man, he continued: "This box, my lord, I shall prize as long as I live, and when I am gone, it will be appreciated by those who are dearest to me, as a proof that, in the course of an active and chequered life, both political and literary, I succeeded in gaining the esteem and good will of the people of one of the greatest and most enlightened cities in the British empire. My political life, my lord, has closed. The feelings which contention and rivalry naturally called forth, and from which I do not pretend to have been exempted, have had time to cool down. I can look now upon the events in which I bore a part, as calmly, I think, as on the events of the past century. I can do that justice now to honorable opponents, which perhaps, in moments of conflict, I might have refused to them. "I believe I can judge as impartially of my own career, as I can judge of the career of another man. I acknowledge great errors and deficiencies, but I have nothing to acknowledge inconsistent with rectitude of intention and independence of spirit. (Great applause.) My conscience bears me this testimony, that I have honestly desired the happiness, the prosperity, and the greatness of my country; that my course, right or wrong, was never determined by any selfish or sordid motive; and that in troubled times, and through many vicissitudes of fortune, in power and out of power, through popularity and unpopularity, I have been faithful to one set of opinions, and to one set of friends. I see no reason to doubt that these friends were well chosen, or that these opinions were in the main correct. "The path of duty appeared to me to be between two dangerous extremes-extremes which I shall call equally dangerous, seeing that each of them inevitably conducts society to the other. I cannot accuse myself of having ever deviated far towards either. I cannot accuse myself of having ever been untrue, either to the cause of civil and religious liberty, or to the cause of property and law. I reflect with pleasure that I bore a part in some of those reforms which corrected great abuses, and removed just discontents. I reflect with equal pleasure, that I never stooped to the part of a demagogue, and never feared to confront what seemed to me to be an unreasonable clamor. I never in time of distress incited my countrymen to demand of any government, to which I was opposed, miracles-that which I well knew no government could perform; nor did I seek even the redress of grievances, which it was the duty of a government to redress by any other than strictly peaceful and legal means. "Such were the principles upon which I acted, and such would have been my principles still. The events which have lately changed the face of Europe, have only confirmed my views of what public duty requires. These events are full of important lessons, both to the governors and the governed; and he learns only half the lesson they ought to teach, who sees in them only a warning against tyranny on the one hand, and anarchy on the other. The great lesson which these events teach us, is that tyranny and anarchy are inseparably connected; that each is the parent, and each is the offspring of the other. The lesson which they teach is this that old institutions have no more deadly enemy than the bigot who refuses to adjust them to a new state of society; nor do they teach us less clearly this lesson, that the sovereignty of the mob leads by no long or circuitous path to the sovereignty of the sword. (Cheers.) I bless God that my country has escaped both these errors. "Those statesmen who, eighteen years before, proposed to transfer to this great city, and to cities like this, a political power which but belonged to hamlets which contained only a few scores of inhabitants, or to old walls with no inhabitants at all-those statesmen, and I may include myself among them, were then called anarchists and revolutionists; but let those who so called us, now say whether we are not the true and the farsighted friends of order ?—(Great cheering.) Let those who so called us, now say how would they have wished to encounter the tempest of last spring with the abuses of Old Sarum and Gatton to defend-with Glasgow only represented in name, and Manchester and Leeds not even in name. then were not only the true friends of liberty, but the true friends of order; and in the same manner aided by all the vigorous exertions by which the government (aided by patriotic magistrates and honest men) put down a year ago, those marauders who wished to subvert all society-these exertions, I say, were of inestimable service, not only to the cause of order, but also to the cause of true liberty. 