Early in life, and probably to meet his father’s wish, he received holy orders, but he never accepted any preferment in the Church. He took the restraints of the clerical profession, without any of its emoluments. His classical attainments were considerable, but the sole publication of a long life of leisure was a university prize poem, printed in the _Carmina Quadragesimalia_ of 1748. The only early tribulation of a life of idyllic peacefulness was a dread that he might possibly be called upon, at a coronation, to appear in public as the King’s cupbearer—his manor of Great Wymondley being held by a tenure of grand-serjeantry in that onerous employment. Its one later tinge of bitterness lay in the dread of a French invasion. These may seem small sorrows, to men who have had a full share in the stress and anguish of the battle of life. But the weight of a burden is no measure of the pain it may inflict. Mr. CRACHERODE looked to his possible cupbearership, with apprehension just as acute as that with which COWPER contemplated the awful task of reading in public the Journals of the House of Lords. And the sleepless nights which long afterwards were brought to CRACHERODE by the horrors of the French revolutionary war were caused less by personal fears than by the dread of public calamities, more terrible than death. During one year of the devastations on the other side of the Channel, chronicled by our daily papers, Mr. CRACHERODE was thought by his friends to have ‘aged’ full ten years in his aspect.