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DR. JOHN COLET, DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL; FOUNDER OF ST. PAUL'S SCHOOL.

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SIR HENRY COLET, the father of the subject of the present notice, was a mercer in the city of London, where he did, by God's blessing upon his industry, arrive to great wealth and honour; retaining always the more eminent character of a wise and honest man.' He was senior sheriff in 1477, and, during the brief but turbulent reign of Richard the Third, was mixed up with public affairs, and managed to escape the fury of the usurper, although he was attached to the cause of his rival. In the beginning of the reign of Henry the Seventh, he was elected Lord Mayor of London, and soon after was knighted,

JOHN COLET, the eldest of two and twenty children, was born in the parish of St. Anthony, in the city of London, in 1466. "At which time it was reputed a sort of nobility to be born and bred in that great city, and more was expected from such than from others." probably received the rudiments of his education at St. Anthony's School in Threadneedle Street, that being the most celebrated seminary within the city at that

time.

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The early death of ten brothers and eleven sisters seems to have made a deep impression upon Colet, and to have disposed him, from his youth, to make religion his chief concern. Rejecting, therefore, all the allurements to the pursuit of wealth, which his father's station held out to him, he applied himself to the study of divinity, choosing St. Paul as his particular master, and exercising himself perfectly in his writings." According to Erasmus, Colet had, during his youth, become well acquainted with the scholastic philosophy of the age; was skilful in Latin and mathematics, and well read in civil and canon law; he had also studied the history and constitution of the church and state, and had "run through all the English poets for the true use of them, to help to correct and embellish his language and skill, and to fit and prepare him for a more eloquent preacher." About the year 1483 he entered Magdalen College, Oxford, where, "after he had spent seven years in logicals and philosophicals, he was licensed to proceed in arts." At this time his reputation for learning was so great, that the highest expectations were formed of him. He left Oxford about the year 1493, and was occupied during the succeeding four years in travelling on the Continent. It was at Paris that Colet first conceived an ardent desire to become acquainted with Erasmus, from seeing some letters by him, and hearing him

praised by the learned men of the French capital. At Rome, Colet improved his knowledge of Latin; and at Padua he advanced himself in Greek.

While yet a novice Colet was preferred several times; he received a living in Suffolk, a prebendary in York, and another in Sarum; a living in Huntingdonshire, and a canonry of St. Martin's-le-Grand in London; also before he was nineteen, he was preferred to the great living of Denington. "This practice of taking livings while a novice has generally (though very irregular and indecent) prevailed in the Church of Rome; and was one of those many abuses which have been since removed by the Reformation. But if he did enter upon a cure of souls before he could sufficiently consider the weighty charge belonging to it, yet by his care, when he came to a more mature age, he atoned for it." He was ordained deacon in 1497, and during the same year was made priest.

Colet is described about this time as being better adapted for a public life than for the confinement of a college or the priest's office. His person was tall and well formed; he was impatient of the smallest injury or affront; he was addicted to luxury and sloth; was greatly disposed to wit and jocoseness, and moreover was somewhat avaricious. "Had he followed these inclinations, which were the alloy of natural corruption and a degenerate age, he had been fitter for any course of life than that of a student and divine. But he gave full proof that true virtue is neither an inability to do evil, nor any natural aversion to it; but a voluntary restraint of the innate tendencies and impulses of flesh and blood to vice and immorality. He conquered and then commanded himself, and brought his high spirit to be subject to reason; so that he could bear a reproof even from his own servant. His disposition to sleep and luxury he restrained by a continual abstinence from suppers, a strict sobriety, a close application to his studies, and by serious and religious conversation. So that, by his philosophy, his divinity, his watchings and life from the pollutions of the world." fastings, and devotions, he preserved every step of his whole

Although exceedingly fond of society, he felt that the and he avoided it; but when forced to be present at a indulgence of this taste was a great temptation to him, public entertainment, he forgot the pleasures of the table in the company of some learned friend, whom he could seek out and talk to in Latin. "Being always jealous of himself, he would therefore be constantly upon his guard, and cautious to the last degree of offending any body; and he so behaved himself in all the minute circumstances of humane life, as if he well knew, the eyes of all people were fixed upon him. There never was a more flowing wit, which for that reason delighted in the like society; but even then, he chose rather to divert to such discourse as savoured most of religion and eternal life. And if ever he still give some turn of philosophy and serious application indulged himself in any light and pleasant stories, he would to them. He was a great lover of little children, admiring the pretty innocence and simplicity in them; and he would

often observe how our Saviour had set them for our ex

ample; being wont to compare them to the angels above."

