Jewish synagogue. The room was dimly lighted. In the centre was a raised platform with a desk, on which stood two lighted candles, and a large opened volume. Before this book, out of which he chanted in a very rapid manner, but yet with a deep sweet tone, stood the High Priest. His hat was on his head, and a white mantle was thrown over his shoulders. Around the room, some having books and others not, were about forty persons; some standing behind desks, others in an open space between them and the priest's desk. Some of these were very handsomely dressed, and appeared to be gentlemen; others were evidently recognised as parts of that family, who take their daily lounge by the college, and corners of the streets, where they watch the passersby, and in the slyest and most modest manner possible, accost the denizens of these crowded thoroughfares; often repulsed, or not more noticed than the stones by many, yet assiduously plying their interrogatory; "any old clothes?" here and there perhaps rewarded by a wink, when you see them at a respectful distance shambling after their victim. All these united very harmoniously in the chanting of the scriptures and talmud. The exercises were entirely in the Hebrew and Syriac. They pronounce well, yet not precisely as at Andover.

CHAPTER XI.

Professor Wilson - Bryant's Poems-American Writers - Scenery —

Saturday, March 17. Called on Professor Wilson. Was ushered into his study, where among a chaotic mass of books and papers, I found him reclining on an easy elbow chair. On ordinary occasions he appears careless enough; but never did mortal appear more so than then. His room was but the counterpart of himself. Books, chairs, papers, and manuscripts, all in the oddest combination. In alluding to Bryant, whose works he had just received from Washington Irving, who has republished his works, with a beautiful preface, he remarked, "I have just been reading Mr B.'s poems, and I must reclaim the opinion I pronounced a day or two since (to me) respecting him. I had only just looked at them - I have since read the volume with great pleasure. He is, however, a different man from what I had thought. I expected much imagination, and less taste. But I find him very refined in his imaginations, and very classical in his taste. I wish I could get hold of more American authors. I have just received two volumes of American poetry by Samuel Kettell, which I am looking over; have found some very pretty matter in them. I wish I could learn more about American poets. I have seen some of Bryant's, a

little of Percival's, a long time since, and a pretty little work of Pierpont's, "Airs of Palestine." I mentioned to him among others, Mrs Sigourney. "O! yes, I remember, I received a very good little volume from her, but lost her direction, and never could find it again." I spoke of Willis, Halleck, and some others to him. He told me that he intended to obtain, if he could, a number of the American poets, and should notice them in Blackwood.

We then conversed about American scenery. He expressed his strong desire to visit it; to travel on its rivers; to explore its forests. He had so long written upon English scenery, that there was nothing new for his mind to enjoy. Everything had lost its freshness, and nothing would give him greater delight than to move among new objects, that he might have the luxury of new thoughts.

While there, his daughter came in, a black-eyed, black-haired little miss of about fifteen, to hand a billet and say, "Pa, is there any answer?" and passed away like a dream. After considerable more conversation on American characters, Webster, Everett, and one or two others, I departed. As I went through the entry, I noticed a fishing rod in the corner, which quite reminded me of Blackwood.

As it was five o'clock, called for Mr H. who was, as well as myself, to be a guest at Dr Chalmers'. When we entered, found ourselves in a brightly illuminated parlor, elegantly furnished; the windows hung with blue silk curtains. A pier table was in the centre of the room, with the literary ornaments of a drawing-room, elegantly spread over it. We were politely welcomed by the Doctor, and then shook hands and exchanged courtesies with his handsome and graceful lady, and with his

daughters. We found ourselves instantly introduced into an animated conversation respecting Ireland, which was afterwards renewed when the ladies left the dinner table. It was respecting the circulation of the bible through Ireland; the use of it in the schools supported by government. On this subject the Doctor remarked, "Popish or protestant teachers, no matter which, let the bible be taught have it not discarded; let it circulate in the schools, even in their own editions, if it must be: let the scriptures be introduced- let the pupils understand them." On Ireland, and I believe he extended it to the country generally, he remarked, "Now I think the country is just in that feverish state, when common remedies will avail but little; a fearful state has arrived, when nothing will answer but blood-letting."

We were interrupted in our conversation by the announcement of dinner. The table displayed elegance and luxury. It was not brought on in courses, but shone with concentrated glory upon the entering party. A handsome silver dish with delicate lettuce adorned the centre of the table. A fine piece of turbot in its ample dish graced the Doctor's end, a smoking turreen of soup his lady's end of the table. The intervals between these were filled up by all the show of rich dishes, the regularity of plates, the sparkle of cut crystal glasses, the polish of steel, and the shining of silver. I do not particularly remember any from the Doctor at the table except this. ing of London. “When I was a young man in London, I devoted three weeks exclusively to wandering round the city. Taking my breakfast early I went to every place worthy of observation. After wandering for a long time, I would go each day to some new description of house to dine, each presenting some new diversity of

remark that fell We were speak

character some were wonderfully cheap, four pence for steak, penny for potatoes, penny for bread, three pence for porter, and half penny for waiter, which seemed so cheap that I could not refrain the penny, which excited so many bows, and so much gratitude, as failed not sometimes to bring me back again. I was struck forcibly with the remark of Johnson, that one got no idea of the greatness of London, except by wandering through the lanes and populous narrow streets, which he called 'the tortuosities of London.' I sometimes wandered for hours, traversing the interminable ways, lost in the mazes of its uncounted receptacles of being. And I do believe that Pekin must fall short of this thronged and mighty world."

Having returned to the parlor, I had an opportunity of taking a more accurate survey, though I did not think to do so while there; however I could not but notice a fine bust of the Doctor, executed by a female friend, I think he informed me. It was very well done and gives a juster idea of this remarkable man than anything else which I have ever seen.

In the evening we were favored with some fine music from Miss C. As the Doctor was standing near me, I inquired how he was pleased with that style of music. It was one of Hummel's best compositions. His reply was, "I cannot sympathize at all in that music; it excites no melody in my heart. I love the simple Scotch airs." I asked, "of those, which are your favorites?" "Those which I prefer to any others are, Flowers of the Forest,' 'Blaithrie o't,'' Jet, jet black,' and 'Mary of Castle Cary';" then turning to his daughter he affectionately said, "Will you play those, my dear, for Mr M." As it was not late when we retired, Mr. H. remarked that the Irish gentlemen in Edinburgh, celebra