his patron, the Hon. F. Powys, when he should be in full orders, which he performed accordingly. Over his patron himself he preached a very beautiful funeral discourse at Lilford in 1800; and a learned and eloquent visitation sermon before the Bishop of Peterborough at Oundle, made him favourably known to the clergy of that diocese: but his connection with it was very short, and necessarily of little advantage to him. The only other post he ever held in the church was of still less value, the prebendal stall of Dultingcot in the cathedral of Wells, one turn of presentation to which fell to the crown on the elevation of Dr. W. Jackson to the see of Oxford, when it was bestowed on Dr. Drury by Mr. Perceval, in earnest, merely, of better intentions, which he did not live to accomplish. That a scholar of eminence, and an instructor of such deservedly extended fame, should never have been rewarded in any way for his labours of thirty-six consecutive years in public education, has created some surprise, and drawn forth remarks not very favourable to those in whom the disposal of the dignities of the church has been vested. Had he not prudentially been his own patron, as far as securing some provision for supporting his station in society, Dr. Drury must have been held up to public notice as an instance of the grossest neglect on the part of those who have the distribution of ecclesiastical benefits. Had he indeed been induced to have represented to Lord Liverpool the intentions in his favour of Mr. Perceval, already alluded to, and which were most unfortunately frustrated by the sudden and tragic death of that statesman, it seems scarcely possible but that his wishes, his fair and honourable claims, would have met with the attention they deserved. That Mr. Perceval, whose regard for his tutor was of the warmest kind, would not have left the thing undone, had he lived, there is every reason to presume. At the vacancy of the Deanery of Canterbury, when Dr. Andrewes was appointed, he made very strong application to the late Duke of Portland for his friend, without his knowledge; but other interests had already prevailed. When he himself

stood at the helm, not long after, he personally introduced the subject to Dr. Drury, and mentioning three cases, which unavoidable circumstances required should be first attended to, he told him plainly, that, those things done, his turn came next; in the mean time pressing his acceptance, as a mere token or keepsake, of the small honorary post above mentioned. But Mr. Perceval was unfortunately cut off before he had the opportunity of redeeming this voluntary promise; and Dr. Drury was too much shaken in spirits by the loss of one to whom he was most sincerely attached, to allow the alteration of his own prospects to occupy any portion of his thoughts, so as to form the ground of an application to his successors in office. The question, indeed, why he remained thus unrewarded, was occasionally put to him, not always in the best taste, by some among those who had themselves been more successful. To such enquiries he usually returned the same answer, to the effect, that he ought to consider himself no unlucky man in those respects, since he could most truly say, he had got every thing that he had ever asked for; thus quietly implying his own aversion to soliciting any favours. But the high-mindedness of one man is a bad excuse for the neglect of others.

It now only remains to be noticed, that the death of this truly amiable and estimable person, which took place on the 9th of January, 1834, when he had just attained his eightyfourth year, was marked by the same happy serenity and composure which had attended all the latter years of his life. Until within a week of his dissolution, he had enjoyed, with the usual relish, his favourite, healthful, and pleasing occupations in the cultivation and adornment of his beautiful place of residence; and his decay was even then so gradual, and its speedy termination so unexpected, as to allow no time for summoning his relatives, who lived at a distance, to attend his dying moments.

Dr. Drury's family consisted, besides two children who died in infancy, of three sons and one daughter, whom he left, together with his venerable widow, now in her eighty-second

year, surviving him. His daughter was married, in 1805, to John Herman Merivale, Esq., then a barrister of Lincoln's Inn, now a Commissioner of the New Court of Bankruptcy. The three sons, who are all in holy orders, are the Rev. Henry Drury, the present under-master of Harrow, the Rev. Benjamin Heath Drury, long one of the assistant-masters at Eton-both names of high eminence in the long list of distinguished Eton scholars; and the Rev. Charles Drury, formerly Michel Fellow of Queen's College, Oxford, now rector of the second portion of Pontesbury, Salop. The two elder are married, and have each very numerous families.

