those, the result of chance and passion, which the world had hitherto witnessed. I was not occupied in limiting or extending the franchise, I was enfranchising all mankind from the harass ing cares of existence: I was not canvassing the Poor-Law Amendment Act, I was banishing all poverty at once from the earth; free trade and the corn-laws were questions looked on with indifference by one who saw that the earth yielded her increase, and wished to know why the living, think ing beings on its surface, could not : divide its fruits amongst themselves in better manner than to create per petual discontent, giving superfluity to some, and want to others, and anxiety to all. The destiny of the world ⚫lay on me like a care. It was mine to remodel the affairs of a planet of somewhat too stubborn materials, alas! for the plastic power of philosophy. Thus the truths that belong to eternity, the fate that in some undefined futurity might be realized by mankind, were the subjects of my ceaseless meditation, of my profound solicitude. I cannot tell you how miserable I was in this task of reforming the world.

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"These modes of thought-on the one hand this obstinate enquiry into the incomprehensible, into mysteries which lie without the circle of naturethis constant peering over the boundary wall of our mundane habitation into the eternal stillness beyond; and, on the other, this painful search, almost equally vain, after a given possible condition of human society which shall solve the problem that lies between man's existence and God's benevolence-have their use, I doubt not, and a noble use; but it is very easy to have more of them than enough. From such habits of thought, if once they have fastened on a man, he will with far more difficulty release himself than even from the love of poetry or poetic fame. He may learn to live without the air of compliment, may learn to rejoice or to endure without making the world at large the confidant of his, joys and his griefs-(that world to which he can speak with so much more openness and freedom than to any single one of its inhabitants, and to which, if he cannot speak, he seems condemned to utter silence) but he will hardly ever wean himself from mysteries which have become dear to him, and and from schemes which

present themselves as not only consolatory to his mind, but as the necessary complement of that intelligible whole he has become so anxious to conceive. Many a time will he smile at himself for thus occupying his thoughts, and after spending his weary, pleasing, painful hours over his favourite subjects of meditation, he will be the first to give a bitter and satirical account of them to others. He will revenge himself abroad for the thraldom he endures within. Perhaps he most sincerely regrets the time and feelings wasted thus fruitlessly; and, breaking loose from these ensnaring reveries, he resolves to live for the future, like the rest of the world, for himself and his friends. He will start forthwith on some active and personal career. What's Hecuba to him? But before he starts on this new and quite practical career, this sound and profitable scheme of existence, he will cast one more glance over speculations to be abandoned for ever, if it be only to mark again their futility, that he may go forth free of heart, and with full certainty that had he stayed amongst them he could have effected nothing more. He turns and takes his parting survey; discarded reasonings, hopes that had been mocked at a thousand times, visions that had been again and again dispelled, arise-surroundenthral him. He has looked back on the city of vain thoughts, so busy and so idle, and he stands motionless as the pillar of salt. He is rooted to the earth by those ceaseless and deceptive meditations, which present themselves perpetually in new disguises, only to betray him as perpetually to the old disappointment and self-derision.

"Such was more than once my own experience. I seemed separated from the world of action by a magic circle which I could not overpass. However, though I could not break the circle, I, by dint of thinking, raised myself higher in it. I attained a certain calm position, whence I could at all events survey the world with equanimity. I by degrees inured myself to the dubiety and indifference of philosophy, and endeavoured to satisfy the propensity for something more genial and distinct, by a very cordial sympathy with all good sentiments and good faiths as they exist in other men. I made it out to myself thus :all subjects of human reflection, whether they be thoughts or things, may be either regarded in the relation of cause and effect, and placed accurately in the chain of events, mental or physical, which constitutes our world; or they may be contemplated for the sake of the varied feelings, as of admiration, love, or terror, which they excite in the heart of the human spectator. The first of these is the scientific, the second the poetic form of thought. Whether our subjects be of the external world, or belong to the world of feeling and sentiment, there are but these two forms of reflection in which they can be considered. Now, I was accustomed to congratulate myself on the just equality and strict impartiality with which I cultivated both these great sections of the intellectual character. Thus, if philosophy swept much away and made wide open spaces, I could pitch therein the tents of imagination, and under new names let the old revelry proceed. I am not sure that this account of matters was not as near the truth as those which are given by the thoughtful spirits of our age, who attempt to include all which as men they are attached to under the name of philosophy. It is the fashion, or at least it was when I used to read on such subjects, to abuse the philosophy of the eighteenth century for its narrowness, and tendency to negation. Men found they could not embrace under it what they were nevertheless determined not to resign; so they stretched the cords of philosophy. Whether they strengthened the stakes at the same time, I may be permitted to doubt. Remember that philosophy has not grown more modest in the nineteenth century, or more willing to admit other and more sacred sources of knowledge than her own; she has in truth grown more self-sufficient, and thinks more depends on her arbitration than ever; and thus it is that in her attempt to perform all functions she becomes fantastic and insincere. If the philosophy of the past century is justly described as narrow and limited, that of the present (supposing that depreciating epithets alone are to be applied to either) will be designated as visionary and

hollow.