66 We But I am now speaking the sentiments of a private man. I have quitted politicsI quitted them without one feeling of resentment, without one feeling of regret, and betook myself to pursuits for which my temper and my tastes, I believe, fitted me better. I would not willingly believe that in ceasing to be a politician I relinquish altogether the power of rendering any service to my country. I hope it may still be in my power to teach lessons which may be profitable to those who still remain on the busy stage which I have left. (Hear, hear.) I hope that it may still be in my power so faithfully, without fear or malignity, to represent the merits and faults of hostile sects and factions, as to teach a common lesson of charity to all. I hope it will be in my power to inspire, at least, some of my countrymen with love and reverence for those free and noble institutions to which Britain owes her greatness, and from which, I trust, she is not destined soon to descend. (Great cheering.) "I shall now, encouraged by your approbation, resume with alacrity a task, under the magnitude and importance of which I have sometimes felt my mind ready to sink. I thank you again, most cordially, for your kindness. I value, as it deserves, the honor of being enrolled in your number. I have seen, with delight and with pride, the extent, the grandeur, the beauty, and the opulence of this noble city-a city which I may now call mine. (Cheering.) With every wish for the prosperity, the peace, and the honor of our fair and majestic Glasgow, I now bid you, my kind friends and fellow-citizens, a most respectful farewell." The honorable gentleman resumed his seat amidst the most enthusiastic plaudits. THE VALLEY OF DRY BONES. BY REV. DR. CROLY. I WAS in the hand of God; Gazing o'er a boundless vale- Sons of the Captivity, Prince and peasant, warrior, slave, There lay naked to the sky "Twas a ruined Nation's grave; Death sat on his loneliest throne In that wilderness of bone. Morn arose and twilight fell, Still the bones lay bleached and bare: Midnight brought the panther's yell Bounding through his human lair, Till above the World of Clay Ages seemed to wear away. On my spirit came a sound Like the gush of desert springs, Prophet of the King of Kings, Then I stood, and prophesied. Thick as leaves by tempests strown, Flesh to flesh was clinging now; Then the voice was heard once more- Chaff before the gale is driven, At the blast, with shout and clang, Flashed to heaven the visioned shield, Whirlwind-axe, and lightning sword, Crushing on a bloody field Syria's chariots, Egypt's horde, Till on Zion's summit shone Israel's Angel-guarded Throne. Then, the vision swept away, Thunders rolled o'er Earth and Heaven, Like the thunders of the day When Earth's pillars shall be riven. Hear I not the rushing wings? Art Thou coming? King of Kings! From Hogg's Instructor. BRIEF NOTES OF A BRIEF JOURNEY. BY THE REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. On Tuesday evening, the 12th of Decem- | ber, 1848, we started from the city of Dundee for London. We had been engaged We had been engaged to deliver a lecture, in behalf of the Early Closing Movement Society, in Exeter Hall, on the evening of the 14th, and to keep this solemn tryste, we hied accordingly. On Wednesday, at ten morning, we found ourselves in the express train for London, and by eleven at night we entered, private as pestilence, that illustrious city. It is an awful and overpowering thing to enter a great city at night, when the hypocrisy of the day is hushed, and when its real voice of sin, sorrow, joy, and desperation, rises to heaven, like the incense of some dark and dreadful sacrifice. Wordsworth has magnified the morning city, "when all that might heart is lying still;" but finer far to us is the throbbing of its wild liberated evening heart, which seems the mitigated voice of the entire universe, and which, of all melodies-not excluding that of the impatient winds, and the deep sombre ocean billowsis at once the mightiest and the most melting-less the voice of London than of London's soul. The next day was occupied in rest from the fatigues of our journey, and in receiving calls from various respected friends, till came the inexorable hour of eight, when we had to appear in Exeter Hall. We went, certainly without much fear or trembling on the one hand, and without much exulting and bounding hope on the other, entertaining neither the Baptist Noel nor the Macaulay view of its verdict-regarding the voice of its thousands neither as the "bray of asses,' nor as the "vox Dei," but simply as the sound, sincere for the moment, of a vast, motley, mixed collection of all classes, ranks, and intellects, subjected to one fire of impulse, or to one frost of formality or indifference. Without dwelling egotistically on our reception, we may simply say that it was hearty and the audience large. There is a frankness and fullness of response in a London audience. When there are points | to be seen, they see them instantly, and applaud them with generous enthusiasm. There is less hesitation, less looking round to see what certain judges are thinking or how they are looking; more of instant and eager reception than in Scotland. It is the difference between pouring water through the stroup and through the lid of a kettle. Nor do we deem Scottish praise one whit more valuable when it does come-one clap is generally as good or as bad as another. We have found the same passages tell, and the same fail in telling, upon audiences in Dundee, Perth, Paisley, Glasgow, Liverpool, and London. The difference only was, that in some of those places