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ribbons with it, as she pleased, for not a farthing of it would I ever touch on any consideration. No one should be able to say, that it was for the sake of her money I sought to win her.

Well, all this was very simple, straight-forward work; -where, then, were the difficulties which had alarmed me so greatly? Let me see Mr. Vernon might choose to fancy that it would take some years to add to the 907. 148. 6d. sufficiently to enable me to support a wife, and might disapprove of his ward's engaging herself to me on that account-what if he did? I wished for no engagement-let her remain free as air, her own true affection would stand my friend, and on that I could rely, content if it failed me, to-to-well, it did not signify what I might do in an emergency which never could arise.-No! only let him promise not to force her inclinations-to give up his monstrous project of wedding her to Cumberland, and to leave her free to bestow her hand on whom she would, and I should be perfectly satisfied. But, suppose, as Clara seemed to fear, he should refuse to break off the engagement with his nephew-suppose he should forbid me the house, and, taking advantage of my absence, use his authority to force on this hateful marriage! All that would be extremely disagreeable, and I could not say I exactly saw at the moment, what means I should be able to employ, effectually to prevent it;-still it was only a remote contingency-an old man like him, with one foot, as you might say, in the grave, (he could not have been above sixty, and his constitution, like everything else about him, appeared of cast iron,) must have some conscience, must pay some little regard to right and wrong it would only be necessary to open his eyes to the enormity of wedding beauty and innocence such as Clara's to a scoundrel like Cumberland-a man destitute of every honourable feeling-oh! he must see that the thing is impossible, and, as the thought passed through my mind, I longed for the moment when I should be confronted with him, and able to tell him so.

And Clara, too! sweet, bewitching, unhappy Clara! what must not she have gone through, ere a mind naturally buoyant and elastic as hers, could have been crushed into a state of such utter dejection, such calm, spiritless despair! her only wish, to die-her only hope, to find in the grave a place "where the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary are at rest!" But brighter days were in store for her, it should be my ambition to render her married life so happy, that, if possible, the recollection of all she had suffered having passed away, her mind should recover its proper tone, and even her lightness of heart, which the chill atmosphere of unkindness for a time had blighted, should revive again in the warm sunshine of affection.

Thus meditating, I arrived at Elm Lodge, in a state of feeling containing about equal parts of the intensely poetical, and the very decidedly hungry.

On the second morning after the events I have described, a note was brought to me whilst I was dressing; with trembling fingers I tore open the envelope, and read as follows:

"I promised to inform you of what occurred on my return here, and I must therefore do so, though what I have to communicate will only give you pain: all that my fears pointed at has come to pass, and my doom appears irrevocably sealed. Late on the evening of my return to Barstone, Mr. Vernon and his nephew arrived; I never shall forget the feeling of agony that shot through my brain, as Richard Cumberland's footstep sounded in the hall, knowing, as I too well did, the purpose with which he was come; I fancied grief had in great measure deadened my feelings, but that moment served to undeceive me-the mixture of horror, aversion, and fear, combined with a sense of utter helplessness and desolation, seemed as it were to paralyse me.

"But I know not why I am writing all this, the evening passed off without any thing particular taking place, Mr. Cumberland's manner towards me was re

gulated by the most consummate tact and cunning, allowing the deep interest he pretends to feel in me to appear in every look and action, yet never going far enough to afford me an excuse for repulsing him. This morning, however, I have had an interview with Mr. | Vernon, in which I stated my repugnance to the marriage as strongly as possible; he was fearfully irritated, and, at length, on my repeating my refusal, plainly told me that it was useless for me to resist his will, that I was in his power, and if I continued obstinate, I must be made to feel it. Oh that man's anger is terrible to witness; it is not that he is so violenthe never seems to lose his self-control-but says the most cutting things in a tone of calm, sarcastic bitterness, which lends double force to all he utters. I feel that it is useless for us to contend against fate: you cannot help me, and would only embroil yourself with these men, were you to attempt to do so. I shall ever look back upon the few days we spent together, as a bright spot in the dark void of my life,-that life which you preserved at the risk of your own. Alas! you little knew the cruel nature of the gift you were bestowing. And now, farewell for ever! That you may find all the happiness your kindness and generosity deserve, is the earnest prayer of one, whom, for her sake, as well as your own, you must strive to forget."

