ELEMENTS OF THOUGHT. perior to, and inclusive of every other Rank, privileges, and prerogatives in a state, are constituted for the good of the state; and those who enjoy them, whether PATIENCE OF THE BRITISH PEOPLE. they be called Kings, senators, or nobles, or by whatever THE people of this country have always borne extreme names or titles they be distinguished, are, to all intents oppression for a long time, before there has appeared any and purposes, the servants of the public, and accountable danger of a general insurrection against the Government. to the people for the discharge of their respective offices. If What a series of encroachments did even the feudal bar- such magistrates abuse their trust, in the people lies the ons, whose number was not very considerable, and whose power of deposing them, and consequently of punishing power was great, bear from William the Conqueror, be- them. And the only reason why abuses which have crept fore they broke into actual rebellion, on that account; as into offices have been connived at, is, that the correcting in the reigns of King John, and Henry III. And how them, by having recourse to first principles, is far from much were the poor Commons trampled on till a much being easy, except in small states, so that the remedy later period. After the people had begun to acquire pro-would often be worse than the disease . With perty, independence, and an idea of their natural rights, respect to large societies, it is very improbable that the how long did they bear a load of old and new oppressions people should be too soon alarmed, so as to be driven to under the Tudors, but more especially under the Stuarts, extremities; and so obvious are the difficulties that lie in before they broke out into what the friends of arbitrary the way of procuring redress of grievances by force of arms," power affect to call the grand rebellion! And how great that I think we may say, without exception, that in all did that long civil war shew the power of the King to be, cases of hostile opposition to government, the people must notwithstanding the most intolerable abuse of it. At the have been in the right; and that nothing but very great close of 1642 it was more probable that the King would oppression could drive them to such desperate measures. have prevailed than the Parliament; and his success would The bulk of a people seldom so much as complain without have been certain, if his conduct had not been as weak as reason, because they never think of complaining till they it was wicked. So great was the power of the Crown, feel; so that in all cases of dissatisfaction with governthat after the Restoration, Charles II. was tempted to act ment, it is most probable that the people are injured.the same part as his father, and actually did it in a great | Priestley. measure with impunity, till he was at last even able to BOUNDLESSNESS OF THE CREATION. reign without Parliaments; and if he had lived much longer, he would probably have been as arbitrary as the other instrument was formed, which laid open a scene no About the time of the invention of the telescope, anKing of France. His brother James had nearly subverted less wonderful, and rewarded the inquisitive spirit of man. both the civil and religious liberties of his country in the This was the microscope. The one led me to see a sysshort space of four years; and might have done it comtem in every star; the other leads me to see a world in pletely, had he been content to proceed with more cunning and caution. In our own days the Ministers Castle-with the whole burden of its people and its countries, is every atom. The one taught me that this mighty globe, reagh, and Sidmouth, suspended We must not go farther, lest we get involved in news. DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A FREE AND A DESPOTIC The difference consists in the manner in which that whole mass of power, which, taken together, is supreme, is, in a free state divided among the several ranks of persons who are sharers in it :-in the source from whence their titles to it are successively derived; in the. frequent and easy changes of condition between the governmore or less undistinguishably blended with those of the other; in the responsibility of the governors; or the right a subject has of having the reasons publicly assigned and canvassed, of every act of power exercised over him ;-in the liberty of the press; or the security with which every man, be he of the one class or the other, may make known his complaints and remonstrances to the whole community in the liberty of public associations; or the security with which mal-contents may communicate their sentiments, concert their plans, and practise every mode of opposition, short of actual revolt, before the executive power can be justified in disturbing them.