"To return to myself-whatever else I had attained, I had succeeded in scraping together, what is really a most precious commodity, a little self

complacency. I could even quote those lines of the good old song :'My mind to me a kingdom is,

Such great delight I find therein. I used to boast that, while I could analyse with the most severe anatomist of thought, I could also re-combine, nor had forgotten how to madire the revived compound; and that the very habit of penetrating into the secret operations of the mind, taught me to enter with full and unembarrassed sympathy into all its boldest flights, into all the daring dreams and faiths of humanity. I knew well what the imagination was, and respected it; I knew well that middle region of the air, neither earth nor heaven, where the meteors form and play-meteors which are still to be admired, though neither credited nor feared. Sentiments the most dreamy, thoughts the most vagrant, feelings the wildest and most conflicting-I knew them all-could claim or dismiss them at will. Whether it were that lucid enthusiasm of a lettered imagination, whereby we partake of the rapture of strong feelings, though our own lives are calm and serene; or whether it were the solemn mood, speculative or religious, chanting hope or a dirge over the human race- I could feel it all, respect and participate. And thus I walked along the level line of reason, yet not above humanity.

"I hear men, I would exclaim, speak in censure or in fear of metaphysical studies, or it may be in contempt. I know what they are worth, what they can and can not effect: I know the scanty list of truths they are able to add to the stock of human knowledge. But the result they leave behind, whether in the shape of actual truth or mental power, there is nothing that would induce me to forego; nor is there any other intellectual ware whatever for which I would exchange it. Others may have been acquiring greater share of erudition, of knowledge valuable as merchandise, learning of settled price and reputation in the world; but I feel that in these philosophic exercises I have been growing in the mind itself, and fitting myself by a far severer discipline than they have undergone, to appropriate of their stores whenever and whatsoever I please. Let the erudite and the scientific assume what airs they will, I feel that I am their intellectual superior; I am their lawful critic; I have earned the power to overlook, and therefore the right to pass judgment on these men. As to simple-minded people, if any such remain, who frankly protest that for themselves they they wo would rather not be troubled by subtle devices of man's brain-that they would prefer to wrap themselves in some coarser but more comfortable garment than can be woven of philosophy, with the aid of poetry to boot-in thoughts quite at hand, native and familiar, and such as their social position has long since in vested them with-I object not to their choice, would perhaps even commend it. Let them walk in honest broad cloth, buttoned to the chin.' I wish them god-speed! Yet let them not in return speak ill of that which they have refused to know; nor heap scandal and abuse upon a refinement of thought which has done them no harm, which may have done them good they know not of. Let them, however, speak as they will, I shall not the less continue to bear with them in that spirit of indulgence and equanimity which becomes philosophy.

"At some such explosion as this it was that you most irreverently burst into a fit of laughter. Then, suddenly checking your mirth, you very gravely said, shaking that long head of thine, • This won't do, Howard. This is worse than ever. When you were riding your hobby, though it were ever so cursed a one-though it were even of Pegasian breed you made some way, or at all events had a way

you wished to go; but now that you have not even got a hobby to mount, I cannot tell what is to become of you. Have you really no better stuff to make a life of than this super-refinement of philosophy? Do you expect to remain there standing where we cannot soar, merely looking on, just thinking of us all, or rather viewing all things as they are reflected in a sort of mirror which you have fixed up for yourself on that serene altitude ? God help thee! I say.'

"Even you, when you uttered these ill bodings, had little expectations how soon they were to be justified, or by how slight and gentle a hand I was to be dashed from my elevation. There came to visit us the daughter of an old friend of the family, a captain who had retired into Devonshire to make his half-pay extend over the expenses of the whole year. She was neither the most beautiful, nor the most witty, nor the most accomplished of her sex; but she was wonderfully pleasing, constantly cheerful and amiable, with a genuine frankness of manner quite delightful. I suppose that, in my conversation with Juliana, which grew to be frequent enough, it was I who bore the chief part, yet it seemed to me that from her alone all the conversation really sprung. Had I been asked, I should have attributed all the merit, if merit of any kind there was, all that was curious or refined in our dialogue, all its mirth, and pleasantry, and feeling, entirely to her.*

"The period of her visit flew like magic. She returned home. The day of her departure passed long and beavily. I smiled at myself, and anticipated forgetfulness and tranquillity on the morrow. The morrow came, and the day after, but they brought neither forgetfulness nor tranquillity, but many new trains of thought, simple enough, yet disquieting in the extreme. If to love it is necessary to believe all beauty and all amiability centred in one woman, I was certainly not in that predicament. But the charming social intercourse which had been suddenly broken up, had made a revelation to me of what existed in my own heart, which it seemed impossible again to forget. I could not follow her. I could not marry. For the first time in my life I knew that I was poor.