After having sojourned for a time among his friends in London, Colet retired to Oxford, "for the happy opportunities of a studious and pious life; yet not to be buried, but to let his light shine." Here he delivered public lectures on St. Paul's Epistles which were well attended, not by students only, but by the dignitaries of the Church.

Towards the end of 1497, Colet made the acquaintance of Erasmus, during the visit of this distinguished man to Oxford. Without waiting for a personal introduction through some mutual friend, Colet adopted the simple course of writing to him, stating various reasons why he had so long desired to make his acquaintance, and asking for an interview. Our space will not allow us to quote from these interesting letters more than one short passage. They affect too much that complimentary strain in which the learned men of the time were accustomed to address each other; but there is every

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reason to believe that, in this case the praise mutually bestowed was mutually sincere. Erasmus commends Colet's style as being "easie, smooth, unaffected, flowing from a rich vein, as waters from a clear fountain-head; even, and in every part like itself, open, plain, modest, having nothing in it rugged, or ratling, or turbid, so that he could see the image of his soul in his letters. You speak whatever you mean; and mean all you speak: words arise from your heart rather than your lips; they follow your conception, not your conception them. In short, you have that happy facility that you can deliver without pains what another could hardly express with the greatest labour. But to yourself I refrain from your praises that I may not offend against decency, knowing how unwilling they are to be praised who deserve the greatest praises."

Erasmus, in his delightful letters, makes frequent mention of Colet. On one occasion he notices a public dinner, "where the table-talk was scholastical and theological, Master Colet sitting as moderator. Among other discourse, Colet said that Cain's greatest offence, and the most odious in God's sight, was his distrusting the bounty of our great Creator, and placing too much confidence in his own art and industry; and so tilling the ground, while his brother Abel, content with the natural productions of the earth, was only feeding sheep. Upon this argument the whole company engaged; the divine arguing by strict syllogisms, while Erasmus opposed in a more loose and rhetorical manner. But, in truth," says Erasmus, "this one divine (Master Colet) was more than a match for us all. He seemed to be filled with a divine spirit, and to be somewhat above a man: he spoke not only with his voice, but his eyes, his countenance, and his whole demeanour."

During his stay in Oxford, Erasmus lodged with Richard Charnock, prior of the regulars of the order of St. Austin, with whom Colet had frequent intercourse. "Nothing," says Erasmus, "can be more sweet, lovely, and charming than the temper and conversation of these two men; I could live even in Scythia, or any the remotest part of the world, with two such agreeable friends and companions."

Erasmus was so well pleased with his visit to Oxford, that he repeated it in the following summer, in company with his pupil Lord Mountjoy. In a letter to Colet, he sums up the points debated in the course of various conversations. It appears that Colet had proposed to his friend some "doubts and queries about several darker passages in St. Paul's Epistles, which he, Colet, understood in a sense different from the common acceptation of the Church." "These matters," says Erasmus, "since it is dangerous to dispute openly of them, I had rather reserve them to our private conversation, as fitter for word of mouth than writing." In his reply Colet expresses his anxiety to defend that opinion which is true, or most like the truth. "In the mean time," he says, "I hear you with patience; and when like two flints, we are striking one another, if any spark of light flies out, let us eagerly catch at it: we seek not for our own opinion, but for the truth which in this mutual conflict may perhaps be extorted as fire out of steel."

While Erasmus was at Oxford, Colet was obliged to visit some distant part of England, but the two friends still maintained a constant correspondence, and Colet used to send his own servant to carry and bring back the letters that passed between them.

During his residence at Oxford, Colet exerted himself to introduce a number of reforms into the univerhe endeavoured to enforce a more earnest and sity; painstaking study of the Scriptures than was customary at that time; he endeavoured to promote the study of Greek, against which so singular a prejudice existed; and in this respect he was successful, on account of the very violence of the opposition. A preacher at St. Mary's declaimed openly against "the pernicious innovation of the Greek tongue," and used much violent language, proclaiming every one to be a heretic who understood it; upon this, the students "raised such a

ferment that the king, being then at Woodstock heard of it, and sending for Sir Thomas More and Richard Pace, had the whole matter explained to him in proper terms, upon which his majesty sent his royal letters to the university, not only allowing but commending the study of Greek among the young men*. In 1504 Colet took his degree of Doctor of Divinity, and in the following year was made dean of St. Paul's, "without one single step of his own, but because the king, who loved to give unexpected and undesired favours, thought this preferment very proper for him upon the account of his being a most eminent divine and excellent preacher, and this the chief church in his capital city, who had been twice chief magistrate of that city." as also his being a native of, and the son and heir of one

