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than by a Christian and philosophic spirit. It is a remarkable work; the style is often highly eloquent, and distinguished generally by calm dignity and power." Similar testimony is borne by the

London literary journals.

ence to the will or the ulterior displeasure of the ruling powers at Washington. Such a step would cause a separation between California and the Union, and would be almost equivalent to a declaration of independence. The next news will inform us which have succeeded-the plans of General Riley, or the revolutionary ones of the assembly of San Fran


From the Journal des Debats.

We return often to the subject of California. It Anglo-Saxon race there taking possession, colonizis in fact a most interesting spectacle to behold the ing, administering laws, and making a flourishing country of that, which, a year ago, was a vast desert, and where the immense wealth which it has been discovered to contain, has drawn adventurers from all parts of the world. It is a study full of in

The London Morning Chronicle of the 10th inst. has an editorial article on the American free soil question; more is promised-a systematic discussion. In the same number of the Chronicle are two extensive documents, suggestive and instructive for the United States. I refer to the report of the commissioner appointed to inquire into the state of the population in the mining districts of Great Britain, and a letter to the lord chancellor from the commissioners on lunacy, with regard to their duties and practice. The Chronicle of the 17th inst. has a continua-struction for France, now attempting the work of tion of the editorial views of the Wilmot Proviso question. It is severe on the free soil party, and on Presidents Tyler and Polk. The matter is very curious on the whole, if from a foreigner. The writer says:-" The success of the Wilmot Proviso is the doom of slavery." This is to be


Lamartine advertises in his journal all his patrimonial estates. By his writings he has gained as much nearly as Walter Scott received. These men of genius ended in the same ruin, though from different causes, and with very different char


The Travels of Lyell and Mackay scale many eyes in Great Britain; perhaps, also, in the United States, where some Americans are not less prejudiced against their own country.

Louis Napoleon has taken up his residence for the vacations, in the palace of St. Cloud. All the vacant ex-royal palaces must, then, be at disposal!


Nearly all the continental governments are negotiating, or about to negotiate, loans. The comparative prosperity of the Prussian finances is a wonder.

In the Constitutionnel of 20th inst., and on the same day in the Journal des Debats, there are articles on California, in which the worst aspects are presented by the former, the best by the other. General Riley's proclamation is expounded and praised by both. The Constitutionnel treats the plan of the St. Francisco Assembly as revolutionary. Allow me to translate for you a paragraph

of each.

From the Constitutionnel.

mistress of one of the most beautiful countries on colonization, and who for eighteen years has been the face of the globe, where she has expended millions of treasure, and shed the blood of her brave soldiers, but without being able to establish herself permanently on the rich soil and under the delicious climate. For France, still reeling and shuddering from revolution and anarchy, it is well worth the trouble of learning how such a government is founded ;-how the concert, liberality, and courage of a handful of honest men, who know what they are about, will succeed in establishing a regular system, make the laws respected, and maintain order and liberty in the midst of a population, of which the elements are, for the most part, as desperate and vicious as those which are now to be found amid the gold mines of San Joaquin and the Sacramento. We must not forget that the greatest number of these intrepid explorers, inured to all danger by their wandering lives, and hardened to all privations and misery, are also men, who, in violence and disorder, do not yield in any degree to the demagogues of our cities, and who have no more idea of respecting property, the rights of mine and thine, than the socialist school here and elsewhere. But, notwithstanding these evil qualities, which must make a struggle with such men terrible, still, they are in a measure controlled by the energy of honest men, who go to seek fortune by their side. Here, then, is a subject for useful meditation for that laborious but timid population, enemies of organize themselves, which forms the immense anarchy, but who do not know how to unite and majority of the French society, and who have left, more than once, the country without defence, to the hands of a few bold conspirators.