"If I do forget her," exclaimed I, as I pressed the note to my lips, "may I ——well, never mind, I'll go over and have it out with that old brute this very morning, and we'll see if he can frighten me;" and so saying, I set to work to finish dressing, in a great state of virtuous indignation.

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Freddy," inquired I, when breakfast was at length concluded, "where can I get a horse?"

"Get a horse?" was the reply. "Oh! there are a great many places,-it depends upon what kind of horse you want:-for race-horses, steeple-chasers, and hunters, I would recommend Tattersall's; for hacks or machiners, there's Aldridge's, in St. Martin's-lane; while Dixon's, in the Barbican, is the place to pick up a fine young cart-horse-is it a young cart-horse you want?"

"My dear fellow, don't worry me," returned I, feeling very cross, and trying to look amiable; 'you know what I mean; is there any thing rideable to be hired in Hillingford?—I have a call to make which is beyond a walk."

"Let me see,” replied Freddy, musing; “you wouldn't like a very little poney, with a rat-tail, I suppose-it might look absurd with your long legs, I'm afraid-or else Mrs. Meek, the undertaker's widow, has got a very quiet one, that poor Meek used to ride-a child could manage it-there's the butcher's fat mare, but she won't stir a step without the basket, and it would be so troublesome for you to carry that all the way. Tomkins, the sweep, has got a little horse he'd let you have, I dare say, but it always comes off black on one's trowsers; and the miller's cob is just as bad the other way with the flour. I know a donkey

"So do I," was my answer, as, laughing in spite of myself, I turned to leave the room.

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Here, stop a minute!" cried Freddy, following me, "you are so dreadfully impetuous; there's nothing morally wrong in being acquainted with a donkey, is there? I assure you I did not mean any thing personal-and now for a word of sense. Bumpus, at the Green Man, has got a tremendous horse, which nearly frightened me into fits the only time I ever mounted him, so that it will just suit you; nobody but a green man, or a knight errant, which I consider much the same sort of thing, would patronize such an animal-still, he's the only one I know of."

Coleman's tremendous horse, which proved to be a tall, pig-headed, hard-mouthed brute, with a very decided will of his own, condescended, after sundry skirmishes, and one pitched battle, occasioned by his positive refusal to pass a windmill, to go the road I

wished, and about an hour's ride brought me to the gate of Barston Park.

So completely had I been hurried on by feeling in every stage of the affair, and so entirely had all minor considerations given way to the paramount object of securing Clara's happiness, with which, as I now felt, my own was indissolubly linked, that it was not until my eye rested on the cold grey stone of Barstone Priory, and wandered over the straight walks and formal lawns of the garden, that I became fully aware of the extremely awkward and embarrassing nature of the interview I was about to seek. To force myself into the presence of a man, more than double my own age, and, from all I had seen or heard of him, one of the last people in the world to take a liberty with, for the purpose of informing him that his nephew, the only creature on earth that he was supposed to love, was a low swindler, the associate of gamblers and blacklegs, did not appear a line of conduct exactly calculated to induce him, at my request, to give up a scheme on which he had set his heart, or to look with a favourable eye on my pretensions to the hand of his ward. Still there was no help for it; the happiness of her I loved was at stake, and, had it been to face a fiend, instead of a man, I should not have hesitated.

of the meeting-I trust our friend Oaklands feels no ill effects from his wound?"

"Mr. Oaklands, I am sorry to say, recovers but slowly; the wound was a very severe one," returned I coldly. "Well, I will not detain you any longer, it is a lovely morning for a ride," resumed Cumberland; "can I be of any assistance in directing you? the lanes in this neighbourhood are somewhat intricate,-you are not perhaps aware that the road you are now following is a private one."

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Scarcely so private that those who have business with Mr. Vernon may not make use of it, I presume," rejoined I.

"Oh! of course not," was the reply, "I did not know that you were acquainted with my uncle; though now I come to think of it, I do recollect his saying that he had met you somewhere; he seldom receives visitors in the morning;-in fact, when I came out, I left him particularly engaged :-perhaps I can save you the trouble of going up to the house; is there any message I can deliver for you?"

"I thank you," replied I, "but I do not think the business which has brought me here could be well transacted through a third person; at all events I will take my chance of being admitted:-"I paused, but could not refrain from adding, "besides, if my memory fails not, you were a somewhat heedless messenger in days of yore."