the effect was swifter and more decided. The good thing, like a stamped letter, is free of the whole kingdom; the bad thing sinks alike in all atmospheres. The object which we pleaded is certainly one of the most important in our age. Its society in London is pushing it with great energy and tact. It owes much, too, to the zeal, urbanity, and activity of the secretary, Mr. J. Lilwall. It has recently adopted the plan of public lectures, to raise, if possible, a fund of £1000 for the promotion of its benevolent object. Several distinguished men are already engaged. We cordially wish its general cause and special plans of prosecuting it all prosperity. On the day succeeding our lecture, we repaired to the British Museum, where we had been invited by a gentleman connected with it, for the purpose of showing us certain curiosities which are not usually seen by strangers. We saw, besides various private collections of insects, fishes, &c., the original of Magna Charta, the original bull of Pope Leo X., conferring the title of Defensor Fidei on Henry VIII., Luther's German Bible in folio, a magnificent, gold-lettered copy of Magna Charta, &c., and a variety of aged MSS., including a copy of the Epistles of Ignatius, on which Mr. Curaton, one of the officials of the place, has founded of late a formidable attack on Puseyism. The library 1849.] BRIEF NOTES OF A BRIEF JOURNEY. at once, through its vastness, overwhelms, and, through the tide of human life which is poured into it, enlivens and encourages us. "The harvest is plenteous," but the multitude of readers convinces us that the laborers are not few. Hurrying through it, our friend introduced us to honest old Hartwell Horne, whose broad hat, grey locks, and mild inquisitive visage seemed to constitute him the genius of the place. Peace to him, his noble motives, his heavy compilations, and his harmless vanity! He is one of the most agreeable and worthy of that race of bookworms, who form a pleasing dream amid the great encompassing drama of human life, of which, and its progress, change, and restless speculation, they know little more than do the boards of their shelves. and is thoroughly able to understand the We now saw perhaps the greatest curiosity in the place. It was a letter of Charles Dickens's," by which hangs" the following The next day nothing remarkable occurred. tale: Mr. Adam White, of the Museum (in the insect department), has for some time On Sabbath (we hate the English nickname, past busied himself in organizing a subscrip- Sunday, worse far than Tully for the full tion for the erection of a monument to Cow- round Cicero,) the 17th, we set out in what He restricts proved a hopeless chase after Henry Melper, in Westminster Abbey. subscriptions to five shillings as the max-ville, who, we understood, was to preach imum. Among many others, Wordsworth that morning in Southwark. Without vastly has warmly patronized the scheme, and admiring the sermons of that gentleman, we written some noble letters on the subject, had interest enough to wish to know by which we saw. Mr. Dickens was applied to. experience what was the charm which proHis reply stated, first, that he could not duced such unbounded admiration in the We were, however, disappointed. subscribe, because there were poets superior public. were too late to to Cowper excluded from the abbey; and, He did not preach in the chapel to which we were directed, and we In the secondly, because the abbey was not free to the public. Now, in the first place, Poet's seek him successfully in others. Corner, where, of course, the monument evening we preached to a crowded house in would be erected, is free to the public. But, Mr. Binney's church. Mr. Binney we have secondly, would Mr. Dickens refresh our already described in the INSTRUCTOR. We memories as to what omitted poets or prose met him repeatedly in private, and relished writers are superior to Cowper? Who are exceedingly his frankness, his geniality, his freedom from cant, the everlasting activity these great unknowns? Byron alone we look upon as Cowper's peer. But Byron's of his mind, and the generous impetuosity exclusion is justified, not only by his gross of his heart. His congregation is the largest in the City, and one of the most interesting. personal licentiousness, but by the misanIt consists mainly of young, inquisitive, intelthropy of his spirit, and the systematic attempt he made to overthrow the morality ligent men. and religion of his country. Fitter he for the fiery tombs of Dante's "Inferno," than for the society of the meek and mighty dead in Westminster Abbey. It was a mere and contemptible evasion this on the part of Master Dickens. In fact, we much doubt if he be capable of sympathizing with the high moral tone, the manly energy, and the prophetic fury of William Cowper. But, as he can certainly relish "John Gilpin," and Puss and Tiny," must sympathize with "Puss and Tiny," As you preach, you feel a breath of intellect rising up around you, which at once awes and nerves you. To be understood is far better than to be blindly admired. The true anatomist has no higher wish than after death to be