field, nor will the reader be surprised that it has been pronounced by so eminent authority, a "very masterly" discourse, replete with "power and wisdom.”

I turn to a passage in his life at this period, of which he always spoke with a poet's fervour, as one of the most delightful enjoyments he had experienced. In the summer of 1844 he visited the lovely scenery of Westmoreland, as the guest of his much-loved friend, the Rev. Robert Perceval Graves, Curate of Windermere. It was here that he first formed the acquaintance of our greatest living poet. Nothing on this earth could be more deeply interesting than the communion of such minds in such a scene. The venerable Laureate

"With open arms received one poet more;"

and Professor Butler was profoundly touched, as I have heard him describe, by such an exhibition of what human nature can attain, even on earth, of moral and intellectual excellence. Some particulars connected with this visit have been communicated to me by Mr. Graves, in a letter which I insert without apology for its length, as in truth I feel that it is much more interesting than anything I could substitute for it myself.

"Windermere Parsonage, "March 31, 1849.

"MY DEAR SIR,—I am rejoiced to hear that, by the spirited liberality of Messrs. Hodges and Smith, and their interest in the literary fame of the University with which they are connected as publishers, you are enabled, in part, to fulfil the trust committed to you, by giving to the public a volume of the Sermons of our deeply lamented friend, Professor Butler, and that you have consented to prefix to it a biographical sketch. You tell me that, in a life which had not much of external incident, his visit to the English Lake District in 1844, when I had the happiness of being his host, was one of which he often spoke with enthusiastic pleasure; and you ask me to furnish you with some record of it. Like himself, I have always been in the habit of looking back to it as a very bright spot in the region of the past; but, in complying with your request, I lament that a memory irretentive of details prevents my reproducing what would be necessary to give it interest in the eyes of others.

You must, therefore, be content with a slight note of a few of its pleasurable events.

"It was in July of the year I have mentioned, when the holidays of my pupils placed a spare bed or two at my disposal, that he accepted the invitation of Mrs. Graves and myself, to make my rural parsonage his home for a fortnight, while he sought refreshment and a poet's luxury amid the picturesque beauties of this locality, and gave me the opportunity of introducing him to my distinguished neighbour and friend, Mr. Wordsworth. I was able to hold out to him an additional attraction, in the circumstance that my old friend, Sir William R. Hamilton, had promised, for the same time, to quit his Observatory, and do me the honour of a visit. You may imagine the pleasure and instruction we derived from the unreserved converse and the animated discussions, on subjects the most interesting, of men so powerful in intellect, so affluent in all the resources of knowledge, so brilliant in conversational eloquence and wit, so genial and unassuming in disposition, and withal so constantly regardful of Christian principle in the exercise of their many gifts. To enjoy and to promote enjoyment of the purest and highest nature was their common object during this brief unbending from laborious studies, and many who then met them will remember long how perfectly they succeeded. Before the arrival of Sir William R. Hamilton, our friend joined a pedestrian group, of both sexes, in an excursion to Wastwater and our more distant mountain scenery, and I heard from all, that his fine enthusiasm and his companionable pleasantness made him the delight of the whole party. Afterwards his excursions were confined within a narrower range, but to these nothing was wanting, either of exquisite natural beauty, or of associated thoughts, or of the still keener stimulus of the society of eminent persons, as you will judge when I tell you that they included frequent visits to Rydal Mount, where he soon gained the friendship of Mr. Wordsworth and his family, and walks to Blea Tarn, Dungeon Ghyll, and other scenes in Langdale and Grasmere, rendered classical by the poetry of the Bard of Rydal; as also to the Tarn and Valley of Easedale, where he and Sir William R. Hamilton became known to the venerable and admirable Mrs. Fletcher and her daughters; and to Fox How, a place of pilgrimage to all who, however else differing in opinion, are admirers of Chris

tian courage and a forcible intellect, imparting energy to the love of truth and goodness, because the residence, built by himself, of the lamented Arnold, and still inhabited by those whom he loved, and who variously reflect the brightness of his character.

