easy. And, as the strength and vigour are increased by the satisfaction of finding, that we have really some power in ourselves to overcome these difficulties, from the conviction of the favour of God to our efforts, from the nearer prospect of our reward, no opposition can thwart them, no motives be stronger, and hence, no obligation more urgent, than to pursue the good course, which this blessed hope of an immortality hath induced us to begin. To have recourse again to the effects of the most powerful of all human agents, love, I here give a quotation from Mill's History of Chivalry. "A soldier of chivalry would go to battle, proud of the title, a pursuivant of love, and, in the contests of chivalric skill, which, like the battles of Homer's heroes, gave brilliancy and splendour to war, a knight challenged another to joust with a lance, for love of the ladies: and he commended himself to the mistress of his heart for protection and assistance. In his mind, woman was a being of mystic power; in the forests of Germany, her voice had been listened to like that of the spirit of the woods, melodious, solemn, and oracular: and when chivalry was formed into a system, the same idea of something supernaturally powerful in her character, threw a shadow of serious interest over softer feelings, and she was revered as well as loved. While this devotedness of soul to woman's charms appeared in his general intercourse with the sex; in a demeanor of homage, in a grave, and stately politeness, his lady-love he regarded with religious constancy. Fickleness would have been a species of impiety; for she was not a toy that he played with, but a divinity whom he worshipped. This adoration of her, sustained him through all the perils, that lay before his reaching his heart's desire and loyalty (a word that has lost its pristine and noble meaning) was the choicest quality in the character of the preux chevalier. It was supported, too, by the state of the world he lived in; he fought the battles of his country and his church, and he travelled to foreign lands, as a pilgrim, or a crusader; for, such were the calls of his chivalry. To be the first in the charge, and the last in the retreat, was the counsel, which one knight gave to another, on being asked the surest means of winning a lady fair. Love was the crowning grace, the guerdon of his toils; and its gentle influence, aided him in discharing the duties of his gallant, and solemn profession. The lady Isabella, daughter of the Earl of Jullyers, loved the Lord Eustace Dambercourt, for the great nobleness of arms, that she had heard reported of him: and, her messengers often carried to him letters of love, whereby her noble paramour was the more hardy in his deeds of arms.' Such is the marvellous influence of hope, of the hope of gaining, as a reward, the favour, the esteem, the love of some fair damself. Such it was in the ages of chivalry, and such it is in the present day; leading those under its influence to wait patiently, to fight, or labour vigorously, to stem the wayward feelings of the mind, and bring them to bear upon some important point; to leave no exertion untried, which promises to discover any new means of obtaining the favour, of meriting the esteem, of that individual, whom it has fallen to our lot to deck with all the fairest flowers of imagination. Woman, fair woman's honied eloquence, and sympathetic eye, are the great movers of this sublunary state of things; at least in all those societies, where civilization is upon the increase. Fame, riches, power, what are these to gratify the heart, to satisfy the soul of man, revolving in itself, unless as they approximate him to that on earth, which to him appears almost of a nature superior to his own? to that, which imagination hath rendered perfect, by calling every beauty stored in the vast cells of memory, and concentrating them into one beautiful image, at once to be called into his mind, by the first glance of the beaming eye of some innocent daughter of Eve.-And yet, the experience of all ages is combined to show, that this beau-ideal, which the wise, and the foolish, the grave and the gay, alike pursue with such faithful zeal, such eager energy, is but a phantom of the imagination, having no prototype in nature; and invariably dispelled by a nearer approach to the object that excites it. What, then, must be the intense desire, created by an object of delight, regarding which the imagination is allowed to wander over the richest scenes of nature, painting them, combining, or dissevering as it will, while the heart is assured and convinced that these pictures are far within the reality of the joy to be conferred on those, who encircle the bright throne of the mighty centre of harmony and peace? Nor can this desire fail of operating in a far more powerful manner than that of the all-governing power of creation, love; particularly, when those, who are once induced to enter upon the contest, find that bright and effulgent centre attracting them by its own power towards itself, and keeping them steady in their course, without allowing them, in any manner, to deviate to the right or to the left. "For it is God," saith St. Paul," which worketh in you, both to will and to do of his good pleasure."