My reflections were here interrupted by a cock pheasant, which, alarmed at my approach, rose immediately under my horse's nose; an unexpected incident, which caused that brute to shy violently, and This allusion to his embezzlement of Oakland's letter turn short round, thereby nearly unseating me. Hav-stung him to the quick; he turned as white as ashes, and ing by this manoeuvre got his head towards home, he asked in a voice that trembled with passion, "Whether ¦ not only refused to turn back again, but showed very I meant to insult him?" unmistakeable symptoms of a desire to run away. Fortunately, however, since the days of " Mad Bess," my arms had grown considerably stronger, and, by dint of pulling and sawing the creature's apology for a mouth with the bit, I was enabled to frustrate his benevolent intentions, and even succeeded in turning him round again-but here my power ceased-for in the direction of the Priory by no pessibility could I induce him to move a step. I whipped and spurred, but in vain; the only result was a series of kicks and plunges, accompanied by a retrograde movement, and a shake of As I spoke, his cheek flushed, then grew pale again the head, as if he were saying, No! I next attempted with shame and anger, while he bit his under lip so the soothing system, and lavished sundry caresses and severely, that a red line remained where his teeth had endearing expressions upon him, of which he was ut-pressed it. When I concluded, he advanced towards terly undeserving, but my attentions were quite thrown away, and might as well, for any good they produced, have been bestowed upon a rocking horse. At length, after a final struggle, in which we were both within an ace of falling into a water-course, or brook, which crossed the park in that direction, I gave the matter up as hopeless; and, with a sigh (for I love not to be foiled in anything I have attempted, and moreover I could not help looking upon it as an unlucky omen) dismounted, and leading my rebellious steed by the rein, advanced on foot towards the house. As I did so, a figure abruptly turned the corner of a shrubbery walk, which ran at right angles to the road, and I found myself

"I spoke heedlessly, and without deliberate inten- | tion," I replied, "but perhaps it is only fair to tell you, that for the future there can be no friendly communi- | cation between us; we must either avoid each other altogether, which would be the most desirable arrangement, or meet as strangers. The disgraceful conduct of the boy I could have forgiven and forgotten, had not its memory been revived by the evil deeds of the man. Richard Cumberland, I know you thoroughly; it is needless for me to add more."

face to face with Richard Cumberland!

For a moment he remained staring at me, as if he scarcely recognised me, or was unwilling to trust the evidence of his senses, so confounded was he at my unexpected apparition; but, as I met his gaze with a cold stern look, he seemed to doubt no longer, and advancing a step towards me, said, in a tone of ironical politeness, Is it possible that I have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Fairlegh?"

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"None other, Mr. Cumberland," returned I, "though I could hardly have flattered myself that my appearance would have recalled any very pleasurable associations, considering the last two occasions on which we met." "Ah! you refer to that unfortunate affair with Wilford," replied Cumberland, purposely misunder standing my allusion to Dr. Mildinan's. "I had hoped to have been able to prevent the mischief which occurred, but I was misinformed as to the time

me with a threatening gesture, but, unable to meet the stedfast look with which I confronted him, he turned abruptly on his heel, and muttering, "You shall repent this," disappeared among the shrubs.

ERAS OF ENGLISH CIVILIZATION.1 WHATEVER has imparted beauty, or secured strength to the British constitution, must, directly or indirectly, be traced to the influence of our parliament, in which king, lords, and commons, concur in the work of disciplining a nation for the struggles to which it may be summoned. The civilization of England has naturally arisen out of the peculiar principle of that constitution, I which has saved us from despotism, on the one hand, and from anarchy, on the other. Wide, therefore, must his survey be, who takes into one field of view all the vast results of the era we are now contemplating, without which all other periods would have contributed little to the real prosperity of the land. When, therefore, we look on the busy past, or contemplate the coming ages, and ponder over the undeveloped epochs of the world's civilization, let us remember that one marked era, the famous thirteenth century, when the great preservative principle in the politics of England first rose into action. Colonies, in all regions of the globe, have sown, and are sowing, the seeds of other civilizations over the wastes of savage nature; and thus, at

(1) Continued from p. 228.

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some future period, the historian of the South Sea | lable aid rendered to civilization by these great corIsles, or some Australian legislator, may look back to porations. Without them nothing like a compacted the origin of our parliament as the cause of prosperity and happiness to more than one-half the inhabitants of the globe.