well anatomized. So the preacher ought to feel the censure of some, when candid and sincere, to be better than the giddy applause of the multitude. Next day, we called on Dr. Croly. We found him very much the character we had expected. He is bluff, strong, robust, both in body and mind. His talk is rich, strong, easy, betraying both the man of the world and the poet. His manner is courteous, frank, and with just the slightest particle of pomp. The gentleman, the scholar, the poet, and the Christian, are combined in Dr. Croly in almost equal proportions. Perhaps there is a tinge of narrowness in his notions and feelings. Few can, alas! be years within the circle of a pulpit without feeling either irksome confinement or unnatural reconciliation to its imprisoning limits. It ought not so to be, and it shall not be so always. The pulpit must expand, and become less of an egg-cup and more of an arena. Dr. Croly has, besides, the air of a disappointed man. When his "Paris in 1815" appeared, it was hailed with a tumult of applause. High hopes were entertained of his success. It was whispered that men in high places had their eyes fixed on him, and that not even the term "bishop" would measure his advancement. But these fair hopes were doomed to be disappointed. It was found, we suppose, by the dispensers of patronage, that Dr. Croly had a mind and a will, and ran in a rut of his own. Meek must be the horses which compose the state stud. Croly would have been a Pegasus in harness, and might have wrought wild work at times with his trammels. The author of "Salathiel" is meditating a second series of that noble work, carrying down the hero through various scenes in the ages of modern history, which cannot fail to be intensely interesting. What a grand panoramic view could be given at the close, of the winding up of the drama of all things, by a hand so firm, so pious, and so powerful, as Dr. Croly's! On the evening of this day we spent some pleasant hours in the house of the Rev. Robert Phillip, the well-known author of the "Lives of Bunyan and Whitfield," whose kindness we shall not soon forget. Here, besides our excellent host and Mr. Binney, we met with Dr. Harris of Cheshunt College. We have seldom enjoyed a pleasanter evening. Our host had met much with Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey, and his anecdotes of them were fresh and racy. We learned, for the first time, the melancholy fact that Miss Wordsworth is affected of late with a mental malady. Alas! for the noble girl who once traversed the Highlands with her brother, who "stepped westward" with him along the evening shores of Loch Katrine, attracted whither they knew not by the glowing west and the blue mountains; and who, reclining in the Highland hut, saw the stars shining in through the rents in the roof. A gentleman who lately visited Rydal Mount, on entering the premises was startled at hearing a female voice shrieking out, "My brother! my brother! Where is my brother?" This was her voice; and need we say that instantly a gloom dropped down over all the beauties of the unrivalled landscape, and that in sorrow and sickness of heart he turned away. Dr. Harris is a younger man than we had expected, and one of the most delightful persons, certainly, we have ever met. He is unaffected, frank, facetious, at times playful as a child, and always lively and intelligent. You would never guess that he possessed the equivocal honor of being a doctor of divinity, or the superior distinction of being the most popular of Christian authors. He is above all airs and pretenses-a genuine truth-seeker, as well as a beautiful artist. We are persuaded that, admirable as are many of his treatises, he is destined to do something of a more solid, unique, and enduring structure. He should do so, for his own planetary system of powers have for many years found their solar centre in Coleridge, and we cannot conceive an abler or more luminous interpreter of that "great teacher's" religious aspect than he would make. Tuesday, the 19th, was perhaps, on the whole, the finest of our London days. At the close of our first lecture we received a letter from Mary Howitt, requesting us to call on her. We did so; unfortunately we found her husband out, but enjoyed our visit exceedingly notwithstanding. Mary Howitt is the least in the world of an author ess. She is a mild, middle-aged, intelligent, and lady-like English matron, who is finelooking, and has made a narrow escape from being beautiful. She dresses not like a Quakeress, but like a lady; her manners are gently dignified; her conversation interesting and fluent. Gifted with true genius, surrounded by an amiable and accomplished family, and united to a husband of rare talent, she has been enabled from such sources to drink defiance to misfortune, and to retain a moon-like complacency amid the clouds which have of late clothed her path. She spoke with great delight of Scotland, and hoped that circumstances would yet permit her to pass a part of each year amid its romantic scenery. Altogether, she came up to our ideal of the author of "Marien's Pilgrimage." By the way, we read, some |