-Bentham. ors, and governed; whereby the interests of one class are WHEN RESISTANCE TO A GOVERNMENT BECOMES but a grain of sand on the high field of immensity; the other teaches me that every grain of sand may harbour within it the tribes and the families of a busy population. The one told me of the insignificance of the world I tread it tells me, that in the leaves of every forest, and in the upon; the other redeems it from all its insignificance; for flowers of every garden, and in the waters of every rivulet, there are worlds teeming with life, and numberless are the glories of the firmament. The one has suggested to me, that beyond and above all that is visible to man, there may be fields of creation which sweep immeasurably along, and carry the impress of the Almighty's hand to the remotest scenes of the universe; the other suggests to me, that within and beneath all that minuteness which be a region of invisibles; and that, could we draw aside the aided eye of man has been able to explore, there may the mysterious curtain which shrouds it from our senses, we might see a theatre of as many wonders as astronomy has unfolded, a universe within the compass of a point so where the wonder-working God finds room for the exersmall as to elude all the powers of the microscope, but cise of all his attributes, where he can raise another me. chanism of worlds, and fill and animate them all with the evidence of his glory.-Chalmers. WANT OF SENSIBILITY TO NATURAL BEAUTY. "It is unfortunate," says Foster, "I have thought within these few minutes, while looking out on one of the most enchanting nights of the most interesting season of the year, the calm sky, the beautiful stripes of clouds, the stars, and waning moon just risen, to hear the voices of a company to whom, I can perceive, these things are not in the least more interesting than the walls, ceiling, and candle-light of a room.' It is then, and not till then, allowable, if not incumbent, on every man, as well on the score of duty as of interest, to enter into measures of resistance, when according to the best calculations he can make, the probable mischiefs of resistance (speaking with respect to the community in general) appear less to him than the probable mischiefs of submission. This is the juncture of resistance: By what sign shall it be known? By what common signal, alike conspicuous to all. A common sign there is none. Every man must therefore be determined, by his own internal persuasion of a balance of utility upon the side of resistance; for utility is the test and measure of loyalty. Utility is the test and measure of all government; and the obligation of governors of every denomination to minister to general happiness, is an obligation su-sopher of streets and lanes. "The sweet shady side of Pall Mall" is to many far before the finest rural scene in the world. "Is not this very fine ?" said Johnson to Boswell, in Greenwich Park. Boswell, who owns that he preferred "the busy hum of men" to any thing else, said it was, "but Fleet Street was finer." "Sir, you are right," replied the Sage, the Philo. THE STORY-TELLER. THE THREE WESTMINSTER BOYS.* BY MRS. JOHNSTONE. THE Magic Lantern, which belonged to Mr. Dodsley, was elegantly and ingeniously formed. hibit its wonders himself; and story, and picture, aiding and illustrating each other, agreeably occupied several NIGHTS OF THE ROUND-TABLE. the third boy of Westminster school, received, in Oriental state, homage, paid with the lowliest prostrations of the East, from a long train of nawaubs, rajahs, and envoys, illustrious captives or princely tributaries, whom his policy or his prowess had subdued to the dominion of EngHe chose to ex-land. Royal and magnificent was all about him; his aspect grave, dignified, and elate, his step and air majestic ; yet the shadow of deep, anxious thought, of heart-struck care, at times darkened his embrowned visage. Whence "Peep, and tell us what you see, Charles," said the then had fled the generous, sunny, open smile, that lightReverend showman to our old friend Charles Herbert.ened the grey walls of Westminster school?—the noble, “An old building, forms, desks, a lofty large room, many boys and youths, and three apart and prominent.""Let me look," cried Sophia,-" Westminster school, I declare! and those three boys!one very noble and graceful; the next dark, thoughtful, resolute, with keen eyes, and compressed lips; and the third-O! how gently, yet brightly he smiles, dear bashful boy, as his dark, bold companion extends his arm, haranguing and pointing forward to some high distant object A picture is it, a figure in state robes or is it to the insignia blazoned on that desk?