scepticism, I believe, in my soul, they would abjure the one if it became legitimate, and rebel against the other if it was once established.-Holding, my Lord, opinions such as these, I could consider myself culpable, if, at such a crisis, I did not declare them. A lover of my country, I yet draw a line between patriotism and rebellion. A warm friend to liberty of conscience, I will not confound toleration with infidelity. With all its ambiguity, I shall die in the doctrines of the Christian faith and with all its errors, I am contented to live under the glorious safeguards of the British Constitution.

LETTER OF MR. PHILLIPS

TO THE KING.

SIRE,-When I presume to address you on the subject which afflicts and agitates the country, I do so with the most profound sentiments of respect and loyalty. But I am no flatterer. I wish well to your illustrious house, and therefore address you in the tone of simple truth-the interests of the King and Queen are identified, and her majesty's advocate must be yours. The degradation of any branch of your family, must, in some degree, compromise the dignity of all, and be assured there is as much danger as discredit in familiarizing the public eye to such a spectacle. I have no doubt that the present exhibition is not your royal wish; I have no doubt it is the work of wily sycophants and slanderers, who have persuaded you of what they know to be false, in the base bope that it may turn out to be profitable. With the view, then, of warning you against interested hypocrisy, and of giving to your heart its natural humane and noble inclination, I invoke your attention to the situation of your persecuted consort! I implore of you to consider whether it would not be for the safety of the state, for the tranquillity of the country, for the honour of your house, and for the interests alike of royalty and humanity, that an helpless female should be permitted to pass in peace the few remaining years which unmerited misery has spared to her.

It is now, Sire, about five and twenty years since her majesty landed on the shores of England-a princess by birth—a queen by marriage-the relative of kings-and the daughter and the sister of a hero. She was then young-direct from the indulgence of a paternal court-the blessing of her aged parents, of whom she was the hope and stay-and happiness shone brightly c'er her; her life had been all sunshine-time for her had only trod on flowers; and if the visions which endear, and decorate, and hallow home, were vanished for ever, still did she resign

them for the sacred name of wife, and sworn affection of a 10yal husband, and the allegiance of a glorious and gallant people. She was no more to see her noble father's hand unhelm the warrior's brow to fondle over his child-no more for her a mother's tongue delighted as it taught: that ear which never heard a strain, that eye which never opened on a scene, but those of careless, crimeless, cloudless infancy, was now about to change its dulcet tones and fairy visions for the accent and the country of the stranger. But she had heard the character of Britonsshe knew that chivalry and courage co-existed-she knew that where the brave man and the freeman dwelt, the very name of woman bore a charmed sway; and where the voice of England echoed your royal pledge, to "love and worship, and cleave to her alone," she but looked upon your Sire's example, and your nation's annals, and was satisfied.-Pause and contemplate her enviable station at the hour of these unhappy nuptials! The created world could scarcely exhibit a more interesting spectacle. There was no earthly bliss of which she was not either in the possession or the expectancy. Royal alike by birth and alliancehonoured as the choice of England's heir, reputed the most accomplished gentleman in Europe-her reputation spotless as the unfallen snow-her approach heralded by a people's prayer, and her footsteps obliterated by an obsequious nobility—her youth, like the lovely season which it typified, one crowded garland of rich and fragrant blossoms, refreshing every eye with present beauty, and filling every heart with promised benefits!-No wonder that she feared no famine in that spring-tide of her happiness-no wonder that her speech was rapture, and her step was buoyancy! She was the darling of parents' hearts; a kingdom was her dower-her very glance, like the sun of heaven, diffused light, and warmth, and luxury around it: in her public hour, fortune concentrated all its rays upon her; and when she shrunk from its too radiant noon, it was within the shelter of a husband's love, which God and nature, and duty and morality, assured her unreluctant faith should be eternal. Such was she then-all joy and hope, and generous credulity; the credulity that springs from honour and from innocence. And who could blame it? You had a world to choose from, and she was your selection--your ages were compatible-your births were equal-you had drawn her from the house where she was honourable and happy-you had

