and, undermined at their base by the fury of the waves, seemed threatening to bury under their ruins the frail bark which bounded at their feet. At our approach clouds of sea birds issued in thousands from their retreats, surprised to find themselves troubled by man, and making these solitary places resound with their confused cries; some darting into the air; others plunging into the waves, and shooting upwards, almost as quickly, with the prey which they had seized; whilst porpoises and seals, here and there, raised their blackish heads above waves transparent as crystal. Every where life seems to abandon a cold and humid soil, to take refuge in the air and in the waters. But, soon as the evening spreads her veil over these wild retreats, all re-enter in peace and silence. Sometimes a gentle breeze of the south tempers the chillness of the air, and allows the planets of the night to shine with the purest light on this tranquil scene, whose profound peace no noise interrupts, except, at intervals, the distant murmur of the dying waves, or the soft and plaintive cry of a moëtte,' skimming rapidly the surface of the tide. After a stay of two months, I quitted these isles, carrying with me recollections for my whole life. An equinoctial gale carried me back to Edinburgh in fifty hours. This abrupt transition from solitude to the bustle of the world,-from patriarchal simplicity to the refinements of civilization and luxury,—is not without attraction. Colonel Elphinston, by the kindest reception, convinced me that friendship had not altogether retired to the Shetland islands. It was then that, entirely at leisure from my observations, I could contemplate at my ease every thing which the most social state of this country presents to us, of institutions and of men,-a spectacle at once consoling and sad for whoever has spent his life amidst the troubles of the Continent. I witneseed a people poor, but laborious; free, but respectfully submissive to the laws; moral and religious, without sternness; tolerant, without indifference. I saw peasants learning to read in books which contained essays of Addison and Pope. I saw the works of Johnson, and Chesterfield, and of the most agreeable English moralists, offered as a relaxation to the middle ranks of the people. In the passage-boats, as elsewhere, there were games of cards and

dice. I witnessed village farmers meeting in clubs to deliberate upon the interests of politics and agriculture, and formed into societies for the purpose of buying useful books; among the number of which was the Encyclopædia Britannica, which is known to be digested at Edinburgh by learned men and philosophers of the first order. Finally, I witnessed the higher classes of society suited to this high degree of civilization, and truly worthy to occupy the first place in it, by their intelligence and the loftiness of their sentiments. I observed them exciting and directing all enterprises of public utility,-in unceasing communication with the people, and never confounding themselves with them; anxiously employed in displaying their information to enlighten them on the subject of their duties and of their true interests; knowing how to comfort them in their necessities, without depriving them of those virtues, and that independence, which are produced by the care of providing against them; thus every where procuring their respect, without exciting their envy, and enjoying, as the reward of so many exertions, peace, union, reciprocal esteem, mutual confidence, and even a very lively affection, founded, on the one hand, on the habitual exercise of the kindness and the gentleness of an intimate relation, and, on the other, upon gratitude and respect.

On quitting Scotland, I visited the most industrious counties of industrious England. There I beheld another spectacle: I saw the powers of nature employed in the service of man, under all imaginable forms, and himself reserved as a mechanical power of a more expensive, and more delicate construction, for these intermitting or accidental operations only, which his divine reason render him more peculiarly fit to execute; and whether it was that the considerations of social morality, with which I had been so much struck, had left too deep traces on my soul; whether it was that a great manufacturing system ought to be appreciated rather in its national results, than in its local and particular influence, I admired that immense display of manufacturers, rather than wished to see it established in my own country. After having paid my respects to Oxford and Cambridge, those ancient and tranquil abodes of learning and of science, I proceeded to rejoin Mr Arago at London, and again to associate

"Nevertheless, it was so. I do not say that I consider Mr Pitt as so nearly allied to the great politician-orator of Athens as his rival; but I think he exhibited a far higher specimen of what a statesman-orator should be, than Mr Fox-perhaps than Demosthenes himself ever did. It is true, that the illustrious ancient addressed a motley multitude of clever, violent, light, uncertain, self-conceited, and withal, begotted Athenians; and that the nature of his oratory was, perhaps better than any other, adapted to such an audience, invested by the absurdities of a corrupted constitution, with powers which no similar assembly ever can possess without usurpation, or exercise without tyranny. Mr Fox had a strong leaning-as I apprehend, by far too strong a leaning-to the democratic part of the British constitution. He even spoke more for the multitude without, than for the few within, the walls of the House of Commons; and his resemblance to Demosthenes was perhaps a fault, rather than an excellence. -Mr Pitt always remembered that it was his business to address and convince, not the British AHMOX, but the British Senate.