-ting his brows in fierce anger and disdain, stamping on the Nay, I daresay he wishes to be head-master." free expression of the younger man, who so proudly trode the deck of the outward-bound Indiaman? "Alas! what change!" said Sophia; "I almost dread, yet long to follow him farther." Dim, troubled, misty scenes next flitted by; battles hid in smoke and obscurity; the wide plain of Hindostan flooded or desolate,-naked huddled millions,-signs of disaster, famine, and misery; and in the foreground still that princely man, his features ploughed with care, knit ground, while his eastern slaves cowered around him, as he hastily perused letters and despatches, his English secretary, attendants, and aids-de-camp standing back, anxiously scanning his looks, and reading his troubled mind in his working and eloquent features. This scene passed, and he was next seen in an English ship, more stately if possible than the former vessel, freighted with all the rich and rare productions of the East; but the bright look had waxed dim, the buoyant step of the outward-bound voyager was now heavy and slow. Anon, and he lay reclined on a couch on the deck, under a silken and gold awning. A physician felt his pulse; black servants in splendid costumes fanned him; others approached with profound salams, bearing perfumes, and offering service, as they might have done to a divinity. Indifferent to all, his eye remained riveted on one paper, on a few cabalistic words, which, like the damned blood-spot on the hand of Lady Macbeth, would not out, could not sweeten. "Have you all seen the three school-fellows?" asked Mr. Dodsley; "look at them well, for here they part on the path of life, never to meet again. Presto! change :What see you now, Sophia ?""Still the dark stern youth, and the gentle timid one :-they are older now, but I know them well. The noble-looking boy has disappeared. The scene seems chambers in the Temple. Through an open window I have a glimpse of gardens: piles of huge books are lying on tables, floors, and shelves. The dark resolute youth pores on a black-letter folio, and makes as it were notes or extracts. The other leans by the window, gazing over the gardens, a small open volume fluttering in his relaxed hand. Ha! I read on it Thomson's Seasous."""Yes, Sophia, your gentle law-student is an idle rogue; he has been seduced into the primrose paths of poesy—let us see the result;—meanwhile here is another picture.”—“ Beautiful! beautiful!" cried the admiring girl, "A large ship !"—" An outward-bound Indiaman," said Mr. Dodsley." All her sails set," continued Sophia. "How proudly, how statelily she ploughs her way, breast-ing the scene, "to our stern, ambitious, iron-minded man, ing the waters like a swan. And there, on her deck, that noble gentleman, the third Westminster boy,—and yet not he,-walking so proudly as if in accordance with the majestic motion of the brave ship. I am glad to meet him again and all those military attendants-the gaudily dressed musical band, the plumed officers, and he the centre of all! What a great man he must be, and how well honour becomes him!" "Shall we follow his progress to the East, or return to yonder gloomy, sombre chamber in the Temple ?""Both," cried several young eager voices; "we must trace them all,-all the three school-fellows." "Turn we again to England," said Mr. Dodsley, shift of invincible purpose, of unconquerable perseverance, and, let me add, of strong intellect, and yet stronger ambition: there you see him, the slough of the Temple cast, in the King's Bench, in the Court of Chancery, in the Commons House of Parliament, every energy of his mind in perpetual activity, already surrounded by satellites, the ministers or slaves of his will, subdued by that mighty and resistless will to its own purposes of selfish aggrandizement, of intrigue and political ambition, and, it may occasionally be, of pure patriotism. And now every obstacle overcome, undermined, or boldly trampled under foot, see him make one grand spring to reach the height at which every act of The next view was of a large Oriental city, its architec- his life has aimed; while all men, the stronger as well as tural splendour and magnificence of outline glittering in the feebler spirits, give way to his resistless progress, or the dazzling, but uncertain brilliance of the morning sun; cheer him on to the spot where lie the coveted rich robes, domes and minarets, Mahomedan mosques, and Indian pa- the patents, and the purses, and by these the mighty ingodas, fountains, and palaces, and stately dwellings, spark-signia of the Lord High Chancellor of England." Jing in the out-pouring of the increasing flood of intense and golden light. Over this scene were grouped and scattered Mussulmans, Arab warriors, Brahmins and Sepoys, -all in diversified and picturesque costumes,-ornamented palanquins, European officers richly dressed, and mounted on beautiful horses; elephants prancing in their splendid trappings; females and children, their dark skins and silky hair, and large black eyes, contrasting with their white and gaudily spangled dresses; dancing girls, and marabouts,-all, in short, that could compose a picture of Oriental beauty and splendour; and that princely man, now of middle age, on the large white elephant, still the centre of all. The scene changed slightly, and discovered the interior of the magnificent saloon of a residence that appeared royal, where the noble figure, whom Sophia still rightly declared From "Nights of the Round Table," published by Oliver & Boyd. "I begin to long for a glimpse of our gentle boy now," said Sophia, "dreaming over his Thomson's Seasons.' Has he been borne down by the torrent which has carried his bold and daring companion so high and far?