thousand pounds of powder. Three hundred barrels of sixty pounds each, for which orders came out in a few days later, to be stowed in the magazine in Macao, and the frigate to proceed to Lisbon.

The disaster was attributed to design. The gunner was said to have fired the magazine for revenge.

It was said that, only a few days previous, he had been severely reprimanded by the captain, for some neglect of duty, and that the captain had pulled his beard.

Afterwards he told his messmates that he could not survive such an indignity, that he was an old man, and had not long to live, but when he died, others should die too.

This is the way the Portuguese account for the loss of the vessel and her crew.

Out of all those picked up, but one survived! Our own escape can only be attributed to the protecting hand of that Providence, without whose knowledge not even the smallest sparrow can fall to the ground unnoticed.

ANECDOTE OF WEBSTER.

THE JACKDAW.

vider Church, army, physic, law,
Its custom and its businesses,
Is no concern at all of his,

And says what says he?-Caw!
Thrice happy bird! I too, have seen
Much of the vanities of men ;

And, sick of having seen 'em,
Would cheerfully these limbs resign
For such a pair of wings as thine,

And such a head between 'em.

Не

Mr. MACAULAY's address to the constituency of Edinburgh has attracted attention as well from its eloquence as political tone. (It may be remembered that the distinguished gentleman is just recovering from an illness which it was feared would prove fatal.) professes himself unable to foresee from the language held by the members of the government what their conduct will be on the subject of Protection; but he Ithinks he can predict that the reform effected by Sir Robert Peel is safe. Personally he (Macaulay) is earnest in favor of Free Trade, and is prepared to go further towards universal suffrage than he once thought it possible he should. He says:

that distance.

JUST before he died, and after his recovery was despaired of, one of his physicians approached his "I tell you, that in those Colonies which have been bed-side, and asked how he found himself. "I feel planted by our race-and when I say Colonies, I speak like the Jackdaw in the Church Steeple," was the as well of those which have separated from us as those strange reply. The physician withdrew sadly from Colonies the condition of the laboring man has long which still remain united to us-you know that in our the bedside to another part of the room, where been far more prosperous than in any part of the old some members of the family were standing to- world. Everywhere the desert is receding before the gether, and, shaking his head, confessed his ap-advancement of the flood of human life and civilization; prehensions that the brain of the dying statesman and in the mean time those who are left behind find was affected, that the stately oak was perishing at abundance, and never endure those privations, which, the top. He could see no method in the answer in old countries, too often befall the laboring classes. which his question had received. One of the ladies And why has not the condition of our laborers been present, who knew Mr. Webster better, did not equally fortunate? Simply, as I believe, on account believe his mind was wandering, and, quietly step-of the great distance which separates our country from ping to the bed-side, asked him what he meant by the new, unoccupied, and uncultivated fertile part of saying he felt like the Jackdaw in the Church the world, and on account of the expense of traversing Steeple. "Why Cowper; don't you remember?" was the reply. She did remember Cowper's that distance; science has diminished and is diminScience, however, is abridged, and is abridging delightful translation of one of Vincent Bourne's ishing that expense. Already New Zealand is nearer little poems, entitled The Jackdaw. I send you a for all practical purposes than New England was to copy of the verses, which some of your readers the Puritans, who fled thither from the tyranny of may have forgotten or never read, that they may Laud. Already the coasts of North America, Halifax, perceive the perfect fitness and point of the reply: Boston, and New York, are nearer to England than, within the memory of persons now living, the Island of Skye and the county of Donegal were to London. Already emigration is beginning, if I rightly understand, to produce the same effect here which it has produced on the Atlantic States of the Union. And do not imagine that our countryman who goes abroad is altogether lost to us. Even if he go from under the dominion and protection of the English flag, and settle himself among a kindred people, still he is not altogether lost to us, for, under the benignant system of free trade, he will still remain bound to us by close ties. [Cheers.] If he ceases to be a neighbor, he is still a benefactor and a customer. Go where he may, if you will but uphold that system inviolate, it is for us that he is turning the forests into corn-fields on the banks of the Mississippi; it is for us he is tending his sheep and preparing his fleece in the heart of Austra lia; and in the mean time it is from us he receives the commodities which are produced with vast advantage in an old society, where great masses of capital are accumulated. His candlesticks, and his pots and pans come from Birmingham; his knives from Sheffield; the light cotton jacket which he wears in summer comes from Manchester; and the good cloth coat which he wears in winter comes from Leeds; and in return he sends us back what he produces in what was once a wilderness-the good flour out of which is made the large loaf which the Englishman divides among his children." [Cheers.] At this point the speaker was unable to proceed, from exhaustion.

