heart and head, took a large and catholic view of most subjects, always charitably distinguishing between false or mistaken systems, and the persons who professed to hold them. He earnestly pointed out the evils incident to large manufactories, and the accumulation of wealth by new men, but was on intimate and very friendly terms with several large manufacturers, from whom, in politics, he entirely differed. Opposing republicanism, he was friendly to the United States, and, like most sensible men, condemned the absurd and oppressive policy which necessarily drove them to assert their independence; witness, too, his fine sonnets on the Pilgrim Fathers; and his intimate and affectionate correspondence with the highly gifted, rarely accomplished, and much lamented Professor Reed of Philadelphia. Comprehending Laud's point of view, he yet sympathised with the persecuted Covenanters. No one took more decided ground on the Roman Catholic question, for he regarded that system as an organisation utterly subversive of civil and religious liberty-yet for eight-and-twenty years he was the trusted and valued friend, and latterly the affectionate father-in-law, of Mr. Quillinan. Upholding constitutional government, his sympathies were always with the humbler orders, so that he united in himself all that was socially and politically best in democrat and aristocrat; loving liberty with his whole soul, he as heartily hated license; and wisely held, that vital Christian Religion was the only real central cure and comfort, either for the ills of individual life, or the many evils and dislocations of society. Strange to observe how history, in its spiral revolutions, sometimes repeats itself. We set out by remarking that Bacon nowhere alludes to Shakespeare, or gives any sign of appreciating his greatness; so, in our own day, two of the greatest thinkers of the age-Wordsworth and Carlyle-not only did not understand each other's characteristic greatness, but were intellectually quite repellant to each other. In Wordsworth's latter days, Carlyle met him in London, and fully recognised his strong intellect, his veracity, dignity, shrewd insight, and marvellous power in presenting striking delineations of character. But beyond such recognition, Carlyle was quite at sea in regard to Wordsworth's position as a poet; for, loving action, Carlyle cared little for meditative poetry, or indeed for modern poetry of any kind-always excepting Burns-so that the form repelled him from even considering the substance. When he could not see, he rashly concluded that there was nothing to be scen; and so, at times, he was grievously mistaken, as in his views on what he called "the Nigger question," and in his under-estimates of men like Coleridge, Charles Lamb, and others; although, on the other hand, where one would have least expected it, he could appreciate Leigh Hunt and Mazzini. Work is good, but Thought precedes it, is higher, and controls it. Wordsworth, again, who attached great importance to artistic form, as well as to the subject matter in hand, revering the "wells of English undefiled," was, in turn, decidedly repelled by the unwonted, nncouth, through-at-the-nearest, but very forcible modes of expression employed by the Sage of Chelsea, whose main requirement of the how was that it should hit the what. Thus it came about, that, from taking different stand-points, these two men-master-spirits who have so largely influenced and shaped the thought-currents of the age-curiously enough, repelled each other, while we, who look back, are truly thankful for them both. Wordsworth was always a pure living, upright, conscientious, moral, and religious man. This was evidenced not only in his poems, but in his daily life, and benignly felt by those who knew him best; but, in his latter days, maturing and ripening for heaven, he ever manifested an increasing and deeper reverence for sacred things, with a submissive spirit under heavy trials, and a humility of heart, as sincere as it was profound. Of Wordsworth's perfectly rounded life, the Rev. Richard Wilton has truly said "It was brightened by the intensest love of Nature, and it was hallowed by a constant and growing love of God." The great and lasting service which he has efficiently done for the world, with its toil and its sorrow, its prickly moors or dusty ways," so 'rugged and uneven, has been chiefly to proclaim that 66 "The primal duties shine aloft like stars, The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless, Therefore, revering his memory, let us, with feelings of lasting gratitude, apply to himself those beautiful lines from his own pen which are so appropriately inscribed on the pedestal of the life-sized white marble statue of the poet in Westminster Abbey 66 Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, ANDREW JAMES SYMINGTON. Langside, Glasgow. AT THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN. T the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years: Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard 'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees; Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade, WE ARE SEVEN. -A SIMPLE Child, That lightly draws its breath, I met a little cottage Girl: She was eight years old, she said; She had a rustic, woodland air, Her eyes were fair, and very fair: "Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?" "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. "And where are they? I pray you tell." She answered, "Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea. Two of us in the churchyard lie, "You say that two at Conway dwell, Yet ye are seven ! I pray you tell, |