stirred me to the very bottom of my soul. It was like some strong fever with him, agitating the whole constitution, and, when it passes, leaving it permanently altered.

One of his elder schoolfellows, and his constant associate, young G. D. M*****, now a distinguished cavalry officer, was soon to take part in the grim work as it advanced. The two friends parted at a little watering place in the county Wicklow, where the families of both happened to be at the time residing. It seemed to him as if he was not the one destined for the profession which he so passionately adored. Those to whom he had looked for support in his ambition, had some time before earnestly exhorted him to turn his thoughts from it. The expected aid would never come. This parting made the truth dawn upon him more vividly than ever. bowed to authority, and seemed somewhat sullenly to accept his fate. But he often afterwards complained of the bitter disappointment he had felt; and would frequently insist that it would have been far better for him if the life of activity he had coveted had not been closed to him as it was. With M*****'s departure the little knot of friends was broken; they were soon all separated in various ways; and Armstrong now more and more isolated himself from other boys, and books and the hills became his dearest companions.

He

When his old playmates met him again, after two

or three years had passed, they agreed in one opinion, which they expressed pretty freely, that "Ned Armstrong was changed." No doubt they all were changed; but perhaps in none of them was there so strange a metamorphosis apparent. nature was not altered. It had only developed, amid circumstances and affinities of its own selection, into a nobler form. But he was changed indeed from what he had appeared to them to be. The strongest and best elements of his character had had time to expand. Rough jokes and rude youthful experiences, which used to form the staple of conversation, had now no interest for him; nay, he somewhat peremptorily checked, at times, his old companions, and treated their ways with scorn -of which he had always abundance to display, when necessary, and a sufficiently scathing manner of expressing it. But he never lost that sense of fun, and that love of frolic which had found vent in ruder forms in those madcap days. The humourous side of things was seldom long in presenting itself to him; and the most solemn occasion was prone to suggest a laugh. When he was sick and feeble in after years, this love of fun and keen sense of the ludicrous were often, too apparently, a source of danger to him; and the difficulty which he experienced in reducing his animal spirits to a condition of safe tranquillity was very great. Those who watched him in his fatal illness know well how

in his severest sufferings he found food for merriment; and even on his death-bed how light of heart he was, to the latest hour. But it was little wonder that the friends failed to recognize the most reckless of their group in the boy-poet who greeted them on their reunion.

CHAPTER II. 1854-1858, ET. 13-17.

Establishment of a Life-long Friendship: G. B.-New and lofty Ambitions.-Another fortunate Change of Residence. -Passion for Nature intensified.-Early Story-Writing. -Poetry of Scott: Reasons of its Attractiveness.—Early Poems. Humourous Propensities. - An unexpected Celebrity.-Shakespeare-Studies.-The Poetry of Coleridge.-Poetical Revels among the Mountains: Killakee, Glendhu.-Wordsworth opened.-Byron : first Perusal of "The Giaour."-Tennyson: a pleasant Awakening.— Goethe: Adoration of "Faust."-Attitude towards Schoolfellows. Consequences of Miscellaneous and Irregular Reading.-Career chosen.-Another Change of School.Tribute to the Rev. R**** N****. - Hard Studies commenced.-Youthful Vigour and Enthusiasm.-First Love. -A Memorable Day.

UST about the time that his old companions

Armstrong had been consolidating a new and particularly congenial friendship, which lasted until the close of his life. It was natural that when he found a boy of his own age, a young artist, with intellectual gifts in abundance, and a love of mountain-rambles that never flagged, and a true artist's eye for the scenes which he loved, he should draw him close to him, and make him his almost daily companion;

and that, as the years advanced, pleasant recollections and associations, ever multiplying, should bind him still more firmly to that friend, and encourage him to confide to him his cares and dreams; and that, even if their paths should for a time be sundered, and their characters and ambitions should assume different forms, his steadfastness and fidelity should keep the link that bound. them still firm to the end. Never was friendship reciprocated with an affection more tender or devoted than by his well-beloved G. B. Very delightful was this high-souled companionship in those days. This friend and one other became for a time his only associates; but this friend principally his confidant now. Later, one more was joined to the band, but was hardly admitted, I think, within the inmost sanctuary. Those were days of almost unclouded joy-" days of rapture," as he writes of them, "which will never, never more return.”

Another fortunate change of residence, to a house a mile or two farther out in the country—a flight from the fast-encroaching suburbs, undertaken at his own earnest entreaty-brought him within an easier walk of the mountains; and his rambles among the heathery wildernesses now became incessant. His letters, like his poems, will be found full of references to this period; to it he attributed, and rightly, the largest share in the formation of his character and his tastes, and his whole after-life