There is a bird, who, by his coat,
And by the hoarseness of his note,
Might be supposed a crow;
A great frequenter of the church,
Where, bishop-like, he finds a perch,
And dormitory too.

G

Above the steeple shines a plate,
That turns and turns, to indicate

From what point blows the weather.
Look up your brains begin to swim,
"Tis in the clouds that pleases him,
He chooses it the rather.

Fond of the speculative height,
Thither he wings his airy flight,
And thence securely sees
The bustle and the raree show,
That occupy mankind below,

Secure and at his ease.

You think, no doubt, he sits and muses
On future broken bones and bruises
If he should chance to fall.
No; not a single thought like that
Employs his philosophic pate,

Or troubles it at all.

He sees that this great round a-bout,
The world, with all its motley rout,

From the Christian Observer.

the same mental and moral atmosphere. By his A FEW WORDS FOR COUNTRY CLERGYMEN. situation, his calling, his ever-recurring occupations, his domestic habits, and, perhaps, by the "I HOPE," said my college tutor, as he finished narrowness of his means, he finds himself separated sharpening his pen-knife on a small whetstone, "I to a great degree from the world of action and of hope that you will not let the edge get blunt."" stirring thought. He withdraws in a great measThe tutor was speaking, not of the knife in his ure from what is called general society, and, in hand, which only supplied him with his metaphor, but of the mind and intellect of his auditor. "It is quite painful," he continued, “to see how many men, when they go down to their curacies, and get into a country life, seem to lose the brightness and the keenness of their minds; rust accumulates, which is never wiped away; no exercises are encountered which may sharpen the edge of thought. The intellectual interest is dulled, and the intellectual powers are blunted.” To this effect were the observations made some fifteen years ago, as we stood conversing in the orielwindow which overlooked the college gardens; and, as it seems to me, they were not made without reason.

so doing, escapes many snares and worldly distraçtions, and much waste of time; but also loses many points of contact with the minds of others, and the movements of the world, by which thought might have received an impulse, and the faculties of the mind been stimulated. Among those with whom he associates, there are probably few whose intercourse can have any effect of the kind; and the persons by whom his attention as a pastor is usually engaged are at a dead level of education and intelligence, very far below his own. Books are a refuge for him; but somehow or other, whenever we meet him, he tells us that he has no time to read. The fact is, that his several calls of duty do not seem absolutely to require it; and I imagine that many of your readers are country some domestic or parochial occupation is always clergymen, as, indeed, I am one myself; and, far at hand, to fill up the few hours contained within from thinking that I shall appear uncivil, I fully the circle of a day. The mind, not being turned expect that they will in general agree with me in by circumstances or the influence of others into thinking that there is abundant ground for such any particular line of study or inquiry, is slow to observations as I have here repeated. I know, select any for itself; so the grave books on the and they know, how much there is in our position study shelves still stand waiting (they may be and course of life which tends to dim the bright- opened at any time); and the few publications of ness and blunt the edge of our mental faculties. the day, which a book-club may place on the table If a hint upon the subject should supply in any of the sitting-room, have to be sent on," before quarter a warning and a stimulus, I think a service they are half read. Yet the daily duties of the will be rendered, not only to the individual, and to pastoral calling are themselves, it may be thought, the society in which he may mingle, but to the sufficient exercises, and task the powers of the cause to which he has consecrated his powers and mind. To a certain extent it is so; and yet even his life. I look upon the matter thus: We have these come often to be performed with little effort, devoted our faculties, our energies, our powers of and but faintly rouse the energies of the mind. nind, whatever they are, to the highest and At first, to write a sermon, to minister to a sick noblest of all objects, the maintenance and exten-person, to converse with a cottager, to teach in a sion of the kingdom of Christ and of God; and it, therefore, surely becomes a matter of conscience, that what we have thus devoted should be worth something; that the contribution should be as valuable, and the instrument as efficient, as we can manage to make it. This, of course, is the meaning of the education which is required, and of the previous mental exercises through which it is necessary to pass. But it is when those preliminary exercises are completed, that our own responsibility more distinctly begins. I cannot help thinking that, in regard to the special point which I have in view, that responsibility is often little felt.

