classic, and expressive. In the art of versification, he appears to be nearly perfect; we know no poet in the language who is more regular, animated, and euphonious.

"The Spirit of Life is one of the most labored, though certainly not the most successful, of Mr. CLARK's poems. It occupies the larger portion of the only volume which he has given to the public. The dedication, though we confess it is not precisely to our taste, is enthusiastic and fervid. It is excused, however, by the general admiration at that time manifested for the author of Pelham, and was perhaps due as a grateful tribute to a distinguished author, who had previously spoken of his poems in high terms, and of himself as a gentleman 'who has an enviable genius, to be excited in a new and unexhausted country, and a glorious career before him, where, in manners, scenery, and morals, hitherto undescribed and unexhausted, he can find wells where he himself may be the first to drink.'

"As a prose-writer, Mr. CLARK possesses a rare combination of dissimilar qualities. At times eloquent, vehement, and impassioned, pouring out his thoughts in a fervent tide of strong and stirring language, he sweeps the feelings of his readers along with him; and at others playful, jocular, and buoyant, he dallies with his subject, and mingles mirth and argument, drollery and gravity, so oddly, yet so aptly, that the effect is irresistible. Few men have

a more acute perception of the ludicrous; few understand better how to move the strings of laughter, and when he chooses to indulge in strains of humor, his good-natured jests, and Iquips and cranks and wanton wiles,' show the fulness of his powers, and the benevolent strain of his feelings. In kindness and pathos, when such is the bent of his inclination, his prose essays are not inferior to his poetical compositions.'

"Mr. CLARK was for many years a liberal contributor to the periodical and annual literature of this country. He was also a frequent correspondent of the leading English magazines. The tales and essays,' says the author of The Poets and Poetry of America,' 'which he found leisure to write for the New York Knickerbocker Magazine, and especially a series of amusing papers under the quaint title of Ollapodiana,' will long be remembered for their heart-moving and mirth-provoking qualities.

"In person, Mr. CLARK was of the middle height; his form was erect and manly, and his countenance pleasing and expressive. In ordinary intercourse he was cheerful and animated, and he was studious to conform to the conventional usages of society. Warm-hearted, confiding, and generous, he was a true friend; and by those who knew him intimately, he was much beloved."

The following account of the last hours of

WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK, was written by his twin-brother, LEWIS GAYLORD CLARK, in the 'Editor's Table' of his KNICKERBOCKER Magazine for July, 1841:

"OUR brother is no more! DEATH, the pale 1 messenger, has beckoned him silently away; and the spirit which kindled with so many elevated thoughts - which explored the chambers of human affection, and awakened so many warm sympathies- which rejoiced with the glad, and grieved with the sorrowing, has ascended to mansions of eternal repose. And there is one, reader, who above all others feels how much gentleness of soul, how much fraternal affection and sincere friendship, how much joyous hilarity, goodness, poetry, have gone out of the world; and he will be pardoned for dwelling in these pages, so often enriched by the genius of the Departed, upon the closing scenes of his earthly career. Since nearly a twelvemonth, the deceased has died daily' in the eyes of the writer of this feeble tribute. He saw that Disease sat at his heart, and was gnawing at its cruel leisure; that in the maturity of every power, in the earthly perfection of every faculty, 'when experience had given facility to action and success to endeavor,' he was fast going down to darkness and the worm. Thenceforth were treasured up every soulfraught epistle and the recollection of each recurring interview, growing more and more frequent, until at length Life, like a spent steed,

'panted to its goal,' and Death sealed up the glazing eye, and stilled the faltering tongue. Leaving these, however, with many other treasured remains and biographical facts for future reference and preservation in this Magazine, we pass to the following passages of a letter recently received from a late but true friend of the lamented deceased, Rev. Dr. DUCACHET, Rector of St. Stephen's church, Philadelphia; premising, merely, that the reverend gentleman had previously called upon him at his special instance, in the last note he ever penned; that his religious faith was manifested in a manner so solemn, so frank, and so cordial,' as to convince the affectionate pastor that the failing invalid, aware that he must die of the illness under which he was suffering, had long been seeking divine assistance to prepare him for the issue so near at hand :

"At four o'clock on Friday, P. M., the day before his death, I saw him again, he himself having selected the time, thinking that he was strongest in the afternoon. But there was an evident change for the worse; and he was laboring under fever. His religious feelings were, however, even more satisfactory, and his views more clear, than the day before. He assured me that he enjoyed a sweet peace in his mind, and that he had no apprehension about death. He was ready to depart' at any moment. was unwilling to disturb him by much talking, or a very long visit, and made several attempts

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to leave him; but in the most affectionate and pressing manner, not to be resisted, he urged me to remain. His heart seemed full of joy and peace; overflowing with gratitude to GoD for his goodness, and with kindness to me. Leaving him, after an hour's interview, I promised to return on Saturday, A. M., at ten o'clock, and to administer baptism to him then. This was done accordingly, in the presence of his father-in-law, and three or four other friends and connexions, whom he had summoned to his bed, as he told me, for the express purpose of letting them see his determination to profess the faith of the gospel which in life he had so long neglected. It was a solemn, moving sight; one of the most interesting and affecting I ever saw. More devotion, humility, and placid confidence in GOD, I never saw in any sick man. I mentioned to him that as his strength was evidently declining, it would be well for him to say everything he desired to say to me then, as his voice and his faculties might fail. He then affectionately placed his arms around my neck, gently drew my ear near to his lips, that I might hear his whispers, and after thanking me over and over again for my small attentions to him, which his gratitude magnified into very high services, he proceeded to tell me what he wished done with his 'poor body.' He expressed very great anxiety to see you, and he very much feared that he should die before your expected arrival at midnight. But he said he left that