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DER example of a vice which was destined to mar the brightest prospects, alienate the steadiest friends, and finally accomplish his untimely ruin. Such was the extraordinary capacity of the boy's intellect, and the avidity with which he acquired knowledge, that at the age of nine years he was an accomplished Greek and Latin scholar, and assisted in his father's school. He had also read much English literature, and had written some pieces of remarkable vigour and beauty. In his tenth year he secretly left his father's house with only two shillings in his pocket, which, however, he shortly after bestowed on a poor widow; and then, penniless, accomplished, not without strange adventures, his journey to Dublin. Here he fell in with the keeper of a book-stall, who supplied his immediate necessities, and through him he got a situation with a small bookseller of the name of Lynch, where he attracted the notice of a literary gentleman. Dr. Houlton, who, amazed at his knowledge and facility of elegant composition, introduced him to others. After residing some weeks with that gentleman, the latter, upon leaving Dublin, gave him a sum of money, which Dermody contrived to waste in a few days, and then, in utter indigence, roved through the streets by day and begged the meanest shelter at night. His next asylum was with a poor scene-painter who worked at the theatre; and here Dermody's marvellous powers excited the wonder of the actors, and obtained him the patronage of Owenson, the father of Lady Morgan, who introduced him to Dr. Young, fellow of Trinity college, afterwards bishop of Dromore, who made arrangements for his entering college. But Dermody frustrated all this benevolence; he would not submit his mind to the drudgery of pupilage, but gave himself up, even thus young, to dissipation. Still Mr. Owenson did not desert him; he introduced the boy to the Rev. Gilbert Austin, a distinguished scholar, who took him into his own house, associated him with his other pupils, prepared for publication a volume of his poems, and opened a subscription for his advancement. He was now in the high road to success and distinction. His progress in learning was rapid and extensive; he was looked on as a prodigy, and obtained the patronage of the most distinguished and influential persons. But his evil genius once more marred all these bright prospects, he was guilty of conduct which irrevocably alienated him from Mr. Austin, who dismissed him for ever, destroyed the poems, and returned the subscriptions. Thus was this boy of ten years old once more thrown penniless on the world, but friends ever sprang up to aid him. Mr. Hamilton the secretary-at-war, and others, assisted him; and he contrived, by writing poems and political articles for the journals, to eke out a scanty subsistence. At this time he was brought under the notice of the dowager-countess of Moira, who conceived a strong regard for one so young, so destitute, and so clever. She undertook his support and placed him under Mr. Boyd, the distinguished translator of Dante. Here he continued two years, exhibiting genius that might have exalted him to the highest position, and, alas! vices that degraded him to the lowest. It is profoundly sad to read some of the compositions which at this time he threw off, full of noble thoughts and the happiest erudition, while he was associating with the meanest and most abandoned in the orgies of a country alehouse—to contrast ribald bacchanalian songs with the scholarly and tasteful essay, "On the genius of Shakspeare and Milton contrasted." During all this time he taxed severely not only the purse but the patience of his noble patroness; the pardon for each fault of vice and extravagance was sure to be followed by a new offence and a new petition for money; till at length, wearied out and offended, she withdrew all further aid and countenance upon Dermody's leaving Mr. Boyd. Once again in Dublin he is soon as destitute as ever, selling his clothes to sustain life. Mr. Owenson again befriends him. Bishop Percy, Grattan, Flood, and Mr. Tighe, succour this marvellous youth, not yet sixteen years old. He writes in journals and periodicals, belles-lettres, criticisms, and politics; but, still depraved in his appetites and profligate in his disposal of means that might have kept him at all events above want, he is constantly a prey to sharpers and starving in a garret. In this state the attorney-general Wolfe, afterwards Lord Kilwarden, found him, and attracted, like all who conversed with him, by his learning and genius, engaged apartments for him in college, and promised him £30 a year to support him during his course; but he rejected the offer, and preferred