The following is extracted from the reply of Mr. Clarkson to the above communication:

"DEAR SIR,

"I received your letter, and beg the favour of you, to return my most cordial thanks to the Members of the Corporation, and to the other Gentlemen, inhabitants of my native town, for the kind feelings, and the regard and respect which they have manifested towards me, through you, and to assure them that I set a particularly high value upon these manifestations, when I consider, first, from whom they come; and then, that they come from an approbation of my past conduct. That I was the first to take up, or the one who originated, the Abolition of the Slave Trade, from whence followed the Abolition of Colonial Slavery, is indeed true; but I take no merit to myself on this account, being assured that those feelings which pointed out to me the path I was to pursue, must have sprung from a holy source ;-and that I laboured afterwards for forty-eight years, (two years within half a century,) in this noble cause, is equally true;-but you must be sensible that no individual could, by himself, have completed so vast a work. What could I, myself, have done, without Mr. Wilberforce, as a parliamentary leader? and what could he, or I, have done, without that most indefatigable and ever-to-be honoured Committee, which was instituted in London, in June, 1787? and what could this, and other laborious committees have done, if they had not been backed by the British people? and what would the British people have done, if they had not been lovers of liberty, and Christians? The victory is, in fact, if we wish to know who gained it—the triumph of Christianity over Barbarism!"

THE OUTCAST.

BY SARAH STICKNEY.

WHO is the alien from his father's home?
Who is the exile from his native shore?
Who the lone wanderer, self-condemned to roam,
And find the haven of his rest no more?

Is it the outcast from parental love ?

The traitor banished by his country's doom?
The child of penury, whose footsteps rove
O'er weary paths, to find a nameless tomb?

No; for the outcast has a Friend on high,
And mercy shields him with her angel wings;
The banished exile may return, and die

A pardoned suppliant to the King of kings.

The child of penury ne'er walks alone,

Nor unregarded, save by mortal ken;
His steps are numbered, and his path is known,
Where heavenly guardians watch the ways of men.

It is the exile from the promised land,
The alien heedless of his Father's call,
The wanderer who returns not, that demand
Tears of the deepest sympathy from all.

He, in his long, long travel, knows no rest;

No welcome wooes him, and no smiles repay; Self-exiled from the regions of the blest,

Alone he treads his dark and thorny way.