most fitted to succeed to the Great Seal, for he had filled the office of Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench with great honour to himself and satisfaction to all loyal subjects: His dignity of manners, learning and talents, and his excellent private character, and tried discretion placed him above all others that could be named.' He always inclined to mercy, and Mr. Abbot preserved a letter written by him in 1801, begging Lord Hardwicke to pardon a condemned criminal. His year of office closed tragically by his assassination on July 23, 1803, on which day a fresh insurrection broke out. Some days previously Lord Kilwarden had received information of an intended rising, and a letter written by him on the day before his death appeared almost prophetic. Had he known what was to be his fate, he could not have taken more solemn leave of, or breathed warmer prayers for, the friend to whom it was addressed.

Trouble had also broken out in the north, but with the rebellion of 1803 Bishop Percy was little concerned. His closing years were passed quietly at Dromore, where literature continued to engross his attention.

In his Sunday school the Bishop discovered a poetic genius named William Cunningham, aged eighteen, the son of a poor linen-weaver, who begged for the loan of books. Under Dr. Percy's direction he studied the classics, and afterwards became assistant teacher in Dr. Bruce's Academy at Belfast.

This poet so strongly resembled Dr. Goldsmith in face, that when Percy compared his profile with the portrait of his early friend, it seemed as if it might have been his. His career was cut short by consumption early in 1804.

Bishop Percy accepted the office of President of the Irish Harp Society, that was formed to promote

the knowledge of the Irish language and antiquities, and to collect ancient Irish music.

He also subscribed a hundred guineas to the Academical Institution of Belfast, of which he was one of the visitors. He added to the library, and established a Botanical Garden, and a Museum, to which every part of the creation might contribute,' and founded a department for the study of agriculture. Through the recommendation of Dr. Anderson, Bishop Percy procured for the institution the services of such professors as Dr. John Irving, a Writer to the Signet, who was, from school days, the intimate friend and companion of Sir Walter Scott. As boys they agreed to compose romances for each other's amusement, and rehearsed them during their walks about Arthur's Seat and Salisbury Crags. Scott and Irving would climb to inaccessible places, and there, sheltered from the wind, read together The Castle of Otranto,' Spenser, Ariosto, and Boiardo. After two or three years Scott proposed that they should recite to each other, alternately, adventures of knight-errants of their own imagination. They learned Italian, and Scott wrote down many of the ballads recited by Irving's mother, which are still preserved in a collection of six little volumes at Abbotsford.

Bishop Percy also encouraged the art of painting. The local artist, Robinson, who was the pupil of Romney, had much improved in his flesh colours, having got rid of his pallid, chalky tinctures,' so Dr. Percy entrusted him to add a new face to one of his own portraits. Robinson's masterpiece, a fine picture of the Giant's Causeway, was disposed of by means of a raffle, which was won by the Bishop's grandson, Ambrose Isted, and now adorns an obscure corner of

the back staircase at Ecton. This event was announced by Dr. Percy in the following letter to his daughter, Mrs. Isted, written on Sunday, June 13, 1808.

'Dromore House.

'My dearest Mrs. Isted,-Mr. Robinson's fine Picture of the Giant's Causeway has been raffled for. There were 100 subscribers at 1 Guinea each. Who do you think has won this picture, valued at 100 Guineas?— Your son Ambrose Isted! ! ! ! !

The cast thrown for him was 49-two points higher than the highest besides. His cast was thrown by a gentleman who betted 10 guineas that his number would not be exceeded, so that he has had that reward for throwing. As this is the first venture ever made for the dear little fellow, I hope it will prove a happy omen, and he will be equally successful in all his chances thro' life.'

CHAPTER XIV

1808-1811

THOUGH no man had employed his eyesight to better purpose than Bishop Percy, he had all his life been in danger of losing it. In the summer of 1803 he was lying in a darkened room, deprived of the sight of one eye and threatened with the loss of the other. The following year he tried the effect of electricity, and mentions some Metallic Tractors, which were 'much cried up in the papers,' though as a gentle conveyance of the electric treatment and a cure for rheumatic pains and sleeplessness' he believed that the following method would 'operate' as well.

'Take a common quart-bottle, clean, and fill it with a good quantity of broken glass, pounded almost to powder, warm it thoroughly at the fire, then rub the painful part for half an hour, twice a day, with the smooth warm bottle.'

The loss of his eyesight was but one of the calamities that made Bishop Percy, who had hitherto enjoyed as large a share of prosperity as most men, now solitary and sorrowful.

In 1806 he experienced the greatest trial of his declining years. Though he was the product of an artificial age, if there was one thing genuine about him, after his love of antiquarian pursuits, it was his devotion to his wife. But he had reached the day when, like the prophet, his strength,' and 'the desire

of his eyes,' and 'that upon which he had set his

mind' were taken from him by a stroke, for of his closing days he might also have added, 'And in the evening my wife died.'

In a letter of sympathy Dr. Anderson wrote:

'Our lights go out one by one, and happy it is for us that they thus steal away. The time will at length arrive when all our earthly props must shake, and when nothing that is not built on an immortal base will endure. This event,' he added, 'good men are prepared to meet with composure, and the prospect of it does not meanwhile destroy their enjoyment of rational pleasures.'

The Bishop's fortitude was wonderful under both calamities.

Echoing the note that Percy himself had struck in his ballad of 'Nancy,' in which he claimed that his wife was fairest of the fair,' the local poet, young Romney Robinson, thus commemorated Mrs. Percy's gift of warm clothing to the Dromore Yeomanry:

In vain the Tyrant marks our Isle,

In vain in air his banner streams;

If Beauty pleased benignant smile,

We scorn his power, we scorn his schemes.

'Hafiz,' also following Percy's lead, insists on picturing Nancy's' earlier days to have been passed at Court, though when Percy wrote his ballad the allusion was rather prophetic than retrospective.

Within the precincts of this silent cell
Distinguish'd Percy's sacred Relics dwell;

Whose youthful charms adorn'd the courtly scene,
And won the favour of a British Queen:
Whose moral excellence, and virtues rare,
Shone as conspicuous as her face was fair.
By none, throughout a long and happy life,
Was she surpass'd as Mother, Friend, or Wife.