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That is, Avropaтwp Mapкog Iovλiog DINITROL_GεBasos, or, the Emperor Marcus Julius Philippus Augustus. He killed Gordian in Syria, where he was made Emperor, in 244." This comment he added in the same breath with the explanation of the legend, and wrote both down at the request of the enquirer.

Of the limited range of enjoyments to which the Vice-Provost was necessarily restricted from his habits of monachism those of the table were not the least prominent. In drinking he was remarkably abstemious, but his manducating propensities developed themselves in no equivocal manner. Faithful to the Commons' bell, he opened his hall-door at three o'clock every day, and the ceremony of closing it was so attractive in the eyes of those disposed to gratify their risible inclinations, that groups might frequently be observed assembled in the court for the purpose of witnessing the complicated process. After pulling the door to, he used to swing from the handle for the space of some seconds, and then run a tilt against the pannels, almost in the manner of a battering-ram, until he became satisfied by the result of repeated or deals that no straggler about college could gain admission without cooperation from within. He then tucked up the skirts of his gown, and, in a pace rapid for a man of his years, proceeded across the court towards the dining-hall. On one occasion, many years since, some mushrooms were served up in a very scanty quantity, as they were only just coming into season. The Vice-Provost devoured them all; and some of the fellow-commoners, indignant at the appropriation, were determined to punish him. A whisper accordingly began to circulate that the mushrooms had been of a rather suspicious appearance, and most probably of a deleterious nature. When the buzz, thickening as it approached the head of the table, reached the ears of the Vice-Provost, his agony was extreme, and his cries for assistance not to be withstood. A draught of oil was accordingly procured, which he was obliged to swallow as an emetic, and the triumph of the avengers was complete.

In wit and repartee he was by no means deficient. One day, at Com

mons, Mr. *******, one of the junior fellows, distinguished for his classical attainments, took occasion to ask the Doctor in a bantering tone how he would translate the opening of Cæsar's Commentaries Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres, and instantly received the following retort:

"Why... I-suppose-I'd-say-All Gaul is quarthered into three halves, Misther *******." A jib (or newcomer in college), unacquainted with the person of the Vice-Provost, dazzled his eyes one day with a lookingglass, upon which the Doctor having detected the delinquent, fined him and his brother ten shillings each for casting reflections on the heads of the College.

His regularity in attending to college business was extreme. It is on record, that a poor soldier was once near undergoing a flogging, in consequence of the neglect of some duty while absorbed in the perusal of Baron Munchausen. Tom Jones was more fatal to Jacky Barrett, (the Doctor's familiar designation throughout college). Some years since I was acquainted with the son of a clerical gentleman, who still enjoys a living in the county of Galway, and had been a student of Trinity college while Barrett was a junior fellow. At that time the Doctor was much addicted to the perusal of novels, of which Mr. ***** possessed an ample store, the use of which was proffered to Dr. Barrett, and eagerly accepted. One baleful day, his attention was so engrossed by the adventures of the hero abovementioned, that he actually forgot, until too late, to repair to the College Chapel (where he was reader for the week), and thereby incurred the penalty of seven shillings. When I heard of this circumstance, it instantly struck me, that an affair which had borne so hard upon both his character and purse could not readily have been effaced from a memory of almost superhuman tenacity; and the buoyancy of youth will, perhaps, plead my excuse, when I avow, that I was malicious enough to form a plan for probing his feelings on the subject. About this period I held a situation in the library, vested in the scholars of the college, which furnished me with a pretext for interrogating the librarian relative to cer

tain unclassed novels which lay upon Vice-Provost's hand, laid it upon the one of the shelves. I approached to table, and slowly commenced his circonsult him, and, feigning to be recol- cuit. The doctor, not perceiving lecting some of the names, stated, the drift of his movements, vociferated in a tone of hesitation, that I believed after him :-"How-can-you-put-upTom Jones was of the number. Elec- the-book...without the book?" "I'm tric was the impression which the goin, Sir," answered the porter, withbare mention of Fielding's hero made out turning his head. "But-how-canupon the Vice-Provost. He was in you-put-up-the-book..... without-the stantly in a passion. "No... there's book?" bellowed the dignitary, with not Tom Jones....there's Pether-Wil- continually increasing choler. I'm kins-and-such novels...but-there's- goin, Sir," growled the immitigable not-Tom-Jones....Tom-Jones is in Benson, without mending his pace. Fielding's-works-in-the-library...but- The outcries of the Vice-Provost,

not-there."

