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And yet what is this glory; what this BOASTED IMMORTALITY? “ A man is not known ever the more to posterity,” says Wollaston, “ because his name is transmitted to them; he doth not live because his name does ! When it is said Julius Cæsar subdued Gaul, beat Pompey, changed the Roman commonwealth into a monarchy, &c, it is the same thing as to say, the conqueror of Pompey was Cæsar; that is, Cæsar and the conqueror of Pompey are the same thing; and Cæsar is as much known by the one distinction as the other. The amount then is only this, that the conqueror of Pompey conquered Pompey, or • somebody conquered Pompey; or, rather, since Pompey is as little known now as Cæsar, someBODY CONQUERED SOMEBODY! Such a poor business is this boasted Immortality, and such as has been here described is the thing called Glory amongst us!"

We were approaching Burham on one side and Snodland on the other side of the river; the latter having a pretty aspect from off the water. I had heard a lady, at Maidstone, tell a piteous tale of the Snodland Rocks, upon which the fair one and her companions were likely to have been cast away! But finging my eye around, no rocks appeared. The fact is, that the tide had concealed them, like a dangerous foe, from view. No terror, therefore, was excited. At low water they are very unpleasant to pass and disasters have been more than once occasioned by the neglect of them

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Down the smooth stream of Life the stripling darts,
Gay as the morn-brigbt glows the vernal sky,
Hope swells his sails and Passion steers his course,
Safe glides his little bark along the shore
Where Virtue lakes her stand; but if too far
He launches forth beyond Discretion's mark,
Sudden the tempest scowls the surges roar,
Blot his fair day and plunge bim in the deep!
O sad, but sure mischance! O happier far
To lie like GALLANT Howe ’midst Indian wilds,
A breathless corse cut off by savage hands
In earliest prime, a generous sacrifice
To FreeDOM's holy cause, than so to fall
Torn immature from Life's meredian joys,
A prey to Vice, Intemperanie and Disease!


We now reached Beaucliff, famous for fish of all sorts ; indeed, the depth and breadth of this part of the river seemed a proper rendezvous for the piscatory tribe, who, no doubt, select those spots best fitted for their playful evolutions. At HALLING, with its compact Church and venerable ruins, we paused and went on shore. Our provision, except a large piece of Cheshire cheese, was exhausted; we, therefore, procured a portion of the staff of life, and indulged in temperate libations. The Harlot's Progress, by HOGARTH, hung round the room where we regaled ourselves. Were not this singular series of pictures of a moral tendency, I should have been ready to exclaim-" Pity! that such scenes of vice should have obtruded themselves into these haunts of innocent enjoyment."



The ruins, we were told by the landlord, were those of a PALACE once occupied by the Bishops of RoCHESTER, and the adjacent land still constituted part of the ecclesiastical territory. The manor was given to the See of Rochester by Egbert, the fourth christened King of Kent. It was confirmed in writing and possession given by the delivery of a clod of earth. Hamo de Hith, Bishop of Rochester and Confessor to Edward the Second, greatly improved Halling House, being, at that time, one of the four palaces belonging to this See. In the year 1719, the chapel part of the Hall and a gate with the episcopal arms were standing. And, in a niche over the chief door, was a stone statue of Hamo de Hith, dressed in his robes. Dr. Thorpe presented it to the celebrated Atterbury, who was Bishop of Rochester, when he was deprived of his episcopal office and banished this country for his attachment to the Stuart family. Having traced these Ruins, I shall only add, that the spot on which they are found is exceedingly pleasant. Historians have remarked, that the old monks always fixed their abodes in attractive situations. Here, certainly, is no dereliction of their accustomed taste and judgment.

Having mentioned the ambitious Atterbury, I would notice another prelate of a very different cast, ZACHARY PEARCE, the good Bishop of Rochester. He was a man of sterling talent and possessed a considerable portion of theological learning. His ComMENTARY on the Epistles is held in estimation.


PEARCE's DeCEASE. Amiable in his disposition and mild in his manners, he had no predilection for pomp and show of any description. He even applied to the King for permission to resign bis bishopric, and his MAJESTY, it is said, was disposed to grant him that permission. But his brethren of the bench opposed it, supposing it might form a precedent, and be injurious to the priesthood. The Bishop's sole motive was, that advancing in years, he might enjoy greater leisure to prepare for the exalted happiness and permanent dignities that await the obedient disciple of Christ in a better world. This pious prelate was rewarded by a peculiarly placid dismissal from the burden of mortality, as was the late Bishop Porteus of amiable memory

Sweet is the scene where Virtue dies,

Where sinks a righteous soul to rest;
How mildly beam the closing eyes,

How gently heaves the expiring breast!
So fades a summer cloud away,

So sinks the gale when storms are o'er,
So gently shuts the closing day,

So dies the wave along the shore
Each duty done-as sinks the clay,

Light from its load-THE SPIRIT flies !
While All around tho' griev'd must say,
Sweet is the scene-where VIRTUE dies !


Soon after quitting the pleasant village of HalLING, the ancient square tower in the centre of the Castle, and the stunted spire of the Cathedral of



ROCHESTER, rose full to view, whilst The BRIDGE, with its numerous arches, flung over the Medway, gave the whole a very picturesqne effect. It was delightful to behold these well known objects, announcing the termination of our voyage. The MEDWAY here widening and deepening considerably, together with a fresh breeze, called up the perils of navigation! Horace well describes them in the Ode addressed to the ship that bore his beloved Virgil to Athens, where he is of opinion that oak and triple brass must have covered the breast of the man who first dared to trust himself to the MURDEROUS OCEAN. And Dr. Robertson, in his History of America, traces the gradual progress of the nautical art from the first tremulouseffort along the shore to its present adventurous perfection. But the hour of peril once past, heightens and sublimates our enjoyment

When darkness clouds the angry deep,
And thunders break the seaman's sleep,
By danger rous'd be braves the storm,
Where PBRIL rears his direst form;
The signal gun's discharged in vain,
But mocks the roaring of the main,
Till from afar the life-boat nears-

Each bosom's drooping courage cheers!
And safe on shore forgut is every toil,
Consoled by woman's love and FRIENDSHIP's smile!

In WAR's red field where loud alarms
Repeat the battle-cry-to arms!
Where Fate demands his victim's breath,
And friends and foes are joined in death,

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