compared with her. For many years he was a poor man, and he never became a rich one till the death of Lord Glastonbury, who left him an estate and a great deal of money; the estate, which was entailed on his nephew George Neville, he generously gave up to him at once. He lived hospitably and handsomely, and was, I am told, very generous and charitable. His greatest expense was in books; he had collected a library of extraordinary value, and which for the size of it has always been reckoned the most complete of any private collection. It continued to interest and occupy him to the last, and he never ceased to add to it as occasion offered; he was, indeed, one of the last of the great collectors, of the bibliomaniacs; he collated every book himself, and placed in the title-page of each, in his own handwriting, an account of the book, where purchased, and its history when of any interest. His society in latter years was restricted, and he was not fond of making new acquaintances unless he fell in with them by accident, when he was easily approachable and always disposed to carry them on. He had constantly dinners and very agreeable ones, and it was wonderful to see him at ninety years old doing the honours of his table with all the energy, gaiety, and gallantry of a man in the prime of life. A happier life and an easier death it would be difficult to discover; his life was extended to nearly a century without any intermission of bodily health, any decay of mental faculties, and, what is more extraordinary and more valuable, without any deadness or coldness of human affections. He was blessed with affluence, with the love of rational and elevating pursuits, and with ample leisure and power to enjoy them. He was a philosopher, a gentleman, and a Christian, and he lived in constant social intercourse with the relations to whom he was attached, or the friends of his predilection, to all of whom he was an object of the deepest respect and affection. A life so tranquil and prosperous was terminated by a death no less easy and serene; his indisposition was not such as to interfere with his usual habits; he rose at his accustomed hour and dressed himself to the last, even on the day of his death. He had always a book, latterly the Prayer Book, before him, and his mind was undisturbed and unclouded. He dined and went to sleep in his chair, and from that sleep he never awoke.