-Our gentle interesting boy!-has he been cast away like a weed, or has he cast away himself?”—“ You shall judge,” said Mr. Dodsley,-" Here is our lost one" And there he was, the very boy, developed in the thin, melancholy, wo-worn man, sitting lonely on a tombstone, under the elms of a country church-yard." He is curate of that church," said Sophia; "and I daresay he has lost his wife or his child. How refined and how expressive are his faded features; a look of meek resignation, stealing over the traces of some deep mysterious affliction." "He never was in orders, nor yet had wife or child, my sprightly guesser," said Mr. Dodsley. "Mental blight, dark and fearful trial, and the utter desolation of worldly prospects, have all passed over him; but he is, as you see, better now, there is even an occasional flash of humour kindling over those placid features, of which, however, gentle kindness, deep, holy submission, is the fixed and habitual expression." "It makes my heart ache to see him so far thrown out," said Sophia; "for even at Westminster I liked him best." "He was my boy too," cried Fanny. This was not quite correct, for Sophia had expressed strong sympathy with the "noble boy," as she called him, and great admiration of the Oriental Vice-king; but Mr. Dodsley accepted her own interpretation of her altered feelings, and said "He was a stricken deer that left the herd-nor was he free from blame; but his dark hour is past. Shall we follow him to his humble abode, not far from those churchyard elms, or return to those scenes of splendour, of grandeur, of substantial wealth, of real power, in which his early compeers preside, guiding or wielding the energies and the destinies of nations ?" "I suppose Lord Thurlow was Chancellor before Henry VII.'s time," said Fanny Herbert; and Charles added in explanation, "Our history of England only begins then, so we don't know Lord Thurlow. Sir Thomas More, you remember, Fanny ?-he was a merry, kind man that Chancellor." "Your history goes back to a decently remote period," said Mr. Dodsley, smiling at the observation of the young historians. "Lord Thurlow held this high office at a very recent date, in the reign of George III., at the same time that Mr. Hastings exercised the mighty government of the East, and Mr. Cowper lived in neglect, and obscurity, composing his poetry." "If we were to judge by our little audience," said Mrs. Herbert, "one of your questions, nay, perhaps two, are already answered. The modest poet, living apart in that nameless obscurity, already enjoys not only a higher, but a more universal fame than either of his youthful compeers. All our good little folks here know him, less or more, in his daily life, as well as in his beautiful verse; they read him, and quote him, and love him, and, by daily draughts from his stores of wisdom and of love, nourish their moral and intellectual nature to a strength and stature it might never otherwise have attained." "I fear you are a confirmed Cowperite," said Miss Harding, to her sister." But what say you, young gentlemen ?" "Hastings for me!" cried Mr. Frank Consadine, the Irish youth. "Hastings, Prince and Conqueror !” “And for me the woolsack," cried George Herbert. "I would rather, I think, just now, but I may change my mind, be High Chancellor of England, than England's Sovereign: to the one a prince is born, the other a man must achieve." "Follow him, sir," said Sophia; and the boys, though anxious for more stirring pictures of life, politely yielded to her wish. The quickly shifting scenes exhibited a dull, dingy, and even mean-looking house, in the centre of a small fifth-rate market town, and again a low-roofed parlour in that house, very plainly furnished with things neither fine nor new, and still less fashionable. Here sat an elderly, but comely gentlewoman knitting; and before her stood a plain tea equipage, waiting, as the next scene shewed, the arrival of the loiterer under the churchyard elms, whom she seemed to welcome with the placid smile of long-tried affection. This scene looked brighter than the former. The old window curtain was let down, the old sofa wheeled in, the tea-kettle was steaming, and it was singing also, no doubt, if pictures could give out sounds; the shadows of a blazing fire of wood were dancing and quivering on walls and roof, and shining on all the polished surfaces of the furniture; and a couple of hares at a touch were seen in another scene, leaping from a box, They gamboled and wheeled on the well-brushed carpet, "You would unite impossibilities, Mr. Norman," said their benevolent master and protector looking on their the Curate. "Cowper's poetry required not only an ori. sports, and caracoles, and gambades, with pleased, affec-ginal cast or bias of mind, but a preparatory course of life, tionate, and even interested eyes. "How lively those scenes they are nature itself, Mr. Dodsley," said Miss Jane Harding-" Your magic lantern is the finest mimic representation of life I ever saw." "I know whereabouts we are now," cried Sophia, in a low, earnest, yet delighted tone of voice. "Olney! Cowper! Mrs. Unwin!