When we consider the extensive regions of the East, the South, and the West, over which the English language is spoken, it is evident that the civilization of the whole world must be shaped, to a great extent, by the peculiarities of English life and customs. The plain conclusion is, that the era of the rise of our parliament must be viewed as operating not only within the four seas of Britain, but over the length and breadth of the Old and New Worlds. The civilization of the greater part of Asia will, probably, be modified by that of India; whilst the progress of the latter in arts and laws must be directed by the agencies of the English constitution. America, again, will probably follow, at no distant time, the spirit of the systems, exhibited in Canada and the United States; in either of which cases English civilization must be regarded as the parent stream from which the fertilizing agencies flow over the earth. What an ever verdant wreath of glory is all time thus preparing for the name which must remain connected with the era of English parliaments! What avails it that the body of the great De Montfort was once brutally mutilated by his savage foes on the field of Evesham, when many nations will preserve his undying memorials in the principles and forms of their national existence?

4. THE ERA OF THE ENGLISH LEGAL SYSTEM.

The last section brought before us an era relating to the primary elements of civilization; this claims our attention to a series of details subsidiary to the causes just described. If a well-balanced representative system be compared to some deep spring, ever pouring forth the riches of intelligence and liberty; law may be likened to the channels and dykes which preserve the accumulated waters within their desired course. What would a nicely adapted representative system have accomplished in presence of a feeble, confused, or corrupt jurisprudence? Acts of Parliament are but waste paper until impressed by the seal of the judge, and the decisions of a court. Trial by jury open courts of justice-the co-ordinate jurisdiction of several independent courts-the constant watchfulness of a trained body of lawyers-and the numerous securities provided for the protection of the subject,- -are the defences thrown up in past ages against the encroachments of arbitrary power or the excesses of an undisciplined democracy. How much the civilization of the land has been promoted by fixed laws, administered by supreme courts, can only be fully estimated by those who have witnessed the disorganization flowing from a contrary system. Time was when right was at the mercy of an ignorant or malicious baron, who required all disputes within his domain to be tried in his own courts. In such places the will of the lord was law; and thus the feudal baron was absolute within his estate, and mimicked within his petty court the terrors and majesty of the imperial sceptre. All this it was necessary to supersede by the great tribunals of the kingdom, before civilization could dwell securely in the

system of national law could have arisen, and we must have suffered all the checks to civilization arising from the absence of a code suited to the peculiar requirements of the country, or from the presence of a foreign system,' which, though excellent in parts, must have seriously modified the character of the people of England. The feeling of independence, and of resistance to wrong, which characterize Englishmen, must be traced to the operation during many ages of the national laws on the habits of the people. Deference to authority is one sure means of securing the advance of a nation in prosperity; and Ireland is at this moment a terrible illustration of the prostration which may befall a people who feel the workings of no such principle. But to produce and support this feeling, the laws themselves must be interpreted and administered on principles suited to the wants of the nation; and this England had secured in ages past by the constitution of her courts, and the organization of her bar. If the long line of statutes and the legion of reports terrify the student who is ambitious of grasping the whole of the vast system, the spectacle may, on the other hand, delight the poorest member of the community whose rights are defined and guarded by the provisions of those ponderous tomes. It is the system of English law which has delivered us from the tyranny of a hundred petty codes; which has saved us from the operations of the wager by battle, and the trial by ordeal; whilst no imperious prince can again sport with the liberties and rights of Englishmen, by setting up his proclamations above the laws. The beggar sleeps securely in his poor hut through which the storm may beat, but where not even the sovereign of the land has a right to enter save at the bidding of the law; and it is this firm security for the weak which has made England the refuge of industry, arts, and wealth, and therefore the home of a most vigorous civilization. To trace the growth of our vast legal system, since the period when the inns of court were incorporated, is impossible in this place; our object is not a history of law, but a survey of the causes which have promoted the growth of the British empire in all the essentials of national greatness.

