During this year also, a residuary legacy of considerable amount was left to Bishop Hobart by Mrs. Sarah Startin, in trust, for the purposes of promoting religion and learning in the State of New-York. A portion of it, agreeably to the will, was appropriated to the endowment of a professorship in Geneva College, bearing the name of her husband, and the income of the remainder was to be applied in such ways as the Bishop might deem most conducive to the interests of our Church. This bequest was likewise made in compliance with his suggestions and wishes. She was in a great measure free to dispose of her fortune according to her pleasure, for there was no material interference with it on the score of relationship or duty. She had no children of her own, and a suitable provision was made for an orphan whom she had adopted. Simple, prudent, and even economical in her own habits, she had always been profuse in her bounty to others. Her respect for the Bishop amounted almost to veneration, and her attachment for his family was truly maternal. They had received many substantial proofs of her kindness during her life, and a still more important one was furnished by a liberal provision which she made in their behalf in her last will. She wanted to carry this farther, and to leave the whole of the residuary legacy, which the Bishop had prevailed upon her to apply to public purposes, for his private benefit; but though she pressed it upon him with the greatest earnestness, yet, with a delicacy, disinterestedness, and consistency which would not perhaps have been shown by

most men, he decidedly opposed this diversion of it from its original and laudable designs. I received this account, shortly after her death, from the Bishop himself.

From the Rev. Henry H. Norris to Bishop Hobart.

"MY DEAR SIR,

"Your obliging favour reached me about a week ago, and this morning the bulbs have all been planted in my garden; and should they prosper, of which there is every promise, I shall take great delight in looking at them as a sort of connecting link between our two divisions of the Catholic Church, and in being reminded by them of yourself, whose kindness so promptly gratified my wishes to possess them. I have scarcely any science in this department of physicks; indeed I have no time to do more than make the circuit of my garden before I sit down after breakfast to my books, or go to London to attend upon committees; but it is still a great delight to me, and the more so from the circumstance of my store of plants being a confluence of the contributions of distant friends. ** *.

"I rejoice to hear that your Theological School is settled so much to your satisfaction, and I pray God it may prosper, and that you may live to see it rear up a body of clergy such as you would wish to see ministering in your congregations. Notwithstanding the times, which I am feeling very materially with all landed proprietors, I shall most gladly make my offering whenever you call upon me for it;

ever was perfectly calm, and with a view of soothing me he said, "Do you think I am afraid to die?" The composure, the simplicity, and dignity of that scene, I shall never forget.

But though he was so unmoved at the probable approach of death in his own case, yet I remember to have seen him on one occasion overwhelmed at the prospect of this event in regard to another. Though naturally quick in his sensibilities, he had generally a great mastery over his feelings; at any rate, he did not often exhibit, even on the most melancholy occasions, strong outward expressions of emotion and grief. But at the time to which I allude, nature entirely subdued him. I had accompanied him on a visit to the Rev. Mr. Bulkley, at Flushing, on Long-Island, who was lying dangerously ill. This clergyman was a man of humble attainments, but of a sound mind, correct principles, and deep and unaffected piety. I never knew any one who surpassed him in meekness and lowliness, in simplicity of character, in purity of thought and intention, or who was more entirely free from all dissimulation and guile. For these engaging qualities every body respected and loved him. We found him on the very eve of his departure. The Bishop, after a few moments' conversation with him in a calm and soothing strain, withdrew; but no sooner had he got out of his hearing, than he burst into a flood of tears, and was literally convulsed by the violence of his grief.

From the Rev. Henry H. Norris to Bishop Hobart.

us a large measure of genuine Christian zeal and decided Church principle, and both are upon the increase; but then there is a tremendous confederation, topped by false brethren, and bottomed by Socinians, who are working incessantly and systematically upon all departments of the community. ***. The specific object of it is to make schism catholic instead of unity; unity therefore must fall, unless those who are its divinely appointed guardians cherish it with more than ordinary solicitude, and exercise an apostolic jealousy in maintaining one mind and one mouth amongst themselves.

In the fall of 1822 Bishop Hobart had an attack of bilious intermittent fever at his country-seat in New-Jersey, which excited the utmost apprehension in the minds of his people, and which was the precursor of that series of attacks which gradually impaired his constitution, and finally occasioned his death. A number of his clergy and personal friends, as soon as they heard of his danger, went out immediately to see him, as well for the purpose of testifying their affectionate concern for him, as of rendering those kind and assiduous attentions which, in a place of retirement, were so much needed. As to myself, I was in a state of the most anxious apprehension about the issue of the disease. With all my efforts, when I entered the sick room, I could not conceal my agitation. He himself how

ever was perfectly calm, and with a view of soothing me he said, "Do you think I am afraid to die?" The composure, the simplicity, and dignity of that scene, I shall never forget.

But though he was so unmoved at the probable approach of death in his own case, yet I remember to have seen him on one occasion overwhelmed at the prospect of this event in regard to another. Though naturally quick in his sensibilities, he had generally a great mastery over his feelings; at any rate, he did not often exhibit, even on the most melancholy occasions, strong outward expressions of emotion and grief. But at the time to which I allude, nature entirely subdued him. I had accompanied him on a visit to the Rev. Mr. Bulkley, at Flushing, on Long-Island, who was lying dangerously ill. This clergyman was a man of humble attainments, but of a sound mind, correct principles, and deep and unaffected piety. I never knew any one who surpassed him in meekness and lowliness, in simplicity of character, in purity of thought and intention, or who was more entirely free from all dissimulation and guile. For these engaging qualities every body respected and loved him. We found him on the very eve of his departure. The Bishop, after a few moments' conversation with him. in a calm and soothing strain, withdrew; but no sooner had he got out of his hearing, than he burst into a flood of tears, and was literally convulsed by the violence of his grief.

From the Rev. Henry H. Norris to Bishop Hobart.