The Moniteur of yesterday morning contains the official report from the Council of State, in the case of M. Lesseps, the late envoy or commissioner of France. If the attempt of General Riley succeeds, he will It censures and condemns preserve the rights and maintain the authority of the his conduct and treaty in the severest terms, and central power. Part of the population has already assigns the reasons of this judgment in detail. It adhered to his proclamation, and consented to pur- pronounces that he entirely violated his instrucsue the plan he has indicated to them. But the tions, and signed a convention of which the stipuprovincial assembly of St. Francisco refuses him lations were contrary to the interests and dignity the right of taking such a step; it protests against of France. the union of civil and military power, and proposes The Constitutionnel of this day has

in its turn, that the different districts should elect another article on the Canadian question. It is delegates for a convention, which should give to treated as still pregnant with danger for Great California a definitive constitution, without refer- Britain, and interest for the United States.

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Aug. 1st.-Mr. Agnew sayd to me this morn- he sayd in y morning; and, in writing down y. ing, somewhat gravelie, "I observe, cousin, you heads of his speech, to kill time, a kind of resentseem to consider yourselfe the victim of circum- ment at myselfe came over me, unlike to what I stances." "And am I not?" I replied. "No," had ever felt before; in spite of my folly about he answered, "circumstance is a false god, unre- my curls. Seeking for some trifle in a bag that cognized by the Christian, who contemns him, had not been shaken out since I brought it from though a stubborn yet a profitable servant.". London, out tumbled a key with curious wards— "That may be alle very grand for a man to doe," I knew it at once for one that belonged to a cerI sayd. Very grand, but very feasible, for a tayn algum-wood casket Mr. Milton had recourse woman as well as a man," rejoined Mr. Agnew, to dailie, because he kept small change in it; and "and we shall be driven to the wall alle our lives, I knew not I had brought it away! 'Twas unless we have this victorious struggle with cir- worked in grotesque, the casket, by Benvenuto, cumstances. I seldom allude, cousin, to yours, for Clement the Seventh, who for some reason which are almoste too delicate for me to meddle woulde not have it; and soe it came somehow to with; and yet I hardlie feele justified in letting Clementillo, who gave it to Mr. Milton. Thought soe many opportunities escape. Do I offend or I, how uncomfortable the loss of this key must may I go on?-Onlie think, then, how volunta- have made him! he must have needed it a hunrilie you have placed yourself in your present un- dred times! even if he hath bought a new casket, comfortable situation. The tree cannot resist yeI will for it he habituallie goes agayn and agayn graduall growth of y moss upon it; but you to y old one, and then he remembers that he lost might, anie day, anie hour, have freed yourself y key the same day that he lost his wife. I from the equallie graduall formation of y net that heartilie wish he had it back. Ah, but he feels has enclosed you at last. You entered too has- not the one loss as he feels the other. Nay, but tilie into your firste-nay, let that pass-you gave it is as well that one of them, tho' y lesser, too shorte a triall of your new home before you shoulde be repaired. "Twill shew signe of grace, became disgusted with it. Admit it to have beene my thinking of him, and may open y way, if God dull, even unhealthfulle, were you justified in for-wills, to some interchange of kindnesse, however saking it at a month's end? But your husband fleeting. gave you leave of absence, though obtayned under false pretences.—When you found them to be false, should you not have cleared yourself to him of knowledge of y deceit? Then your leave, soe obtayned, expired-shoulde you not have returned then?--Your health and spiritts were recruited; your husband wrote to reclaim you-shoulde you not have returned then? He provided an escort whom your father beat and drove away.-If you had insisted on going to your husband, might you not have gone then? Oh cousin, you dare not look up to heaven and say you have been y victim of circumstances."

I made no answer; onlie felt much moven, and very angrie. I sayd, "If I wished to go back, Mr. Milton woulde not receive me now."

"Will you try?" sayd Roger. "Will you but let me try? Will you let me write to him?" I had a mind to say "Yes."-Insteade, I anwered "No."

"Then there's an end," cried he sharplie. "Had you made but one fayre triall, whether successfulle or noe, I coulde have been satisfied-no, not satisfied, but I woulde have esteemed you, coulde have taken your part. As it is, the less I say just now, perhaps the better. Forgive me for having spoken at alle."