a prodigal allowance showered on you by the people—you had bowed your anointed head before the altar, and sworn by its majesty to cherish and protect her; and this you did in the presence of that moral nation from whom you hold the crown, and in the face of that church of which you are the guardian. The ties which bound you were of no ordinary texture-you stood not in the situation of some secluded profligate, whose brutal satiety might leave its victim to a death of solitude, where no eye could see, nor echo tell the quiverings of agony. Your elevation was too luminous and too lofty to be overlooked, and she, who confided with a vestal's faith and a virgin's purity in your honour and your morals, had a corroborative pledge in that publicity, which could not leave her to suffer or be sinned against in secret. All the calculations of her reason, all evidence of her experience, combined their confirmation. Her own paternal home was purity itself, and yours might have bound republicanism to royalty; it would have been little less than treason to have doubted you; and, oh! she was right to brush away the painted vermin that infest a court, who would have withered up her youthful heart with the wild errors of your ripe minority! Oh, she was right to trust "Fair England's" heir, and weigh but as a breath-blown grain of dust, a thousand follies and a thousand faults balanced against the conscience of her husband. She did confide-and what has been the consequence?

History must record it, Sire, when the brightest gem in your diadem shall have mouldered, that this young, confiding, inexperienced creature had scarcely heard the last congratulatory address upon her marriage, when she was exiled from her husband's bed, banished from her husband's society, and abandoned to the pollution of every slanderous sycophant who chose to crawl over the ruin? Merciful God! was it meet to leave a human being so situated, with all her passions excited and inflamed, to the impulses of such abandonment? Was it meet thus to subject her inexperienced youth to the scorpion sting of exasperated pride, and all its incidental natural temptations? Was it right to fling the shadow of a husband's frown upon the then unsullied snow of her reputation? Up to the blight of that all-withering hour no human tongue dared to asperse her character. The sun of patronage was not then strong enough to quicken into life the serpent brood of slanderers: no starveling aliens, no hungry

tribe of local expectants, then hoping to fatten upon the offals of the royal reputation. She was not long enough in widowhood, to give the spy and the perjurer a colour for their inventions. The peculiarities of the foreigner; the weakness of the femalethe natural vivacity of youthful innocence, could not then be tortured into "demonstrations strong;" for you, yourself, in your recorded letter, had left her purity not only unimpeached, but unsuspected. That invaluable letter, the living document of your separation, gives us the only reason for your exile-that your "inclinations," were not in your power! That, Sire, and that alone, was the terrific reason which you gave your consort for this heart-rending degradation. Perhaps they were not; but give me leave to ask, are not the obligations of religion independent of us? Has any man the right to square its solemnities according to his rude caprices? Am I, your lowly subject, to understand that I may kneel before the throne of God, and promise conjugal fidelity till death, and self-absolve myself, whatever moment it suits my "inclination?" Not so will that mitred bench, who see her majesty arraigned before them, read to you this ceremony. They will tell you it is the most solemn ordinance of man-consecrated by the approving presence of our Saviour-acknowledged by the whole civilized community-the source of life's purest pleasures, and of death's happiest consolations-the rich fountain of our life and being, whose draught not only purifies existence, but causes man to live in his posterity;-they will tell you that it cannot perish by "inclination," but by crime; and that if there is any difference between the prince and the peasant who invoke its obligation, it is the more enlarged duty entailed upon him, to whom the Almighty has vouchsafed the influence of an example. Thus, then, within one year after her marriage, was she flung, like a loathsome weed," upon the world, no cause assigned except your loathing inclination! It mattered nothing, that for you she had surrendered all her worldly prospects-that she had left her home, her parents and her country--that she had confided in the honour of a prince, and the heart of a man, and the faith of a christian; she had, it seems, in one little year, 66 outlived your liking," and the poor, abandoned, branded, heart-rent outcast, must bear it all in silence, for-she was a defenceless woman, and a stranger. Let any man of ordinary feeling think on her situation at this trying crisis, and say he does not feel his heart's