5. ERA OF ENGLISH LITERATURE.

If the fourteenth century was distinguished by the formation of the legal corporations, by which our liberties have been asserted and maintained, the next age was characterised by the uprising of that mighty art which has given power and perpetuity to all the rest. Caxton was born in the beginning of this century, 1410, or 1412, and, having set up on one memorable day his world-famed press in Westminster Abbey, began to teach his country another great lesson in civilization. The mind of England was thus prepared to take advantage of the light shed over Europe by the downfall of Constantinople, and the dispersion of the Grecian scholars through every state and kingdom. Whatever some may think of the works actually published by Caxton, and however lightly the student may estimate their importance, let it not be forgotten, that his books were the pioneers of those which now enrich our noblest libraries, and speak to the soul in the eloquent accents of ancient and modern wisdom. Some who smile at his books on the " Game of Chess," his Noble History of King Arthur," the "book of the whole Life of Jason," must admit that the old printer did nevertheless good service, by directing the public This happened in the fourteenth century, when the inns mind to the important studies suggested by such a of court were formed in the metropolis, under the patron-work as "The Chronicles of England," and the more age of the first and second Edwards. The Englishman who walks through the great square of Lincoln's Inn, and passes thence to the Inner and Middle Temple, ending with the Inn named from the Lords Gray of Wilton, would do well to reflect on the almost incalcu

land. But the workings of such courts required the cooperation of a large body of men, trained to the consideration of legal subjects, and versed in the national laws. The rise of such a body, and its confederation in regular societies, must be regarded as the commencement of the era now under consideration.

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general narrative entitled "Polychronicon," the rude style of which Caxton popularised. Great also was the impulse given to the national thoughts by the pub

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lication of French translations from the classics, by which Englishmen were early familiarised with the bold ideas and elevating sentiments which once fired the hearts of Rome's noblest sons.

But we do not regard Caxton so much for his own doings, as for the results produced in all succeeding ages by his labours. The beginnings of literature in his time may seem 'small; and there were doubtless many who listened with sneers to the crank of the solitary press in the old abbey as it toiled on slowly producing works which seemed, to prejudiced eyes, far less beautiful than the old illuminated MSS., elaborated by the handicraft of patient monk and scribe. But that simple press is the honoured father of the steam-printing machine, which now dispenses the intellectual food of millions in a few hours every morning.

Were Caxton's machine placed by the side of The Times' press, how little notice would it attract, save from those who can trace the spreading glories which from his age diffused over the mental firmament the light and warmth of knowledge. From the establishment of that machine in the abbey, knowledge was furnished with wings, not for the purpose of eluding but seeking men. Thoughts long pent up in the form of costly and rare manuscripts emerged from the gloom of their ancient cells, and rose into the pure heavens, where, for ages, they have blazed sun-like before men. Wynkyn-de-Worde and Richard Pynson, the devoted friends and companions of the first English printer, took up the holy work when Caxton died, and sent, in more than six hundred distinct books, bright forms of truth into the halls of nobles, the parsonage of the priest, and the burgher's home; training up that generation for the great struggle so soon to startle Europe. Then printers and authors began to multiply, and so numerous did the former become that the names of three hundred and fifty are given by Bibliographers between the time of Caxton and the end of the ensuing century, whilst above ten thousand works were published in the same period, attesting the awakening of the nation, and the rapid advance towards civilization, produced by the development of a literary spirit amongst the people. As we proceed to later times, and find ourselves surrounded by the struggles attendant upon the Reformation, and the bitter contests of the civil wars, we see thoughts and books multiplying, as if, amidst the perplexities and shakings of the nations, lights rose up from the trembling earth, or descended from the troubled heavens, to guide bewildered men into paths of peace and homes of rest. It is to be regretted, that so much of this literature should have been devoted to theological and secular strife, and that 30,000 tracts upon such subjects should have been published during the short space of twenty years, from 1640 to 1660. But all this effort was not lost work; something was gained from such an incessant collision of minds by which subsequent times were extensively affected; so that many of our present national habits may be traced to the feelings excited during these long contests. But, amidst the din raised by meaner spirits, three bright forms had risen far above the dusty clouds into the regions of a loftier literature. The stars of Spenser, Shakespear, and Milton, beamed with a refulgent splendour over the troubled waters, and guided by their gentle influence the spirits of men to nobler objects.

To pursue the course of our literary progress, and its varied operations on our complicated civilization, will be deemed needless. It is enough to have indicated the fountain head whence such waters of life flowed, and by the taste of which a host of ardent spirits, in these ages, have been impelled in the pursuit of a higher good than their fathers knew. Amongst all the eras named in this article none are more important than this concerning which we now treat; for a nation without a literary era must ever remain amongst the rude communities from whose barbarous seats of power little save deso

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lating wars can proceed. To have had the beginnings of such an era, and still to possess its fruits, are the surest omens of a long and triumphant progress upwards, till that point is gained where something resembling the bright visions of the golden age may visit the homes of men.

