which he now became increasingly subject, and which left behind a painful degree of debility, and an habitual depression of spirits. The uneasiness he felt at holding the professorship without discharging its duties, had at one time made him resolve upon resigning the office. But he did not hold it long. On the 24th of July, 1771, while at dinner in the college hall, he was seized with a sudden nausea and faintness, symptomatic of an attack of gout in the stomach. A few days after, he suffered a repetition of the attack with aggravated violence, followed by frequent convulsion fits, and on the 30th of July, he expired in his fifty-fifth year.

The account of Gray, given by one of his contemporaries, to the general accuracy of which all his biographers have subscribed, represents him as "perhaps the most learned man in Europe." He was equally acquainted with the elegant and the profound parts of science, and that not superficially, but thoroughly. He knew every branch of history, both natural and civil; had read all the original historians of England, France, and Italy; and was a great antiquary. He was deeply read in Dugdale, Hearne, and Spelman, and was a complete master of heraldry. His skill in zoology and entomology was extremely accurate; and during the latter part of his life, he found time to resume the

botanical studies of his early years. His taste in music, we are told, was excellent, being formed on the study of the great Italian masters contemporary with Pergolesi, and he performed on the harpsichord. In painting he was a connoisseur, and architecture at one time received a considerable portion of his studious attention. But classical literature was his favourite pursuit: to this he applied with constant, unwearied assiduity; and he is generally allowed the merit of having been a profound as well as an elegant scholar. The notes upon various Greek authors, which he has left behind him, bear the marks of patient labour and accurate judgment. His criticisms are replete with philosophical discrimination, and discover, like every thing else that proceeded from his pen, the most refined and delicate taste.

Gray is described as in person small, but well made, very nice and exact in his dress, in conversation lively, and possessing a singular facility of expression. By his intimate friends he appears to have been tenderly esteemed. To strangers he observed a reserve and precision of deportment which seemed to bespeak the reverse of sociability, while his polished language, which might be mistaken by them for a studied style, together with his effeminate and what were thought finical manners, subjected him to the charge of affectation. His fastidi

ousness too would sometimes betray itself in the visible expression of contempt; and he was satirical; but we do not learn that either his contempt or his sarcasm was ever bestowed inappropriately, or without just provocation. His general conduct was marked by urbanity and cheerfulness; his mind never contracted "the rust of pedantry." Dr. Beattie says, "he had none of the airs of either a scholar or a poet." He was capable too of warm friendship, and such a man could not be an unamiable man. On the contrary, he is spoken of as an ornament to society.

It is charged upon his character as a weakness, that, like Congreve, while he himself owed all his distinction to his mental endowments and literary attainments, he "could not bear to be considered only as a man of letters; and though without birth, or fortune, or station, his desire was to be looked upon as a private independent gentleman who read for his amusement." There is a passage in one of his letters which partly confirms, and at the same time throws some light on this representation. "To find one's self business," he writes, "I am persuaded is the great art of life. I am never so angry as when I hear my acquaintance wishing they had been bred to some poking profession, or employed in some office of drudgery; as if it were pleasanter to be at the command of other people, than at one's own;

and as if they could not go, unless they were wound up: yet I know and feel what they mean by this complaint; it proves that some spirit, something of genius (more than common) is required to teach a man how to employ himself." Is it more than candid to conclude that his unwillingness to be regarded as a man of letters, arose from that dislike of ostentatious pretension which distinguishes the man of thorough learning from the pedant, while what he saw in the University of professional vulgarity, made him set the more value on the character of the gentleman? And in this who will say that Gray was not right?

ERECTED IN STOKE PARK TO THE

MEMORY OF GRAY.

THE delightful scenery of the Churchyard, and of Stoke old mansion, seen among the trees, are admirably described in the "Elegy" and "Long Story," but that once magnificent "Ancient Pile" is now a ruin. The "Ode on a Prospect of Eton College," distant about four miles, was written on this spot. Sir Edward Coke's Column in the distance, is another of those chaste ornaments with which this classic

scene is adorned. The inscription and quotations following, are on the several sides of the pedestal of the Sarcophagus.

This Monument

in honor of Thomas Gray,

was erected A. D. MDCCXCIX, among
the scenes celebrated by that
Great Lyric and Elegiac Poet.

He died XXX July MDCCLXXI, and
lies unnoticed in the Church Yard
adjoining, under the Tombstone on t
which he piously and pathetically
recorded the interment of his
Aunt, and lamented Mother.

"Beneath these rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where beaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike th'. inevitable hour:
The paths of glory lead but to the grave."

"Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove
Now drooping, woful wan, like one forlorn,
Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
One morn, I miss'd him on the 'custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree;
Another came, nor yet beside the rill,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he."

"Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
That crown the wat'ry glade,
Ah! happy hills! ah pleasing shade!
Ah! fields belov'd in vain!

Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
A stranger yet to pain!

I feel the gales that from ye blow,
A momentary bliss bestow.

Represented in the view under the church window to the left. The legend is as follows. In the vault beneath, are deposited in hope of a joyful resurrection, the remains of MARY ANTROBUS. She died unmarried November 5th, 1749, aged 66. In the same pious confidence, beside her friend and sister, here sleep the remains of DOROTHY GRAY, widow, the careful tender Mother of many Children, one of whom alone had the misfortune to survive her. She died March 11th, 1753, aged 67.