in France, they rather took time by the forelock, and seized enjoyment before they had fairly the means, as an Irish boy-lover jumps into matrimony. This plan struck him as equally wise with the other, and much more agreeable to contemplate, because in appearance, if not in reality, less selfish; and of all things in the world, selfishness is the most unlovely to contemplate, which is probably the reason why we are so loth to turn our eyes inwards, when perhaps we might see it in ourselves. And supposing accident had thrown him among the burghers of the Fatherland, he loved their quaint, old-fashioned ways; he loved to see lingering among them dear old domestic institutionssilver weddings and golden weddings, Christmas trees and the like, which have been driven out of England, where many like them existed once, by the racket of cotton-mills, as the ancient nightingales of the banks of the Avon have been scared by the Bristol steamers, to be revived, if at all, only spasmodically, and as a German importation. He loved, too, the gardens, and the music of the gardens, and the little tables in the gardens, where all classes sat together, and none trode on each other's toes, but all knew so well their places and positions, that a prince was not afraid to doff his hat to the man that had made it; and there was none of that coxcombical and supercilious cutting, which seems a necessary institution in our more democratic country, to preserve one class from the intrusion of another, but which is nevertheless in aspect ungenial, and in spirit unchristian. And supposing he had wandered to

"The palms and temples of the South," and had gazed with an artist's eye on those lands of bright colours, hatched by warmth and sunlight, where everything and everybody seemed doubly beautiful in that lovel day, and even the moon seems white sun-and the very b rags seems put there to the distance, and sit for figures-where breathin basking seem in not to be purcha north, so swee

of life, without action or motion or thought; and supposing him, moreover, to bear with him a poet's heart, as all better natures bear, whether they write verses or not-capable of feeling the sacred charm that antiquity gives to all it touches in those favoured regions, when time, "the beautifier of the dead,"-who even near the haunts of business hates restless action, and clothes the lazy millwheel with moss, and the useless tower with ivy-has a full commission to beautify without stint or interruption;-under such influences an Englishman was to be pardoned, if he could feel that it was well to be elsewhere than in England, both for heart and mind and soul, and if, without something to make it worth while to be awake and stirring, his patriotism did sometimes nod, or even profoundly sleep. And if this was the case with the educated Englishman-if he was too much disgusted with the parade of false patriotism to make demonstrations of the true himself-if he was for the nonce beguiled out of the knowledge of its existence in himself, by the artistic and historic attractions of other less business-doing countries, what must have been the effect of the long peace, with its smooth course of commercial prosperities, on the commercial classes themselves, who, becoming in peace the most prominent classes, were supposed by foreigners to stand for Englishmen in general? With them the feeling of patriotism was more than put to sleep; it was sensibly weakened, and even in some extreme cases, like those of the Peace Society Coryphæi, ably injured, if not irrecover stroyed. Else how can w that a British-born man say, print, and publish, 1 not if Constantinople so that it contin tons

rising from his bed of sickness at the sound of a battle, hurrying to his troops, and, instead of claiming his right to command them, resolving not to supersede the junior who was winning the laurels of the day, but remaining at his side, aiding him with his advice, and assisting him as if he were his aide-de-camp. God grant him a safe return in due time." His Grace of Newcastle said truly, "nothing more noble; " but there was one deed equally noble-it was that of the Marshal of France, who would have no downier death-bed than the back of his battle-horse, for what he almost knew were the last agonies of his overtasked frame. As for the Opposition, with their noble leader, they may well be called Her Majesty's Opposition. What is their conduct? Though turned out of office in an unusual manner, they appear to have forgotten it, and are the first to eulogise, not the conduct of the war at home, but the conduct of the soldiers the Ministers have sent out. Far from wishing to embarrass Ministers, they do all they can to strengthen their hands for the real contest-the contest between the legitimate, not mercenary belligerents-provoked as they are by the Ministry in slyly, surreptitiously, and with insolent speed, hastening this atrocious Foreign Enlistment Bill, odious to the whole nation -so manifestly bad that one would almost believe the Ministers brought it in, and tacked to it their threat of resignation, with the hope of being defeated, as a way open to them to extricate themselves from the difficulties which they cannot manage, and which disgust the whole nation by rendering their imbecility conspicuous to the whole world. The Opposition blame Ministers only because they think it for their goodbecause they tremble for the consequences of a want of vigour in the conduct of the war. They have ceased to be a parliamentary Opposition, in the common sense of the word; they have resolved themselves into a committee of criticism, hoping to keep Ministers up to the mark, by letting them know that influential eyes are upon them. So much for the effect of the war on the political world! Its effects on the reli

