day's journey; and they sought him among their kinsfolk, and acquaintance.' No sooner do they miss their precious charge, than they conclude, that he had mingled with the companions of their journey. This persuasion is no less firm, than it was instantaneous; they travel a whole day, without faltering in their assurance. At length, they go in quest of him; and where do they search? Not in solitude, or in secrecy; not, as they might have done for the austere Baptist, in a wilderness. They seek him, among their kinsfolk, and acquaintance, among persons, whose intimacy is generally more unreserved, in proportion to the humility of their rank in life; and who were then, as we may suppose, beguiling the fatigues of a toilsome journey, by the free and playful interchange of confidential conversation. Now, we cannot imagine, that Joseph and his mother, were careless of the treasure committed to their keeping; or, that, in their search for him, they were guided by no surer principle, than indiscriminating surmise. Their conviction, that he had mingled with their friends, was natural, and reasonable; but it could not have been so, had it not been suggested by his ordinary conduct.' page 127, 128.

He thus beautifully touches on the poverty of the blessed Jesus: ..

to understand, that our Lord was poor; yet, no images are presented to us, which can excite mean and vulgar associations. There are, perhaps, only two instances, in which his poverty is pictured distinctly to the mind. These are, the scene

of his nativity, and that mournful expression of his, that he had not where to lay his head.' Now, in the first of these cases, the associated ideas, are all even of unearthly magnificence; the stable of Bethlehem, is transformed into a holy tabernacle, where the wise and great come to offer their incense, and angels themselves, attend, in humble ministration. And, as for the pathetic expression of the son of man, there is a majesty in its pathos, which exalts our conception of the moral sublime. We hear nothing, but what is fit to fall from the lips of persecuted royalty; we see nothing, save what a wise heathen, has pronounced the noblest sight, even for God to see,.. a great and good man rising superior to adversity.' Disc. iii. p. 160, 161.

The susceptibility of our Lord, unmingled with a single shade of weakness, is pictured, with happy discrimination: ..

In the most highly gifted among men, that temperament, by which the soul is softened, to imbibe the influence of genius or of sensibility, generally weakens the severer moral powers.

In

Christ alone, both are united, in their full perfection. He feels all our infirmities, yet he yields to none. He, no less than John the Baptist, is inclined to lonely meditation. He does not disdain to contemplate, even the lilies of the field; yet, he can move unwearied and undisturbed, amidst the tumults, and anxieties of public life. Unlike John, he is courteous but his is, always, the courtesy of a superior being; the serene grandeur of sovereign dominion. He calls, and public officers rise and follow him he appears, and rich young men kneel down to him, and call him master: he comes into the synagogue of his own town, and the eyes of all the congregation are fastened upon him he is silent, and no man durst question him: he speaks, and the people wonder at the gracious words which proceed out of his mouth.' Disc. iv. p. 175.

How these passages, (and, in the discourses of Mr. Phelan, there are many such,) may affect the reader, it is impossible to predict. To the editor, it must be owned, they appear the mingled growth, of native temperament, of indigenous habit, and, he will add, of the triumphant grace of God. At an early period of this memoir, it was intimated, that the subject of it was never vulgarized,' that, he was, in principle and manners, a native gentleman.' I will now add, from long experience and observation, that he became more, and more, a

devoted, but a happy christian: and my wish, serious as though it were my last one, is, .. Sit mea anima cum Phelano!

It now seems proper to revert to Dr. Phelan's state of feeling, on the occasion of fellowship-examinations in 1817. From the extracts already given, of his correspondence (p. 39.), it is evident, that he was neither sanguine in his hopes, nor elated by his success. To some, indeed, it may almost appear, that he had attained, or affected, the tranquillity of stoical indifference. Far different, however, was the real case: and, in order to place it fairly before the reader, we must recur to other passages of the same letters. In that of April 12., he tells his friend, I am not happy: nor can a fellowship make me so:'. . and, on June 5., three days after having apparently realized his most ardent hopes, he emphatically writes, .

At present, I feel myself very far from happy." The fact is, (and this will, at once, explain all seeming contradictions,) that, during his visit to Dundalk (p. 32.), his affections had been irrevocably engaged, to a sister of his friendly host. And, although, during his continuance in Londonderry, prudence, and principle, and voluntary devotedness to his parents, allowed him not to think of an immediate marriage, . . yet, he was not without hopes, that some settlement might offer, compa

tible with the attainment of his dearest wishes. It is not wonderful, then, that a fellowship, which, so long as it should be retained, must, probably, doom him to hopeless celibacy, was any thing rather than an object of complacency, or self-gratulation. He literally, therefore, had not wished to succeed. And, when, most unexpectedly, his efforts were crowned with success, his great object was, if practicable, to emancipate himself, by a royal dispensation. To accomplish this purpose, powerful efforts, were, at different times, fruitlessly employed. But the sudden death of the young lady's natural protector, determined him, at all hazards, to resign his fellowship, and fulfil his honourable engagement. Accordingly, on the eighteenth of May, eighteen hundred and twenty-three, he was married, on the licence of the Lord Bishop of Ferns, to Miss Margaret Stubbs, by her brother, the Reverend J. H. Stubbs, Vicar of Kilmacahill, in the church of that parish. Within the time specified by law, he subsequently resigned his fellowship, on the twelfth of August, in the same year; having received, from the Provost and Senior Fellows, a generous engagement, to extend to him the future privilege, of option to a college-living. Nor, should it be omitted, for it is highly to their honour, that the Junior Fellows voluntarily relinquished their claims, to any emolument accruing from his late