"And now there rushed upon me at once, as if up to that moment I had been stone blind, the vision of the real world. I saw it as it stood in relation to me. I stood face to face with it. O God! how I felt the utter loneliness of that moment! I had spent my days in weaving a miserable screenwork between me and the sole happiness of life. I had forfeited, I had thrown away, I had lost for ever, that only boon which seemed to justify the providence of God in the creation of this world. You, my friend, came upon me in the height of this despair. You found me sitting alone in my study. You remember the scene that followed. I cannot recur to it. I have felt a pleasure in recalling the past wanderings of my spirit; but those moments of passion I cannot dwell upon. You know how bitterly I

railed, scoffed, jeered at myself, and at every employment that had ever engrossed me. I had found in philosophy no faith, in the world no path of duty, in my heart I had found affections, and these were to be utterly crushed. I had somewhere read, I think in one of the novels of Goethe, of a melancholy man, who, finding his thoughts run much and incontrollably upon self-destruction, procured a dag. ger, and whenever the black hour of his melancholy recurred, the production of the keen and polished instrument, the handling it, and the consciousness that if he pleased he might - used to calm the fever of his heart. A vague idea that either in this way or another, I might find a remedy in such an instrument, induced me to procure one, and I had deposited it in my writing-desk. As I chafed myself with bitter and miserable talk, I suddenly snatched it from its hidingplace, and dashed the blade against my heart. It would have been driven to the hilt, but that you rushed forward and struck it from my hand. Can either of us ever forget that moment when we both looked upon the dagger as it lay upon the floor?

"Doggedly, sullenly, but without a relapse, I have since laboured at the profession in which you find me. You may perceive that my labours have not been without their recompense. But this is not half my reward. Severe and steady occupation has brought with it an equanimity of mind which I need not tell you is more precious than wealth. - My friend, the wine stays with you."

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WE Some few years ago laid before our readers certain papers entitled "the State of Protestantism in France." We are happy now to be able to substitute for the word "state" the word "progress." In order to justify, however, the assertion implied by this change of phrase, we shall not enter into many small details. These, when separately dwelt upon, appear so humble and insignificant, that they fail to convey an adequate impression of the effect which their frequent occurrence, which their multiplicity, really produce. We shall therefore proceed differently. Instead of enumerating, in the first instance, detach

ed facts, we shall point out some joint results of these facts, which will prove, in a most unequivocal manner, their importance; and afterwards, if our limits permit, we shall mention a few of those minute interesting particulars to which we deem it judicious to give a prominent place.

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The first result, the massive consequence, of the progression of the Reformed creed in France, to which refer is, the hostility it has provoked from the French Government and civil authorities. This has been manifested in legal proceedings the most oppressive against the French Protestants. We shall commence by stating one most grave case of this sort of oppression. We shall make no apology for the length of our remarks upon it. Whatever relates to Protestantism, has not a foreign but a home interest for Englishmen. We shall therefore treat our subject with as much emphasis and earnestness, as if the events we have to dwell upon had happened amongst ourselves. By so doing we feel assured we shall not weary our readers, but on the contrary engage their most lively sympathies, and best incite them to come to the help of their own cause the cause of the Reformation among the French: i. e. the cause of the Reformation throughout Europe. In commenting on the case to which we have just alluded, we shall be obliged, to avoid obscurity, briefly to recapitulate in other words a statement and an argument which we have more amply dealt with on a former similar occa

sion. This case is recorded in the third volume of Mr Browning's History of the Huguenots, a work containing much valuable information, no where else to be met with in so compendious a form. It is as follows:

A little more than a year ago, two individuals by name Doine and Lemair, were charged at Montargis with having held a religious meeting consisting of more than twenty persons. The authorities of that town insisted that this act was contrary to the law, and the accused were condemned to several months' imprisonment. They appealed, however, against thissentence to the Cour Royal of Orleans, which reversed the judgment and pronounced a verdict of acquittal. Against this acquittal another appeal was made, at the instigation of the Ministre des Cultes, to the Court of Cassation, when on special grounds the latter sentence was confirmed, whilst the legal view of the case taken by the Montargis tribunal was declared to be the right one. This view is, that French religionists disconnected with the state, or not having the permission of the civil authorities, have no right to assemble more than twenty persons, and that they violate positive laws in so doing.

The laws to which allusion is here made, are the articles 291 and 294 of the penal code of France, and also an enactment of a late date against associations. The articles of the penal code pronounce all assemblies amounting to more than twenty persons, which are held without the authorization of the Government, or of a chief magistrate, to be illegal. The law against associations is identical with these articles, only it gives wider powers.

Against these two laws the French Protestants invoke in their defence, primarily, the fifth article of the Charte of 1830, which runs thus:-Every individual is free to profess his religion with equal liberty, and will obtain for his worship an equalprotection." This article is to them their edict of Nantes of the nineteenth century. They insist that, being of a posterior date to those of the penal code just mentioned, the more recent enactment must, from