"His mode of speaking was totally devoid of hesitation, and equally so of affectation. The stream of his discourse flowed on smoothly, uninteruptedly, copiously. The tide of Fox's eloquence might present a view of more windings and cataracts, but it by no means suggested the same idea of utility;-nor, upon the whole, was the impression it produced of so majestic a character. Mr Pitt was, with out all doubt, a consummate speaker, but in the midst of his eloquence it was impossible to avoid regarding him at all times, as being more of a philosopher than of an orator. What to other men seems to be a most magnificent end, he appeared to regard only as one among many means for accomplishing his great purpose. Statesmanship was, indeed, with him the agxi Ton, and every thing was kept in strict subservience to it. What Plato vainly wished to see in a king, had he lived in our days, he might have beheld in a minister.

"By men of barren or paltry minds, I can conceive it quite possible that Pitt, as a speaker, might have been contemplated with very little admiration. That which they are qualified to ad

mire in a speech, was exactly what he, from principle, despised and omitted. He presented what he conceived to be the truth, that is, the wisdom of the case, in simplicity, in noble simplicity, as it was. Minds of grasp and nerve comprehended him, and such alone were worthy of doing so. The small men who spend their lives in pointing epigrams or weaving periods, could not enter into the feelings which made him despise the opportunity of displaying, for the sake of doing; and they reviled him as if the power, not the will, had been wanting,

λάβροι παγγλωσσίας
Κωρακες ὡς ἀκραντα γαρυεμεν
Διος ωρος ορνιθα θειον.

Instead of following with reverent gaze the far-ascending flight and beaming eye of the eagle, they criticised him, like the peacocks of the Hindoo fable, because he had no starry feathers in his tail, and because the beauty of his pinions consisted only in the uniform majesty of their strength.

"The style of speaking which was employed by this great man, seems to be the only style worthy of such a spirit as his was, entrusted with such duties as he discharged. Intellect embodied in language by a patriot,

these few words comprehend every thing that can be said of it. Every sentence proceeded from his mouth as perfect, in all respects, as if it had been balanced and elaborated in the retirement of his closet; and yet no man for an instance suspected him of bestowing any previous attention whatever on the form or language of his harangues. His most splendid appearances were indeed most frequently replies, so that no such supposition could exist in the minds of those who heard him. I have heard many eloquent orators in England as well as elsewhere, but the only one who never seemed to be at a loss for a single word, or to use the less exact instead of the more precise expression, or to close a sentence as if the beginning of it had passed from his recollection, was William Pitt. The thoughts. or the feelings of such a soul would have disdained to be set forth in a shape mutilated or imperfect. In like manner, the intellect of Pitt would have scorned to borrow any ornament excepting only from his patriotism. The sole fire of which he made use was the pure original element of heaven. It

was only for such as him to be eloquent after that sort. The casket was not a gaudy one; but it was so rich, that it must have appeared ridiculous around a more ordinary jewel.

"While Pitt and Fox were both alive, and in the fulness of their strength, in one or other of the great parties of England, each of these illustrious men possessed an inflexible host of revilers —almost, such is the blindness of party spirit, of contemners. It is a strange anomalous circumstance in the constitution of our nature that it should be so, but the fact itself is quite certain, that, in all ages of the world, political, even more than military leaders, have been subjected to this absurd use of the privilege which their inferiors have of judging them. So spake the Macedonian vulgar of Demosthenes; so the more pernicious Athenian rabble of Philip. The voice of detraction, however, is silenced by death,— -none would listen to it over the tomb of the illustrious. A noble and patriotic poet of England has already embalmed, in lines that will never die, those feelings of regret and admiration wherewith every Englishman now walks above the mingled ashes of Pitt and Fox. The genius, the integrity, the patriotism of either, is no longer disputed. The keenest partisan of the one departed chief would not wish to see the laurel blighted on the bust of his antagonist. Under other names the same political contests are continued; and so, while England is England, must they ever be. But already, such is the untarrying generosity of this great nation, and such the natural calmness of its spirit, the public judgment is at one concerning the men themselves. The stormy passions of St Stephen's chapel are at once chastened into repose by the solemn stillness of Westminster Abbey.

