SIR THOMAS MOFFETT.
(To THE EDITOR. OF THE "SPECTATOR.] SIR,—I hope you will find space for a few words in com- memoration of one who, though he bad nearly attained his ninetieth year, yet leaves in the hearts of his friends that sense of a blank which death brings even to those who have not hoped for more intercourse in this world, when intercourse has been unmingled with regret for aught but its cessation. Sir Thomas Moffett, who died on the 6th inst. in Dublin, formerly President of Queen's College, Galway, and last High Sheriff of Galway, will be remembered by some as an ideal of the teacher, being also one who to the end of his life remained a learner. He, an Irishman, lived in times when all things Irish seemed charged with gunpowder, yet we all looked for his presence as a deliverance from party agitation and a breath from the repose of a mind abiding in communion with the great thinkers of the past. He would not have been without excuse for partisan vehemence; but he never needed it. He lived in a permanent world, and brought its atmosphere to all who came near him. "There are certain passages of Virgil I can always read with renewed delight," be wrote a year ago, and named for one the episode of the old man of Corycus, whose content in the narrow range of his garden treasures may well symbolise for the friends of Thomas Moffett his own tranquil, yet fully occupied, old age. "Even when sad winter enchained the streams," be watched the garden growth with hope, and looked for a returning spring. Those who loved him—and they are many—may well believe that he has found it.—I am, Sir, &c.,
JULIA. WEDGWOOD.
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