in a manner equally full of encouragement, and affection.

But, whenever information of an instructive kind was asked for, he delighted, especially, in giving it; and never failed to do so, in that happy style of brevity and clearness, for which he was remarkable replying with readiness and interest, as if the particular subject in question had exclusively engaged his thoughts; and, on such occasions, his countenance and manner told what pleasure he felt, in communicating knowledge. Indeed, whenever he spoke, his air was animated and joyous; and so thoroughly was information, at once general and deep, diffused throughout his mind, that he viewed the most ordinary subject in an uncommon light; and unconsciously excited new trains of thought, in the minds of those around him. In his hours of necessary relaxation, he ever combined wit with instruction, and philosophy with mirth: and playfully imparted those treasures, which he had laboriously accumulated, by severe study. Above most other men, he possessed the happy faculty of teaching, without appearing to dictate; and he continually enlightened the circle which revolved around him, unconscious that he was himself the luminary, in whose beams they were rejoicing.

His general manner was simple and unpretend

ing; he never assumed the air of conscious superiority; but, 'possessing that prime knowledge, which consists in knowing, how little can be known,' he was, at all times, too deeply occupied with the beauty and tendency of the idea, to dwell, for a moment, on its mere origination. The same unaffected demeanour marked him, whether in the pulpit, in private discussion with his friends, or in the more general conversation of mixed society. I never heard him speak, on any subject, whatever its apparent difficulty, without feeling, that I could, in some degree, at least, find my way through it. Such was his lucid clearness, and concise, though beautiful method of reasoning. And, perhaps, the best evidence of a great mind, is that power, of simplifying food for the feebleminded.

Devotion to his beloved studies, but too often, and in many ways, affected his bodily health. At one period, he became subject to a distressing complaint, in one of his eyes. To this, however, he never yielded, till acute pain made it indispensable, that the organ should have rest. At these times, he was in the occasional habit of dictating, from the stores of his mind, that which another reduced to writing. In the latter years of his life, he had repeated attacks of this nature; succeeding each other, with so short a respite between, that, but

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for that active energy of mind, which never forsook him, he must have sunk under mere physical depression. When suffering in this way, he has often dictated various portions of his works; arranging long passages in his mind, as he walked through the room; and repeating them with great accuracy and clearness, while one of his family wrote them down, for his future correction.

And

at times, when able to use his eyes, but much hurried in composition for the press, he has worked double tides; at once dictating to an amanuensis, and rapidly penning some other part

of the same treatise.

It has been well observed of him, that he lived two lives in one.' The quickness of his apprehension enabled him to acquire knowledge, in a far shorter space of time than most persons: while this faculty served but to stimulate his exertion, and excite an appetite for fresh information, never to be satiated in the present stage of existence. In his favourite study of theology, he laboured, with a persevering ardour, perhaps seldom excelled, or even equalled. And the result gives a fresh instance of the fact, that a sincere and humble search after truth, directed by a clear intellect, and aided by solid learning, is always productive of a self-conviction, which, generally, draws others to the same belief. In fact, Dr. Phelan had read

more than enough to unsettle the minds of many acute, but unballasted, unstable half-thinkers; while, to him, inquiry never failed to produce a deeper, and more principled conviction of the great truths of the Gospel.

No person, indeed, could be more deeply impressed with a sense of man's utter helplessness, in his unassisted state. Therefore the humility of his faith was of the most profound character. But he felt what noble things, restored, and re-created man is capable of, and intended for. Therefore he continually aspired, through Divine Grace, after the renovation and improvement of his fallen na

ture.

His conception of our Lord's character was so perfectly lovely, that, where we might have dreaded to approach, we are attractively drawn forward; and gratefully behold Divinity itself, embodied in the Redeemer of our souls. By ever keeping before him this Model of perfection, he was gradually becoming conformed to His image; and he truly, and habitually, • walked humbly

with his God.'

For two or three months previous to his final separation from us in the flesh, the idea of his own approaching dissolution seems to have been familiar to him. I had an opportunity of observing this, especially at one particular period; when,

from a recent confinement, and the interdiction of all study, he became acutely nervous and sensitive. About that time, too, he was seized with an alarming numbness, in one of his arms; attended by a shock, similar to that of paralysis. During the continuance of this attack, which lasted about an hour, he appeared to undergo a great mental struggle; the agonizing conflict bringing tears to his eyes. At length, the power having returned, of shaking off this weakness, by a violent effort, he was quite overcome by the gracious relief: and immediately withdrew to his own room; where he remained alone, for upwards of an hour. Then he rejoined his family, with more than his usual cheerfulness; and with a heavenly serenity, which seemed newly given to him.

The last week of his mortal being, cannot, while I remain after him, be severed from my thoughts; the recollection of it fills me with heartfelt gratitude to the Most High. From the great difficulty of breathing under which he laboured, it was a period of almost unintermitting suffering; fits, nearly of suffocation, came on continually during the night; frequently, too, during the course of the day. But his equanimity, patience, and reliance on the Divine Mercy, never, for a moment, forsook him. His resignation to the Divine will was meek, and unvaried; his whole