Page:The New Monthly Magazine - Volume 098.djvu/191

Rh and other poems in this collection, testify to the mourner's sacred sorrow. Thus:

"Two graves in Grasmere Vale, yew-shaded both, his all of life, if life be love, comprised;" and to a space remaining for himself between them, the sorrower's thoughts were now habitually directed. He continued to live with his daughters in the same cottage, Longhrigg Holme. "He walked about more than ever with Mr. Wordsworth. They had now a new sympathy, but a sad one. It pointed to a grave in Grasmere churchyard." Yet a little while, and the elder poet was carried to the same peaceful God's-acre. Nor was the end of the other far off. Mr. Quillinan died in the following year (1851)—talking of literature, his ruling passion, in the delirium of approaching dissolution; and even after he had ceased to recognise his children, one hour before he died, endeavouring, pen and ink in hand, to pursue his translation of the "History of Portugal," that it might "be of use" to the daughters who stood by his bedside, though he knew them not. On the 12th of July, 1851, the green sods of Grasmere churchyard covered another shrouded denizen, there to sleep beside the darling of his heart, beneath the shadow of the yew-trees near at hand, and the everlasting hills not afar off. Restless hath been the greed, within the last few years, of that Churchyard among the Mountains.

Mr. Quillinan was by education and profession a Roman Catholic,