-Ah! sulky Tiney, and Mistress Bess the vaulter!"—" Let me see, let me see," cried the younger children; and Sophia had now a much stronger object of interest than the pictured scene, which she left to Fanny and Charles, and the other little ones. "But the studious, thoughtful youth, who pored over the folio in the Temple," she cried," the dark-browed, stern man of the Chancery Court, Cowper's early friend who was he ?" "Edward Thurlow, Lord High Chancellor of England." -" And that other boy-the noble boy-the Westminster scholar ?" said Sophia. "Warren Hastings, Governor-General of India. These three youths started from the same point. In birth, Cowper was certainly the most distinguished of the three ;-of their respective talents we will not now speak-great men they all were good men too, let us hope. The lot was cast into the lap. All started for the prize :-by routes how different did each gain the appointed place where all human travellers meet! What then were their gains ? which was happiest in his course of life?-But we must follow them farther true is the Italian proverb, which says that no man can be pronounced happy till he is dead! Which of the three Westminster boys became the best man? Which most nobly fulfilled his duties to his God, his country, and his kind? Which-now that they all are gone to their reward-enjoys the widest, the purest, the highest fame ? Which remains the best model to the youth of England ?-Not one of the three faultless, without doubt; but which of these three great men comes nearest the mark at which you, my boys, would aim :" "If," said Norman Gordon, the Scottish youth, “one could be an Eastern Vice-king, or English Chancellor, and author of the Task' at the same time, one would be at no loss to decide ;" and he half-laughed at the profound silliness of his own cautious conclusion. and a mental discipline quite peculiar-very different, indeed, from that of a lawyer and politician, or Eastern legislator and conqueror. We must take our three school-boys and men exactly as we find them; and determine the claims, and estimate the happiness of each on his own merits, nor think of what might have been." The younger children liked pictures better than discussion, so the whole group solicited Mr. Dodsley to proceed with his exhibition, which he did, still adhering to the ori ginal idea. "To afford you wider grounds for forming your opinions, my little friends, you shall see each of our heroes by his own fireside, and also in more active and distinguished scenes. This first, is the Lords' House of Parliament, solemn and antique, with its Gothic, tag-rag decorations. "It is the day of a trial. These are the peers of Britain,-yonder the judges and prelates of the land,— there some of the young princes of the blood-royal, honoured in being created members of this House. Taken all in all, the scene before you represents the most august tribunal in the world; and before that tribunal is arraigned Warren Hastings, the victim of a triumphant faction, the object of much ignorant clamour, and of popular hatred, which one can yet hardly condemn, as it sprung from the best feelings of humanity. You see the long perspective of counsel, and clerks, and ushers, and reporters. That is Burke, who, with the lightnings of his eloquence, blights and withers the once flourishing and princely Hastings. And there stands Sheridan, ready to pounce on his victim, -to hold up the proud-minded vice-king to the abhorrence and execration of the world, as a monster of rapacity, cruelty, and tyranny, swollen with wealth and bloated with crime, the desolator of the fairest portion of the east, the wholesale, cold-blooded murderer of millions of Asiatics. "The partisan orator may be half-conscious of the falsehood of many of his representations, and entirely so of their artificial gloss and high-colouring; but candour and truth are not the object of the party man; he vehemently proceeds in his statements, boldly makes his charges, and eloquently supports them. and that both he and William Cowper have long since. passed the meridian of life. "Are you not yet tired, Miss Fanny, of gazing on that gorgeous bed-chamber," said the curate; "the bed of carved ivory and gold, the silken draperies, and