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mind of Roger Williams was impulsive, erratic, There was such an absolute righteousness and unstable, compared with theirs; and in among them, that to this day every man of what respect has the work they left bebind them New-England descent lives partly on the fund proved, after the testing of two centuries, less of virtuous habit they accumulated. And, on solid or durable than his ?

the other hand, every man of the many who These men were stern even to cruelty against still stand ready to endorse everything signed all that they held evil-Satan and his supposed by a D. D.- without even adding the commeremissaries, witches, Quakers, Indians, negligent cial E.E., for Errors excepted – is in part the parishioners, disobedient offspring, men with victim of the over-influence they obtained. Yet periwigs, and women in slash apparel. Yet the there was a kind of democracy in that vast in. tenderest private gentleness often lay behind fluence also. The Puritans were far more this gloomy rigour of the conscience. Some of thorough congregationalists than their succesthem would never chastise a son or daughter, in sors : they recognized no separate clerical class, spite of Solomon; others would write in Greek and the "elder" was only the highest officer of characters in their old almanacs quaint little his own church. Each religious society could English verses on the death of some beloved choose and ordain its own minister, or dispense child. That identical “Priest Wilson” who | with all ordaining services at will, without the made the ballad at Mary Dyer's execution at slightest aid or hindrance from council or contended a military muster one day..."Sir," said sociation. So the stern theology of the pulpit some one, “I'll tell you a great thing: here's only reflected the stern theology of the pevs ; a mighty body of people, and there's not seven the minister was but the representative man. of them all but loves Mr. Wilson.” “Sir," it If the ministers were recognized as spiritual was replied, “I'll tell you as good a thing : guides, it was because they were such to the here's a mighty body of people, and there's men of their time, whatever they might be to not one of them all but Mr. Wilson loves him." Jours. Demonax of old, when asked about the Mr. Cotton was a terror to evil-doers, yet, when priest's money, said that if they were really the a company of men came along from a tavern, leaders of the people they could not have too and said, “Let us put a trick upon Old Cotton,” much payment, or too little if they were not. I and one came and cried in his ear, “ Cotton, believe that on these conditions the Puritan thou art an old fool!"_“I know it, I know it!” ministers well earned their hundred and sixty retorted cheerily the venerable man, and pun- pounds a-year, with a discount of forty pounds gently added, "The Lord make both me and if paid in wampum-beads, beaver-skins, and thee wiser !” Mr. Hooker was once reproving musket-balls. What they took in musketa boy in the street, who boldly replied, “ I see balls they paid back in the heavier ammunition you are in a passion; I will not answer you!" of moral truth. Here is a specimen of their and so ran away.

It contradicts all one's grapeshot: notions of Puritan propriety, and yet it seems "My fathers and brethren,” said John Higthat the good man, finding afterwards that the ginson, “this is never to be forgotten, that our boy was not really guilty, sent for him to apolo- New England is originally a plantation of regize, and owned himself to have been wrong.

ligion, and not a plantation of trade. Let merWhat need to speak of strength and courage, chants, and such as are making cent.-per-cent., the disinterestedness and zeal, with which they remeinber this. Let others who have come bore up the fortunes of the colony on their

over since at sundry times remember this, that shoulders, and put that iron into the New- worldly gain was not the end and design of the England blood which has since supplied the people of New England, but religion." And if tonic for a continent? It was said of Mr.

any man among us make religion as twelve and Hooker, that he was “a person who, while the world as thirteen, let such a man know he doing his Master's work, would put a king in hath neither the spirit of a true New-England his pocket;" and it was so with them all: they man, nor yet of a sincere Christian.” would pocket anything but a bribe to themselves or an insult to God or their profession. They flinched from no reproof that was needed : “ Sharp rebukes make sound Christians” was a proverb among them. They sometimes lost

KNOWLEDGE.When God created the world, the their tempers, and sometimes their parishes, but never their independence. I find a hundred first fiat of his omnipotence was, “Let there be anecdotes of conscientious cruelty laid up against light!" So it is in all human enterprises, " Let them, but not one of cowardice or of com- there be knowledge!" This, after all, is the most espromise. They inay have bored the tongues of sential distinction between man and man. It is the others with a bar of iron, but they never fettered

first and most essential element of power; it is the their own tongues with a bar of gold-as some African tribes think it a saintly thing to do, and germ of all prosperity; it is the means of all enjoy. not African tribes alone.




