In a speech delivered in Taunton, in 1831, he thus ridicules the attempt of the Lords to stop the

PROGRESS OF REFORM.

I do not mean to be disrespectful, but the attempt of the lords to stop the progress of reform reminds me very forcibly of the great storm of Sidmouth, and of the conduct of the excellent Mrs. Partington on that occasion. In the winter of 1824 there set in a great flood upon that town-the tide rose to an incredible height— the waves rushed in upon the houses-and every thing was threatened with destruction. In the midst of this sublime storm, Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, was seen at the door of her house with mop and pattens, trundling her mop, and squeezing out the sea water, and vigorously pushing away the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic was roused; Mrs. Partington's spirit was up; but I nced not tell you that the contest was unequal. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs. Partington. She was excellent at a slop or a puddle; but she should not have meddled with a tempest.1

CHIMNEY SWEEPS.

We have been thus particular in stating the case of the chimney sweepers, and in founding it upon the basis of facts, that we may make an answer to those profligate persons who are always ready to fling an air of ridicule upon the labors of humanity, because they are desirous that what they have not virtue to do themselves, should appear to be foolish and romantic when done by others. A still higher degree of depravity than this, is to want every sort of compassion for human misery, when it is accompanied by filth, poverty, and ignorance, to regulate humanity by the income tax, and to deem the bodily wretchedness and the dirty tears of the poor a fit subject for pleasantry and contempt. We should have been loath to believe that such deep-seated and disgusting immorality existed in these days; but the notice of it is forced upon us. Nor must we pass over a set of marvellously weak gentlemen who discover democracy and revolution in every effort to improve the condition of the lower orders, and to take off a little of the load of misery

The following are a few of the good things of Sydney Smith:

Definition of the Popish Ritual: "Posture and imposture, flections and genu-flections, bowing to the right, curtseying to the left, and an immense amount of man-millinery." "Every man fancies he can do three things: farm a small property, drive a gig, and write an article for a Review."

Of a great talker, he once said-"It would improve him if he now and then had a few flashes of silence."

One of the chief titles of distinction in the Scotch law is, "The Dean of the Faculty," and when Sydney Smith, Dean of St. Paul's, first met in company a gentleman bearing that title, he assumed a reverential expression in looking at him, and said-"A most surprising title; For in England the deans have no faculties."

from those points where it presses the hardest. Such are the men into whose hearts Mrs. Fry has struck the deepest terror-who abhor Mr. Bentham and his penitentiary; Mr. Bennet and his hulks; Sir James Mackintosh and his bloodless assizes; Mr. Tuke and his sweeping machines-and every human being who is great and good enough to sacrifice his quiet to his love for his fellow-creatures. Certainly we admit that humanity is sometimes the vail of ambition or of faction; but we have no doubt that there are a great many excellent persons to whom it is misery to see misery, and pleasure to lessen it; and who, by calling the public attention to the worst cases, and by giving birth to judicious legislative enactments for their improvement, have made, and are making, the world somewhat happier than they found it. Upon these principles we join hands with the friends of the chimney sweepers, and most heartily wish for the diminution of their numbers and the limitation of their trade.1

DR. PARR'S WIG AND SERMON.

Whoever has had the good fortune to see Dr. Parr's wig, must have observed, that while it trespasses a little on the orthodox magnitude of perukes in the anterior parts, it scorns even Episcopal limits behind, and swells out into boundless convexity of frizz, the mega thauma (the "great wonder") of barbers, and the terror of the literary world. After the manner of his wig, the Doctor has constructed his sermon, giving us a discourse of no common length, and subjoining an immeasurable mass of notes, which appear to concern every learned thing, every learned man, and almost every unlearned man since the beginning of the world.

PHENOMENA OF BOTANY BAY.