couches of crimson and gold curiously worked; the silver-framed mirrors, the rich porcelain vases and foot-baths; the splendid toilette, with its jewelled ornaments; the ivory and ebony cabinets, richly inlaid with gold, and in the highest style of eastern decoration, exhibiting groups exquisitely executed; religious processions, festivals, marriages, in short, a series of gorgeous pictures of eastern manners. Those caskets on the toilette contain some of the rarest jewels of the cast. That large emerald is to be sent tomorrow morning to a certain lady of questionable fame,' but of great influence; for the proud Hastings must stoop to make friends, at this crisis, by arts he would once have spurned, and still loathes. That gold bed, preserved with such care in his own chamber, is intended for a gift or tribute to the Queen of England." in his spirit on the first perusal of offensive strictures, that is past now. He lays down the book with a quiet sigh; and, striving to fix his mind upon all that has been most brilliant in his fortunes, can only remember how many "We shall now presume the House adjourned, and fol-years have elapsed since he was a Westminster school-boy; low Hastings to his retirement. Where now, Sophia, is the gay Westminster boy, the gallant, ambitious, highminded statesman and soldier of the east? Can you trace him in that sallow, drooping, arraigned criminal, whose spirit is chafed almost to madness. In public he folds up his arms in self-supporting disdain; he tries to smooth his care-worn brow, and to teach his quivering lip to curl in contempt of his open accusers, and more rancorous secret enemies. But, alas! contempt and disdain of our fellowmen are not calm, much less are they happy feelings. The persecuted, if not yet degraded man, is sick at his very soul; his heart is bursting with the indignant anguish which will break it at last. There may have been, and in this still hour of self-communion conscience so whispers, things faulty and blame-worthy in his bold and illustrious career. Nor is he free of guilt; for his station was one of great difficulty, and loaded with responsibility which might make even the strongest and best-hearted man tremble. Images of long-acted, painful scenes rise before him in his solitude; actions justified, in their passing, by the plea of a strong necessity, which he dislikes and dreads to think of now. And here, the world shut out, surrounded as he is with all the wealth and luxury of the eastern and western hemispheres, the hootings of the London rabble, and the hissings of the adder-tongues of his enemies, still ring in his ears; and to these envenomed sounds conscience in his own bosom returns a faint, yet an undying echo. Per-chamber." Well said, Sophia, if you stand to it," rehaps he may wish, in this anguished hour, that his lot, though less splendid, had been more safe. "To beguile an hour of care he takes up a volume of the poetry of his old school-fellow, the lost William Cowper. He has little leisure for literature, but a lingering taste remains for what engrossed so many of the happy hours of happier days. He turns up one passage after another; and the map and history of Cowper's life lie before him. Are his feeling those of pity or of envy? Probably they are a strangely-entangled mixture of both. His eye is riveted on a passage in the poem of Expostulation; he reads on and on; and, as if spell-urged, pronounces aloud, Hast thou, though suckled at fair Freedom's breast, A despot big with power, obtained by wealth, Hark! 'tis the twanging horn But oh! the important budget! ushered in "The heart-struck but fascinated reader proceeds on, in spite of himself, till he finishes the finest passages of the poem, those which unveil the habits and amiable character of his early friend. If there were some stir and bitterness The children were not yet satisfied with gazing; and Mrs. Herbert said, "I fear, my dears, if thus fascinated by grandeur, you will ill bear a transition to the dull, lowroofed parlour at Olney." "No: were it a dungeon with such inmates," cried Sophia, resolutely turning from the beautiful picture of the interior of Mr. Hastings' bed turned her mother—“But I see Charles and Mr. Norman long for another peep of those Eastern weapons suspended over the chimney."