O write the life of one who excelled in writing the lives of others, and whose writings have secured for their author a lasting fame in every cultivated society in the world, may be thought a somewhat presumptuous act for an inexperienced and unknown hand to accomplish. But feelings of gratitude, together with circumstances requiring some explanation, that can only be given by one who had the privilege of Mr. Willmott's acquaintance, and was conversant with his chequered history, induce his last surviving relative to become his biographer.

Robert Eldridge Aris Willmott was born at Bradford, in Wiltshire, January 30th, 1809, and baptized in the church of St. Pancras, London.

To the sound of the name of Eldridge he had a strong dislike, and never used it except on formal occasions.

His father was the elder son of Robert and Cordelia

Willmott, of Wells, Somerset; and his mother the only child of the Rev. John Cleeve, M.A., and Beata, his wife, who resided in Ringwood, Hants.

Both families held a good position in society, and had ample private means. In 1803-4 Mr. Willmott's father and mother were married at Ringwood Church, and soon after went to live at Bradford, Mr. Willmott settling as a solicitor, an occupation for which his parents had educated him, but one that he was totally unsuited for, from his determination never to engage in the more painful part of his profession; his aversion even causing him to reject a friend's offer of his practice with a remuneration of one thousand a-year.

During the first part of his married life he derived a good income from his parliamentary labours as a solicitor, in which department he was much esteemed. Being induced, however, to lend various sums of money without any security, and to change his residence for what seemed a more lucrative field of labour in London, combined with the loss of part of the money advanced, a series of struggles began, which a long illness and continued misfortunes were only calculated to increase. In the mean time the private resources of both families were largely drawn upon, and an income left to Mrs. Willmott at sixteen by her uncle and to be divided between her children after her death, was sold by her for present emergencies.

But, amidst all the trials of his parents and their kindred, the subject of our memoir had not been unemployed, having earned a satisfactory reputation at Merchant Tailors', and left the school, in the words of

the head-master, a credit to Merchant Tailors' and Merchant Tailors' to him.

In the early part of 1825 Mr. Willmott went to Harrow, his father being again in the full tide of prosperity, which was destined to meet with another shock in the commercial failures of that year. A man, however, of indomitable perseverance and quenchless spirit, he succeeded in re-establishing his shattered fortunes, when a sudden illness, mistaken and wrongly treated by his physician, rendered him incapable of further exertion; and twelve months had elapsed when he revisited his chambers, which he could only reach by the supporting arm of a friend. From the effects of this illness he never entirely recovered, and to it in a great measure may be attributed the severe struggles to which his son was exposed and the premature termination of his life.

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Mr. Willmott's studies at Harrow progressed rapidly, and before many weeks had elapsed after his entrance he received promotion in the school. He remarks in his first publication in reference to Harrow that " a public school is a theatre for training." But the benefits and good result would be lost without the personal labour. To this he needed no incentive; before he reached the age of eighteen he had voluntarily made himself acquainted with the best literature, both English and foreign, and was dipping largely into theological writings of past and present times. Thus did he render himself worthy of the "institution to which he had the honour to belong," and to which we see many

touching allusions in his "Harrovian," the preludes of a deep and lasting regard.

Some verses written about this time seem to mirror his future with singular truthfulness :—

"I care not for my youthful days,

My hours of sorrow, and grief, and tears;
I think of the bright, the cloudless blaze,
That shall glitter around my older years.

"When the sun-wreath of fame shall garland my brow,
With no wither'd, no faded foliage on it,

And every leaf which darkens it now

Shall smile like a rose of Sharon upon it.

"I think of the day I shall tread the bowers-
The purple bowers my father trod;

And wreathing my temples with mosellay flowers,
Bow at the shrine of my father's God.

"Then I care not what clouds of sorrow and tears
On the day-spring of life may fall;

I know that one beam of my older years,

One day of my manhood, will scatter them all."

In March, 1828, our author brought out the first number of his "Harrovian," a collection of poems, essays, and translations. The book was completed in six numbers, and afterwards published in one volume. It was favourably reviewed by the literary publications of the time, and we read in a letter that the translations were considered by Mr. Roscoe to have been rendered in a 66 masterly manner."

The following passage also occurs in a letter from James Montgomery :

"I an

am glad to learn that the author of the lines