-Afterwards, I hearde him say to Rose of me, "I verilie believe there is nothing in her on which to make a permanent impression. I verilie think she loves everie one of those long curls of hers more than she loves Mr. Milton."

Soe I sought out Mr. Agnew, tapping at his studdy doore. He sayd, "Come in," drylie

enoughe; and there were he and Rose reading a letter. I sayd, "I want you to write for me to Mr. Milton." He gave a sour look, as much as to say he disliked y office; which threw me back, as 't were; he having soe lately proposed it himself. Rose's eyes, however, dilated with sweete pleasure, as she lookt from one to yo other of us.

"Well I fear 't is too late," sayd he at length reluctantlie, I mighte almost say grufflie-" what am I to write?"

"To tell him I have this key," I made answer faltering.

"That key!" cried he.

"Yes, the key of his algum-wood casket, which I knew not I had, and which I think he must miss dailie."

He lookt at me with ye utmost impatience. "And is that alle?" he sayd.

'Yes, alle," I said trembling. "And have you nothing more to tell him?" sayd he.

"No" after a pause, I replyed. Ruse's countenance fell.

"Then you must ask some one else to write for you, Mrs. Milton," burste forthe Roger Agnew, "unless you choose to write for yourself. I have neither part nor lot in it."

I burste forthe into teares.

"No, Rose, no," repeated Mr. Agnew, putting aside his wife, who woulde have interceded (Note: I will cut them two inches shorter to- for me; "her teares have noe effect on me nownight. And they will grow all ye faster.)

they proceed, not from a contrite heart, they are

* Oh, my sad heart, Roger Agnew hath y tears of a child that cannot brook to be chidpierced you at last. den for the waywardnesse in which it persists." "You doe me wrong everie way," I sayd; “I

I was moved, more than he thought, by what

came to you willing and desirous to doe what you | principles; and therefore promoted your marriage yourselfe woulde, this morning, have had me doe." as far as my interest in your father had weight. I "But in how strange a way!" cried he. "At own I was surprised at his easilie obtained cona time when anie renewal of your intercourse re-sent-but, that you, once domesticated with quires to be conducted with y utmost delicacy, such a man as John Milton, shoulde find your and even with more show of concession on your home uninteresting, your affections free to stray part than, an hour ago, I should have deemed back to your owne family, was what I had never needfulle-to propose an abrupt, trivial commu- contemplated." nication about an old key!"

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"It needed not to have beene abrupt," I sayd, nor yet trivial; for I meant it to have beene exprest kindlie."

"You said not that before," answered he. "Because you gave me not time-because you chid me and frightened me."

He stood silent some while upon this; grave, yet softer, and mechanicallie playing with y key, which he had taken from my hand. Rose look ing in his face anxiouslie. At lengthe, to disturbe his reverie, she playfully tooke it from him, saying, in school-girl phrase,

"This is the key of the kingdom!"

"Of the kingdom of heaven, it mighte be!" exclaimed Roger, "if we knew how to use it arighte! If we knew but how to fit it to y wards of Milton's heart!-there's the difficultie --a greater one, poor Moll, than you know; for hithertoe, alle y reluctance has been on your part. But now

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"What now?" I anxiouslie askt.

Here I made a show of taking the letter, but he held it back.

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And then, after this long preamble, he offered me the letter, ye beginning of which, though doubtlesse well enough, I marked not, being impatient to reach y latter part; wherein I found myself spoken of soe bitterlie, soe harshlie, as that I too plainly saw Roger Agnew had not beene beside y mark when he decided I could never "We were talking of you but as you rejoyned make Mr. Milton happy. Payned and wounded us," said Mr. Agnew, " and I was telling Rose that feeling made me lay aside yo letter without profhithertoe I had considered the onlie obstacle to a fering another word, and retreat without soe much reunion arose from a false impression of your own, as a sigh or a sob into mine own chamber; but that Mr. Milton coulde not make you happy. But noe longer could y restraynt be maintained. I fell now I have beene led to y conclusion that you to weeping soe passionatelie that Rose prayed to cannot make him soe, which increases the diffi- come in, and condoled with me, and advised me, cultie." soe as that at length my weeping bated, and I After a pause, I sayd, "What makes you promised to return below when I shoulde have think soe?"