To the usages of polished society he was of course a stranger. One day a contemporary of his came into the library, and grasped his hand in a manner rather too cordial for his capacity of physical endurance. "Why-do-you-squeeze-wan's-handso?" he ejaculated-" you-put-meto-pain." On another occasion he called "Ben......sin," (Benson, the library porter,) at the instant in which a venerable Roman Catholic clergyman was entering the library. From the distance, and the circumstance that this gentleman was uncovered, he was mistaken by Dr. Barrett for the porter; and as, being an infirm man, he walked slowly up the library, the Doctor turned to me and said-"Seehow-slow-the-rascal-comes." By this time the priest, still unrecognised, was within a few paces of us, when Dr. Barrett, looking full in his face, pronounced, in accents of cast iron, or rather, bell-metal :-"Can'tyou-conthrive...... to walk a littleslower?" When convinced of his mistake, he made no sort of apology to the clergyman, although he passed close to the spot where we were standing, but poked his head as before into the catalogue, which he had been consulting as it lay upon the table.

Although naturally shrewd, his simplicity was at times remarkable. Benson (himself a character), and the doctor were standing one day at the same side of the oblong library table, when the former was desired by the latter to put (u as in but) a book into one of the shelves in a stall at the other side of the table, and exactly opposite to the place where they were standing. The porter, being obliged to walk round, took the book with him, a heavy tome, from the

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who was now almost foaming with rage, were in vain. Benson, with imperturbable gravity moved on, until, having completed his orbit, he coolly lifted the volume from the table, and deposited it in its place, leaving the astonished Vice-Provost convinced of the practicability of putting up a book without a book.

While he was once examining a class of graduates, in the Hebrew Psalter, one of them, being insuffici ently prepared, was prompted by his neighbour. It was the 114th psalm that he was endeavouring to translate, and he had got as far as "the mountains skipped like rams," when the professor perceived what was going forward, and interrupted the proceeding with the following most extraordinary adversative proposition: "Why-the-mountains-skipped-tobe-sure...but, Sir ********* you're promptin."

Not long before his death he put the question to Mr. ******, who was sitting with him, which of the fellows would be sorryest for him, in the event of his dying? Mr. ****** replied, that he, for one, would be sorry, and that he was confident the feeling would be general. “ Aye,... but-who'll-be-sorryest?.......I'll-tellyou-who'll-be-sorry est... It'll be Tom ***** ,... for-he'll-lose-nine-hundhertguineas." To explain this, it may be necessary to mention, that the situation of senior lecturer for the ensuing year (the emoluments of which are estimated at about 10007.) would have reverted to Dr. ***** had the Vice-Provost survived a few days. longer. In consequence of his demise it devolves upon Dr. ****, the new senior fellow.

A cause of considerable importance to the University of Dublin was decided against the Lord Primate, on

the evening of last Thursday, a few. hours after the death of Dr. Barrett. He was sitting in his arm chair, attended by his nurse and collegewoman, and conversing with them on the subject of the law-suit, when the hand of death seized him. He hung down his head, and departed as composedly as Hervey. So little aware was he of the proximity of his decease, that he had a short time before ordered a beef-steak pye for dinner. His disease was a dropsy, and he died in the 69th year of his age.

Reports are, of course, various, as to the particulars of the Doctor's will. It is certain that his own family inherit the smallest part of the spoil. To his brother he has bequeathed 501. a year: to one of his nieces, a widow, 100l. a year, with a reversion to her children: to each of two others, 30l. a year. To each of his executors, he has left a legacy of 500l. to indemnify them for their trouble to his college-woman, it is believed, 100l. a year. The head porter of the University has succeeded to a handsome bequest, which Some exaggerate to 1000l. a year; but which is more probably two or three hundred. This was a debt of gratitude. About ten or twelve years since, some workmen conspired to murder and rob the Vice-Provost, and had actually removed some slates from the roof of his building, in order to gain admission by night. The plot was detected and prevented by the activity of the head porter, who ever after watched over him with unremitted vigilance, and was, in fact, notwithstanding the difference of rank, his most confidential friend up to his last moments. The bulk of his property, amounting to something between eighty and a hundred thousand pounds, he has left, as he expresses it in his will, "to feed the hungry, and clothe the naked."

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A brief notice of these works may not be unacceptable.

