to the university sermon; and it will be desirable to continue the practice whenever the sacrament is administered. The effect is evidently beneficial.'

Wednesday, May 2. Interview with Mr. Peel and Mr. A. Baring on finance. Returned to Oxford.'

'Sept. 2, 1822. Set out on an excursion with Captain Bond* for the north of Devon. Went this day with my aunt C. and sister Caroline to Tedbourn. Saw the church and parsonage house, which had been the residence of my grandfather and great grandfather eighty years; proceeded by way of Copleston's Stone to Chulmleigh. Part of the old tower at Copleston still remains, being the middle of the front of the house.'

'September 6. Walked before breakfast with Captain Bond to the Hubble-stone, where tradition says Hubba the Dane landed. To Clovelly and Hartland, where we slept.'

After a few other similar entries, the account of this little excursion ends thus:

any

'A tour which was fuller of interest and pleasure than I have ever made in this country. The fineness of the weather, the intelligent, lively, active, and accommodating character of my companion, and the variety of objects included within the compass of nine days' excursion, all contributed to render it a delightful episode in the long vacation.'

Towards the end of October in the next year, I find an entry perhaps still more characteristic.

'The whole of this summer has been one of the happiest, perhaps the happiest, of my life. Good health and spirits— my friends and relations all well-frequent visits to almost

* Afterwards Admiral Bond, of Exeter.

H

all of them in Devonshire-interesting excursions, and a sufficient degree of intellectual employment in reviewing Buckland to make the relaxation of visiting and travelling agreeable.'

These, too, which follow, written after his return to college, should not be omitted.

'Nov. 8, 1823. M. Schlegel dined with me. He is a professor of Sanscrit at Bonn, and has translated Shakespeare into German; lively, sensible, learned, and polite.' 'Nov. 12. Captain Franklyn dined with me.'

'Sunday, Nov. 16. Philander Chase, bishop of Ohio, called on Mr. Spry at my house, and dined here. A venerable primitive character (æt. forty-eight), not unlike the bust of Luther, and reminding us strongly, by the simplicity of dress and manner, of the earlier ages of the church. His object is to solicit in England support for the church in his diocese, the newly settled state of Ohio. For want of means to educate their clergy, the church is declining, and, he fears, expiring; but, not despairing, he resolved to come to England himself upon this mission, though against the advice of several of his brethren.'

'Dec. 21. Heard Irving at the Caledonian chapel. Ingenious and eloquent, but fanciful and unsound. In manner, studied and theatrical to excess.

'Wednesday, Dec. 24. To Althorp, and returned to Oxford the following Saturday. Lord Spencer's family is

the

very pattern of an ancient nobleman's house-dignified but affable, kind, hospitable, orderly, and religious.'

Another and a different visit at six months' distance, put together with the above, illustrates well the great variety and interest of Dr. Copleston's acquaintance.

'July 8, 1824. Dined at Mongewell; a very interesting

day. The bishop (Barrington) was ninety on the 26th of last May, yet he is cheerful, polite, and even active. Sat at the head of his table, was attentive to everybody; walked without a stick and without support, and after dinner read a letter without spectacles. The weather being fine we had tea in the greenhouse, and at eight took our leave.'

From this point in the diary I do not find any notice of particular interest for a considerable space; nor can I occupy a portion of that space better than by inserting the following letter, written in 1824.

My dear Whately,

Oriel College, October 24.

Whether I answered the letter I received from you in Devonshire, announcing the birth of your third child, I really do not know; but I had some qualms of conscience on that score, and was about to write at a venture, when your letter of the 20th arrived. The postscript serves to lessen the anxiety naturally excited in the breast of a friend by the general tone of this letter. Before many days are over, I trust you will be able to tell me that your alarm is at an end. A little change of air, and scene, and occupation, as soon as Mrs. W. is able to bear it, will, I dare say, re-establish her health.

I can easily enter into the feelings you describe, which impel Mrs. W. to exertions beyond her strength; but after so severe a lesson, even the sense of duty must be satisfied in permitting many things to go unattended to, which, if the means were in our hands, we should be glad to regulate. It seems absurd to mount to metaphysical principles for a guide in the common familiar concerns of life. Yet I have frequently been led to reflect on the wide prevalence of evil in the world, as a proof that God cannot expect us to harass ourselves incessantly in resisting it. He doubtless permits it, as affording an arena for our energies, directed as

they should be in obedience to his will. But it could never be meant that our own enjoyment is to be nullified by it.

These reflections used to occur to my mind when engaged in active duties as a college officer; and it often appeared to me the most difficult question, with what degree of evil existing under one's eyes one might fairly indulge a feeling of complacency, and a desire for repose or enjoyment. No one will say that these feelings are not to be indulged at all, while any degree of evil exists around us which we may by possibility counteract. Our Saviour himself was not always teaching or relieving distress, and much both of moral and physical evil he must have witnessed without interfering to correct it.

Whenever, therefore, a service of this kind exceeds the measure of our health or spirits, we ought to be satisfied that another duty withdraws us from it, and endeavour to forget, by diversion to other objects, the imperfections and blemishes which are inseparable from earthly things.

It is seldom, indeed, that one has occasion to inculcate this sort of duty, but the best motives require a moderating hand; even benevolence itself may grow up into asceticism. Have you yet read Davison's volume on prophecy? It is an able and valuable work; yet I cannot conceive how a man of his powers can reject the solution proposed of the difficulty about prescience, &c., and adhere to the old clumsy expedient which he quotes with praise from Archbishop Bramhall. Indeed the whole of the seventh discourse is

very inferior in ability to the rest. His note is very provoking for he quotes a passage from Bramhall about dif ferent nature, much more liable to the abuse he deprecates than anything Archbishop King has said.

Bishop Mant is here on his way to London, where he means to pass the winter, being in parliament this session. He is quite happy in his new see.

Ever sincerely yours,

E. COPLESTON.

Writing in 1831 to the Rev. J. M. Traherne, the bishop speaks of Dr. Whately in the following

terms:

Dr. Whately accepted the arduous station proposed to him purely, I believe, from public spirit and a sense of duty. Wealth and honour, and title and power, have no charms for him. He has great energy and intrepidity; a hardihood which sustains him against obloquy when he knows he is discharging a duty, and he is generous and disinterested almost to a fault. His enlarged views, his sincerity, and his freedom from prejudice, are more than a compensation for his want of conciliating manner. When his character is understood, he will, I think, acquire more influence with the Irish than he would with the English.'

In academical, and, to a great extent, in theological matters, the names of Whately and of Copleston have been long associated, not with equal approval, we know, nor with like feelings, by all. How justly their opinions upon important points have been set down for identical, or what exceptions ought to be made, I shall not here discuss; and I think it will be generally felt that this is neither the time nor the place for doing so. I would not say one word calculated to awaken the sleeping echoes of controversy, sounds so ill suited to the present occasion, and so dissonant from the tone of my own mind, as at present employed. Having enjoyed the privilege of reading much of a free and intimate correspondence between these two highly-gifted and generous-minded men, I have been convinced of the injustice with which the con