Anyone who has had the pleasure of reading livened the dulness of Carlingford, as she has in "Blackwood's Magazine” the excellent se- been in describing the persecutions endured by ries of stories entitled “The Chronicles of Car- the refined Vincent from his vulgar colleagues

, lingford,” will have had placed before them in and by the much-enduring perpetual curate very graphic descriptions a succession of pic- from his worthy aunts. However, Miss Ma. tures of society in a country town. Country joribanks is not by any means an ordinary towns, as far as our experience goes, have a re- young lady, and the entertainments which she markable resemblance to each other. The introduces into Carlingford are of a very novel houses, it is true, may not all have been built description. We are startled at the cool selfupon the same plan: the church in one may possession of a girl who tells everyone that she have a Norman tower, and in another may be in wants gentlemen at her parties who can flirt; the Renaissance style; but the people worship- still we would have preferred a young lady for ping in each are strikingly alike-given a bit a hostess whose aim was not to be " a comfort of country-town gossip, and it may have been to dear papa,” according to the fair Lucinda's spoken by Mrs. Smith of Mrs. Brown, in definition of the term, and we feel assured that Muckleburg, or by Mrs. Jones of Mrs. Robin- tbe style of parties which actually do take place ron, in Stopford-Regis.

in country-towns described by Mrs. Oliphant's In many respects the people of Carlingford graphic pen would have been a rich literary are exceptional, and yet so natural, that we are treat. quite satisfied if, in any Carlingford of our ac- But, for our own part, we confess that, were quaintance, were to appear a high-church curate we obliged to live in Carlingford, we should like Frank Wentworth, a gentlemanly Dis hail with gratitude innovations of the Majorisenter like the hero of Salem Chapel, and a banks type, while at the same time we bare doctor, to whom fate had given a brother like grave doubts that her evenings were less stupid Fred Ryder, and a sister-in-law like Nettie Under- than the evenings of other people, and we suswood, events similar to those related so charm. pect that after their first curiosity was satisfied, ingly, and with such quiet humour, by Mrs. her guests would grow tired of accepting inOliphant, would have been not only probable, vitations when they knew that a duet between but certain to take place.

their confident young hostess and the defiant The inhabitants of Carlingford, the people young plebeian Barbara Lake would be the who pay rent and taxes, and carry on the trade principal amusement of the evening, of the little town, and represent the nobility and It is not that the usual style of evening-party gentry, are poesible inhabitants for any country in a country-town, at which the same people are town of our acquaintance. Take Mr. and Mrs. always meeting the same people, is more lively Morgan, the riew Rector of Carlingford and than the festivities designed with a view to the spehis wife, for example, in the “ Perpetual Cu. cial comfort of Dr. Majoribanks, but still they rate;" can anything be more natural than Mrs. would be preferred to those festivities simply beMorgan's suppresseil disappointment—if we cause the majority of people like that to which may use the term in the husband who had they are accustomed. “And is it not wonderful

, been perfection in her eyes during the ten long, if we look into it, the amount of boring which the weary years of her engagement, and also her people who give evening-parties, and the people regrets that they had not braved fortune and who go to them, endure? Let us consider the married when the illusions of youth were fresh trouble, the actual manual-labour, which a lady and strong? And then her disgust at the of the middle-class, moving in the “best set" glaring carpet in her drawing-room, which was in her town, has to undergo before she can not of her choosing, and her sensitiveness with a few friends” as it is called ? regard to her own looks, which had waned sen. She has not much difficulty about her insibly during the long term of waiting, and left vitations, for, of course, she must ask all her her, when she at last achieved the honours of friends in the town; that is, the friends who matronhood, merely a plain, middle-aged visit her, and whom she visits. But if she omits woman. Mrs. Oliphant is perfectly at home in one, that one will have a grievance ; people will sketching these little traits of character, and we talk, and the whole place will be in a small enjoy and appreciate them thoroughly.

commotion. So the young ladies, her daughters, But those who know country-town society write the invitations for mamma; nice friendly will, we are sure, agree with us in thinking little notes, just saying, “We expect a few that Mrs. Oliphant has been scarcely so suc friends to tea,” on such an evening : "will you cessful in her descriptions of the gaieties which, and Arabella and Lucy, and your son, join us? under the auspices of Miss Majoribanks, en and tell the girls, please, to bring their music."