"It is probable that this national generosity has been carried too far. For me, I partake in the general admiration-I refuse to neither the honour that is his due. But, as I did while they were alive, so, now they are dead, I still judge them impartially. There is no reason why I should join in the atonement, since I was guiltless

of the sin.

"Mr Fox was, I think, a man of great talents and of great virtues, whose talents and virtues were both better

fitted for a leader of Parliamentary opposition, than for a Prime-minister of England; for his talents were rather of the destructive than of the constructive kind, and his virtues were more those of an easy and gentle heart, than of a firm unshaken will. Providence fixed him, during the far greater part of his life, where he was best fitted to be, and was equally wise in determining the brighter fortune of his rival. That fortune, however bright, was, nevertheless, to judge as men commonly do, no very enviable boon. The life of Pitt was spent all in labour-much of it in sorrow; but, England and Europe may thank their God, his great spirit was formed for its destiny, and never sunk into despondence. Year after year rolled over his head, and saw his hairs turning gray from care, not for himself, but for his country; but every succeeding year left this Atlas of the world as proudly inflexible, beneath his gigantic burden, as before. Rarely, very rarely, has it happened that one man has had it in his power to be so splendidly, so eternally, the benefactor of his species. So long as England preserves, within her guarded shore,' the Palladium of all her heroes-the sacred pledge of Freedom,—his name will be the pride and glory of the soil that gave him birth. Nay, even should, at some distant day, the liberty of that favoured land expire, in the memory of strangers he shall abundantly have his reward; for that holy treasure which he preserved to England might, but for the high resolution of this patriot martyr, have been lost for ever, not to her only, but to the world. 'He was a man, take him for all in all,

We shall not look upon his like again.'

*

SANSCRIT ODE.

WE have been favoured with the tran

slation of a Sanscrit Ode, made by the late William Tolfrey, Esq. of Columbo, a young gentleman whose premature death is a great loss to literature, religion, and society. He originally went to India as an officer in the army, and had the good fortune to

share in the battle of Assaye, and to obtain the favourable opinion of the Duke of Wellington; but though this opened to him prospects of military advancement, the natural inclination of his mind was towards literature. He had acquired, by great diligence and uncommon aptitude, a general and profound knowledge of the Oriental languages, and he dedicated the fruits of his study and his talents to the best of all works-the diffusion of the holy Scriptures into the language of the people amongst whom his residence was thus accidentally thrown: he had particularly obtained a perfect knowledge of the Cingalese, or Sanscrit, of Ceylon; and from this language, as a specimen of the style of the people, he made the following literal version of a panegyric on the Governor, which, for poverty and exaggeration, bombast and common-place, and all the other great qualities of the bathos, is hardly to be excelled by any court poet of any age

5 Resembles the lustre of the moon the many-flowering jasmin — the white lotas-the shining dew-a row of precious pearls.

III.

1 He who is as a Tilaka (tiara to those serving under him, resplendent with an assemblage of good actions;

2 Who conducts himself in strict conformity to the precepts of our Saviour Jesus Christ;

3 Who is well informed in the laws, and deeply versed in religious knowledge;

4 Who, when in council, surrounded by his friends, his councillors, and his relations, resembles the moon encircled by the stars;

5 Who is, in the estimation of learned men, as precious as a garland of flowers worn on the head.

1 In whose arms dwells the Goddess of Prosperity, who frequents the company of the learned;

2 In whose mouth dwells the Goddess of Eloquence, who is gifted with presence of mind upon all occasions; 3 Who is worthy to be celebrated in verse;

4 Who rejoices the learned as the dewy-rayed luminary causes the lotos flowers to expand their leaves;

5 Who, in the destruction of his enemies, is as a lion against elephants. VI.

1 Who speaks truth at all timeswho is fond of associating with the virtuous;

2 Who has attained to wisdom by the study of various branches of