upon future generations. Its liberty is tyranny under a mask; its equality is a mischievous fiction; its fraternity is cold self-interest; it is a political willo'-the-wisp, dazzling nations with its false lustre, and causing them at last to wander in mazes of darkness and difficulty. What has democracy done for the Old World? Did it not convert a European city, the centre of civilisation, into a hell upon earth, and decree a reign of terror, rivalling in horrors a siege of Jerusalem? What

has it done for the New? Compare the Englishman and the Yankee-can any transformation be more complete? The stout, hearty, honest fellow, whose "word is as good as his bond," has dwindled down into a lean speculator, whose only gesture betokening merriment, is the chuckle which he makes over a bargain much to his advantage.

Jonathan, bold upstart boy! you have despised paternal wisdom, you must reap the reward of your folly; your faults are those of froward youth; you must be whipped into propriety by that unsparing criticism which you so boldly challenge, by setting yourself up so far above your elders and your betters. It is on these grounds, and also because the child is spoiled when the rod is spared, that we Englishmen take the liberty of belabouring you with your own stripes.

While America places all power in the hands of a mob, the people of England, instead of grasping at that which would profit little, are content to leave the care of their liberties in the hands of their proper guardians. They send representatives to a House of Commons, but they do not grudge the high hereditary privileges of a House of Lords, nor have they yet made the discovery that the crown is a useless bauble.

If we have somewhat declined from our ancient principles, we have not yet forsworn them all. Our nearest neighbour, emulating the vivacity of youth, has for many years been in the habit of indulging in juvenile frolics. It has had its gala days-its 14th of July-its 10th of August-its 21st of January-and its 22nd of February ; but England still maintains the gravity suited to its years, and boasts only of its 10th of April-a day when, to the disappointment of innovators, Englishmen showed that the rich promises of a people's charter could not tempt them to forego their

attachment to the venerable fabric of government which their fathers had raised. In spite of all endeavours to undermine and subdue it, attachment to loyalty is still dominant in the little isles over which the red flag waves. Time cannot impair, evil example cannot affect it. While France drives a royal race into exile, while America delights in humbling its chief magistrate, the people of England pay the same enthusiastic homage to Queen Victoria that they did nearly three centuries ago to Queen Elizabeth. Wherever she appears, assembled multitudes, with uncovered heads, pour forth the ready cheer to greet the representatives of an ancient line of kings. Long may sentiments of loyalty animate our breasts; perhaps a time may come when Englishmen shall grudge the tribute of respect to exalted rank, when ́ our sovereigns shall be degraded into private citizens, when titles shall be ignored, nobility abolished; but ere that day should arrive, I had rather see Britain, in her glory, sink beneath the foam of the ocean. Better that a convulsion of nature should destroy every vestige of our greatness, than that magnanimous England should succumb to` the genius of democracy.

Mob rule has never been regarded with favour in England. We scorn the fallacy that the will of the multitude is the sole law. Our government has a more stable foundation, and is based upon a more certain wisdom. We believe that principles, rather than men, ought to rule; that justice, and not popular clamour, should sway the sceptre. Our representative institutions, as they exist in a House of Commons-our bulwarks of inherited dignity, as embodied in a House of Peers-our supreme executive and legislative power, as vested in the Crown and its servants-and our State Church, influeneing the whole frame of government-all point to one end, and move in concert towards the same object-the protection of the rights of the subject, and that maintenance of law and order by which public happiness can alone be secured. Thus we are saved from the miserable results of individual caprice. Oriental tyrants do what they please with the people under them; and the democrats of the West treat those above them in whatever way suits their fancy. But Britain has a more proper respect for the rights of her children, and ba

lances the scales with a more equal hand.

Church and State-that conservative union so odious to the democrat-is, and ought to be, our grand boast. It is this institution which has had so great a share in making England what she is. Protected by the State, the Church, in days of spiritual absolutism, had dared to resist the encroachments of a power whose will was law, and at whose nod monarchs were dethroned, and kingdoms uprooted. That Church at length threw off entirely the yoke of a foreign potentate, and, purifying herself from the dross of superstition, rose a clear luminary, displaying all the brightness of early Christianity. True daughter of the apostles, she stands midway between Rome and Geneva, a fair example of Christian meekness and forbearance. Saints have been her champions, and kings have been numbered amongst her martyrs. She has been the friend of Britain; she prays for the Crown, and for the prosperity of the kingdom. She is, at once, the people's monitor, and the people's comforter. Charity smiles on her brow, and peace marks her footsteps. When

England rejoices, or when England weeps, when we crown a sovereign, or pay the last tribute of respect to a hero, she is there, to hallow alike a nation's smiles, or a nation's tears.

The humblest piety, and the most exalted learning are equally protected by her. She has the dignity of Rome, without its tawdry splendour and meretricious ornament; and the quiet village church, around which "the rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep," is as much her home as the solemn cathedral, rich in historic association, where groined arches echo the inspired strains of Handel. Guardian of liberty, mother of justice, friend of virtue-long may the Church of England flourish!