* The bright hope that is before them, furnishes them with a continual power of rejecting any cates that may be offered to them, prevents those minor hopes from making too vivid an impression on their minds, and leaves, therefore, every power, every faculty, every nerve, vigorous for the contest, to obtain the object of this single, and soul filling hope, that urges them to proceed. As in the organs of external sense, the greater light makes the lesser unheeded by the eye; or, the honey from the comb, makes the sweet flavour of many a luscious fruit incapable of affecting our organs of taste, so it is, that those, beaconed on their road by that far distant, but bright and shining splendour, which occupies their thoughts of heaven, may pass by unaffected, untempted, by the fair visions of health, happiness, or prosperity, that present, for a time, such delightful prospects to those, whose convictions of a future state have never warmed their hearts; and, consequently, remain, but now and then, to cast a passing cloud over the sunshine of their happiness. I have already said, that these warriors are assured of assistance in their strife, of such assistance as must render their burden indeed light, and their warfare little more than victory. Pains, troubles, and vexations, must crowd the path of life, wherever we turn; for, without these, our natures would flag, our health would wane, and happiness itself, in its intensity, would, like spirits thrown upon flame, in one splendid blaze, consume the powers of consciousness, and unlink the bonds by which the spirit is united to this more cumbrous machine. But surely, in the con "He that hath clean hands shall be stronger and stronger." Job xvii. 9. "But the path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day." Prov. iv. 18. "Whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundantly." trast of pain and pleasure, of which this existence consists, it must be preferable that, with as much pleasure here, we should have a conviction and a reliance upon an increase of it hereafter, rather than that our pains should be solely those which are produced by the wants of life; and our pleasures the consciousness of their absence. In this life, the happiness of the former state, is not exceeded by that of the latter, and, when those in the former, are approaching to that event, of which all must one day be the subjects, they enjoy a tranquillity, which none can avoid wishing may be theirs. The death-bed of that man who has lived in the conscientious performance of the duties, which are the evidence of his faith in Christ's promises, in revolving the various scenes of his past life, finds a rich blessing in beholding victory after victory over his passions, or those parts of them, which his Creator has commanded him to restrain; he feels already cheered by the approval of his Saviour and his God. No widow's tears, no orphan's sighs, no brother's reproaches, no parent's agony, no man's curse follows him in imagination to his grave. But, the soul that hath been calmed, the eye that hath been brightened, the heart that hath leaped with joy to his kindness, blend in one common offering of sympathy for his present pain, and one generous prayer for his future happiness. What then remains to trouble the parting soul? what to make it wish to cling to this tenement of clay? what bids it recoil from the new path, into which it is about to enter? It sees no cruel separation from joys that are never to be renewed! It feels no aching consciousness that all these crowded and busy scenes, where care and toil, pleasure and amusement, mingle their votaries together, may be but the dreamy preludes to an eternal sleep! But its key of faith hath already thrown open the portals of heaven, where its Saviour, clothing it in eternal glory, and making it like unto himself, closes them upon it, and proclaims it an inmate of heaven! Tell me not, thou, whom vice hath rendered degraded in thy nature, that this is not the end of the righteous man, who hath acted upon his conviction of the truth of his Saviour's promises! Rest assured, that unconvinced of their truth, it never will be thine. [To be concluded in our next.] [17] TO E****. If for a moment from my anxious sight Or clouds obscurely dim the orb of day, As from the ark across the deep profound, The dove soared forth to find a place of rest, THE BLUE ROUT. "Stars of their own, and their own stars they know."-DRYDEN's Virgil. London, 1826. It is now, my dear Barbara, three months since I came to this wonderful place, yclept London—a second Babylon, full of anomalies and marvels of every kind and description. But, amidst all the entertainments and scenes I have yet witnessed, none have either astonished, horrified, or diverted me more, than one at which I was present a few evening's since, its designation "The Deep Blue Rout." I think I hear you exclaim, "Surely such are the rendezvous alone of the privileged few; how, then, in the name of all that is wonderful, did you, my friend, who never in your life could make two lines gingle in decent rhyme, contrive to gain admittance to this same coterie of Ceruleans?" Now, ecoutez, Barbara,-a friend at court is a famous passport, and so I found it upon this occasion; for, in truth, I owe my peep at the mysteries of "the Club"-to one who shines a star of the first order amongst that set of fifth or sixth rate literati, who meet upon such occasions to enjoy three or four hours of flattery, satire, and exclusiveness; rejoicing in the idea of having none of equivocal