permanent, humble and fearfully hoping that my better part may find a better mansion!

It would seem as if he anticipated the hour of his passing away. He sent sweet messages of loving-kindness to all his friends, entreating and exchanging pardons; recapitulated his motives of action on various political emergences; gave directions as to his funeral, and then listened with attention to some serious papers of Addison on religious subjects and on the immortality of the soul. His attendants after this were in the act of removing him to his bed, when indistinctly invoking a blessing on all around him, he sunk down and expired on the 9th of July, 1797, in the sixty-eighth year of his age.

'His end,' said his friend Doctor Lawrence, was suited to the simple greatness of mind which he displayed through life; every way unaffected, without levity, without ostentation, full of natural grace and dignity, he appeared neither to wish nor to dread, but patiently and placidly to await, the appointed hour of his dissolution.

It was almost impossible to people, in fancy, the tattered and neglected churchyard of Beaconsfield as it now is-with those who swelled the funeral pomp of the greatest ornament of the British senate; to imagine the titled pall-bearers, where the swine were tumbling over graves, and rooting at headstones. Seldom, perhaps never, in England, had we seen a churchyard so little cared for as that, where the tomb of Waller * renders the surrounding disorder in a sacred place' more conspicuous by its lofty pretensions, and where the church is regarded as the mausoleum of Edmund Burke. Surely the decency of churchyards' ought to be enforced, if those to whom they should be sacred trusts, neglect or forget their duty. That the churchyard of Beaconsfield, which has long been considered a shrine,' should be suffered to remain in the state in which we saw it, is a disgrace not only to the town, but to England; it was differently cared for during Burke's life-time, and though his will expressed

* Waller was a resident in this vicinity, in which his landed property chiefly lay. He lived in the family mansion named Well's Court, a property still in the possession of his descendants. His tomb is a table monument of white marble, upon which rises a pyramid, resting on skulls with bat's wings; it is a peculiar but picturesque addition to the churchyard, and, from its situation close to the walk, attracts much attention.

a disinclination to posthumous honours, and unnecessary expense, never were mourners more sincere-never did there arise to the blue vault of heaven the incense of greater, and more deepfelt sorrow, than from the multitude who assembled in and around the church, while the mortal remains of Edmund Burke, were placed in the same vault with his son and brother.

The tablet to his memory, placed on the wall of the south aisle of the church, records his last resting-place with the relatives just named; as

well as the fact of the same grave containing the body of his entirely beloved and incomparable wife,' who died in 1812, at the age of 76. Deeply do we deplore that the dwelling where he enjoyed so much that

* Our engraving exhibits his simple tablet, as seen from the central aisle of the church, immediately in front of the pew in which Burke and his family always sat.

renders life happy, and suffered what sanctifies and prepares us for a better world, exists no longer; but his name is incorporated with our history, and adds another to the list of the great men who have been called into life and received their first and best impressions in Ireland; and if Ireland had given nothing to her more prosperous sister than the extraordinary menthe men of practical utility—of the past and present century, she merits her gratitude for the gifts which bestow so much honour and glory on the "United Kingdoms."

Mrs. Burke, previous to her death, sold the mansion to her neighbour, Mr. John Du Pré, of Wilton Park. Mrs. Haviland, Mr. Burke's niece, lived with her to the last, though she did not receive the portion of her fortune to which she was considered entitled. Her son, Thomas Haviland Burke, grand-nephew of Edmund, became the lineal representative of the family; but the library and all the tokens of respect and admiration which he received from the good, and from the whole world, went with the property to Mrs. Burke's nephew, Mr. Nugent. Some of the sculpture which ornamented the house now graces the British Museum.

The mansion was burnt on the 23rd of April, 1813. The ground where it stood is unequal; made so, in some instances, apparently, by the débris of the ruined structure: parts of the park wall remain, and many fine old trees yet flourish there, beneath whose shade we picture the meeting between the mourning father and the favourite horse of his lost son.

There is a full-length portrait of Edmund Burke in the Examination Hall of the Dublin University. All such portraits should be copied, and preserved in our own Houses of Parliament, a meet honour to the dead, and a stimulant to the living to go and do likewise.'* It hardly realises, however, the idéal of Burke; perhaps no portrait could. What Miss

*The late Queen Caroline, when Princess of Wales, requested the widow of Edmund Burke to let her have a cast taken from the bust of her husband, and the widow anxious for his honour-as Her Royal Highness said it should be one in a gallery she was about to form of British Worthies-presented the Princess with the original. The collection was never formed; and at the sale of Her Royal Highness's effects at Connaught House, it was discovered amongst the rubbish, and put up for sale. There was a contest for its possession between Turnerelli, the sculptor, and Mrs. Thomas Haviland; the lady bought her uncle's bust, and some time afterwards Mr. Haviland presented it to the British Museum,'-PRIOR'S Life of Burke.

Edgeworth called the 'ground-plan of the face' is there; but we must imagine the varying expression, the light of the bright, quick eyes, the eloquence of the unclosed lips, the storm which could gather thunder-clouds on the well-formed brow. But we have far exceeded our limits without exhausting our subject, and, with Dr. Parr, in his memorable character of the man, still would speak of Burke :

'Of Burke, by whose sweetness, Athens herself would have been soothed, with whose amplitude and exuberance she would have been enraptured, and on whose lips that prolific mother of genius and science, would have adored, confessed-the Goddess of Persuasion.'

Alas! we have lingered long at his Shrine, and yet our praise is not half spoken!

THE REMAINS OF CLARENDON HOUSE.

LARENDON HOUSE, the magnificent palace of the great Earl of Clarendon, Lord High Chancellor of England, -the building of which, at vast expenditure, by exciting envy and suspicion, was the main cause of his downfal-is now indicated but by two pillars, of Corinthian order, which form the door-posts of a stable-yard in Piccadilly. Few of the thousands who pass it by daily, pause to bestow a thought upon the poor remnants which yet indicate the site; or revert to the olden time, when the now crowded locality was the immediate vicinage of the Court-a suburb of gigantic London. Yet what lofty memories are associated with this throng of houses; and with what force they come upon us, if we stroll through the broad street at night!

Everything in London is suggestive: for everything has a History. A moment's pause on the paved terrace which skirts the Green Park, and a glance along the varied line of homes,' commencing with that of 'the Iron Duke'-the square, solid, unpicturesque casket, which contains the tributes of mighty nations to one mightier than they,-and continued by mansions, in some of which lights are glittering and banquets are spread, to houses telling of the commingling of ranks, manifesting the health and strength of a commercial country, where the busy traffic of the day has yielded to repose,-on and on, until, as memories crowd