school, were undertakings for which the mind was obliged to rouse itself in earnest and prepare itself, as for a work of novelty and difficulty. But, as time goes on, the man gets into the habit of it, and he may be heard, again and again, saying the same things in the same way. He seems to find little opportunity for " speaking wisdom among those that are perfect," and sees before him a people who have need that one teach them again which be the first principles of the oracles of God." Nothing seems very urgently to call upon him to extend his range of thought, or gain deeper views of the meaning of Scripture. The same great truths have not yet penetrated the dulness of the Let us note the ordinary career of the country peasant mind, and require to be again and again clergyman, and observe the influence of his posi-instilled. The mind too readily yields to the tion and life, and the manner in which it tells upon the mind. A man goes down, as it is called, into the country, takes his curacy, and in due time gets his living, marries and settles. I am not supposing one of those painful cases, which, alas! are too often witnessed, in which the sacred profession is united with an evidently worldly life; but one of those which, we are thankful to believe, are far more common, that of a quiet, serious, estimable, and pious man, desirous of serving God in his own place and calling, and being of use in this evil world. Accordingly, he addicts himself to the work of his parish, his services, his poor people, his schools. Still, as the weeks and years go round, he revolves in the same narrow circle, and treads the same round of oft-repeated duties. He sees the same faces, and grows habituated to

temptation, and Saturday-made sermons reproduce the same bold outlines of truth, with the same associations of ideas and language, betraying the absence of real pains and conscientious exertion of the mental powers. Then the private intercourse with the souls of others has a continual tendency to narrow itself into one beaten track. There are certain people who seem to have a special claim upon their minister, and to lie waiting in his way. He gets into the regular habit of reading to old So-and-so, and old So-and-so never dies; and when the sick have been visited, and the people who expect notice have received it, it is found that the allotted time has been expended. Hence, a limited class of minds, and those the most friendly in their dispositions or the most feeble from their circumstances, come gradually to absorb the attention,