If the town happens to be a garrison-town, , composed of the least interesting of the exand if papa has not been coaxed or worried into pected company. leaving a card at the barracks, as “You know Those tiresome Tomkinses, who always you ought to do, my dear: consider the girls !" come so dreadfully early !". great are the expedients resorted to, both by It is shabby not to order tea when they apmamma and the girls, to secure the presence of pear; but it is very hard to be obliged to expend the officers; yet, if the truth were but known, its first freshness and fragrance upon “only the it is not by any means a great achievement, Tomkinses.” Fanny tries to catch mamma's after all, to induce a few bored warriors to ex-eye, to learn what she is to do from that intellichange the monotony of the mess-room for a gent orb; but mamma does not choose to have carpet-dance and a little flirtation with the belles the responsibility of either rudeness or cold tea of their country quarter:

upon her shoulders, so her eye refuses to be When the invitations have been duly accepted, caught. the next subject for consideration is whether The Misses Tomkins are large shy stupid the supper shall be regularly laid out in the girls, with red wrists and ill-fitting gloves, and a dining-room or brought in on trays, there being tendency to fidget. They are miserably unalways a marked difference in the opinion of comfortable in their white gowns and sashes of mother and daughters touching the merits of the Stuart tartan; they know all the photothese two arrangements. The latter trium- graphs in all the albums by heart, but they go pbantly bring up occasions upon which the tray heroically through them once more just to pass plan was a signal failure—don't you remem- the time, and say, “ How like!” and “That's a ber, mamma?”—at Mrs. So-and-so’s, while the good one !” to the pictures of people whom former prudently reminds her imprudent chil- they see in the flesh every day of their lives. dren that a laid-out supper is much more ex. They giggle when they coine upon themselves pensive than “ only refreshments;" but the ex- taken in light muslins, very short in the front, pected presence of the officers is suddenly and with black lace shawls spread over one brought to bear, and the trays are finally van- shoulder. quished. Then the materials for the supper are Then in due time more guests appear, princidiscussed. One sister declares for lobster- pally women, and, if there is a gentleman, he salad, the other that no supper is perfect with looks intensely miserable ; and, after shaking out tipsy-cake; while both insist upon Paganini- hands with everyone in the room, he subsides tarts and a gorgeous dish of trifle for the middle upon a chair very near the door, froin which he of the table.

is presently dislodged to hand tea and cakes to But if mamma is worsted about the supper, those ladies who will not come to the table. she has her own way about tea, and that she resolves, like a sensible woman, shall be made ladies thaw somewhat, and five or six of the

Under the influence of tea and coffee the in the drawing-room, upon the round table, which is to be wheeled into a corner.

Then the younger ones gather upon a large ottoman in position of the piano is determined, after much the middle of the room, and talk away themdiscussion, and the places selected from which selves; for it is strange with what obstinacy the lamps and candles (there is no gas) will the young men keep about the door. Then give the most effective light, and be in the least perhaps after a time there comes a sudden and danger from awkward elbows. The young ladies awful pause, and one of the Tomkins's girls are, however, unmolested in their opinion wben who had been making quite a long speech the great subject of " dress” comes before the collapses, covered with confusion. That is the house; they even take mamma's cap” in

moment for “music" to have "charms to soothe hands, and declare that she shall not make a

the savage breast!” and the eldest daughter of "Guy" of herself.

the house, at a sign from her mother, reluctantly And when the eventful day at length comes, pulls off her gloves, and, going to the piano, how much still remains to be done! Such plays either - Ecoutez-moi” or “The Maiden's dusting of the “ best china !" such bright- Prayer,” and when she has finished she selects ening of the “company glass !” such running

a victim from the ottoman, who plays whichever bither and thither ! until

the givers of the feast of the above-named pieces her predecessor at are thoroughly weary, if they would but ac

the piano had not played; but before she has knowledge the fact. “Dinner’is eaten in the I got through it the quick ears of Maria and store-room, on the stairs, anywhere, nowhere, Fanny have caught the sound of wheels drawing and it is nearly time to dress, when Maria re

up before the door, and they know by instinct members that she has not cut the bread-and that the officers have driven from the barracks, butter, and Fanny that she has not put the and are at hand. "tucker” upon her dress.

