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ing from the tomb to smite the female figure above him, is almost inimitable.

The fine full-length figure of the right honourable George Canning, lately erected, cannot be passed by without admiration.

The reflective visitant of the Abbey will pause as he stands on the pavement before the monuments of lord Robert Manners and Chatham; for beneath his feet lie the mouldering earth of the rival statesmen, William Pitt and Charles James Fox. The flashing eye has lost its lustre: the throbbing pulse, the beating heart, the eloquent longue are still, and the voice of contention is no more heard.

“ Taming thought to human pride!
The mighty chiefs sleep side by side.
Drop upon Fox's grave the tear,
'T will trickle to his rival's bier;
O'er Pitt's the mournful requiem sound,
And Fox's shall the notes rebound.
The solemn echo seems to cry,
"Here let their discords with them die.'"

Nor will the small white marble monument of the pious Dr. Watts be passed without emotion. The charitable Jonas Hanway, the philanthropic Granville Sharp, and the learned sir Isaac Newton, will in turn demand and receive the homage of an affectionate remembrance, far more than the generals and courtiers who are interred here.

Port's-corner and its immediate neighbourhood has a constellation of names known to the lettered page. Would that some, aye, many of them, had sung less in praise of mortal creatures, and more to the giory of the Redeemer! The monuments of Chaucer, Spencer, Prior, and Camden; Butler, Milton, and Dryden; Addison, Pope, Gay, Thomson, Goldsmith, and other


writers, are gazed on by all! Here are monuments, too, inscribed to Shakspeare and Garrick. With death and eternity before 'us, how dim appear some of our brightest earthly stars, and what clouds and darkness surround them! How little do the talented of the earth seek the glory of the Lord of heaven! The inscription on one of these tombs,

“Life's a jest, and all things show it,

I thought so once, and now I know it," has led to the very suitable reflection:

“Life is a solemn scene: this Gay now knows;

Big with eternal joys, or endless woes." But the doors of the Abbey are about to be closed, and I must leave this dormitory of the dead.

Dear as earthly glory may have been to them in days that are past, how gladly would the shrouded 'habitants, the mouldering tenants of the tombs, now exchange their proudest monuments for a place among the just !

Death is dealing around his unerring darts ! Time is hastening along with the stride of a giant, and soon must “all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ.”

“Great God! on what a slender thread

Hang everlasting things;
The eternal states of all the dead

Upon life's feeble strings !

“ Infinite joy, or endless woe,

Attends on every breath;
And yet. how unconcern'd we go,

Upon the brink of death!
66 Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense,

To walk this dangerous road;
And if our souls be hurried hence,

May they be found with God." There is a soul-searching question applicable to each of the illustrious dead that sleep in dull cold marble;" not,Did he command the applause of listening senates, or acá ieve a victory on the battle-field ?" but, “ Did he die the death of the righteous, and was his latter end like unto l.is ?" Not, “ Is his name graven on marble, or printed in letters of gold ?" but, "Does it appear among the names of those who died in Christ, and is it legibly written in the Book of Eternal Life ?"

He who can quit the Abbey of Westminster with a mind unsolemnised with considerations of life and death, time and eternity, has visited the place in vain. "Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is; that I may know how frail I am. Behuld, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth; and nine age is as nothing before thee: verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity," Psa. xxxix.

4, 5.


The stranger, in visiting either the museum at the India House, or any other of the numerous exhibitions of London, will do well to bear in mind, that his gratification is almost as dependent on his own mood of mind as on the things presented to his observation. Go into the country on a wet and dabbling day, and though the cottage near the coppice be newly whitewashed, and the vine clinging around its walls burthened with grapes; though the river pursue its meandering course, and the trees be clad with verdure, yet will you not feel disposed to regard the scene with pleasure. But when the sun is in the sky, you look on the same scene with gladness; the cottage, the trees, and the meandering river are all regarded with enthusiastic delight. In like manner, a moody disposition renders every thing uninteresting, while a sunny mind gilds all on which it gazes. Oh for a more lively and enduring sense of God's goodness, that the sunshine of our hearts may be always visible!

Whatever be the spectacle that is exhibited, serious associations will ever, more or less, present themselves to a serious observer. It is almost impossible for one who regards this life, lighted up as it may be with all the fairy lamps of varied enjoyments, as the mere vestibule of another-it is almost impossible for him to gaze on interesting objects without regarding them in connexion with their influence on the eternal interests of man. He will admire with others the binding, the type, and illustrations of a beautiful book; or the stately spire of a village church ; and he will listen to a choir of melodious voices with delight; but something beyond this will be pressing on his thoughts: the volume will re mind him of the Book of Life, the spire will lead him to the skies, to which it points; and while his ears drink in the sounds of earthly melody, he will associate thein with the sweeter strains of heavenly harmony.

" To him, the sun and stars on high,

The flowers that paint the field,
And all the artless birds that fly,

Divine instructions yield.

" The creatures on his senses press,

As witnesses to prove
His Maker's power and faithfulness,

His providence and love.

« Thus may we study nature's book,

To make us wise indeed!
And pray for those who only look

At what they cannot read.”


I have stood in front of the India House to admire its handsome Ionic portico, and to gaze on the emblematic group of figures above, wherein George 111., Britannia, and Liberty, Mercury, Navigation, and the Tritons, Commerce, Order, and Religion, Justice, Integrity, and Industry, are assembled. The “noble Thames," first of British rivers, is portrayed on one side, and the “ cred Ganges" on the other; while Britannia occupies the most elevated part of the building, with Europe and Asia somewhat below. These things are disregarded by the good people of London ; the stranger alone is seen to gaze upon them; and hė, after an unsuccessful attempt to decipher the symbolic group, hastens across the street, to mount the steps, and to enter the massive portico.

The East India Company, is rich and powerful. The words must have been a sad puzzle to many a rich worldly-minded nabob, “ It is easier for a camel to go through the


of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God," Matt. xix. 24.

I have walked through the court and court-room, the new sale-room, and other apartments, as well as the varied offices of this extended edifice, and am now in the

I long for the luxury of a printed catalogue; but no such thing is to be obtained. Why it should be so is a mystery

The practice of hurrying the spectator from one thing to another as fast as the names of them can be run over, is very unpleasant, and yet it is altogether unavoidable so far as the attendant is concerned. The only comfortable way of proceeding is, to dispense with the attendance of the conductor; to wander where you like, and linger where


will: most of the curiosities here are


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