of that glowing, impressible temperament, so characteristic of his native isle. He had, in fact, very little sympathy with Ireland in any thing, and seemed to forget he was ever born there. He never came forward in Parliament, or out of it, with any motion respecting its distress, or the relief of it, and, indeed, showed himself undeserving of any attachment on the part of Irishmen. Ireland had no sympathy with him, nor prided herself in him; which, seeing how forgivingly grateful she always was for the slightest show of kindness, speaks very unfavorably for the heart of the Duke of Wellington. Wellington was a great general--not a great man. His was far inferior to the comprehensive, imperial genius of Napoleon, who, though a thorough-paced homicide, yet possessed the broad vision and faculty which distinguish the mightier rulers of men. In the latter years of his life, the emperor exchanged his soldierly statesmanship for fatalism--goaded to this by the fierce opposition of legitimacy--and that renounced and falsified the glorious _prestige_ of his early career. But, take him all in all,--looking at the astonishing picture of his life, in all its breadth and all its magnificent effects of light and shadow--we feel that the Corsican was of a higher order of spirit than the renowned and admirable soldier whose obituary we write. The duke’s decease was caused by apoplectic fits; and took place at Walmer Castle, where he was attending his duty as Warden of the Cinque Ports. On Sunday, 12th September, he felt very well, and dined heartily on venison. On Tuesday morning he seemed to feel the effects of indigestion, and had an apothecary sent for. He spoke to the latter on his arrival; but afterward lost the power of speech, and died imperceptibly at three o’clock. Wellington was of low stature, like Napoleon; as for his aspect, there is as little need to describe it as that of the emperor. He was simple in his habits, and economic in his household, and usually slept on a little hard camp bed. A friend of his once complained that he had not room to turn in his bed. “Sir,” said the duke, “when a man begins to think of turning in his bed, it is high time for him to turn out of it.” He survived his duchess about twenty years. He has been succeeded by Arthur, Marquis of Douro, born in 1807, and married in 1839 to the lady Elisabeth Hay, daughter of the Marquis of Tweedale. He has no children. We believe Lord Charles Wellesley has a son. But the English apprehend a failure of the heirs male, and wish to have the dukedom entailed on the issue of the females of the family. * * * * * =SONNET.--HOMER.= =BY WM. ALEXANDER.=