tint admitted into their sanctum sanctorum. After driving through many a narrow and dismal street, on the "unknown" side of O***** Street, our carriage at length stopped in one more gloomy than all the rest, at the house, which has the great honour of sheltering a certain lady of "Historic Memoir" celebrity. Imagine the state of perturbation into which so little, so insignificant a person as myself, must have been thrown, whilst crossing the threshold of the redoubtable spinster, into whose presence I was so immediately to be ushered. A dirty, untidy maid servant (whether affected with the same mania as her mistress, I did not stop to inquire, although the similarity of their personal appearance afterwards gave rise to some such notions on my part,) came to the door, holding in her hand a farthing candle, making darkness just visible; thinking, I presume, further radiance quite unnecessary, to those about to enter a magic circle, illumined and made brilliantly dazzling with "blue lights." She led the way up two flights of carpetless stairs, (remember this, in the depth of winter, snow on the ground, and the temperature of the air wondrous few degrees above zero,) threw open the door of the honoured apartment, and announced "La Corinne Anglaise," under whose protecting patronage I was to be tolerated in this circle of wit and talent. Immediately, not less than three pairs of arms were flung around my friend, whilst shouts of "my dearest Corinna, my lovely Improvisatrice," rang in my ears, during the space of full three minutes. Corinna, from habit, has become apparently reconciled to the flattery, which she would have shunned with horror upon her first entrance into the world of “Blues.” Now, she tolerated (or, perhaps, enjoyed,) her reception with evident composure. However, this kissing and hugging ended.-I (who had stood at the door, like a condemned criminal) was formally introduced; received a tolerating smile from the awful female historian, and was severed from my friend and only acquaintance there, to be placed by the side of a withered spinster of forty-five, who was declared an authorized member of the party, having, during the preceding week, announced as ready for publication, a "Volume of Tales: the principal of which were Angelina, or the Victim of Blighted Hopes," and the "Miseries of Marriage ;" considering herself, of course, a very competent judge of these matters. 66 I soon began to imagine my neighbour deaf and dumb; no replies whatever could I obtain to any of my innocent remarks: but scornful curlings of the mouth, accompanied by contemptuous glances at my person, were every now and then directed over her shoulder, significantly conveying the queries who are you?——what has authorized you to intrude yourself among us? Presently she crossed to the other side of the room, and said in a too audible whisper, "Certainly not one of us—a blue gown! Humph-she shall borrow none of my ideas, however, for I took good care to lock up my treasure-box of information recherché, so long as I remained near her, for fear of a plagiarism; which, you know, I could not have declared to the world; none of my original ideas having yet appeared in print." Barbara, would you believe it, my pretty, favourite blue dress gave rise to this tirade; for I afterwards learnt, that the gown declared my caste upon my entrée, so that I could not even pass for one of the "to be's." Blue is a prohibited colour; it never appears in the dress of any of the initiated, although the lamps of their minds burn of no other tint. 66 Half an hour's silence afforded me time for observation. An authoress's drawing room, (by the way, I beg many an authoress's pardon, for I mean the drawing-room of a Cerulean,") I soon discovered, by no means realized my "beau ideale" of comfort or of elegance. Winter, I have before said, it was; but fire,―alas! there was next to none: a dying spark in the midst of a quantity of black dust, ycleped coal, might, certainly, be discovered by those who were not very short-sighted; but all the present company, save my unfortunate, shivering self, were "blue;" and, consequently, too well warmed by their own self-love, and the delightful rich cordial, (known to us by the name of flattery,) which each was receiving from the other, and most eagerly swallowing, under the delusive appellation of "breathings of sincerity," to feel any of that chilliness, which, at this season, affects those not so well defended against its attacks by the comfortable cloak of literary quackery. The chimney smoked,--that was a trifle; though, in the North, 'tis pronounced to be, next to a scolding wife, one of the greatest miseries of life. A thick layer of dust covered each chair and table, to the certain destruction of white muslins, silks and satins. Such a circumstance, however, imported naught to the literary maîtresse herself; her robe being of that equivocal brown hue, which, in all probability, had once been meant for black, but which, from colour as well as shape, ought to be preserved for a frontispiece to the next Number of the Antiquarian Archæologia. An old spinet, another piece of true antiquity, stood in the corner of the apartment: I guessed it to have been manufactured at the remote period when our great-great-great-grandmothers were, in their girlish love of novelty, sighing for some new-fashioned instrument to take place of the virginals, |