He spent much of his time in reading classic authors, and in maintaining an extensive correspondence with distinguished men. But three weeks before his death, he wrote an essay upon Latin prosody and the faults of public speakers. His bible was also a favourite companion, from which he drew and enjoyed the living waters of eternal life. Always cheerful, instructive and amusing, his company was a rich treat to all who enjoyed it. His writings combined a sprightliness and solidity rarely exhibited. His courtesy and hospitality were always conspicuous, the whole frame-work of his character was embellished with all the rich variety of amiable qualities, uniting beauty with strength, which can never fail of gaining esteem, and of rendering an individual useful in life and happy in death. His demise was as remarkable as it was tranquil. It was that of a christian and philosopher. On the 15th of February, 1820, he rose as usual in the morning and seated himself in the flag bottom chair which he had used for fifty years, and which was a relic rescued from the flames when his buildings were consumed. He commenced reading Tully’s Offices in his favourite, the Latin, language, without the aid of glasses, the print of which is as small as that of a pocket bible. On his way to the hospital, the family physician called in, and perceiving that his countenance was cadaverous, felt his wrist and found that his pulse was gone. The physician administered a little wine, which revived the action of the purple current. The doctor then spoke encouragingly, to which Mr. Ellery replied—“It is idle to talk to me in this way, I am going off the stage of life, and it is a great blessing that I go free from sickness, pain, and sorrow.” Becoming extremely weak, he permitted his daughter to help him on his bed, where he sat upright, and commenced reading Cicero de Officiis, with as much composure as if in the full vigour of life. In a few moments, without a groan, a struggle, or a motion, his spirit left its tenement of clay, his body still erect with the book under his chin, as if on the point of falling asleep. Thus usefully lived and thus peacefully died, WILLIAM ELLERY. His whole career presents a rare and pleasing picture of biography, upon which the imagination gazes with admiration and delight, and which cannot be rendered more beautiful or interesting by the finest touches of the pencil of fancy, dipped in the most lively colours of romance and fiction. LYMAN HALL.