Amidst these reflections on the past, and anticipations of the future, some observer of things as they are may look down into the dark abyss of modern society, and inquire whether civilization is there; there, where untutored thousands crouch in pestilential corners of populous human hives, and over whom so little of the pure breezes from a better land has breathed? But stop, and reflect upon the causes of this misery, ere you give up, gloomy observer, all hopes of amelioration for those beings. Has not literature, with all its purifying, liferejoicing truths, been to them a thing unknown? and has not their poverty been thus deepened into a fearful gloom and wretchedness by the thick shadow of ignorance? If this could be removed; if for them an era of knowledge were to arise, the results would be as favourable in the dwellings of our mechanics and peasants as upon the surface of England in general. Civilization will not, cannot penetrate through the recesses of society, until knowledge prepares the minds of all to appreciate aright their position, and judge aright of their duties. Four centuries of stirring events have passed away since Caxton originated the era of English literature, and yet much remains to be done for the mass of the lower orders. But let us hope this era will go on increasing in brightness and power until the humble and lowly are brought within its lasting influence.

6. ERA OF THE REFORMATION.

The character of a people must partake of the peculiarities of their religious systems, for it is impossible. that themes so commanding in their nature should fail to impress the minds of men. This remark will be confirmed and illustrated by a reference to the religious systems of ancient or modern states, of civilized or savage tribes, and is peculiarly exemplified in the history of European nations. The most remarkable religious era in England was undoubtedly that of our Reformation, whether we consider the circumstances attending its birth, the vast results produced by its operations, and their extensive influence on the most distant nations which have been connected with the commerce or politics of England. One of the most decided peculiarities imparted to the English mind by this great epoch is an intense religious earnestness developed individually, but limited by the church system of the people, which links them by many of its forms and services with the ancient ages of Christianity. This stern individuality which leads men to set up some power within the heart as the final arbiter of all debates, and for which they will zealously do battle as for their liege sovereign, marks the puritanical element so strongly developed in the English character. As this moral peculiarity must be noted when reviewing the nature of our civilization, so it is forced upon our attention by some of the most momentous events in our history. The civil wars and the ultimate fall of the Stuart princes, our relations with the Protestant powers of Europe, and the system of foreign policy introduced by William III., are all direct results of the uncompromising religious element infused by the Reformation. And how important have been the consequences of this feeling within the country itself can be fully comprehended only by those who survey with a careful and dispassionate mind the changes in our history since the time of Elizabeth, and the present energies at work amongst the people.

The attitude of conflict ever kept up towards Rome, has modified in a remarkable manner the character of English civilization, and stamped upon our laws and manners some of those deeply graven principles and peculiarities which amaze the foreigner. It is difficult