gious world are still more striking, as we know how much the odium theologicum exceeds the odium politicum in virulence. It is refreshing to see clergymen of the Established Church and Dissenting ministers impressing on their congregations, that orthodoxy and heterodoxy have a common country, and that with both it is equally a Christian duty to support the widows and orphans of the brave who fall in her cause. But one instance is worth a thousand generalities. I have it. There is a banquet by the citizens of Waterford to the officers and men of the 89th regiment before they go off to the East. Here is the Lord Bishop of Cashel, and the Right Rev. Bishop of Cashel, who are commonly distinguished by the habit one has of signing his name by itself, and the other his name with a cross (a traditional custom, we must suppose, from the time when the R. C. Prelate put his mark instead of his episcopal name, scorning "the fetters of fourand-twenty letters," but now manifestly superfluous)-one proposing the Queen's health, and the other, immediately after him, "Success to the 89th regiment, and the allied army in the East;" one, as it were, being the proposer, and the other the seconder, of the same resolution; for shall we not say that the success of the Allies in the East and the health of our Queen are nearly one and the same thing, especially as she bears that name of good omen, Victoria? As for the good Roman bishop, he grew so warm in the cause, that it was quite necessary to remind those present that "he was not a soldier, but he belonged to the church militant, and, as a servant of God, was fighting against the devil." After this, I must say that I should prefer remembering the "Fifth of November" rather as the anniversary of one of the most heroic struggles in the annals of England, than as the failure of a fanatic's attempt to spring a mine under a King and Parliament, whose heirs fell to loggerheads, and whose blowing-up might have saved us much trouble in the way of civil war, and the sackcloth and ashes of Puritanism in which we had to repent of it. But there is one social effect still

put some highborn dunces on the "qui vive," and would be still more alarming if it were not tempered with so much modesty, ay, and fear of God. And war, too, as we read in innumerable soldiers' letters, and in the gratitude of their wives and children, widows and orphans, gives the poor a voice to bless the rich, and makes both classes feel to each other like a parent and a child, between whom there has been a long and painful misunderstanding, and consequent separation; but at length some touching circumstance warms their hearts to each other again, and there is a gushing reconciliation, showers of tears, and sunbeams of joy. Thus does war, even destructive and fearful war, possess a certain deep harmonising power, like the power of song described by Schiller :

"And even as, after hopeless yearning,
Long separation's dreary pain,
A child with tears for pardon burning
Springs to his mother's heart again;
So to his childhood's peasant-dwelling,

His harmless youth and pure delight,
Behold the might of song compelling
From strange wrong ways the travelled
wight;

Once more in nature's faithful arms From freezing rules his bosom warms." But I spoke of the effect likely to be produced on the minds of the rich by the letters of the private soldiers from the Crimea. I got a file of the Times the other day, and looked them over. They certainly have agreeably surprised many people. Nor

does education seem to have a whit impaired the soldier's courage-only to have changed it from the ferocity of a bull-dog into the resigned valour of an immortal creature; nor yet their obedience, for all in this army, high and low, seem to sympathise with discipline: all bear inevitable evils manfully, for the simple reason that their education tells them they are inevitable. Here is a letter from a band-serjeant, George Berry, 4th (King's Own). How does he begin his letter? "I ought to be very thankful to God for sparing me to write to you this night, when so many of my brothers-in-arms are lying dead round me." Could words have been found more clear or more full, more fitting to express the first thought

t passed through the mind of a

good soldier and a good man after the battle? He goes on with an equally clear description of the Alma fight. How well he describes the astonishment of the Russians at the pushing manners of the British"They fought well for about three hours, then they began to fall back, completely paralysed, as our men began to get close up to them." Paralysed was a hard word, but he could not have used it with a better knowledge of etymology; it was the Homeric idea of the effect of fear on the limbs. And there is a Homeric power of painting in the description of what the cavalry did, united with great naïvete-"Our cavalry soon overtook them, and used the sword to them, and made heads and arms fly in the air; " and in the description of the field, with great tender-heartedness superadded—“I can assure you it was an awful sight to see the dead lying about: in some places we could not walk without walking over them." The letter concludes with a sentence which shows that chivalrous sense of honour is not confined to the commissioned officer-"I hope the people of England who complained of our delay are satisfied now." Here is another from Private Jerome Falery, grenadier company, 38th regiment. He gives a synopsis of the history of the expedition until the date of his letter; but in his description of the battle, sporting propensities come out: "All the aristocracy of Sebastopol came out to see the sport [this reminds us of one of the lawn-meets at Badminton House], and they fully expected that we could not stand out more than three days; then we were to be driven into the sea. But they found out their mistake, for it was not much more than as many hours before they were like hunted foxes from their covers." But how cheerfully and bravely he speaks of the probabilities of war: "Oure is the first regiment for the front, and perhaps this is the last letter that I may be able to write to you. You may laugh at the idea of making sure of getting into Sebastopol; but I can assure you we go to take it, and if we do not take it, we will not return." An artilleryman writes a good description of the