The sisters exchange a look, which says ' At By seven o'clock the sound of busy feet upon

last!” and like lightning the bell is rung for the the stairs has ceased ; the girls are dressing in fresh supply of tea and coffee which the outtheir rooms, and a pungent smell of coffee per- razed cook has been obliged to make for these vades the house. At eight punctually (the fashionable and gallant guests, who are nothing

There hour named in the invitation) the first detache very wonderful when they do appear.

Three very young and ment of guests arrives. Pity the sorrows of are four of them. the firet detachment! It ie, you inay depend, I verdant ensigns, who, nevertheless, think them


The mossy boles had gathered eyes ;
Like pathways dwindling to the skies
The hedge-rows stretched, in russet guise.

He rode across the little wood,
Just when the Day and Night made feud,
And in the thin fog by me stood.
He took the hand he used to press,
Coldly, as if he loved me less;
Yet talked of hope and happiness.

The sweetness from his smile was gone ;
And though he spoke in gentle tone,
His voice seemed changed, and not his own,

Gifts he had brought me manifold-
Sweet trifles in the days of old ;
That eve, unasked, he gave me gold.

And hurried words of farewell said ;
Ah! still I hear his horse's tread,
As he rode 'twixt the beech-trees red.

The flushed moon leant above the moor,
Before I gained my dwelling's door,
With the wealth which had made me poor.

selves blazé men of the world, but who are in bondage to their exceedingly narrow white ties, and who add to the already formidable group about the door; and one audacious Lieutenant, who, having seen something of the world, boldly charges the group of petticoats in the middle of the room, and makes as much fun as is possible for himself under the circumstances. This bold warrior is a great talker. He talks during the playing and during the singing, and pays no attention to the warning glances of his fair companions who are divided between their dread of scaring him from their side, and their dread of affronting the performer by indifference to her efforts.

If a dance can be “got up," an evening of this kind drags less heavily. Woe to the party condemned to the pastime of “squails !". To be sure, if the room is small the furniture (although it is rolled into corners) and the people who do not dance are dreadfully in the way. It is really piteous to see an aggrieved matron sitting up against the wall, and trying to believe that she enjoys looking on while the muslin skirts of her own daughter, or the daughter of her neighbour, are whirled into her face as the young lady and her partner fly round and round in a galop! Then peradventure there is a crash. Some flying petticoat bas caught the fire-irons, and dragged them from their place with a hideous noise. One of the partnerless young men at the door rushes forward to pick up poker and tongs before some one is tripped up, two of the dancers galopping along the reverse way come bump up against him, and narrowly escape a fall; the young lady, much aggrieved, stops at once and says, panting, “ How awkward!" And all this happens a dozen times during the night.

The supper is decidedly the most successful part the entertainment, although the jelly is made at home and is neither very clear nor very stiff, and the lobster-salad is badly mixed, and the officers secretly turn up their nosesconnoisseurs as they are at the sherry. So the whole thing comes to an end, and there is nothing left for the hostess who had worked so bard, but a dismantled house and a general impression that her guests did not thoroughly enjoy themselves.

And the guests discuss the party, and decide that “Mrs. Smith did her best, as she always does, poor woman !" but that Fanny was “stuck up" and Maria “neglectful,” wbile the officers vote the whole thing “A dossid boar !and wonder, " by Jove, where Old Smith gets his sherry !"

I looked upon the wedding-ring
Worn next my heart, a hidden thing,
And hoped 'twould happy visions bring.

Some dream of him. Ah! yet awhile, I thought the sunshine of his smile Would all my cares and fears beguile.

But changes hurried on; though sleep, When it did come, was hushed and deep, I only saw what made me weep.

And when I rose, deject and lorn,
From the tall elm, as if in scorn,
The black crow clamoured at the morn.

When twilight deepened o'er the brake, My feet the wonted path would take; That eve there were no stars awake.

The minster bells swung in the wind,
I heard, in echoes ill-defined,
A voice less in the ear than mind-

A spirit-voice of grief and pain,
Which said: “You ne'er will meet again!”
Like tear-drops fell the patteriug rain.