"You and he have made me think soe," he replyed."First for yourself, dear Moll, putting aside for a time the consideration of your youth, beauty, franknesse, mirthfullenesse, and a certayn girlish drollerie and mischiefe that are all very well in fitting time and place-what remains in you for a mind like John Milton's to repose upon what stabilitie? what sympathie? what steadfast principle? You take noe pains to apprehend and relish his favorite pursuits; you care not for his wounded feelings; you consult not his interests, anie more than your owne duty. Now, is such the character to make Milton happy?"

"No one can answer that but himself," I replyed, deeplie mortyfide.

bathed mine eyes and smoothed my hair; but I have not gone down yet.

Bed time.-I think I shall send to father to have me home at ye beginning of next week. Rose needes me not, now; and it cannot be pleasant to Mr. Agnew to see my sorrowfulle face about y house. His reproofe and my husband's together have riven my heart; I think I shall never laugh agayn, nor smile but after a piteous sorte; and soe people will cease to love me, for there is nothing in me of a graver kind to draw their af fection; and soe I shall lead a moping life unto y' end of my dayes.

-Luckilie for me, Rose had much sewing to doe; for she hath undertaken with great energie her labors for y poore, and consequentlie spends less time in her husband's studdy; and, as I help her to yo best of my means, my sewing hides my lack of talking, and Mr. Agnew reads to us such books as he deems entertayning; yet half y° time

"Well-he has answered it," sayd Mr. Agnew, taking up y' letter he and Rose had beene reading when I interrupted them.- "You must know, cousin, that his and my close friendship hath beene a good deal interrupted by this matter. 'Twas under my roof you met. Rose I hear not what he reads. Still, I did not deeme had imparted to me much of her earlie interest in so much amusement could have beene found in you. I fancied you had good dispositions which, books; and there are some of his, that, if not soe under masterlie trayning, would ripen into noble cumbrous, I woulde fain borrow.

Friday. I have made up my mind now, that | in church, I converted into prayers and promises. I shall never see Mr. Milton more; and am re- Hence, my holy peace. solved to submitt to it without another tear.

Rose sayd, this morning, she was glad to see me more composed; and soe am I; but never was more miserable.

Saturday night.-Mr. Agnew's religious services at y end of the week have alwaies more than usuall matter and meaninge in them. They are neither soe drowsy as those I have beene for manie years accustomed to at home, nor soe wearisome as to remind me of yo Puritans. Were there manie such as he in our church, so faithfulle, fervent, and thoughtfulle, methinks there would be fewer schismaticks; but still there woulde be some, because there are alwaies some that like to be y uppermost.

-To-nighte, Mr. Agnew's prayers went straight to my heart; and I privilie turned sundrie of his generall petitions into particular ones, for myself and Robin, and also for Mr. Milton. This gave such unwonted relief, that since I entered into my closet, I have repeated the same particularlie; one request seeming to grow out of another, till I remained I know not how long on my knees, and will bend them yet agayn, ere I go

to bed.

How sweetlie y moon shines through my casement to-night! I am alinoste avised to accede to Rose's request of staying here to ye end of the month-everie thing here is soe peacefulle; and Forrest Hill is dull, now Robin is away.


Sunday evening.-How blessed a Sabbath!Can it be, that I thought, onlie two days back, shoulde never know peace agayn? Joy I may not, but peace I can and doe. And yet nought hath amended y unfortunate condition of mine affairs; but a different coloring is caste upon them-the Lord grant that it may last! How hath it come soe, and how may it be preserved ? This morn, when I awoke, 't was with a sense of relief such as we have when we miss some wearying bodilie payn; a feeling as though I had beene forgiven, yet not by Mr. Milton, for I knew he had not forgiven me. Then, it must be, I was forgiven by God; and why? I had done nothing to get his forgivenesse, only presumed on his mercy to ask manie things I had noe right to expect. And yet I felt I was forgiven. Why, then, mighte not Mr. Milton some day forgive me? Should y debt of ten thousand talents be cancelled, and not ye debt of a hundred pence ? Then I thought on that same word, talents; and considered, had I ten, or even one? Decided to consider it at leisure, more closelie, and to make over to God henceforthe, be they ten, or be it one. Then, dressed with much composure, and went down to breakfast.