In this remote part of the earth, Nature (having made horses, oxen, ducks, geese, oaks, elms, and all regular and useful productions for the rest of the world) seems determined to have a bit of play, and to amuse herself as she pleases. Accordingly, she makes cherries with the stone on the outside; and a monstrous animal, as tall as a grenadier, with the head of a rabbit, a tail as big as a bed-post, hopping along at the rate of five hops to a mile, with

1 "Sydney Smith had a genuine Christian sympathy with his fellow-creatures, and far more serious intentions in almost all he wrote than the gravest of his opponents could well imagine. He was an extraordinary man, and did a great deal of good."-Leigh Hunt's "Wit and Humor."

A great scholar, as rude and violent as most Greek scholars are, unless they happen to be bishops. He has left nothing behind him worth leaving: he was rather fitted for the law than the church, and would have been a more considerable man, if he had been moro knocked about among his equals. He lived with country gentlemen and clergymen, who flattered and feared him.

three or four young kangaroos looking out of its fals uterus to see what is passing. Then comes a quadruped as big as a large cat, with the eyes, color, and skin of a mole, and the bill and web-feet of a duck-puzzling Dr. Shaw, and rendering the latter half of his life miserable, from his utter inability to determine whether it was a bird or a beast. Add to this a parrot, with the legs of a seagull; a skate with the head of a shark; and a bird of such monstrous dimensions, that a side bone of it will dine three real carniverous Englishmen-together with many other productions that agitate Sir Joseph,1 and fill him with mingled emotions of distress and delight.

THOMAS CHALMERS, 1780-1847.

THOMAS CHALMERS, the distinguished Scottish divine, was born at Anstruther, in Fifeshire, on the 17th of March, 1780. In November, 1791, he was enrolled at the university of St. Andrew's, where he prosecuted his literary and theological studies. Two or three years after leaving the university, he obtained the church of Kilmany, in his native county. Here he continued to prosecute his scientific studies; and, in addition to his parochial labors, he lectured in the different towns on chemistry and other subjects, wrote many pamphlets on the topics of the day, and contributed the article "Christianity" to the "Edinburgh Encyclopædia,” edited by Sir David Brewster. This was afterward published separately, under the title of "Evidences of the Christian Revelation."

In 1814, he removed to the new church of St. John's in Glasgow, and while there, rose to be the greatest preacher of the day-his fame extending not only over Great Britain, but throughout all Europe and America; and no visit to the country was deemed by any one complete unless he had heard Chalmers preach. But he was not content with his distinguished rank in theology, for in 1817 he entered the scientific arena, and published his celebrated "Discourses on Astronomy." In 1818 appeared his "Commercial Discourses;" in 1819 his "Occasional Discourses in the Tron Church and St. John's Church;" and in 1821 his "Civic and Christian Economy of Large Towns."

duties, that he felt it His greatest triumph

So far was he from confining his labors to his parochial his duty to aid every good cause designed to elevate man. was in the management of the pauperism of his district of Glasgow. It had hitherto cost about £1400 per annum. Dr. Chalmers proposed that his kirksession should relieve the city of the collection and expenditure of the whole. The proposal was accepted, and immediately, through his deacons, (each of whom could carefully explore his own small district,) a thorough investigation was instituted into the circumstances of every pauper. Frauds almost innumerable were detected: lines were drawn between the deserving and the undeserving poor: the idle, the dissolute, and the drunken were often reclaimed: while it was frequently

Sir Joseph Banks.

found that a little friendly advice was all that was needed to prevent the honest and industrious from sinking into destitution. In short, the scheme turned out to be more a contrivance to prevent poverty than to relieve it, and the £1400 was reduced to £280 per annum.

After laboring for some years in Glasgow, he was appointed, in 1824, to the professorship of moral philosophy in the University of St. Andrew's. His arrival there gave an impulse to that ancient seminary, which brought back much of the glory of its former days. The next year he was invited to take a chair in the then projected London University, but declined. During the period of his settlement at St. Andrew's, he published his works "On Church and College Endowments," on "Political Economy," his "Bridgewater Treatise," and his "Lectures on the Romans." His published works form twenty-five volumes, and they have been widely circulated. In addition to these, he has made many and important contributions to periodical literature.

