science could have shewn greater liberality, where any objects of science were to be promoted, which could have any just or reasonable claims on his assistance? He found the Observatory of Armagh suffering (through an accidental omission) from want of means to carry out the intentions of the founder, his noble predecessor, Primate Robinson; and the generosity with which, at a considerable outlay, he procured the costly instruments with which that institution is now furnished, shews how clearly he perceived, what he often expressed, that science, so far from being antagonistic to religion (as some imperfectly informed though well-meaning persons imagine), is, if rightly followed, a powerful aid to it.

He had never taken collegiate distinctions. He had no connexion with Dublin, as the place of his early associations; for he was educated at Oxford. But, from the time when he became officially connected with the Irish University, the liberality with which he was ever ready to assist, in endowing prizes and exhibitions, and afterwards in found

ing the chair of Ecclesiastical History, demonstrated not merely the generosity of his disposition,-for that needed no proof, but the depth of his conviction, that to raise Ireland from its unhappy condition, the true method is to encourage the study of theology, and to supply the Church with a learned clergy, fitted for the due discharge of the pas toral office and the defence of the Reformed religion.

In his own city of Armagh, much as he did for the Observatory, the Public Library, and the Royal School, generous as was the encouragement he gave to the Literary and Philosophical Society established in that place for the improvement of the young men of the middle classes, it is his cathedral church which will ever remain the monument of his piety and munificence. He found it hastening to decay; he restored and adorned it at the cost of nearly thirty thousand pounds. He found the choral service in a most piti. able condition; the funds mismanaged, the performance careless and inefficient. By his bounty he kept up the choir until the property was improved; and having placed the government of the choir in the hands of accomplished musicians, he lived to receive the testimonies of those who were most competent to speak on such a subject, that the performances in his cathedral, for beauty, correctness, solemnity, and good order, were not to be surpassed by any cathedral in the United Kingdom.

What an amount he spent in promoting the education of the poor of the Church is known to every one at all acquainted with what has been passing of late years in Ireland. And even when, under the hopeless pressure of circum

He gave £2,000 to endow that professorship. To mark his sense of the honour done him by his election to the Chancellorship, he built the Campanile, which cost him £3,000. To the foundation and improvement of the College of St. Columba, near Dublin, he gave between £5,000 and £6,000; as it was his wish to furnish the gentry with a school rather more assimilated, than those hitherto in Ireland, to the public schools in this country.

stances, he was compelled to advise the clergy to avail themselves of the pecuniary aid of a Government system of education, of which it was impossible for him wholly to approve, he still continued to give largely to the support of those schools which had been founded on what he considered a better principle.

But of his private charities who can speak? Where is their record, but in the book of Everlasting Remembrance ? They were, indeed, so private, his acts of benevolence done so quietly, that even those who were constantly about his person had no knowledge, often no suspicion, of what he did. And what he gave was rendered doubly precious by the exceeding delicacy and consideration with which he gave it; so as to spare, as much as possible, the objects of his bounty any painful feeling of humiliation which might arise from a sense of dependence'. During that period of suffering, in what has been truly called the Tithe War, he opened wide his hand indeed, and it is not at all too much to say, that many, very many of the clergy and their families were saved from actual starvation by his generosity. But even of late, and within the last year of his life, what he gave to the clergy, in the way of salaries to curates and augment

In the Irish "Ecclesiastical Gazette" for last month, p. 607, it is stated, that to the close of his life the Archbishop gave £200 a-year to the Armagh Diocesan Church Education Society, besides paying £200 a-year as the salary of the Inspector of the Society's Schools.

f A single anecdote, which may be relied on as authentic, will illustrate this remarkable feature in the late Archbishop's character. A small living having fallen vacant in his diocese, one of his curates wrote to him to ask for the appointment, apologizing for doing so, on the ground that "he had been fifteen years a curate, and had eight children, whom he found it difficult to support." The Archbishop wrote very kindly in reply, that "he had just given the living to a man who had been twentyfive years a curate, and had fifteen children; but that the enclosed would shew that he fu ly recognised Mr. —'s claims." The enclosure was a cheque for £200. This is but one instance out of many of his exceeding kindness; some of them, within the knowledge of the writer of this obituary, far more extraordinary than the one above related.

ations of small incomes, amounted to not less than eighteen hundred pounds. It is, in fact, not an over statement of his munificence to say, that he gave away, to one purpose or another, more than one-half of his entire episcopal and private income put together. And when one recollects his princely hospitality, it cannot excite surprise, that if he had not been most exact in keeping a strict account of his expenditure, his means, large as they were, would have been wholly insufficient to meet the demands of his own generous and noble heart.

But

Such he lived, and such he died. His end was comparatively sudden. About ten days before his death, writing to one who for many years had been honoured with his friendship, he said, that his general health was much as usual, but that he was much more feeble than he had been a year ago. Still no danger was apprehended. On the 11th of July he was able once more to remove to Mr. Dunbar's house. And though fatigued by his journey, he rallied, and for a few days seemed to revive; so that until Thursday, the day before he died, there were no fears for his safety. towards the evening of that day, it became evident that his strength was rapidly failing. Early on Friday morning, he desired his chaplain to administer to him the Holy Communion. He was still able to sit up in bed; and, with the aid of his spectacles, he read the responses in that service, which had been his comfort and support all his life long. Then, with perfect clearness of mind and memory, he gave minute directions for a memorandum he desired to have made, that the various curates in his diocese, to whom he was in the habit of giving salaries, should continue to receive them for a year after his death; and late in the evening he enquired if his directions had been attended to. This was his last offertory. These were his last business thoughts; caring for the Lord's flock to the last. In two hours after, he entered into his rest, without pain or struggle: the last words he was heard to utter being prayers and thanksgiv.

ings, and humble acknowledgments of his Redeemer's mercy. All was calm, gentle, and peaceful. It was a deathbed that became a Christian bishop.

