At this portion of the manuscript, so many erasures and substitutions occur, that the most persevering diligence and investigation can with difficulty make out, that there was some drawback to this highly-coloured eulogium; some expectations excited by this same illustrious personage, with respect to the writer, which never were fulfilled; some promises made, which were neglected and forgotten. At least, towards the conclusion of what seems to have been a sort of chapter appropriated to the subject, these words are distinctly visible:—“... Surely this was cruel—a very moderate portion of that which was voluntarily placed within my view, almost within my touch, would have satisfied the warmest wishes of my heart—would have diffused cheerfulness and tranquillity around a large and numerous circle of dependants—would have soothed the sufferings of disease, and animated the languor of declining years. The purple light of hope, which beamed for a while with a steady brightness, was suddenly, was abruptly withdrawn, nor could my own activity, or the exertions of my friends, ever learn the cause.” But let us descend a while from this lofty eminence, from this perihelion, where we are overpowered, and in danger of being consumed by excessive radiance. There are gradations of altitude to which those beneath may look without being too much overawed, and from which those above may contemplate inferior objects, without the risk of being vertiginous. In preceding parts of this narrative many eminent men, cotemporaries of the writer, have been introduced, as having arisen to Episcopal dignity. It remains to speak of a few other individuals, in their day well known and esteemed, and rewarded with consequent honours in their several lines of life.