and that spirit and energy are not awakened, of some distinct subject of high interest and imwhich would be aroused by conflict with the bold portance; to the accurate study of some passage avowal of opposite sentiments, and by dealing in the word of God; to the closer observation of with the idiosyncrasies of various and active human nature; to larger and more connected minds. Indeed, the respect which is entertained views of revealed truth; to a fuller apprehension for the clergyman's position, and the general of the mind of the Spirit in some particular or sense of the opinions which he is expected to other. It may, indeed, be true that all this maintain, surround him with a kind of repellent trouble may be avoided, and yet no one have the atmosphere, which too often represses the expres- right or the inclination to complain; that, by sion of the genuine sentiments of those with whom keeping to the most obvious views, and the wellhe converses, and prevents his contact with men worn commonplaces which suggest themselves of as they really are; and this, I suppose, must be their own accord, we may produce a very respectthe reason why those who ought to be best able sermon, and one not without profit to our acquainted with human character are often re- hearers. But then we refuse our appointed exmarked upon as being singularly deficient in that ercise; we waste the means of improvement; and kind of knowledge. if not in any one particular instance, yet, on the These are the influences and the tendencies of whole and in the long run, the difference is inthe country clergyman's life; and I am afraid that evitably felt, and a failure of impression and sucthe issue must be stated in plain language to be, cess will not only naturally follow, but, in my that he is apt to get somewhat dull, gradually to opinion, must be judicially inflicted; for we shall drop the habit of mental exertion, and so to lose not have done what we could, and shall have the spirit and energy, the liveliness and vigor, of offered unto the Lord our God of that which hath his mind-in fact, to "let the edge get blunt." cost us nothing. Some one may think that what I do not mean to say that he is a duller man than has been advanced would tend to fill our sermons his neighbors; quite the contrary; his talk will with learned dissertations and profound discusnot be of bullocks, and something of an intellectual sions; but such a person would little apprehend cast may be expected in his conversation. But I the real nature of that exertion of mind which is am not looking at the requirements of general advocated. A large part of it consists in the society, but at the requirements of his duties and labor of selection and adaptation. He who should position. I do not want the intellectualism of the remorselessly inflict upon his audience all the in"Common room," or of the literary circle, nor formation which he had collected, and the whole anything else that, to the minister of Christ, would process of thought which his own mind had folbe trifling or ensnaring. The man in question has lowed, would escape more than half his work; given himself to the Lord. Whatever he can do, which consists to so great a degree in treating whatever he can be, is devoted to His work and every subject with a constant reference to the His objects. But is that a reason why what he actual state of those who are to be addressed, in does should be poorer, and what he is should be using only those results of our studies which will feebler, than would be the case if the making of be suited to their understanding and available for his own fortune and the success of his own career their use, in throwing that which we select into were the objects of which he was in pursuit? The the form most likely to succeed, choosing the most best that can be brought is needed. The duties forcible expressions, and translating often into cannot be efficiently discharged without real exer- simpler idioms the language in which our own tion and energetic application of mind; in one ideas naturally attire themselves; and, above all, word, without pains. The position cannot be in compelling our various and discursive thoughts adequately filled but by a man who has exercised to bear with concentrated power upon one great and improved himself to the utmost. And it is object-the ministration of free salvation and the deficiency of this which we deplore. We are spiritual life in Christ Jesus. grieved to hear sermons and speeches maintaining, 2. In our private dealings with our people, it it may be, the truth, and dilating on the Gospel, will be well to aim at holding intercourse with but evincing that no pains have been taken, and persons in as great a variety of mental condition as to observe a tone of mind which betrays the fact we conveniently can. I have already remarked that the habits of mental exertion have been that our attention has a tendency to be absorbed abandoned.

by the well-disposed, the humble, the aged, and I am not urging upon myself and my brethren sick; but we ought not to allow it to be absorbed that we ought to be clever; but I am urging that by them. These, of course, must engage the we ought to be conscientious; and the conscien- greatest part of our time; but we ought to use tious man, who knows himself to be employed in every possible opportunity of ministerial contact the Lord's service, will desire to do what he does with more active and restive spirits; but to turn in the best manner that he can. But I feel that I aside, when we can, from the chambers where have descanted long enough upon my subject, and poverty and weakness produce acquiescence, in possibly with an appearance of presumptuous lec- order to hear the thoughts of those in different cirturing. I therefore hasten to conclude, by sub-cumstances who do not think as we could wish, but mitting (especially to my younger brethren) one who will tell us what they think. That there is or two practical suggestions in counteraction of much to debar us from such intercourse, I know; those tendencies of our position to which I have adverted.