"One of these walks deserves a special record, both on account of the distinguished persons whom it united in enjoyment, and the full realization it afforded of all that might be expected of the quality of the enjoyment to which such men were the contributors. The party consisted of Mr. Wordsworth, Archdeacon Hare, Sir William R. Hamilton, Professor Butler, and two ladies, both by name and mental qualities worthy of the association, besides myself. The day was brilliant, and continued so throughout, as we ascended one of the ravines of Loughrigg Fell, opposite to Rydal, crossed over the Fell, descended to the margin of Loughrigg Tarn, and returned to the social circle of Rydal Mount by the western side of Grasmere and Rydal Lakes, enjoying the perfect view of the former lake to be seen from the green terrace of Loughrigg, and the equally advantageous aspect of Rydal Mere and Nab Scar, which this route presents. I remember that not only poetry and philosophy, with other lighter matters, formed topics of conversation, but that religious subjects also, and especially the doctrine of the Resurrection, were spoken of with a reverent and cordial interest. Our eminent countrymen excited admiration from all, by the ample share they contributed, in the way both of original remark and brilliantly apposite quotation, to the fund of intellectual treasure then poured forth. The day was additionally memorable as giving birth to an interesting minor poem of Mr. Wordsw h's. When we reached the side of Loughrigg Tarn (which, you may remember, he notes for its similarity in the peculiar character of its beauty, to the Lago di Nemi,-Dianæ Speculum), the loveliness of the scene arrested our steps and fixed our gaze. The splendour of a July noon surrounded us and lit up the landscape, with the Langdale Pikes soaring above, and the bright tarn shining beneath; and when the poet's eyes were satisfied with their feast on the beauty familiar to them, they sought relief in the search, to them a happy vital habit, for new beauty in the flowerenamelled turf at his feet. There his attention was attracted by a fair, smooth stone, of the size of an ostrich's egg, seeming

to imbed at its centre, and, at the same time, to display a dark star-shaped fossil of most distinct outline. Upon closer inspection this proved to be the shadow of a daisy projected upon it with extraordinary precision by the intense light of an almost vertical sun. The poet drew the attention of the rest of the party to the minute, but beautiful phenomenon, and gave expression at the time to thoughts suggested by it, and which so interested our friend, Professor Butler, that he plucked the tiny flower, and, saying that it should be not only the theme but the memorial of the thoughts they had heard,' bestowed it somewhere, carefully, for preservation. The little poem, in which some of those thoughts were afterwards crystallized, commences with the stanza,

'So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive,

Would that the little flowers were born to live,
Conscious of half the pleasure that they give;'

and is to be found at page 385 of the one volume edition of the poet's works.

"Another day was spent by us in boating on Windermere, and walking along its western shore, with Mr. Wordsworth again in our company, instructing us by the observations which his admirable and practised taste dictated on the elements of the picturesque, as exemplified or suggested by the scene before us; and by his philosophical and artistic criticisms on poetry, illustrated by passages from Campbell, Burns, Byron, and Shelley. A remark was made by one of the party, that there was little indication in Byron's poetry of his having been an accurate observer of nature. This seemed generally concurred in, but led to Butler's citing, as an example to the contrary, the image in that noble couplet:

Yet Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying,

Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind.'

And I remember Mr. Wordsworth saying that he considered this to be the finest image in Byron's poetry, and, as displaying a grand ideal truth symbolized by an equally grand and correspondingly unusual phenomenon of the outer world, scarcely to be surpassed. The felicity of Shelley's Lines to the Skylark met with an equally generous encomium from the great poet;

and this led to our enjoying a feast of discourse upon the delicious music of that bird, and its exquisite circumstances and associations, drawing out many of Mr. Wordsworth's own poetical contributions to a subject which seems to have possessed a peculiar charm for him, and which, from no other single poet, has received more valuable enrichment. Nor were deeper and more weighty topics that day undiscussed. You may imagine how all this was enjoyed by our friend.

"But let it not be thought that he gave up the whole even of his short holiday to thus intellectually luxuriating: he never lost sight of his sacred character as a commissioned minister of Christ's Gospel, but always seemed most happy when, by conversation or in any other way, he could be forwarding his Master's cause. The simple earnestness with which the paramount importance of the truths of Christianity was upheld and enforced by a man possessed of so strong an intellect and such warm affections, made his religious conversation deeply impressive; and the remarkable impressiveness of his preaching arose, doubtless, in a great measure, from the same cause. He twice occupied the pulpit of my church, preaching first from the text, They crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh' (Heb. vi. 6), and afterwards from Rev. i. 17, 18. Most striking, indeed, was the effect of the former sermon, in which he showed how the original crucifixion of our Lord was the natural result of the habitual feelings and practices of its guilty perpetrators, and that the very same corrupt feelings and practices are constantly and habitually at work among ourselves, and, under similar circumstances, would produce a similar result. The power and truth of the analysis of human nature, as now operating in the world around us, by which he sustained his argument, were really startling; and several of my congregation, struck by the lesson they had received, expressed to me their wish to subscribe towards the publication of the sermons of such a preacher. The following anecdote may interest you, as evidencing both the versatile power of his intellect and the conscientiousness which made him desire to be useful rather than to be admired. On one of these Sundays he was summoned, without notice, to preach at Ambleside, in the place of some one disabled, I believe by sickness, from performing that part of the duty. When he reached the chapel the reading of the prayers was nearly concluded. He took with him into the pulpit one of