No sooner was Colet invested with this new dignity, than he used his best exertions to restore the discipline of the cathedral church, which had become very lax, and to revive the practice of preaching, which had fallen into disuse. He preached regularly on Sundays, and on all solemn festivals, and, considering that the Scriptures were at that time confined almost entirely to the clergy, he did not take a desultory text from the gospel or epistle for the day, but preferred to give a series of disPrayer, the Gospel of St. Matthew, the Creed, &c., on some large subject, such as the Lord's These discourses were very popular, and were generally attended by the chief magistrates of the city; and in order that they might not depend upon the exertions of himself alone, Dean Colet sought out other learned and pious men who were able to assist him in the useful work.

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This example produced a favourable effect upon other deans, who also "introduced the pious practice of preaching every Sunday." Public lecturers, also, at the universities, and in the cathedral churches, who had hitherto "taken the liberty of reading upon any book, rather than upon the Holy Scriptures," were also induced to profit by Dean Colet's example in reading and expounding St. Paul's Epistles, or some other parts of Scripture.

Erasmus has left a pleasing picture of the dean's mode of life in private. He says, "The dean's table, which, under the name of hospitality, had before served too much to pomp and luxury, he contracted to a more frugal and temperate way of entertaining. And it having been his custom, for many years, to eat but one meal, that of dined privately with his own family, he had always some dinner, he had always the evening to himself. When he strangers for his guests; but the fewer, because his provision was frugal; which yet was neat and gentle. The sittings were short; and the discourses such as pleased only the learned and the good. As soon as grace before meat was said, some boy with a good voice read distinctly a chapter out of one of St. Paul's Epistles, or out of the prowould pitch upon some particular part of it, and thence verbs of Solomon. When he had done reading, the dean frame a subject-matter of discussion; asking either the

The following amusing anecdote affords a good illustration of the ignorance and prejudice which Colet laboured to remove:

"It was not long after this, that a divine, preaching at court, pre. sumed to rail plentifully at Greek learning. Pace cast his eyes upon the king to observe how his majesty was affected with such stuff. The king smiled upon Pace by way of contempt of the railing, and after the sermon sent for the preacher, and appointed a solemn disputation, wherein he himself would be present, to debate the matter between the preacher opposing, and Mr. Thomas More defending, the use of the Greek tongue. When the time came, Mr. More began an eloquent apology in favour of that ancient language. The divine instead of an. swering to the purpose, fell down upon his knees and only begged pardon for giving any offence in the pulpit; and excusing himself that what he did was by the impulse of the spirit. Not the spirit of Christ,' says the king but the spirit of infatuation.' His majesty then asked him whether he had read anything of Erasmus? He said, 'no.' 'Why then,' says the king, 'you are a very foolish fellow to censure what you never read. I have read,' says he, 'something they call Moria.' 'Yes, says Pace, 'may it please your highness such a subject is fit for such a reader.' At last the preacher, to bring himself the better off, declared that he was now better reconciled to the Greek tongue, because it was derived from the Hebrew! The king, amazed at the ignorance of the man, dismissed him with a charge that he should never again preach at court."

learned, or such as were otherwise of good understanding, what was the meaning of this or that expression: and he would so adapt and temper his discourse, that though it was grave and serious, yet it never tired or gave any distaste. Again, toward the end of dinner, when the company was rather satisfied than satiated, he would throw in another subject of discourse; and thus he dismissed his guests with a double repast, refreshed in their minds as well as bodies; so that they always went away better than they came, and were not oppressed with what they had eat and drunk. He was mightily delighted with the conversation of his friends, which he would sometimes protract till very late in the evening. But all his discourse was either of learning or religion. If he could not get an agreeable companion, (for it was not everybody he did like,) one of his servants read some part of the holy scriptures to him. In his journeys he would sometimes make me his companion; and he was as easy and pleasant as any man living. Yet he always carried a book with him, and all his discourse was seasoned with religion. He was so impatient of whatever was foul or sordid, that he could not bear with any indecent way of speaking. He loved to be neat and clean in his goods, furniture, entertainment, apparel, and books, and whatever belonged to him; and yet he despised all state and magnificence. His habit was only black; though it was then common for the higher clergy to be clad in purple. His upper garment was always of woollen cloth, and plain; which, if the weather was cold and required it, he lined with fur. Whatever came in by his ecclesiastical preferments, he delivered to his steward to be laid out on family occasions, or hospitality. And all that arose from his own proper estate, which was very large, he gave away for pious

and charitable uses."