And shall we quarrel with institutions like these?-shall we, in a rash moment, shiver into atoms the work of centuries, and bring to an end, the longest and most glorious chapter that the world's chronicle contains?-shall we snap the links that bind us to a brilliant past, by suddenly destroying our Church, our hereditary monarchy, our aristocratic institutions, our laws of inheritance? Oh, never! The heroic dust which lies piled upon our shores would find a tongue; the spirits

of our fathers would rise to rebuke us, if we dared to attempt such an act of sacrilege. For where, since the world began, has been seen such a nation? Like a proud ship she has swept past all competitors, and leads the race of civilisation; her heroes, patriots, philosophers, statesmen, bards, and orators, have left all others far behind. All that is grand in science, all that is noble in literature, all that is lovely in art, she has achieved; and she stands at this day a beacon to the whole world, and proudly proclaims to all, that greatness is the companion of the nation that cherishes the traditions of the past, and that adopts for its motto, "Fear God, and honour the King."

Oh! England, in thy powerful empire who cannot discern the arm mighty to protect? Thy flag floats high in the breeze, triumphant through a thousand fights by flood and field-a halo of glory surrounds it. Tyranny has bowed before this ancient heirloom of strong hearts and hands; and prostrate nations have lifted up their heads to bless the red ensign of liberty-the standard of the free! Thy fleets sweep round the globe, and bear back all the treasures of the earth to thy shores; ambassadors from far and near, and natives of many a distant land, come to gaze on thy wonders, and pay the tribute of respect to the far-famed nation; and the grey ivy-mantled walls of the old castle, and the dim towers of the ancient minster, peep forth from the wreck of feudal times, to tell how long England has been a kingdom.

Oh, England! dear England!-in thy favoured land who cannot discern the sunshine of an eternal smile? Thy clime is genial. On thy fair bosom the richest harvests pour forth their abundance, and roses cluster round the cottages of the poor. Fair are thy landscapes, and beauty dwells among thy children. Thine are the hearts that feel, and the eyes that drop tears at the tale of misery. In thee the fatherless can find a home, and pity looks down upon all that are desolate and oppressed; and, while the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral, towering above the grandest city in the world, tells that the "isles of the Gentiles" have listened to the great Apostle, a woman sits on the throne, and the people cry,

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN !

upon future generations. Its liberty is tyranny under a mask; its equality is a mischievous fiction; its fraternity is cold self-interest; it is a political willo'-the-wisp, dazzling nations with its false lustre, and causing them at last to wander in mazes of darkness and difficulty. What has democracy done for the Old World? Did it not convert a European city, the centre of civilisation, into hell a upon earth, and decree a reign of terror, rivalling in horrors a siege of Jerusalem? What has it done for the New? Compare the Englishman and the Yankee-can any transformation be more complete? The stout, hearty, honest fellow, whose "word is as good as his bond," has dwindled down into a lean speculator, whose only gesture betokening merriment, is the chuckle which he makes over a bargain much to his advantage.

Jonathan, bold upstart boy! you have despised paternal wisdom, you must reap the reward of your folly; your faults are those of froward youth; you must be whipped into propriety by that unsparing criticism which you so boldly challenge, by setting yourself up so far above your elders and your bet

ters. It is on these grounds, and also because the child is spoiled when the rod is spared, that we Englishmen take the liberty of belabouring you with your own stripes.

While America places all power in the hands of a mob, the people of England, instead of grasping at that which would profit little, are content to leave the care of their liberties in the hands of their proper guardians. They send representatives to a House of Commons, but they do not grudge the high hereditary privileges of a House of Lords, nor have they yet made the discovery that the crown is a useless bauble.

If we have somewhat declined from our ancient principles, we have not yet forsworn them all. Our nearest neighbour, emulating the vivacity of youth, has for many years been in the habit of indulging in juvenile frolics. It has had its gala days-its 14th of July-its 10th of August-its 21st of January-and its 22nd of February ; but England still maintains the gravity suited to its years, and boasts only of its 10th of April-a day when, to the disappointment, of innovators, Englishmen showed that the rich promises of a people's charter could not tempt them to forego their

attachment to the venerable fabric of government which their fathers had raised. In spite of all endeavours to undermine and subdue it, attachment to loyalty is still dominant in the little isles over which the red flag waves. Time cannot impair, evil example cannot affect it. While France drives a royal race into exile, while America delights in humbling its chief magistrate, the people of England pay the same enthusiastic homage to Queen Victoria that they did nearly three centuries ago to Queen Elizabeth. Wherever she appears, assembled multitudes, with uncovered heads, pour forth the ready cheer to greet the representatives of an ancient line of kings. Long may sentiments of loyalty animate our breasts; perhaps a time may come when Englishmen shall grudge the tribute of respect to exalted rank, when our sovereigns shall be degraded into private citizens, when titles shall be ignored, nobility abolished; but ere that day should arrive, I had rather see Britain, in her glory, sink beneath the foam of the ocean. Better that a convulsion of nature should destroy every vestige of our greatness, than that magnanimous England should succumb to the genius of democracy.

Mob rule has never been regarded with favour in England. We scorn the fallacy that the will of the multitude is the sole law. Our government has a more stable foundation, and is based upon a more certain wisdom. We be lieve that principles, rather than men, ought to rule; that justice, and not popular clamour, should sway the sceptre. Our representative institutions, as they exist in a House of Commons-our bulwarks of inherited dignity, as embodied in a House of Peers-our supreme executive and legislative power, as vested in the Crown and its servants-and our State Church, influencing the whole frame of government—all point to one end, and move in concert towards the same object-the protection of the rights of the subject, and that maintenance of law and order by which public happiness can alone be secured. Thus we are saved from the miserable results of individual caprice. Oriental tyrants do what they please with the people under them; and the democrats of the West treat those above them in whatever way suits their fancy. But Britain has a more proper respect for the rights of her children, and ba