on horseback every morning, and afterwards employed in various business till about one o'clock; at that time, or soon after, he went to his library, and remained there till almost dinner time. His friends had then constant access to him; and, considering the frequent interruption of visitors, it is a matter of some surprize, that he was enabled to write so much as he did. But it is a proof that not one moment of his time was unemployed. When Parliament was sitting, he regularly attended his duty there; and as the Lords, if not detained by particularly important business, rose rather carly, he was to be met every day in the House of Commons, where, from long usage, he was almost regarded as a member. Those who have sat next to him, during a debate, cannot forget the vivacity and justness of his remarks, on the different speakers. As president of the academy, he equally attended their meetings, and when his health was interrupted, the academy, from their respect to him, adjourned their sittings to Charlemont House. At home, and in the bosom of his family, he enjoyed domestic society, with tranquil, unruffled satisfaction and pleasure. From continued study during part of his life, his eyes had suffered irreparable injury, and, on that account, some one of his family constantly read to him every evening which was not given to mixed company. As to his person, Lord Charlemont was of the middle size, or rather above it; but he stooped considerably, especially towards the latter part of his life; the effect, I believe, of ill health. When he appeared with his blue ribband, and in full dress at the levee, his air and deportment were exactly those of a Foreign Ambassador of the highest rank. His eyebrows were large and black. His features, when a young man, to judge of him from one or two portraits, were of a softened and delicate cast; but pain and indisposition soon perform the work of age, and even before he reached middle life, had materially changed them. They became expanded, strong, and more expressive than handsome. When he spoke, or addressed any one, the amenity of his mind was diffused over his countenance, and rendered it peculiarly engaging. CHARACTER OF BEILBY PORTEUS, D. D. late Lord Bishop of London. From the Life of that Prelate, by the Rev. Robert Hodgson. The Bishop was in person under the middle size, of a thin and slender frame, and naturally of a tender constitution. In his youth he must have been extremely bandsome; his features were of a superior cast; and, even when advanced in years, he still retained a remarkable clearness of complexion. These, however, were not the circumstances, which formed the prominent character of his countenance. There was a mildness, a gentleness, an air of genuine philanthropy about it, with which even indifferent persons were always struck; and yet, when lighted up by the occasion, it displayed the utmost vivacity and animation. His smile had something in it uncommonly captivating; and, though he never lost sight of that dignity, which became his station, it was yet a dignity totally unmixed with pride. He had the enviable talent of dissipating at once that feeling of reserve and apprehension, which, in the presence of a superior, is so often a bar to the freedom and comfort of social intercourse, and by the graciousness of his manner placing those around him perfectly at ease. He delighted in cheerful, lively conversation, and no one ever more promoted it, or perhaps more excelled in it. There was a spirit and playfulness in his language, which gave an interest even to the most ordinary topics; and on subjects of graver import, he always appeared to great advantage. His remarks were conspicuous for correct taste, accurate information, and a sound and well regulated judgment; and he expressed himself with so much facility and perspicuity, so much natural energy and eloquence, as never failed to excite attention, and render his society equally instructive and entertaining. In estimating his intellectual acquirements, I do not think that profound erudition can be ascribed to him. He had not the inclination, if he had the faculty, to fix and concentrate his thoughts on any one particular science. His imagination was too active and ardent for such exclusive application. Perhaps, if he had followed the natural bent of his genius, poetry would have been his favourite pursuit. He saw every thing with a poet's eye; he loved to dwell and expatiate on the wild scenes of nature; his fancy was · easily fired, and his affections moved; and he had all that enthusiasm of feeling, which delights in warm and glowing description. As, however, he had other views in life, he very wisely checked this early impulse, and applied himself to graver studies. In classical literature, he held unquestionably no mean rank; for, without that critical exactness, which constitutes the profound scholar, he had read with attention the best writers of antiquity, both Greek and Latin; entered with taste and discernment into their various beauties; and, as his memory was strong and retentive, could recal without difficulty whatever in them was most worthy of being