The remains of Dr. Drury were deposited in a vault at St. Leonard's, near the city of Exeter, on the 17th of January, 1834; the attendance to perform the last duties to him being limited, at his own desire, to some immediate relatives, and two or three professional friends. He was buried adjoining to the spot where his dearly-esteemed friend and brother-inlaw, Dr. Benjamin Heath, lies, and nearly the same slab covers the remains of these two distinguished masters of Harrow, at a spot so very distant from that in which they so long laboured in succession. The family of Heath have, for some generations, been buried in this cemetery. It is the intention, however, of many distinguished persons, educated a Harrow, that there should be a memorial there of an instructor whom they loved when living, and are desirous of honouring when dead. At the Harrow Anniversary in London, in June last, it was proposed by the Earl of Ripon, a former pupil, and seconded by J. A. Lloyd, Esq., of Leaton Knolls, Salop, the senior scholar at Harrow at the period when Dr. Drury resigned, that a cenotaph should be erected to his memory in the church of Harrow a proposal assented to by a hundred noblemen and gentlemen present, with the most cordial feelings and expressions of regard and respect. It is to be feared, neither the cenotaph nor inscription preparing for it will be sufficiently advanced to admit of any especial notice before these pages are consigned to the press.

It may be allowed the compiler of this Memoir to cite the following passages in a letter lately received from one of Dr. Drury's earliest and most attached pupils, with reference to the projected monument:

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"I saw, with pleasure, in the papers, mention made of an intended monument to Dr. Drury's memory. I trust that in imitation of that raised to the memory of Dr. Butler, in the church of Harrow, it will have, in basso relievo, his full length sculptured; for he had an amenity and mild dignity of expression corresponding with his real temper and urbanity of manners-independent of his features, which an artist would pronounce of the highest order — the intelligence of a sage, with the goodness and tenderness of a parent-preserving well a due gravity and reserve in the midst of frequent occasional facetiousness. I have always identified him, in my mind's eye, with Plato, whom no man ever knew to be in a passion. Dr. Drury, too, could harangue with great effect, in a popular manner, yet in periods classical, terse, and sententious, not without a most harmonious voice. He should be represented with his natural locks gracing his majestic forehead and temples. WHY WAS HE NOT MADE A BISHOP?"

And again: -" By all means, keep the letters of venerable Drury (as Bede used to be called) till you have no further occasion for them. How beautiful is the character of his handwriting! a perfect model of the italic and clerical, epistolary or manuscript letter — traced, it would seem, with a ruby or a diamond pen, like his speeches, graceful, spiritual, and distinct. In writing his Memoir, his autograph should be engraved; as the character of every man appears in his handwriting."

"With regard to a basso relievo for the monument, it would not be amiss to suggest to the artist, while his ideas are in the first heat, and before he casts or fuses his composition into the mould, to refresh his recollection of Raphael by a re

examination of some good (Italian) print of Raphael's School of Athens. It is nearly forty-eight years since I saw last the head, countenance, and figure, with the mild, classical, and apostolic manner, of Drury, that truly venerable teacher, who could raise the soul of youth to heaven, and make his hearers forget every thing carnal, sordid, or ignoble. Of course, I recollect him as he then was, better than any who have seen him since, especially if they have seen him daily, or from year to year, in the familiar and common avocations of life, and altering more and more, as he descended from the acme of manhood into the vale of years. All that he was in his perfection has been preserved in my memory, as in amber, fixed and unaltered; and I have no doubt that the figure of Plato, with his right hand pointing upwards, in conference with Aristotle, would come the nearest to the real picture, if any such existed, of Drury. The artist might select some of the youthful figures or portraits those of Alexander and Xenophon in particular; and some of that group gathering about, or rather swarming around, Archimedes - not omitting that spirited and graceful adolescent figure going hastily up the steps, from the school of the latter, to hear Plato. His face might not be wholly averted from the spectator, and might represent Byron's profile. It should be almost in alto relievo. The school and spire of the church, and (by poetic licence) the boarding-house of the head master, might be given in perspective, in the way these things are done upon antique marbles and medals. But the great point is the composition."

We have been favoured with the foregoing Memoir from a most authentic source.