to the Church, by making it subservient to patronage, and destructive of the apostolic spirit, which demands the devotion of the whole soul to the work of the ministry.

I had the good fortune to hear Chalmers speak for a few moments, but with great energy and power, so as to give me an idea of his appearance and manner. He was a large man, and as he rose he seemed rather heavy, slow, and awkward. His face was large, its outline being nearly circular. His lips, when closed, were thin, giving a certain sharpness and firmness to his countenance. His forehead was large and expansive, his brow finely arched, his eye gray, and its expression ordinarily heavy. Altogether his appearance, as he first rose to my view, was unpromising. His speech, his articulation, was even worse, at the outset, for he had the Fifeshire dialect-the harshest and most unintelligible in Scotland. He had, however, spoken but a few sentences, when the whole man was transformed. That heaviness which marked his appearance, had wholly passed away. Upon his countenance there was an animated yet lofty expression— firm and fearless, benevolent and winning-while his voice, pouring out a vast flow of thought, had in it a tone at once of love and command, of feeling and of authority, absolutely irresistible. I felt myself borne along in the torrent-compelled, yet lending myself gratefully to the movement. Sentence after sentence fell from his lips, thought accumulated upon thougnt,

VOL. II.-9

illustration upon illustration, and yet the listener conpassed every conception and treasured every word There was something in his voice so musical, so touching, that the whole sank into the soul like a hymn. The general effect was aided by his gestures and movements, for though by no means graceful, they harmonized so well with the emotions of the speaker as at once to illustrate and enforce the gen eral tenor of his address.

On another occasion I heard Dr. Chalmers preach, in one of the churches of the city. The crowd was so great, however, that I saw and heard very imperfectly. It seemed to me that he was rather calculate di to produce an effect by his oratory, than his writing He had evidently wonderful powers of amplification. he often started topics apparently barren and unsage gestive, but soon he called around them a crowd of thoughts and associations of the highest interest. The common labors of the minister of the Gospel-enter ing into the hearts and homes of the nch and the poor; now leading to the stately hall, and now to the squalid dens of vice, poverty, and crime; now to the administration of baptism, and now to the sacrame 1.5 -this hackneyed routine, by force of his vivid image nation and ardent spirit, presented pictures to the mind and awoke emotions in the heart, qute overwhelming. He seemed, indeed, like a magician, capa ble of converting even the sand and stones of the d ert into images of life and power; but it appear j

to me that in order to do this, the voice and gesture and presence of the sorcerer, were indispensable. I have never, in reading any thing he has writtennoble as are his works-at all realized the emotions produced by the brief, but startling speach I heard from him in the Assembly.

LETTER XLII.

▲ Dinner at Lockhart's— Conversation about Byron-Mrs. Lockhart-İr ving-Professor Ticknor-Music-The Pibroch and Miss EdgeworthAnecdotes of the Indians-Southey and Second Sight-Cooper's Pioneers— The Pilot-Paul Jones-Brockden Brown-Burns-Tricks of the Press -Charles Scott-The Welsh Parson-The Italian Base-viol PlayerPersonal Appearance of Sir Walter-Departure for London-Again in Edinburgh in 1832-Last Moments of Sir Walter-The Sympathy of Nature.

MY DEAR C******

I hope you fully comprehend that, in these sketches I am only dipping into my journal here and there, and selecting such memoranda as I think may amuse you. Most of these passages refer to individuals who have now passed to their graves. It is mournful to me it is suggestive of feelings inexpressibly sad and solemn-to reflect that of the long list of distinguished persons who, at the period I refer to, shed a peculiar glory upon Edinburgh, not one survives. Scott, Lockhart, Jeffrey, Chalmers— these, and others who stood beside them, either shar

ing or reflecting the blushing honors of genius and fame, falling around them-all are gone from the high places which they then illumined with their pres ence. I am speaking only of the dead-yet I remember them as living, and-though their history, their works, their fame, are familiar to you-it may still interest you to go back and participate in recolle tions of them-their persons, speech, manner-and thus, in some degree, see them as they were seen, and know them as they were known. I pray you to accept these passages from my journal, as glimpses only of what I saw, and not as pretending at all to a reg ular account of my travels and observations, at the time referred to.

On Wednesday, June 2, I dined with Mr. Lakhart-25 Northumberland-street. Bestles the ht and hostess, there were present Sir Walter Scott, his son, Charles Scott, Mr. Blackwood, Mr. Robinson, and three or four other persons. At dinner I sat next Sir Walter-an arrangement male, I believe, in compliment to myself. Every thing went off pleasantly -with the usual ease, hospitality, and heartiness of an English dinner. The house and furniture were plain and handsome-such as were common to people of good condition and good taste.

The meal was discussed with the usual relish, ani with the usual garnish of wit and pleasantry. After the ladies had retired, the conversation became gen eral and animated. Byron was the engrossing topic

Sir Walter spoke of him with the deepest feeling of admiration and regret. A few weeks before, on the receipt of the news of his death, he had written an obituary notice of him, in which he compared him to the sun, withdrawn from the heavens at the very moment when every telescope was leveled to discover either his glory or his spots. He expressed the opinion that Byron was "dying of home-sickness"-that being his phrase. For a long time he had flouted England, and seemed to glory alike in his exile and his shame. Yet all this time his heart was devoured with "the fiend ennui." He went to Greece, in the hope of doing some gallant deed that would wipe out his disgrace, and create for him such sympathy in the breasts of his countrymen, as would enable him to return his "faults forgiven and his sins forgot."

Lockhart and Blackwood both told stories, and we passed a pleasant half hour. The wine was at last rather low, and our host ordered the servant to bring more. Upon which Scott said-" No, no, Lokert❞— such was his pronunciation of his son-in-law's name -"we have had enough: let us go and see the ladies." And so we gathered to the parlor.

Mrs. Lockhart was now apparently about two and twenty years old-small in person, and girl-like in manner. Her hair was light-brown, cut short, and curled in her neck and around her face. Her cheeks were blooming, and her countenance full of cheerfulHer address was at once graceful and gracious

ness.