The strict discipline and the numerous reforms which Dean Colet had revived and introduced, together with the boldness of language with which he reproved vice, whenever he saw occasion, whether in private, or in the pulpit, had the effect of raising up many enemies, who even went so far as to prefer against him a formal charge of heresy,-a word of fatal signification in those days; but Archbishop Warham, who knew the integrity and worth of Dean Colet, did not even trouble him to make a formal answer to the charges brought against him. An appeal seems to have been made to the King against the decision of the Archbishop, for Bishop Latimer says that, when a student, he remembers the noise that the prosecution of Dean Colet for heresy then made, and that "he was not only in trouble, but should have been burnt if God had not turned the King's heart to the contrary."

These troubles and persecutions seemed only to make the good dean more devout and charitable, and caused him to dwell with more earnestness upon heavenly things. Fearing that his fortune, which was very large, might corrupt his mind, and turn it too much towards the world, he resolved to devote the greater portion of it upon some object which might be of perpetual use to his fellow creatures.

The public charity of England had long been bestowed upon the building and adorning of churches; the founding and endowing of monasteries and religious houses; the establishing of chantries and perpetual masses for the souls of the dead. As the monks had long held possession of the learning and knowledge of the times, so they claimed to be the only privileged teachers of youth. Hence it had long been customary for the nobility and gentry to send their sons to some religious house to be educated, and the Dominicans, Franciscans, or Augustin Friars, were generally preferred. The instruction imparted does not seem to have been of a very solid character; for, according to Erasmus, "they had not above three months' time allowed them for learning grammar, and then immediately were posted away to sophistry, logic, suppositions, ampliations, restrictions, expositions, resolutions, and a thousand quibbles, and soon to the mysteries of divinity." But for some time previous to the Reformation, a pretty general feeling had arisen in favour of grammar, as introductory to a critical knowledge of Latin and Greek and it had

become common to endow colleges, and provide for students in the universities.

But as, on account of a deficiency of grammar schools these students were generally sent to the universities badly prepared to pursue their studies, so the state of learning at the universities was then very low; Dean

Colet therefore considered that he should best serve the cause of learning and religion by founding a grammar school for the instruction of youth in Latin and Greek, as being the best and only foundation for academical studies, and especially those of divinity.

the locality of the new establishment. Having thus decided, he was not long in determining "London was

his native city, wherein his father had obtained a fair portion of wealth and honour; and he bore a new relation to it as Dean of the noble cathedral church in the midst of it. He also found the city in nothing more deficient than in public schools for the education of youth."

The particulars respecting the establishment of this school, and its subsequent history, will be stated in another article. It occupied the dean several years of his life; and when completed, his love of retirement seemed to increase upon him. In order to indulge this taste, the dean built a suitable house near Richmond for his future residence. But being twice seized with the sweating sickness, and relapsing into it a third time, a 16th of September, 1519. Thus died, in the fifty-third consumption was the result, which proved fatal on the year of his age, the eminent founder of St. Paul's School, one of the lights of the age in which he lived; an honour to his country, and whose celebrated establishment will perpetuate his name to the latest posterity.

His remains were interred in the choir of his cathe dral, with an humble monument which had been prepared for him several years before, and with no other inscripA memorial more suited to his tion than his name. character and fame was afterwards erected to him by the Company of Mercers; this was destroyed with the cathedral in the dreadful fire which consumed that church in 1666; but a copy of it is given in Dr. Knight's Life of the dean. About the year 1680, while the church was being pulled down for the purpose of being rebuilt, a leaden coffin was found inclosed in the wall, about two feet and a half above the floor. A leaden plate was attached, containing the name of the dean, his dignity, benefactions, &c.

The principal object of the writings of the dean was to promote the right instruction of his school. In our historical sketch of this establishment, these works will be more particularly noticed; but we may here give the following list:-1. Oratio Habita, a Convocation Sermon, preached in 1511. 2. Rudimenta Grammatices, commonly called "Paul's Accidence," for the use of St. Paul's School. 3. The Construction of the Eight Parts of Speech, which, with certain alterations and additions, forms the syntax in Lily's Grammar, 1530. 4. Daily Devotions, or the Christian's Morning and Evening Sacrifice. 5. Monition to a good Life. 6. Epistles to Erasmus. Many of these are printed among the Epistles of Erasmus, and some at the end of Dr. Knight's Life. He wrote but few sermons, as he generally preached without notes. Some of his compositions still remain in manuscript.