The object of the Enquiry into the Origin of the Constellations that compose the Zodiac may best be stated in the words of the Author:

When the champion of modern infidelity speaks of the volume of Creation, and pretends to set it up in opposition to those Holy Scriptures which the divine goodness has caused to be written for our learning, he uses a language to whose real meaning he is an utter stranger; and which mani feels to a religion which promises no impufests only the abhorrence he very naturally nity to crimes, and holds forth no indulg

ence to the vicious. Conscious that he can pretend no title to its glorious rewards, his wishes are all limited to the single object of escaping, if possible, from that wrath to come which it reveals against all ungod liness of men. Hence we find him eager to degrade himself to the level of the brutes that perish, and willing to acknowledge no which speaks to them equally as to him, or other instructor in religion, except that rather, which in his opinion speaks to none.

As nothing can bestow comfort and consolation to such a mind, but that which ba nishes the fears of death and judgment to come, it is his interest to appeal to a volume, which to his apprehension is silent on these momentous concerns; and to argue himself into the belief, that the will of God revealed in the Scripture, is rendered unnecessary by such a communication; and, consequently, that no such Revelation has been vouchsafed. Let us, on the contrary, mindful of the injunctions of our Lord to search the Scriptures, and convinced that they alone are able to make us wise unto salvation, make this sacred volume our sole director in all our researches, and with undeviating steps trace out, in all their fruitful train of consequences, the truths which it teaches. Such enquiries will, I am convinced, terminate in proving that the most perfect conformity subsists between the truths which the Christian religion teaches, and the volume of nature, when interpreted and illustrated by this unerring guide, without whose aid we could discover no reli

But it is time to turn from these perishable memorials, which, however vividly imprinted upon the minds and memories of those who had intercourse with the subject of this memoir during his life-time, must with them decay, to those more durable records which attest the ex-gious truth whatever; and, in particular, tent of his research, and the depth of his erudition. The published works of Dr. Barrett are three in number:

will prove that it also displays those great, incentives to obedience,-death, and a future judgment. And hence, instead of that

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conclusion which a writer of the same stamp would impose on mankind, that the truths of Christianity are to be derived from certain figures on the sphere, we shall be enabled to invert it, and to draw the conclusion directly opposite, which is, that the latter are to be derived from the former, and that it is only by considering what religion teaches, we can ever hope to arrive at any rational explication of those figures.

To the discussion of this subject, as curious as it is important, Dr. Barrett devoted a volume of considerable length; and the host of authorities, quoted or adverted to in every page, evince the labour which he expended in the pursuit of truth, of which he was always the staunch and uncompromising advocate.

In undertaking to furnish out an Essay on the Early Life of Swift, the doctor ventured out of his depth, and the work he produced remains a standing evidence of his utter want of tact, and of the extreme simplicity of his mind. Deeply conversant with books, and acquainted with the writings of both ancients and moderns, to a degree seldom equalled, there were two volumes of which he was wholly and necessarily ignorant -that of nature, and that of man. Hence, in the treatise under consideration, technical expressions, such as "buttery books," "chapel-hall-surplice," &c. appear-the meanings of which are unknown beyond the walls of college. Throughout this work also, that peculiarity of his character, an inaptitude for discrimination necessarily induced by his habits which caused him to estimate all the incidents of life as of equal importance, is plainly discernible. In short, it may not be too bold to assert-that the Essay on the Early Life of Swift bears, in one sense, a strong similitude to two works, to which it would appear at the first blush the acmé of absurdity to compare it, the Arabian Tale of Antar, and the Story of "Deirdre," one of the early Fenian legends which exist in the Irish language. From sources so Antipodean the same conclusion may be obtained ➡that man, untutored by that intercourse with polished and refined society, where alone the knowledge of mankind can be obtained, is, in all ages, and in all countries-whether erudite or illiterate-the same simple

and unsophisticated being, And Dr." Barrett, living in the 19th century, and the resident of a metropolis, was, in many respects, as much in a state of nature as the ancient Arabian of the desart, or the early savage that had his abode amid the forests of Ireland, at a period wheu-to use the words of old Jeoffry Keating-the whole isle was "covered with wood, except the plains of Moyncalta."