Having marked that Mr. Agnew and Rose affected not companie on this day, spent it chiefly by myself, except at church and meal times; partlie in my chamber, partlie in y garden bowre by the bee-hives. Made manie resolutions, which,

Monday.-Rose proposed, this morning, we shoulde resume our studdies. Felt loth to comply, but did soe nevertheless, and afterwards we walked manie miles to visit some poor folk. This evening, Mr. Agnew read us y prologue to the Canterbury Tales. How lifelike are y portraitures! I mind me that Mr. Milton shewed me y Talbot Inn, that day we crost the river with Mr.


Tuesday. How heartilie do I wish I had never read that same letter!-or rather, that it had Thus it is, even with our never beene written. wishes. We think ourselves reasonable in wishing some small thing were otherwise, which it were quite as impossible to alter as some great thing. Neverthelesse I cannot help fretting over y remembrance of that part wherein he spake such bitter things of my most ungoverned passion for revellings and junketings." Sure, he would not call my life too merrie now, could he see me lying wakefullie on my bed-could he see me preventing y morning watch-could he see me at my prayers, at my books, at my needle. He shall find he hath judged too hardly of Moll, even yet.


Wednesday.-Took a cold dinner in a basket with us to-day, and ate our rusticall repast on y skirt of a wood, where we could see y squirrels at theire gambols. Mr. Agnew lay on y grass, and Rose took out her knitting, whereat he laught, and sayd she was like y Dutch women, that must knit, whether mourning or feasting, and even on y Sabbath. Having laught her out of her work, he drew forth Mr. George Herbert's poems, and read us a strayn which pleased Rose and me soe much, that I shall copy it herein, to have always by me.

How fresh, oh Lord; how sweet and clean

Are thy returns! e'en as ye flowers in spring,
To which, beside theire owne demesne,
Grief melts away like snow in May,
The late pent frosts tributes of pleasure bring.

Who would have thought my shrivelled heart
As if there were noe such cold thing.
Woulde have recovered greenness? it was gone
Quite underground, as flowers depart

To see their mother root, when they have blown,
Where they together, alle ye hard weather,
Dead to the world, keep house alone.
These are thy wonders, Lord of power!

Killing and quickening, bringing down to hell And up to heaven, in an hour,


Making a chiming of a passing bell.
Te say amiss this or that is ;'
Thy word is alle, if we could spell.
Oh that I once past changing were!

Manie a spring I shoot up faire,
Fast in thy Paradise, where no flowers can wither;

Offering at heaven, growing and groaning taither,
Nor doth my flower want a spring shower,
My sins and I joyning together.

But while I grow in a straight line,

Still upwards bent, as if heaven were my own,
Thy anger comes, and I decline.—

What frost to that? What pole is not y° zone
Where alle things burn, when thou dost turn,
And ye least frown of thine is shewn?
And now, in age, I bud agayn,

After soe manie deaths, I bud and write,
I once more smell the dew and rain,
And relish versing! Oh my onlie light!
It cannot be that I am he

On whom thy tempests fell alle night?
These are thy wonders, Lord of love,

To make us see we are but flowers that glide,


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! Which, when we once can feel and prove,

Thou hast a garden for us where to bide.
Who would be more, swelling their store,
Forfeit their Paradise by theire pride.

Thursday.-Father sent over Diggory with a letter for me from deare Robin; alsoe, to ask when I was minded to return home, as mother wants to goe to Sandford. Fixed the week after next; but Rose says I must be here agayn at ye apple-gatherAnswered Robin's letter. He looketh not for choyce of fine words; nor noteth an error here and there in ye spelling.

