century, together with the estate, to the Roman Catholic family of the Welds, of Lulworth Castle, in Dorsetshire. The late Mr Weld gave it, as an asylum, to the English Jesuits of Liege, when they were driven from that city, by the French, in the year 1794. A short time before his death, he aliened it entirely, and transferred it to them as their property. They have made great alterations in it, and have completed very large additions to the old building; and what is very curious, and remarkable, they have introduced into all the principal apartments, the class, and recreation rooms, the refectory, dormitories, &c. the modern invention of gas lights. The bouse now contains above 200 persons, and is the largest Roman Catholic academy, or college in the kingdom. The grounds about it were formerly laid out in terraces, and ponds, and were adorned with many statues of lead, and stone, after the antique; there was also a large and intricate labyrinth of yew-trees. All this has now given place to a spacious play-ground for the boys.
In the year 1795, the editor of these poems, resided at Stonyhurst, for nearly five months, for the purpose of continuing his education. At that time his elder brother, the Reverend Walter Clifford, who had come there from Liege, was also an inmate of it, and a few years after became a professed member of the society of the Jesuits, to which he was ardently and enthusiastically attached. But alas! he died in the flower of his age, in the year 1806, in the Jesuits' College, at Palermo, in Sicily, whither he had gone for the recovery of his health.
Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit
Nulli flebilior quam (mihi.)
He was a young man, of very superior talents, of great literary attainments, a poet, a scholar, and a saint, of the most amiable disposition, and the most engaging manners. For many years he kept up a constant correspondence with the editor, chiefly on literary subjects. He has therefore felt his loss, not only as a brother, but as a companion, and director of his studies, whom he regrets, and laments, from year to year. Truly can he say,
I lost him too soon, and I loved him too late.
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