which bind all the parts of English society together, stronger than chains of brass! These good old schools are like rivets which run through the whole body politic; hence it was that the earl’s son, Joshua Prince, and your humble servant, became fast friends for life!” The old man’s face glowed as he said this, with a feeling which showed that he was a patriot to the back bone. His poverty, and his age, in the ardour of the moment, were quite forgotten.—His school-days were as fresh on his mind as if they had hardly yet passed away; and I felt thankful to Providence as I experienced how deeply he has infused happiness into natures and conditions where the hasty observer might scarcely be able to observe a trace of it. He continued—“I will not detain you longer with the history of my school-days; I have something far more important, and I hope, more interesting to speak of,—my first religious impressions. But I cannot help just mentioning one early companion who was soon lost to us all, but whose character made a deep impression upon myself and many of my school-fellows. He was but the son of a poor labourer, but showed an early talent for poetry, and produced some pieces of very great merit, which I wish I could recollect now, as they would be a comfort to me in my solitary hours; but he sank, in decline, to an early grave; and all his verses, I fear, died with him; for though many of his poems were committed by his school-fellows to memory, yet none have recorded any of them in writing.” “Your story,” said I, “reminds me of an exactly similar case, (and doubtless there are hundreds such,) which happened nearly thirty years ago, at a school very like your own,—that of Richmond, in Yorkshire. Poor HERBERT KNOWLES was, like your young companion, taken from one of the lowest stations in life, and sent by kind friends to Richmond school, with the intention of his being afterwards removed to college. But the hand of death was upon him. He was of a gentle and pious mind, and of a sickly frame. He knew that his days were fast drawing to a close, and a few weeks before he died he wrote the following verses at night in Richmond Church-yard, which show the way in which he looked death in the face, and the faith and hope which pointed beyond the grave. As you are fond of poetry, I will repeat the verses to you, and they may perhaps somewhat console you for the loss of your friend’s:— ‘LINES WRITTEN IN THE CHURCH-YARD OF RICHMOND, YORKSHIRE, BY HERBERT KNOWLES. _It is good for us to be here_: _if Thou wilt let us make here three tabernacles_, _one for Thee_, _and one for Moses_, _and one for Elias_. Matthew, xvii. 4. Methinks it is good to be here; If Thou wilt, let us build: but for whom? Nor Elias nor Moses appear, But the shadows of eve that encompass the gloom, The abode of the dead, and the place of the tomb.