but my impression is, that few clergymen seek it as earnestly as they ought to do. It may be no 1. In the preparation of sermons, lectures, and advantage to my readers, but it will be a relief to public addresses, let us consider ourselves as pro- my own mind, to confess how much I am myself vided with a valuable opportunity, as well as ap- rebuked by what I am writing. We are bound, I pealed to by a solemn call, for the exercise and think, to take this course, not merely for the sake improvement of our faculties and the exertion of of doing good to the particular individuals, but whatever powers we possess. Every such prep- that we may enlarge our knowledge of men's aration does in fact invite us to the investigation | minds, that we may ascertain the tendencies of

various conditions and occupations, and under-1 gels of Mexico. In fine, it appears that republi-
stand the prejudices, errors, and temptations of cans hate kings, but love to have a drop of regal
those who do not frequently or willingly cross our blood in their veins; they laugh at lords, but like
path, but whose cases we have to contemplate in to have some off-shoot of a lordling for their an-
our public ministrations. It will sometimes hap-cestor; a duke they deride, but try to eke out with
pen to a clergyman that he accidentally encoun-a ducal escutcheon their candidate's lamentable
ters and falls into conversation with a person out lack of better public honors. Randolph, then,
of his usual line of intercourse, whose temper of was as rational as the rest of us.
mind and tone of observation seem to open to him
His person betokened
not
a little his Indian ex-
a fresh glimpse of what is passing in the minds of traction. So far merely as it was, by its peculiari-
others; and I am much mistaken if he has not ties, the apt auxiliary of his discourse, I must
found, on those occasions, that a fresh impulse has sketch it, though often described at a later period,
been given to his own thoughts, and fresh applica- when what at first gave him identity had, from
tions of Divine truth have been suggested to his long indulgence of eccentricities and of a wayward
temper (made such by disease), passed into an
exaggeration and even a caricature of what origi-
nally only distinguished him. In his younger
days his aspect was almost as pleasing as it was
remarkable. The nearly matchless pencil of Stuart
has hardly left the faithful lineaments of a coun-
tenance brighter or handsomer than was that of
Randolph, which he painted in a portrait which
used to adorn the library at Bizarre, the seat of
his brother Richard's widow. The picture proba-
bly still exists. But all in him was at odds; Nature
had been bountiful to him and Fortune profuse ;
yet the one had denied him a chief gift of the man

mind.

There is, still further, one other point on which I was about to offer some suggestions; namely, the degree in which habits of study and general reading should be maintained; but I see that I have been already very long, and feel that I am getting tiresome. Alas! after what I have said of our position and habits, what else could be expected? Possibly I may become a little brighter before next month; and, in that hope, will reserve my observations for the present, as the subject is one on which I should be glad to say a little more than I can now decently say, after exhausting the patience of my reader (if reader I have had) with a practical proof of the evil I deplore.

RANDOLPH OF ROANOKE.

T. D. B.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE NEW YORK DAILY TIMES.

-sex; and the other had left him a miser; so. that both seemed to have begun him for a favorite, but held their hand too soon and left him unfinished. In the same opposition of his fate, he who had Stuart for his early limner, had Stansbury for his later caricaturist; and the world, which loves to see the great in their worst semblance, has forgotten, like Hamlet's mother, the hyperion for the satyr.

THE earliest of those remarkable for their conversation whom I have known, was John Randolph, He was, indeed, until premature old age and self-styled of Roanoke. For the designation was disease had shrivelled him, uncommonly handsome. of his own making, and stood, to his aristocratic His face was almost fair enough for a lady's, and, propensities, in lieu of a title. He was, civilly, a indeed, of a woman-like beauty; eminently exgreat democrat; but, socially, anything else. pressive of either passion or thought, in all their This, it will probably occur to you, is no rare phe- fitfullest forms, and lighted up by the absolute blaze nomenon. Well, it is a bit of republican inconsist of eyes (yet they were black) such as no one who ency, no doubt; but what then? 'Tis not making ever saw him can fail to recollect as far the most things rare that makes them cease to be valued. brilliant be ever beheld. To these advantages of If lords, and earls, and dukes, were plenty among a visage that of itself almost spoke, he joined a us, we democrats would not so run after every voice and an utterance the most delicately clear shadow of nobility that passes us. It is a harmless that you can imagine. Except that it was, like infirmity of our land, whereby I and other laughers his countenance, too feminine, nothing could exat ourselves get, from time to time, much diversion, ceed it, for the purposes of conversation. There, in the midst of many a sad state of public matters. unexerted, and managed with the most curious Alas! but for the fooleries we see, what consola-art, it flowed in the most silvery sounds along its tion should we have? Pray let them stand. But I see you do.