to say how much of the present complication of Irish | phers, or even the views of our infidels, will observe a politics has been caused by the incessant actings of marked difference between their reasonings and those puritanical sternness, but it is evident that the con- of the continental speculators. Amongst the latter the dition of that country has been affected in most im- mind seems released from all respect for authority, and portant particulars by laws and regulations dictated by the theorist advances from one delusion to another with this feeling. That such should have been the case was the feeling that all things are wrong, and he is born to perfectly natural; for it was not in the nature of things set them right. Something of this spirit is often seen for a reflective and determined people to pass through in our dissenting communities; but in general a consuch critical events as the Marian burnings, the attack siderable degree of caution is exercised by the English of the Spanish Armada, the gunpowder plot, the mind when treating of the mysterious subjects pertaintempest of the great rebellion, the change in the royal ing to religion and morals. This reining in of our succession, when adherence to Rome cost James II. a fiercest spirits, and the consequent effects upon the crown, and the struggles against the partisans of the national mind, must be ascribed to the peculiarly mixed excited Stuarts, without feeling their whole nature principles of our Reformation. When we consider the steeled into hardihood towards the system of the important consequences often produced by unrestrained papacy. Hence the restrictive laws against the Roman speculation, and the fierce excitement to which the Catholics in England, but especially in Ireland, from ferocity of a Voltaire, or the theories of a D'Holbach which, at the present day, such fruits have been pro- or a Helvetius, may lead a nation, we cannot refrain duced as few can contemplate with undisturbed minds. from rejoicing over the more practical character imThis hostile spirit towards the power of the Italian parted to our metaphysicians by the religious character hierarch was forced, be it remembered, upon the country stamped upon the land during the era of which we are by events which arose as clearly from the agency of now treating; therefore it is that we have hitherto Providence as any phenomena ever developed upon the escaped the wildness of the German, and the freezing face of the earth, and by the unwise, if not wicked, coldness of the French philosophy. Our adherence to machinations of the men, who in those times directed records, and reverence for primitive practices, have been the workings of Romanism. Whatever evils, there- the restraining agencies which have given to the freest fore, may have followed the unchecked action of the nation upon earth a moderation so rarely exercised, and puritanical principle, the feeling itself is not to be so hardly learned by men. The influence of the Reforclassed with the errors, but numbered amongst the mation must, therefore, be highly prized by those who characteristics, of our civilization. Much of the practical have learned to estimate national progress aright, and earnestness, distinguishing the English as a people, who can note the difference between the feverish movemust be traced to the spirit roused into such action by ments of a false, and the steady advance of a genuine, the Reformation, and its direct consequences. And for civilization. ages to come this same principle will continue to work (To be continued.) powerfully in the politics of the nation; for, whatever modifications may result from the eclecticism now pervading a large section of our public men, and so likely to become predominant in some states of Europe, we cannot expect the people of England to abandon views which have become a part of their moral constitution, and are interwoven with the most stirring periods of their annals. The present contests prevailing amongst us indicate the vigour of that determined Protestantism which has survived unbroken amidst the changes and shocks of parties.

The mild and comprehensive theology of the Anglican Church, ever seeking to develope the principles of Catholicism without Romanism, has modified the onesidedness of the mere reformer, and given to the Englishman a sympathy with the principles of primitive times. English civilization has, therefore, received from the Reformation a mixed character, uniting opposition to Rome with a considerable degree of respect for the practices and teachings of the early church. We are; notwithstanding all our self-reliance, a people disposed to rest upon tradition to a very considerable extent,- -a tendency abundantly developed in the practice of our courts of law, and the deliberations of parliament; in both of which precedent is ever held up to view; and woe betide the lawyer or the statesman who should wholly despise the lessons taught by our ancient records: not the genius of a Follett in the one case, nor the commanding energies of a Pitt in the other, would secure such an one from being borne down by the indignation of his countrymen. This spirit has been to some extent preserved by the formularies of our church; and it is not, therefore, probable that England will ever suffer herself to be carried away either by the violence of abstract puritanism, or the errors of Rome. We are thus placed by the Reformation between two extremes, and our civilization has unquestionably been materially modified by the results of the great religious change through which we passed in the sixteenth century.

Freedom of speculation, limited by practical considerations, is another characteristic of English civilization traceable to the influence of the Reformation. He who considers the speculations of the English philoso

BERTHA'S WALK.

A TALE.

ONCE upon a time there lived near the borders of an extensive forest in the southern part of Germany, a poor widow named Gertrude Hauff, and her little daughter Bertha.

Gertrude supported herself and her child by her spinning, and four times every year she and Bertha went to a small town about two leagues distant, to dispose of the produce of her industry, and to purchase the few articles of food and clothing which their simple habits rendered necessary. These periodical visits were always looked forward to with eager delight by the little girl; they were the great events of her life,—the bright stars in her calm and cloudless sky.

It was the evening of a beautiful day in October, the setting sun shone brightly through the lattice, and rested on the glowing cheek and glossy golden curls of the fair child, as if to set forth, if possible more strongly, the striking contrast between their brilliant beauty, and the dark mourning dress and careworn features of her mother, who sat gazing with all a mother's fondness upon the elastic form and the bright laughing eye of the little maiden, as she busied herself in tying up, and arranging in large bundles, the skeins of homespun thread, which Gertrude produced from a press that stood in one corner of her neat little kitchen.

"I hope we shall have a fine day for our walk to-morrow, mother," said Bertha, as she finished unravelling a tangled mass of thread, and laid it in triumph on the table. "We shall have a large basketfull to take this time, but I can carry it all the way; you know, mother, the last time we went, you were tired, and I was not." She stopped abruptly, for as she looked up into her mother's face she observed the

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