remembered. In his admirable tract, for instance, on the Beneficial Effects of Christianity, there is an appeal to ancient authorities in confirmation of his argument, which marks an intimate acquaintance with Pagan history, and the books of principal credit, from which any accurate account could be collected of the manners, habits, and circumstances of Pagan nations. It is evident from that treatise, that he was completely master of his subject; that he had within his grasp whatever could illustrate and enforce it; and that, by a full and ample statement of well-authenticated facts, he has unanswerably proved his position. In regard to theological attainment, there have undoubtedly been, and there are undoubtedly now in the world, men of wider research, more critical precision, and more copious and extensive learning. But still, generally speaking, he must be considered even even in these respects to have ranked high in his profession. His knowledge of Hebrew literature, though he never made any display of it, was by no means inconsiderable. He was well versed in ecclesiastical history. The evidences of religion, natural and revealed, were in their whole extent familiar to him. He had made himself thoroughly acquainted with the different systems of theology, which divide the Christian. world; and few undoubtedly had ever studied Scripture itself with greater care or more profound attention. He was, in short, in every view of the subject, a sound, well-informed, and able divine; and it is, in my judgment, a circum tance highly honourable to his character, that he had read divinity without imbibing any of. that narrow, contracted spirit, which is known sometimes to attach to it. He was indeed on principle, and from a deep persuasion of its superior excellence, unalterably attached to the Church of England. He considered its doctrines, as exhibited in its homilies, "its articles, and its liturgy, to be essentially and fundamentally scriptural. The Calvinistic interpretation of them he would never admit to be the true one; and in this opinion he was uniform and consistent. He conceived them to speak the language of Scripture, which, in his view of it, was decidedly adverse to the sentiments of Calvin. Upon this point, I wish distinctly to be understood, as asserting on my own positive knowledge, that in no one article of faith, as far as they differ from our church, did he sanction the tenets of that school. On the con trary, I have heard him repeatedly and in the most unqualified terms express his astonishment, that any sober-minded man, sitting down without prejudice to the study of the Sacred Writings, should so explain and understand them. He was not less attached to the Church of England in its discipline, which he thought formed altogether on the apostolical model; and no one was ever more strenuous in resisting any depar ture from it on the part of its established ministers. In parliament, the Bishop never spoke, except on points strictly ecclesiastical, connected either with the discipline and good order of the church, or the general welfare of religion. But when he did deliver his sentiments, he expressed himself with ease, propriety, and firmness, and was always heard with attention. His political opinions were those of Mr. Pitt; and he entertained them, not blindly and submissively on a mere party principle, but from a conscientious deliberate conviction, that they were intrinsically right. As a preacher, the Bishop's reputation has ever stood deservedly high in the public estimation. Few men, indeed, were ever so remarkably endowed with all the qualities, which give pre-eminence in the pulpit. His voice, without unusual loudness or strength, was yet uncommonly clear; and it was combined with such a liquid, distinct enunciation, as rendered him completely audible even in the largest churches, and to the most crowded congregations. It also possessed great sweetness and flexibility; and he had the talent of modulating it so correctly, as al ways ways to please and satisfy the ear, and yet so easily and naturally, as never, even in the slightest degree, to incur the charge of affectation. His delivery was very impressive. It was chaste, earnest, spirited, devout. He had no studied action, no vehement and forced emotion. He spoke evidently as he felt. His whole soul was in his subject. He seemed to forget himself in the deep interest which he took in the edification of his hearers; and this circumstance gave, as it manifestly would, such a power and charm to his preaching, as never failed to extort attention even from the coldest and the most insensible. His style was admirably adapted to the pulpit. It was plain, without being too familiar; classical, without being pedantic. His great aim was, to express himself so clearly, that the meanest and the least informed might always comprehend him; and yet with such correctness and purity, as to be heard with satisfaction by men of taste and education. How perfectly he succeeded, his disCourses prove. They are distinguished throughout by the most elegant simplicity: at the same time, when the occasion calls for it, they are