The funeral of the late Archbishop was such as was not only fitting his exalted station, but was a public expression of the universal respect which men of all denominations and parties felt for his character. Indeed, of such honours paid to any bishop of our own Church, or of any other, it would be difficult, if it is possible, to find another instance. The Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland followed his hearse as chief-mourner. And not only the neighbouring nobility and gentry, several of the Irish bishops, and hundreds of the clergy, but even the Roman Catholic Primate, Dr. Dixon, and the Moderator of the Presbyterian body, Dr. Cooke, joined in the procession that conducted his remains from his palace to his cathedral. And thus, for once, men of the most conflicting sects and parties forgot their differences, and shed tears over the grave of one whose life was charity and whose end was peace.

THE MARQUIS OF BREADALBANE, K.T.

Nov. 8. At Lausanne, aged 66, the Marquis of Breadalbane, K.T.

The deceased nobleman, John Campbell, Marquis of Breadalbane, Earl of Ormelie, and Baron Breadalbane, of Taymouth Castle, in the Peerage of the United Kingdom, also Earl of Breadalbane and Holland, Viscount of Tay and Paintland, Lord Glenorchy, Benederaloch, Ormelie and Weik, in the Scotch Peerage, and a Baronet of Nova Scotia, was born at Dundee, Oct. 26, 1796, and was the only son of Lieutenant-General John, first Marquis of Breadalbane, by Mary Turner, eldest daughter and coheir of the late David Gavin, Esq., of Langton, by Lady Elizabeth Maitland. He married, Nov. 23, 1821, Eliza, eldest daughter of Mr. George Baillie, of Jerviswood, and sister of the Earl of Haddington, who died Aug. 28, 1861. For a short period he, as Lord Glenorchy,

represented Perthshire in the House of Commons, being elected after the passing of the Reform Bill in 1832. On the death of his father (who had been created first earl and marquis in 1831), in March, 1834, he took his seat in the House of Lords. During the time he was in the Lower House, and subsequently in the House of Lords, he uniformly supported the Whig Governments. In Scotland he was a warm supporter of the Free Church.

From September, 1848, to March, 1852, the late Marquis occupied the office of Lord Chamberlain of the Queen's household, and again filled the same office from January, 1853, to February, 1858. He was Lord-Lieutenant of Argyllshire and Vice-Admiral of the coast of that county and of the Western Islands; was Colonel of the Argyllshire Militia; Colonel-Commandant of the 2nd Battalion of Perthshire Volunteers; President of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Scotland; a Fellow of the Royal Society, an official trustee of the British Museum, and in 1841 he held the office of Lord Rector of the University of Glasgow.

The English honours, in default of issue, becoming extinct, the Marquis is succeeded in the Scottish Peerage by his kinsman, the representative of the first Earl and Marquis of Breadalbane's uncle, Mr. William John Lamb Campbell, of Glenfalloch, Perthshire.

LORD ARUNDELL.

Oct. 19. At Wardour Castle, aged 58, the Right Hon. Henry Benedict, Lord Wardour.

The deceased nobleman, the second son of James Everard, ninth Lord Wardour, was born Nov. 12, 1804, and succeeded his brother, James Everard, June 21, 1834, but never took any prominent part in public matters. He was the head of one of our oldest Roman Catholic families, a count of the Holy Roman Empire, and co-heir to the barony of Fitzpaine and Kerdeston. He was thrice married-1st, in 1826, to Lucy, daughter

of Hugh P. Smythe, Esq.; 2ndly, în 1829, to Frances Catherine, second daughter of Sir Henry Titchborne, Bart.; and 3rdly, to Teresa, daughter of William, Lord Stourton. He is succeeded in the title and estates by his eldest son, the Hon. John Francis Arundell, who was married only six days before his father's death, to Miss Errington, of Northumberland.

The

Most of our genealogical writers deduce the origin of the families of Arundell, of Lanherne, in Cornwall, and of Wardour, in Wiltshire, from Roger Arundell, who is recorded in the Domesday Survey to have been possessed of twelve manors in Dorset, and of twentyeight in Somerset. The elder branch continued to reside at Lanherne (the heirs intermarrying with the families of Danet, Stanley, Jerningham, Brooke, and Roper), until the year 1739, when Mary Billings-Arundell, daughter and eventually sole heir of Richard Billings-Arundell, Esq., married Henry, the seventh Lord Arundell of Wardour; by which alliance the families of Lanherne and Wardour, after a separation of nearly two centuries, became re-united. first of the family who established himself in Wiltshire was Sir Thomas Arundell. He was the second son of Sir John Arundell, of Lanherne, by the Lady Elizabeth Grey, daughter of Thomas, second Marquis of Dorset, and had been gentleman of the privy chamber to Cardinal Wolsey. In 1530 he married Margaret, daughter and co-heir of Lord Edmund Howard, and sister to Queen Catherine Howard. In the contest for supremacy between the Protector Somerset and Dudley, Sir Thomas lost both his life and estate, and the castle of Wardour was granted by the Crown to the Earl of Pembroke. In 1570 Sir Matthew Arundell re-purchased Wardour Castle from the Earl of Pembroke, and greatly improved and adorned it. Sir Matthew died in 1598, and was succeeded by his son, Sir Thomas Arundell, Knt., who was created Lord Arundell of Wardour by James I., in 1605. He was a count of the Holy Roman