-"That most beautiful scimitar, the handle studded and blazing with jewels!" cried the peeping boy," and those exquisite pistols! how was it possible to paint them so truly? And that—Damascus blade, did you call it ?" "Lest the transition to sad, sombre, puritanic Olney, be too violent, we will first, if you please, visit the Lord Chancellor," said Mr. Dodsley." Presto! There he is at the head of the state council-board; these are his colleagues —his party friends, his rivals, his flatterers, his under. miners, ranged on each side of him; and he knows them all well they may injure, but they cannot deceive him. He looks grim, and stern, and unhealthy. Even now there is spasm upon him; a youth of hard sedentary study, a manhood of incessant labour, and latterly, a weight of public and of private cares, have weighed and broken down Lord Thurlow. He looks old before his time. His temper, even his friends allow, has become rugged, boisterous, arrogant,-almost brutal. But they know not the secret pangs that torture him, or they might bear with patience, or pardon with gentleness, those fierce ebullitions of rage that will not acknowledge sickness nor infirmity. Even in the death-gripe, he will clutch those magic seals. But now he presides at that Board, where the subject of discussion is the glory and safety of the Empire,-the weal or wo of millions yet unborn. If the feeling of bodily languor for an instant overpower his intellectual energies, alarmed ambition stings his mind into preternatural strength, for he penetrates the arts of a wily rival, who, affecting to acquiesce in his measures, secretly labours to thwart them, and to undermine him in the favour and confidence of his sovereign. He puts forth all his strength, tramples the reptile in the dust, and seats himself at the head of empire more firmly and securely than ever. Is he happy now? He thinks he should be so, but he thinks little of it; he has leisure for nothing, heart for nothing, memory for nothing, save his high function, and the arts necessary to maintain himself in it. He has no time, and indeed no wish to ascertain his own state either of body or mind. If he has no leisure to attend to his health, how can he be supposed to have time for self-examination, or for serious thought. He once had many schemes, the growth of his strong and even enlarged mind, for the welfare of the State, 'Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?' Many, many years ago, he had seen Garrick play that character and many others, when William Cowper, of the Inner Temple, was his companion to Drury Lane. They had spouted the favourite passages together fifty times, after returning home to sup, now in Cowper's chambers, now in Thurlow's. Of rhetoric and declamation Edward Thurlow was ever an admirer; young Cowper relished more the intense passion, or the deep pathos of the scene. sick and the happiness of his old private friends, but they sure, there is no great hardship visible here, still I could must be delayed. And now he loses even the wish for have wished the Lord Chancellor a longer and sounder their accomplishment; his heart, never either very kind or sleep; and it is very wise, Fanny, to learn young, that soft, has become narrowed as well as callous; his temper all is not gold which glisters.' But now we shall suppose waxes more and more hard, and gloomy, and repulsive; the Chancellor shaved and booted, his hasty cup of coffee his private friends fall off, disgusted by his neglect, and swallowed as the Jews did the Passover-standing, his surly, arrogant haughtiness. They have no longer any loins girt; for he too is bound for the wilderness. In common sympathies with Edward, Lord Thurlow. He short, he detests Windsor interviews. A secretary bears stalks through his magnificent house alone; he writes, his portfolio; his carriage is at the door; he hurries erases, burns, knits his brows over communications and through the circle of adulators, solicitors of his patronage, despatches which offend him,—and many things offend him, understrappers of all kinds, that wait his appearance,— he sits up half the night plunged in business; the sur- the whole herd hateful to him, and he to them; and he is geon who of late sleeps in his house administers a sleeping not a man of glozing words or feigning courtesy. No man draught, and he will try to obtain a few hours of troubled in England can say 'No' more gruffly or decidedly. A repose. Had pride allowed him, he could almost have ad- few indispensable words uttered, he hurries on. Near the dressed the obsequious medical man in the well-remembered door you note a young clergyman, his fine features words of Macbeth,lied o'er with the pale cast of thought.' His profile strikingly resembles that of William Cowper, and Lord Thurlow recals his dream, and Charles Fox's quotation; and, with his old accurate Temple habits, takes the port-folio himself, and directs his secretary to return and bring him a volume lying on the third shelf of a certain cabinet in his business-room, between a pamphlet on India affairs, and that something about Lord George Gordon.' He now perfectly recollected-for his memory was tenacious of every thing-that Cowper had lost his paltry sort of appointment, -had gone deranged,-was always swainish,-and now "The memory of his old fellow-student and companion piped in some rural shades or other, sunk into nobody, with had been revived on this night, by the arrival of a volume, probably not political interest sufficient to influence the just published, of Cowper's poetry. With a