whole scale. Imagine an octave flute touched as daintily as possible by the fingers of a consummate Randolph, however, to mend the matter, prided master; it was even so that he played upon his himself on the possession of royal blood, even of voice when he talked. The singular tone and qualtwo sources; he claimed to be of the lineage of the ity of the organ, its thinness, its fineness, and the Tudors, on the one side, and of that of Princess rare perfection of his articulation, enabled him to Pocahontas, on the other. Upon the latter, as a employ, even in social discourse, without anything more indigenous, romantic, and (so to speak) nat- that displeased you, a sort of elocution which no ural and unsophisticated royalty, that went about other could have attempted. In him it seemed naked, scalped folks, and perhaps ate them for a not merely natural, but the fittest possible vocal roast, he especially valued himself. Now, meta- vehicle for a style of conveying his ideas which physically, I cannot explain how a disciple of was altogether his own. All these things, if at all Jeffersonian equality should entertain such a sen-matched with the particular intellectual qualities timent as the pride of blood; but so it is; you see that they have, since his nomination, been to the Herald's college for Mr. Pierce, and gotten him a ducal democratic pedigree. He is descended of the earls of Northumberland; he comes of the race of Harry Hotspur himself, famous for "riding up a hill perpendicular;" and hence, no doubt, his break-neck feats of horsemanship upon the pedre

they imply, would, you perceive, make him a
great artist of dramatic effects and of the whole
mystery of captivating attention and giving value
to whatever he said; and, accordingly, he was,
beyond any one I have ever seen, a master in that
way. He knew how to convey as much by a word,
a gesture, a look, as other people by a whole
oration. Not to listen to him eagerly, as long as

)

As to the fund of knowledge on which he dealt so well in dialogue and even spent so freely in speeches, it appeared to be very large and very fine. He certainly seemed, if he was not, a scholar, and even a much-accomplished one. His public performances, still more than his social conversation, got him that reputation; for into those much more than these he was fond of introducing