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| small controversies that had lately taken place among the two sects of Methodism. The man of MRS. CARTER, speaking of her journey home, in zeal very eagerly asked his lordship if he had seen one of her letters to Mrs. Montagu, says, Mr. Hill's Farrago? His lordship, whose ideas I need not tell you, for I am sure you feel it, how much I ran on Newmarket, whither he was at that time longed for you to share with me in every view that bound, replied, he had not-and begged the gentlepleased me; but there was one of such striking Made?-why I told you, my lord-by Mr. Hill man to inform him by whom Farrago was, that I was half-wild with impatience at himself. The d- he was,' said my lord; your being so many miles distant. To be sure the wise people, and the gay people, and the silly peo-pray, sir, out of what mare? Mare? my lord ple of this worky-day world, and for the matter of -I don't understand you.'-'Not understand me!' that, all the people but you and I, would laugh to said the noble jockey. Why, is it not a horse you hear that this object which I was so undone at are talking about?'-'A horse! my lord-why your not seeing, was no other than a single honey- you are strangely out. No, I am not talking about suckle. It grew in a shady lane, and was sur- a horse, I am talking about a book.'-' A book?'rounded by the deepest verdure, while its own fig-Yes, my lord, and a most excellent one indeed, ure and coloring, which were quite perfect, were Mr. Rowland Hill-the GREAT Mr. Hill, my lord. against John Wesley and universal redemption, by illuminated by a ray of sunshine. There are some common objects, sometimes placed in such a situation, viewed in such a light, and attended by such accompaniments, as to be seen but once in a whole life, and to give one a pleasure entirely new; and this is one of them."-Mrs. Carter's Letters to Mrs. Montagu, vol. 1, p. 117.

whom everybody knows to be the first preacher of the age, and the son of the first baronet in the kingdom. I ask his pardon,' said his lordship, but I really thought you was talking about a horse 'for not having heard either of him or his book— for Newmarket." It is indeed of little consequence to those persons who now lead the opinions of a [HUMAN NATURE OPPOSITELY ESTIMATED.] great part of Europe,' whether Mr. Rowland Hill's Farrago be a horse or a book whether it is to "FROM those that have searched into the state start for the sweepstakes at Newmarket or the Tabof human nature, we have sometimes received very ernacle and it is a matter of perfect indifference to different and incompatible accounts; as though the them whether it wins or loses the odds. The coninquirers had not been so much learning as fash- tention is too trifling, and the success too insignifiioning the subject they had in hand; and that as cant, to excite either hope or fear for one moment.' arbitrarily as a heathen carver, that could make Monthly Review, vol. 62, 1780,- Williams's either a god or a tressel out of the same piece of Lectures on the Duties of Religion and Morality, wood. For some have cried down Nature into p. 98. such a desperate impotency, as would render the grace of God ineffectual; and others, on the con- [CHANGE OF TASTE IN THE COMPOSITION OF SERtrary, have invested her with such power and selfsufficiency, as would render the grace of God superfluous. The first of these opinions wrongs na"THERE is a taste in moral and religious as well ture in defect, by allowing her no strength, which as other compositions, which varies in different in consequence must make men desperate. The second wrongs nature in excess, by imputing too much strength, which in effect must make men confident; and both of them do equally destroy the reason of our application to God for strength. For neither will the man that is well in conceit, nor yet the desperate, apply himself to a physician; because the one cries there is no need, the other, there is no help."-Dean Young's Sermons, vol. 1,

P. 4.


"A NOBLEMAN, well known on the turf, accidentally fell in company with a gentleman whose heart and head were chiefly occupied with some


ages, and may very lawfully and innocently be indulged. Thousands received instruction and consolation formerly from sermons, which would not now be endured. The preachers of them served their generation, and are blessed for evermore. But because provision was made for the wants of the last century in one way, there is no reason why it should not be made for the wants of this in another. The next will behold a set of writers of a fashion suited to it, when our discourses shall in their turn be antiquated and forgotten among men; though if any good be wrought by them in this their day, our hope is, with that of faithful Nehemiah, that our God will remember us concerning them."-Bishop (Rev. Dr.) Horne, Preface to his Discourses, 1779.

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