the freedom which permitted him to be famished and naked, to pass his days in the fields and his nights in the dram-shops. At length Dermody enlisted as a private soldier in the 108th regiment. For a time his conduct was excellent, and by the aid of old friends he was raised to the rank of sergeant, and soon after obtained a second lieutenancy. In foreign service he behaved with bravery, and received several severe wounds, and on the return of his regiment to England he was placed on half-pay. Dermody was now in London, full of good resolutions, and only nineteen years old. He had patrons, opportunities, everything that could insure success; but he soon fell before the temptations of the capital, and in a short time was in the Fleet prison. To trace the life of Dermody henceforth, would be but a recapitulation of opportunities wasted and friends alienated—of bursts of genius amid the darkness of misery and vice. For a considerable time the Literary Fund gave him occasional relief; but he was unable to extricate himself from the wretches who seized every shilling that he did not spend in drunkenness. Let us come to the last scene. It is the night of the 15th July, 1802. In a wretched hovel, more like a den of robbers than the abode of a dying man, he is found crouching over a few embers, seeking to warm his emaciated body. A friend who seldom deserted him seeks to procure him some temporary comforts; but ere his return Dermody is a corpse upon a curtainless truckle, with the wind and the rain beating upon him as it had done during the death-struggle. The great preacher, death, never preached a more impressive homily—Man in his greatness and littleness—the golden head of heavenly genius, the miry feet of grovelling humanity—"half dirt, half deity." The biographer may not pass lightly over the life of such a man, for, like that of Chatterton and Savage, it teems with instruction, warning, exhortation. It teaches that the noblest gifts, unsanctified by virtue, bring but the deeper ruin; as the most precious medicines, wrongly used, are the deadliest poisons.

Dermody must be ranked amongst the greatest geniuses. His early poems are superior in fancy, sentiment, and nature, to those written by Pope or Cowley at a more advanced age; and it is impossible to read his prose essays without being impressed with the purity and elegance of his style, the sobriety and sound judgment of his criticisms, the correctness of his taste, and the extent of his erudition. He has left a considerable mass of writing, and many of his juvenile poems were destroyed. "No one," says Mr. Raymond, "wrote with greater facility; his mind was stored with such a fund of knowledge, gathered from science and from nature, that his thoughts, when wanted, rushed upon him like a torrent, and he could compose with the rapidity with which another could transcribe." His poetical powers were intuitive; his perceptive faculties clear and penetrating; his learning extensive. At fourteen years of age his compositions, which are in every style, display the vigour, polish, and nerve of manhood, with the sparkle and fancy of youth; a marvellous knowledge of shades of character, manners, and passions; and the classical elegance of one who even then had acquired a knowledge of Greek, Latin, French, Italian, and Spanish. Gifts all bestowed in vain—they could not save him from a life of intemperance, and a death of horror.—J. F. W.  DERODON,, a French protestant theologian and philosopher, was born in 1600, and died in 1664. He taught philosophy at Orange, at Nismes, and at Geneva. Derodon inclined to the doctrines of Gassendi rather than to those of Descartes, with the followers of the latter of whom he had frequent discussions. He had the reputation of being a most accomplished dialectician. Amongst his numerous works may be mentioned, "Dispute de la Messe," "La Lumiére de la raison opposée aux tenébres de l'impieté," "De Existentia Dei," "Logica Restituta," "Le Tombeau de la Messe." This last work procured his banishment from France, upon which he withdrew to Geneva, where he died.—R. M., A.  DERRICK,, a minor poet of the last century, was born in Dublin in the year 1724. His father, intending to bring him up to trade, placed him with a linen-draper; but he aspired after a more brilliant career, and leaving Ireland in 1751, came up to London and commenced as an author. He once tried his fortune on the stage in the character of Gloucester in Jane Shore, but did not repeat the experiment. He wrote many poems; but we do not intend to disturb the cloud of oblivion which envelopes them: requiescant in pace. On his own merits. Derrick would scarcely deserve commemoration, but, like a fly preserved in amber, he may be noticed for the 