In 1828 he was removed to the chair of theology in the University of Edinburgh, the highest academical distinction which could be conferred; and here, undisturbed by any change, he prosecuted his labors for many years, and concentrated upon himself a deeper interest than any other clergyman of the religious world either in Great Britain or America. Then came the memorable year 1843, when a very large and influential number of the clergy and their congregations seceded from the Established Church of Scotland, in defence of their right to have only such pastors as were their own choice, and not such as dukes and lords might thrust upon them at pleasure. Dr. Chalmers led the seceding party, and consequently resigned his professorship in the university-a noble instance of sacrificing all worldly advantage for the cause of truth.

Few scholars had accumulated so many academic honors as Dr. Chalmers. He received the degree of LL.D. from the University of Oxford, and was elected a corresponding member of the Royal Institute of France, honors never before awarded to a Presbyterian divine, and seldom to a Scotsman. In fine, while living he received all the homage and respect usually accorded to great men when dead, and this mainly because, while living, he was a good man as well as a great man. With him religion was not a mere theory on which he could expatiate with a wondrous grasp of intellect, illustrate with the most vivid imagination, and set before an audience in all the perspicuity and clearness that a complete mastery of his subject could accomplish. It was a living faith that mingled with all his thoughts, imparted a tone to his language, and moulded his actions; it was realized in his whole course of conduct. His attainments in science, his genius, his life seemed devoted to one end-to raise his country by the lever of religion.

Dr. Chalmers retired to rest on the evening of Sunday, May 30, 1847, apparently in perfect health, and died calmly during the night, the bed-clothes being found undisturbed about his person. The news of his death caused a most profound sensation throughout Great Britain and America, for it was felt that one of the brightest lights in the literary and religious world had gone out.

Read "Edinburgh Review," lvi. 52; "Gentleman's Magazine," June, 1845, February, 1850. and October, 1850; also London Athenæum, 1847, pp. 597, 603, and 887.

INSIGNIFICANCE OF THIS WORLD.

Though the earth were to be burned up, though the trumpet of its dissolution were sounded, though yon sky were to pass away as a scroll, and every visible glory which the finger of the Divinity has inscribed on it were extinguished for ever-an event so awful to us, and to every world in our vicinity, by which so many suns would be extinguished, and so many varied scenes of life and population would rush into forgetfulness,-what is it in the high scale of the Almighty's workmanship? A mere shred, which, though scattered into nothing, would leave the universe of God one entire scene of greatness and majesty. Though the earth and the heavens were to disappear, there are other worlds which roll afar; the light of other suns shines upon them; and the sky which mantles them is garnished with other stars. Is it presumption to say, that the moral world extends to these distant and unknown regions? that they are occupied with people? that the charities of home and of neighborhood flourish there? that the praises of God are there lifted up, and his goodness rejoiced in? that there piety has its temples and its offerings? and the richness of the Divine attributes is there felt and admired by intelligent worshippers?

And what is this world in the immensity which teems with them; and what are they who occupy it? The universe at large would suffer as little in its splendor and variety by the destruction of our planet, as the verdure and sublime magnitude of a forest would suffer by the fall of a single leaf. The leaf quivers on the branch which supports it. It lies at the mercy of the slightest accident. A breath of wind tears it from its stem, and it lights on the stream of water which passes underneath. In a moment of time, the life, which we know by the microscope it teems with, is extinguished; and an occurrence so insignificant in the eye of man, and in the scale of his observation, carries in it, to the myriads which people this little leaf, an event as terrible and as decisive as the destruction of a world.

Now, on the grand scale of the universe, we, the occupiers of this ball, which performs its little round among the suns and the systems which astronomy has unfolded-we may feel the same littleness, and the same insecurity. We differ from the leaf only in this circumstance, that it would require the operation of greater elements to destroy us. But these elements exist. The fire which rages within may lift its devouring energy to the surface of our planet, and transform it into one wide and wasting volcano. The sudden formation of elastic matter in the bowels of the earth-and it lies within the agency of known substances to accomplish this-may explode it into fragments. The exhalation of noxious air from below may impart a virulence to the air that is around us; it may