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But the work upon which rests the fame of the late learned Vice Pro vost, as a scholar, antiquary, and biblical critic, is the Evangeli um secundum Matthæum ex Codice Rescripto in Bibliotheca Collegii SS Trinitatis juxta Dublin." This corious fragment, written in what called the Uncial character, was, by dint of extreme perseverance and extreme skill, decyphered by Dr. Bar rett.

The value which the University of Dublin set upon this discovery is ate tested by their having caused the fragment of St. Matthew to be en graved upon tablets of brass; and the combined testimony of those best qualified to give an opinion on the subject, demonstrates that the dis covery was eminently serviceable to the cause of biblical literature.

The mortal remains of this most erudite and most eccentric charac ter have been this day deposited in the church yard of Glasnevin, a sequestered and interesting village to i the NW. of Dublin, where his mo ther is interred. It is classic ground. He reposes in the same cemetery with Dr. Delany, the celebrated contemporary of Dean Swift. A vene rable mansion within the precincts of the Dublin society's botanic gardens, which adjoins the village, was once the residence of Tickell, the poet. It is, at present, inhabited by Professor Wade, and is a favourite resort, during the mornings of summer, of those who love to pursue the study of botany in the most delightful of all situations for the purpose. Until a comparatively late period, a ter race branched off through the gar den, from the rear of this house, which was the favourite promenade of Addison, who resided in this neighbourhood during his abode in Ire land. It was from him called " Ada dison's Walk." At the upper end of

the village are ten elm-trees, which were planted under the direction of one of those worthies who adorned the metropolis of Ireland, and, in particular, the vicinity of Glasnevin,

while the facetious Dean of St. Patrick's was in the height of his career. They are called " Apollo and the Nine Muses." X. X.

Dublin, Nov. 18, 1821.

SKETCHES ON THE ROAD. No. VI.

THE Country between Leghorn and the ancient city of Pisa is flat and fertile; and here, for the first time, we observed buffaloes employed in agricultural labours. We could find no wine-house on the road, although it is a distance, we believe, of something more than fourteen miles,-a striking indication of the slackness and inactivity of communication. Before entering the town, we passed a navigable canal, on which were many of the boats employed in carrying goods and passengers to Florence, and other parts of Tuscany: this canal here joins the Arno. Pisa is not now crowded with vessels, as it was in the days of its glory, the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries; indeed, none but small vessels can enter the Arno from the sea, for its mouth is now choaked up. We at length reached the bridge by which we enter the city: we paused a moment, and looking along the famous Arno, saw it lined with fine quays, and bestrode by several bridges; the bed of the river seems to have sunk, and its waters are muddy and turbulent. The palaces which run along the quays are large, and-empty; one sees every where those sad inscriptions: "Si loca," and "Appartamenti ad affittare."

Long before reaching Pisa, we saw its famous tower, leaning frightfully to one side, and somewhat resembling the truncated shaft of a doric column in the act of falling. On reaching it, we found it to be a tube open to the sky, and not crossed by floor or rafter, or any architectural support, in its whole depth. On the outside, a spiral colonnade goes round and round in ascending rings to the top, where some eight bells are mounted in breaches or forks, constructed for the purpose, and are rung by means of ropes which pass from the fly-wheels, in

the usual manner, and descend through the shell to the bottom. As this tower is well known, we need say no more of it than that it is constructed in most vile taste, and that a thing so ugly and unmeaning would certainly never have attracted much observation but for its singular distortion from the perpendicular. The effect of this distortion is very perceptible in ascending; on one side, the visitor is thrown against the shell, and on the other against the columns; where, as the body of the tower recedes under the platform, nothing can be seen between the spectator and the ground; it seems as though one were lifted up in the air, and the physical effect is curious and unpleasant. One can of course have no doubt of the solidity of a fabric which has withstood a double cause of decay, time and deformity; but the common principles by which we estimate our security are so much at variance with the inconvenient sensations produced by the awkward and strained position which the body assumes, in consequence of the sloping of the platform, and by the eyes descending precipitately to the ground, without any thing to break the fall, that, though the mind may be satisfied, it is still difficult to divest ourselves of a corporeal sense of unsafety.

There are two opinions respecting the fantastic deformity of this tower; the first is, that the artist who built it determined, in order to obtain fame, to erect an edifice which should be stable and lasting, though built in violation of the fundamental rules of his art. It would have been a pity if such an original genius had been suffered to do any thing of inferior merit, and thus lessen his extraordinary reputation; and probably it was for that reason that the Pisans determined that this should be his last

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