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WILLIAM APJOHN.

When Rumor, lo! with deaf'ning sound,
More gladsome tidings blows around,
And bids her thousand tongues to tell,
That Apjohn is alive and well!
And louder now the torrent grows,
Gathering new murmurs as it flows,
When the poor Muse, in sad affright,
Swift to Parnassus wings her flight;
But promised, ere away she fled,

That when you should indeed be dead,
She'd call again, and write a verse,

To please your friend, and grace your hearse ;
Unless that I myself ere then

Should grow fatigued and quit the scene.

And yet how short a time can live

Those honors that the Muses give--
Soon fades the monument away,
And sculptured marbles soon decay ;
And every title, now defaced,

Mix with the dust which once they graced :

But if we wish a deathless name,

Let Virtue hand us down to Fame.

Our honors then may Time defy,

Since we will have, whene'er we die,
For epitaph--a life well spent,

And mankind for a monument.
What matter then for you and me,

Though none upon our graves should see
A W. A.

or

J. P. C.

}

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William Apjohn is a name of which the world has heard nothing. He died prematurely, and "without his fame;" but had his days been lengthened, he would probably have acted a distinguished part in the history of his country. Like his friend, he had chosen the bar as the most honorable road to fortune and celebrity, and had already given a promise of such talents for public life, that his success was looked to as undoubted. Mr. Curran never spoke of his capacity but in terms of the most

respectful admiration. "Apjohn's mind," he used to say, "was, beyond exception, the most accomplished that I ever met: his abilities and attainments were so many and so rare, that if they could have been distributed among a dozen ordinary persons, the share of each would have promoted him to the rank of a man of talents."

LEAVES COLLEGE.

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CHAPTER II.

Mr. Curran leaves College-Enters the Middle Temple-Letter to Mr. Weston-Letter to Mr. Keller-His first attempts in Oratory fail-His own account of the failure, and of his first success-A regular attendant at Debating Clubs-Anecdotes-His Poem on Friendship-Dr. Creagh's character of him-Mr. Hudson's predictions and friendshipHis early manners and habits-Subject to constitutional melancholy-Letters from London-His society in London-Anecdote of his interview with Macklin-His early application and attainments-Favorite authors-Early attachment to the Irish peasantry-His marriage-Remarks upon the English Law.

MR. CURRAN completed his college studies in the early part of the year 1773, having qualified himself to a Master's degree, and passed over to London, where he became a student of law in the Society of the Middle Temple.* During his residence in England he wrote regularly, and at considerable length to his friends in Ireland. A collection of these letters has been preserved, and as several of them contain a more striking picture of his circumstances, and of many traits of individual character, than any description by another could convey, he shall in this stage of his life be occasionally made his own biographer.

The following was written immediately after his arrival in the British capital. The gentleman to whom it is addressed was a resident of Newmarket, and one of the most attached of Mr. Curran's early friends.

It is indispensable that every person who seeks admission to the Irish bar, shall have "studied " (i. e., eaten a certain number of dinners during two years) at one of the Inns of the Court, in London, as well as at the Queen's Inn of law, in Dublin !-M.

"LONDON, 31 Chandos-street, July 10, 1773.

"THE REV. HENRY WESTON,

NEWMARKET, CO. CORK.

"I would have taken a last farewell of my dear Harry from Dublin, if I had not written so shortly before I left it; and, indeed, I was not sorry for being exempt from a task for which a thousand causes conspired to make me, at that juncture, unqualified. It was not without regret that I could leave a country, which my birth, education, and connections had rendered dear to me, and venture alone, almost a child of fortune, into a land of strangers. In such moments of despondence, when fancy plays the self-tormentor, she commonly acquits herself to a miracle, and will not fail to collect in a single group the most hideous forms of anticipated misfortune. I considered myself, besides, as resigning for ever the little indulgences that youth and inexperience may claim for their errors, and passing a period of life in which the best can scarce escape the rigid severity of censure; nor could the little trivial vanity of taking the reins of my own conduct alleviate the pain of so dear-bought a transition from dependence to liberty. Full of these reflections as I passed the gate, I could not but turn and take a last lingering look of poor Alma-mater; it was the scene of many a boyish folly, and of many a happy hour. I should have felt more confusion at a part of the retrospect, had I not been relieved by a recollection of the valuable friendship I had formed there. Though I am far from thinking such a circumstance can justify a passed misconduct, yet I cannot call that time totally a blank, in which one has acquired the greatest blessing of humanity. It was with a melancholy kind of exultation I counted over the number of those I loved there, while my heart gave a sigh to each name in the catalogue; nay, even the fellows, whom I never loved, I forgave at that moment; the parting tear blotted out every injury, and I gave them as hearty a benediction as if they had deserved it: as for my general acquaintance (for I could

LETTER TO MR. WESTON.

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not but go the round), I packed their respective little sighs into one great sigh, as I turned round on my heel. My old friend and handmaid Betty, perceiving me in motion, got her hip under the strong box with my seven shirts, which she had rested against the rails during the delay, and screwed up her face into a most rueful caricature, that might provoke a laugh at another time; while her young son Denny, grasping his waistband in one hand, and a basket of sea-provision in the other, took the lead in the procession; and so we journeyed on to George's Quay, where the ship was just ready to sail. When I entered, I found my fellow-passengers seated round a large table in the cabin: we were fourteen in number. A young Highland lord had taken the head of the table and the conversation, and, with a modesty peculiar to himself, gave a history of his travels, and his intimate connections with the princes of the empire. An old debauched officer was complaining of the gout, while a woman, who sat next to him (good heaven! what a tongue), gave a long detail of what her father suffered from that disorder. To do them all justice, they exerted themselves most zealously for the common entertainment. As for my part, I had nothing to say; nor, if I had, was any one at leisure to listen to me; so I took possession of what the captain called a bed, wondering with Partridge, 'how they could play so many different tunes at the same time without putting each other out.' I was expecting that the sea-sickness would soon give those restless mouths different employment, but in that I was disappointed; the sea was so calm that one only was sick during the passage, and it was not my good fortune that the lot should fall on that devil who never ceased chattering. There was no cure but patience; accordingly, I never stirred from my tabernacle (unless to visit my basket) till we arrived at Parkgate. Here, after the usual pillage at the custom-house, I laid my box down.

• In Cork.-M.

+ Parkgate, in Cheshire, was the usual port of debarcation, for Irish voyagers to England, in the last century.-M.

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