strong, nervous, eloquent, sublime. His sentiments and language rise with his subject; and, heightened as they were by his peculiar elocution, they made a deep and most powerful impression, But it was neither style, nor manner, nor utterance, which alone gave such efficacy to his preaching. His sermons are conspicuous for sound judgment, solid argument, great knowledge of the human heart, accurate observation of the world, an unshrinking repro bation of vice, the most persuasive exhortations to piety, and an unqualified avowal of all the essential, fundamental truths and doctrines of the gospel. It has been said indeed, that there are in his discourses no deep views of religion; and unquestionably they contain no elaborate discussions on controverted points of theology; no visionary flights of fancy into things not revealed; no minute details of religious struggles, impulses, and feelings. But, for the grand object of practical and vital amendment; for all that can seize, excite, and interest the best feelings of the soul; for that energetic appeal to the heart and conscience, which can arrest the sinner in a course of guilt, strike him with compunction, urge him to repentance, save him from perdition; for that earnestness of parental counsel, which can fix the wavering and confirm the virtuous; for that power of spiritual consolation, which can soothe the afflicted, bind up the broken-hearted, cheer the suffering, comfort the desponding; for that gentle, meek, conciliating spirit, which can soften the asperity of religious dispute, and unite men of various and discordant sentiments in the bond of peace, amity, and affection;- for all these purposes, I know no discourses superior; and there are not wanting instances on record, in which they are known to have been powerfully and signally efficacious. Providence had blessed him with ample means, and he employed them freely and largely in remoying to the utmost of his power the wants of the necessitous. The tale of distress never came to him unheeded. anheeded. His heart and his hand were ever open; and many were his acts of charity, which were known only to himself and those whom he relieved. In him the poor had a kind, a constant, an unfailing friend; not that he wished to encourage a system of beging, much less that sordid, lazy wretchedness, which sometimes is allied to poverty. On the contrary, he endeavoured to select the virtuous and industrious; and, whilst he never refused to give something to those, who seemed to be in need, he always gave more readily and liberally to those, who really wanted, and who, he knew, deserved it. His principle was, in short, in all cases, if possible, to discriminate; but not to shrink from an act of charity through a general suspicion of artifice and deception. The very habit of giving was in his apprehension more than an equivalent for accidental imposition. To almost all our public charities he more or less contributed; and often, where it was necessary, to a large amount. Wherever, in deed, positive good could be done, or positive evil be removed, his aid was never wanting. He was "glad to distribute, willing to communicate." To those of his clergy, in particular, whose situation and circumstances required assistance, his kindness was unceasing; and it was always rendered doubly acceptable by the unostentatious manner in which it was bestowed. There are many living at this moment, who can bear ample testimony to the truth of this declaration; and who must often heave a sigh of regret at the loss of so warm a friend, and so generous a benefactor. But, though he himself can now no longer dispense it, his liberality will still be felt in that splendid, and almost unexampled donation of no less a sum than 6700l. in the 3 per cents. consolidated annuities, which, during his life, he transferred into the hands of the five archdeacons for the time being of the diocese of London; and the interest of which he directed to be annually distributed at their discretion, in sums not exceeding 201. to a certain number of the poorer clergy in that see, who may be thought to stand most in need of relief. This was indeed a noble act of munificence; and it will for ages yet to come render his name illustrious, and endear his memory to the church of England. His mind, naturally active and vigorous, required employment; and long habit had made it easy and familiar to him. He was besides, a rigid economist of time. Unless illness prevented him, he rose constantly at six in the morning, and every part of the day had its proper, its allotted occupation. It was by this regular, methodical arrangement, from which he never deviated, that he was enabled to dispatch his public, official business with the utmost accuracy. and precision, and yet to perform other duties not less imperative, in his judgment, than those, which strictly attached to his episcopal station. He could never satisfy himself with the mere formal discharge of certain stated functions. In every way that good could be done, he spared no pains to do it. He thought his hours well employed, his labours well repaid, if, by any exertion of his own, he could |