Although far severed from the friends we love,
If we behold a star that shines abore,
A point of union seems that little gem-
Its rays are seen by us and seen by them;
So we approach God's throne in “COMMON PRATER,”
And though far sever'd meet in Spirit there.


Leaf-laden was the swollen stream,
Through knotted boughs fell eve's last gleam;
The moist wind breathed as in a dream,



"E'en in our ashes live their wonted fire,”-Gray.


It is pleasant sometimes, for us who live amid at rest! All these conflicting passions of the the rush and roar of this busy, noisy, money, heart which are agitating the living world withgetting world, to retire to some of those quiet out, are here ended, and for ever. Little, inhaunts which are found in the midst of London, deed, matter ambition or pride, or hope and and there to rest awhile from the engrossing despair within these solemn resting-places of thoughts, the whirl of anxious speculations, the dead; the little drama of the lives of those and the round of hopes and fears which beset who lie around us has been played out long us in the turmoil of life without. There are, as ago, and the curtain has long since fallen for everybody knows, in the very heart of the inetropolis, little out-of-the-way nooks, quiet city I am passing through the “dim religious churches, and long-disused burying-grounds, light" of Henry VII.'s Chapel. Dim shadows where one may ramble and ponder with little of royalty seem rising amid the banners of the fear of interruption; and yet within five minutes' Knights of the Bath which decorate the chapel. walk the stream of noisy humanity rolls on, Many a great actor on the eventful stage of bringing to our minds the sad, truthful words English history is slumbering here. Close by “in the midst of life we are in death.” Not me is the monument of the first of the Tudors, long ago, filled with such thoughts as these, I the conqueror of Bosworth field; the unloved, rambled to the venerable Abbey, within whose cold, sellish, yet eminently politic and successquiet precincts repose the ashes of so many of ful Henry. Near, is the grave of the “boy the great and gifted ones of our land. West- King," Edward VI., so early cut off from his minster Abbey, as a show place, is common high place, though not, as we may safely beenough to the stranger and holiday-seeker in lieve, as we recall that period of intrigue and London; but it was not with any intention of blood, before he had learnt that "uneasy lies hurrying through the various chapels or en- the head that wears a crown.” As I look at during the greatest of social inflictions, a con- these time-worn tombs I can picture the men as ventional guide, that I entered the Abbey. The they lived and spoke: cold Henry seems standday was dull and sunless, few people were ing by my side, and smooth-faced gentle Edward abroad and the Abbey was almost deserted, so is shuddering at the execution on Tower Hill. that I was free to roam about unmolested, to But they are but shadows, and “ come like examine the different monuments after my own shadows, so depart.” Another page in the fashion. How different a scene, I thought, Tudor's history is opened to us as we stand by from that without! There, all was noise, hurry, the adjacent tombs of the fairest, most accomand excitement; there, were men and women plished, most unhappy, and would that I could struggling along in the rude current of daily add most innocent of the Stuarts, and of her life, their minds agitated by a thousand con- powerful enemy Queen Elizabeth. At our feet flicting emotions; there, were politicians, whose rests the bride of Bothwell, the murderess of deep-laid schemes were brought to light not Darnley, the lover of Rizzio, the prisoner of many yards from where I stood; there, were Lochleven, and the fugitive of Pinkie. anxious, money-getting men, whose souls were chained to the great golden Calf of Mammon,

" Alas! for the rarity hoping and fearing, grinding the poor, pressing

Of Christian charity the miserly, growing rich yet still dissatisfied,

Under the sun!” always, like poor Oliver Twist, "asking for more;" there, were the proud and the ambi. Hers was a sad, chequered life, a cruel and untious, building up. bright futures or raising just death. Little did she dream, on that 8th of themselves to imaginary pinnacles of greatness; February, 1587, when she was led forth to die at and there, were the young, full of hope and ex- Fotheringay Castle, that the author of her doom pectation for the years to come, careless of the should one day rest quietly beside her in the days that are; and there, too, were the ruined calın precincts of the Abbey. Surely it had and lost ones, full of despair, tired of the pre- been better for the fame of Elizabeth had she sent, shuddering at the past, hopeless of the been less inveterate towards her erring sister in future. All this is in the world without, but royalty ; but she could bear no rival near her here, how different! Here, all is peace; here, the throne, she desired all the power and homage wicked cease from troubling and the weary are for herself, to shine with unrivalled splendour

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