*His carriage, aspect, words, and the whole of his behaviour, spoke the solemnity and profound recollection of his soul. Nor can a stranger better conceive of him, in regard to this particular, than by forming to himself, an idea of a person returned from the happy dead, conversing with men. And it was nearly in this manner that some have expressed their surprize at him. A gentleman said to me one day, “I met Mr. _Walsh_ in the street, and I declare he seemed to me like a person returned from the other world.” So emaciated a countenance, such fixedness of thought, and serenity of deportment, as appeared in him, towards the conclusion of his race especially, were surprising in so young a man; and discovered a something, very different from the busy ways of men. One needed only to look on him to perceive that there was something in him more than common. And if as the son of _Sirach_ says, “A man may be known by his look, and one that has understanding may be perceived by the marking of his countenance,” they must be indeed, superficial observers, that could not discern in his very aspect the excellencies that dwelt within him. An air of wisdom and piety appeared in him continually. There seemed to be something peculiarly distinguishing in the very features of his countenance. Some have taken him to be little less than forty years of age, at the time he was but about five and twenty. *His uniform composure was the rather to be noticed, as his life was not of the recluse, but of the popular kind. He had to do with multitudes; and, unless on special occasions, was seldom above six hours together out of company. It is true he seldom appeared in publick, unless to speak of the things of eternity, in some respect or other. But he was so shut in with God, that all places became alike to him; and he retained the same attention to God in the most thronged streets of _London_, as he could have had in the most sequestered wilderness. Curious sights, elegant furniture in shops or houses, magnificent buildings, fine shews, the ringing of bells, firing of guns, with every thing of this kind; were no more to him than the chirping of a sparrow, or the buzzing of a fly. *To all which, the constant government which he had over his senses, greatly contributed. The difference of tastes, harmony of sounds, and whatever his eyes could behold, were as nothing to him. He was in this respect truly crucified to the world, and the world to him. Even in travelling through the most pleasant parts of the country, and in the pleasantest seasons, when the stupendous beauties of the creation, the spacious firmament, the verdure of the country, (nature’s loveliest universal robe;) the music of the groves, and all the joint beauties of nature, might have furnished him with delightful contemplation; yet he seemed insensible to the whole, enjoying a “Paradise within him happier far!”