he chose, was impossible; for, like Pope's female personal happiness; and sank, towards its close, wit, his tongue bewitched as oddly as his eyes.' "into hardly better than madness-a spectacle for You could no more get away from his spell of fools, and a moral for the wise. speech, the thraldom of hearing him, than could, in Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner," any wedding guest from the fascination of that strange old fellow's glance and story. Let me not forget to mention that he delighted in reading aloud, and was incomparable in that rarest of elegant accomplishments. In it, I never heard anybody likened to him but one, who barely approached him-his neighbor, Judge Peter Johnston. Randolph's read-quotations-not rarely Latin ones; and when he ing was a delightful entertainment. It had all the would dazzle less, some French and much Shakseffect of the finest and purest stage declamation; peare. Yet I suspect that he was far rather a welland yet it was subdued into almost the simple, read gentleman and much versed in what was, in his quiet style of mere conversation. The poets, the day, called "Polite Literature" (that which has orators, the essayists, never had a more perfect in-supplanted it has very properly dropt the "polite"), terpreter than his tongue. With Shakspeare, he than in any degree learned. He who has cash would dissolve every listener in tears or convulse enough to get some diamonds, and will occasionally him in laughter; with Milton, lift you into all show one in a crowd like Congress, where there the solemn rapture of the sublime, and charm your are more stone-masons than lapidaries, will easily ears and your fancy with the melodious wildness pass for being very rich, even though the jewels may of Gray, or stir up your understanding with the be paste, or not his own. Now, first of all, I never pregnant harmony of Pope's verse. The last, how have known a really good scholar who was addicted ever, came nearest, I think, to being his "one to dealing out scrap-Latin or shreds of any other book;" upon it had he most shaped his thinking lingo; quotations have gone out of fashion, except and modelled his style. Prose reading was, of among those who can't translate them. Secondly, course, mere play to him; for how should a divine Randolph's had that mark by which the lacksolvist of the keyed horn have any difficulty with learning of such things may ever be detected; the penny whistle? I do not exaggerate when I they were always sentences often quoted before, say that by his art he seemed to mend the best and obviously, therefore, gotten at second-hand, things, while, by some undefinable charm or in- not from the original source. Yet there were scrutable trick, he gave an interest to the worst. certain things in which a particular taste, a I almost think he could have made one of Sam special ambition, and a boundless memory made Houston's (old San Jacinto's) speeches sound like him strong. He knew the local and family history something more than the flaming fustian of an un- of Britain better than any man in it; had the commonly foolish school-boy; could have made parliamentary annals at his finger ends; had its Carlyle appear to write English; could have public history and biography by heart, so far as rendered Emerson intelligible; Willis vigorous; they could be derived from Hume and the memoirand even ("the force of talent could no further writers; and was well-versed in the good old Enggo") have put, now and then, a glimpse of some-lish literature, as far up as Spenser. thing like meaning into Tupper's "Proverbial Phi- I could say much of his public career; but that losophy." But hold! I grow incredible. is not now my theme. So, for the present, I pass on to others. IL SEGRETARIO.

You are now prepared, I trust, to conceive how he talked. He was, until age, pain, and opium had soured him and made him fantastic and cynical, an admirable colloquist; easy, yet elegant; fanciful, yet instructive; by turns discursive and GRATTAN'S FIRST APPEARANCE IN THE HOUSE OF epigrammatic; sometimes all judgment, sometimes COMMONS.-He rose in a house prepared to laugh at all paradox; serious or gay at will; wise, witty, him, in the face of Mr. Pitt and Mr. Canning, both or sentimental, as might be the genius of the hour; of whom had treated him with scorn, and with a he was most various, and yet ever original, or, at manner and voice much exposed to ridicule everyleast, seemed so. For, really, you might have where, but more especially so in an assembly which had never been familiarized to it, had no experience met your own most familiar thoughts, in the novel of the sense and genius by which these defects were garb of manner and expression into which he put redeemed, and has, at all times, been remarkable for them, and, instead of recognizing them, you great reluctance in confirming reputations for oratory would take them for some distinguished strangers elsewhere obtained. When he rose, curiosity was from some remote and rich realm of the intellect, excited, and one might have heard a pin drop in which only he had ever visited. But all this was that crowded house. It required, indeed, intense in his more genial time, before disappointed hopes attention to catch the strange and long, deep-fetched of power had embittered, or (as I have said) whisper in which he began; and I could see the indisease blasted him, or his exclusion from the best cipient smile curling on Mr. Pitt's lips, at the brevity joys of life rankled him into the miser and the and antithesis of his sentences, his grotesque speculamisanthrope. Afterwards, he grew sad, morose, tions, peculiar and almost foreign accent, and arch As he proceeded,. sarcastic, selfish; lost his good breeding with his articulation and countenance. good spirits, and, of course, with both, the great however, the sneers of his opponents were softened charm of his conversation; which seldom shone delight and admiration. Mr. Pitt beat time to the into courtesy and attention, and at length settled in again, except for a few whom a higher respect ex-artificial but harmonious cadence of his periods, and empted from his caprices and kept unalienated, Mr. Canning's countenance kindled at the brightness. faithful and pitying friends to the last of a life of a fancy which in glitter fully equalled, in real. that was, after all, abortive; accomplished, by its warmth and power far exceeded, his own. Never was fine powers, but little of fame, influence, or even triumph more complete.-Lord Holland's Memoirs