feeling border-election of the neighbouring borough-reeve. There had ing on contempt, Lord Thurlow threw it from him unopened. Now another scene of our magic glass, and behold the High Chancellor lays his throbbing but ever clear | head on a downy pillow, and sets his alarum-watch to an early hour; for, sick or well, he must be at Windsor by ten to-morrow. He, however, leaves orders, that at whatever hour his private secretary, who is waiting the issue of an important debate in the House of Commons, shall return, he be admitted to him ;-Lord Thurlow has an impression, that, though he may stretch his limbs on that bed of state, sleep will not visit him till he learn the fortune of the day-hears how the vote has gone. It was a debate on the African slave-trade. He first inquired the vote-it was favourable. He glanced over the reports of the leading speeches the vote was his, but the feeling, the spirit of the night was strongly against him. There was the speech of Charles Fox; and he had quoted Cowper!—a beautiful apostrophe to Freedom, cheered by all the members on both sides of the House, forced to admire, vote afterwards as they might. Lord Thurlow now sets himself to sleep in good earnest, and his strong will is omnipotent even here. But over the empire of dreams the Lord High Chancellor had no power, Fancy is not a ward of Chancery. His visions were gloomy and distempered. His youth, his manhood, his present life are all fantastically, but vividly blended. Sometimes the spirit that haunts him is the Prince of Wales, then it becomes Charles Fox, and anon it changes to William Cowper, and again back to Fox. But his hour comes, the alarum wakes him, and he is almost glad of the relief." "Would you choose to see the Chancellor's dressingroom, Fanny, and his anti-chamber, and the persons met in levee there, thus early, in a chill, foggy, winter's morning?" Fanny chose to do so. And there was seen the plain chamber of the English Minister, lights burning dimly in the cold, heavy air, fire choked with smoke. a "Ah, poor old gentleman,” cried Fanny, "there he is, so cold, I am sure, and so very cross he looks, the poor servant that shaves him looks so terribly frightened. Well, considering how late he was of getting to bed, and all, Í don't think, brother George, it is very pleasant to be a High Chancellor at least in winter; particularly when the King wishes to see him so early at Windsor, to scold him perhaps.' "O, you silly child," said her sister. 66 been a degree of impertinence in sending such a book to him; or it was, at least, an act of silliness, and shewed small knowledge of life. But Fox had quoted it; so once beyond the smoke of London, Thurlow turns over the leaves. The carriage rolls on, post-haste, to the audience of Majesty; but habit has enabled the Lord Chancellor to read even in the most rapid whirling motion. He dips at random in search of Fox's passage, and stumbles on that splendid one- All flesh is grass.' 'Cowper should have been in the church,' thought he; a dignified churchman he is unfit for, but he might have made a tolerable parish priest, if he would steer clear of Methodistical nonsense.' He dips again-One sheltered hare;' 'whining stuff! or is he mad still ?' His eye falls on that passage beginning- How various his employments whom the world calls idle ;' and he reads on, not with the natural feelings of Hastings, but yet not wholly unmoved, till he got to the words, Sipping calm the fragrant lymph which neatly she prepares,' when, throwing down the book, the man, strong in the spirit of this world's wisdom, mutters to himself, piperly trash!—and is it this Charles Fox quotes? The devil quotes scripture for his use, and Fox would quote the devil for his.' Lord Thurlow then plunges into that red portfolio which engrosses so much of his time so much of his soul. "And now the proud keep of Windsor' rises on the ambitious, and prosperous, and proud statesman :-he smooths his brow; his sovereign welcomes him graciously; his audience passes off well; he hastens back to London, where a thousand affairs await to occupy and torture though they cannot distract him. He snatches a morsel of cold meat ; swallows a glass of wine and off to the House of Peers, to be baited for six long hours by the bull-dogs of Opposition." "And what has the poor gentleman for all this ?" said little Fanny. "I am sure he has hard work of it." "How idly you do talk, Fanny; is he not Lord Chancellor of England ?" cried her sister. : "And fills high-I may say, the highest place; has immense patronage; is the maker of bishops, and deans, and judges, and every thing," said George. "And has immense revenues," added the Curate; "estates, mansions, all that money can command." "Poor old gentleman," said Fanny, "I am glad he has also that wool-sack to rest himself on, for I am sure he must be sadly tired and worried." "Turn we to Olney-to that dwelling in the very heart |