THE magician who has become so famous in Europe through Mr. Lane, (Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians, Vol. I. p. 347,) we did not see. But we learned enough on the subject to persuade us, that the whole matter depends on a certain proneness to believe on the part of the spectator, and a series of leading questions on the part of the operator. We were further informed, on good authority, that he exhibits his art only before Franks, and that the native Egyptians know little or nothing about the

matter.-ROBINSON's Palestine.

A TRIP TO DOVER. WITH very few exceptions the prevailing feeling, when one has made up one's mind to leave London, is the wish to get out of it as fast as possible, but no one certainly feels this wish so strongly as the smoke-dried cit, your thorough man of business, who, on the morning of a once-a-year holiday, starts from his home on pleasure bent, after a night spent in dreaming of "green fields and babbling brooks." How great the advantages of the modern system of locomotion in such a case, and how pleasingly in unison with his feelings, the rapid precision of railway arrangements! With a oneshirt carpet bag (that modern implement hated by the whole race of porters) in his hand, he steps into the fastest cab he can get, an agreeable contrast to the lumbering omnibus that conveys him every morning to the bank, and reaches one of the five great focuses from which, in widely diverging lines, the overflowings of this vast metropolis are daily poured over the country.

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There, without the trouble of making up his mind and booking his body days before, he quietly follows the stream, puts himself into the hands of the company's servants, who place him to the best advantage. In the truly descriptive address of a Frenchman to his more nervous or less experienced companion, Soyez tranquille, on nous mettra dans le train." All these steps towards the devoutly-wished consummation of "getting out of town," are extremely satisfactory, and the method and celerity with which the preparations are made, and the clock-work precision of the start and the rapidity with which increasing distance separates you from the objects you have left, renders the accomplishment of the wished-for change of air, place, and ideas, much more complete, and much more rapid than was possible under the old regime.

It was with such feelings, akin to those we can fancy to animate the imprisoned blackbird as he escapes from his long tenanted prison, that we found ourselves the other morning, about half past ten, at the Bricklayers' Arms, and took our seat in a special train provided by the kindness and liberality of the directors. It was one of those freshblowing days whose mild air is peculiarly fitted to invigorate the weary spirit, and it gave additional charms to the landscape by the ever-varying play of light and shade from the flitting clouds. The extensive station, built in remarkably good taste, has a roof so ingeniously light that it makes one instinctively shudder at the recollection of an accident during its erection which proved fatal; but all is now in good order, and we swept out in gallant style from under its protecting shade. The appearance of the converging lines of railway at this point is very remarkable, as they wind on arched terraces, looking like lines of ancient aqueducts, through miles of garden ground in the best order. Passing Dulwich College, where the fair collection of pictures is open to public view, we command the fine view of the wellwooded heights of Bromley, and even see Bromley Hill itself, the village decorated with so much taste by the late Lord Farnborough. Croydon is a little off the line. Here we passed the Brighton mail train, and, being now at liberty to use our own pace, set off in great style towards Reigate. The country continues rich till the line reaches a high ridge of chalk, the geological boundary of the London and plastic clay, commonly called the London basin. At the foot of this ridge a house was pointed out, in the low floor of which the water is said to rise every third year, rendering it uninhabitable. Though intermittent springs, variously explained by philosophers, are not uncommon in some parts of the world, this, if correct, we should imagine to be a solitary instance of so protracted an interval.

A deep cut carries the line into this ridge of chalk, where the sides stand exceedingly steep, at an angle much beyond that usual in such cuttings, because the indurated yet porous structure of the chalk enables it to resist the contraction and expansion of winter's frost and thaw better than clay or gravel. At length the cut becomes too deep, and we enter a tunnel which extends above 5000 feet, where the unexpected accumulation of water from above has rendered a lining of zinc necessary throughout a considerable portion of its extent. The castle of Reigate which stands on a sand hiil furnishing materials for making glass, is very ancient, and in the court is a cave, called the Barons' cave, from a tradition of its having been used in preparing the Magna Charta. Before entering Reigate we pass Gatton Park, the approach to which is one of the finest in England. Leaving Reigate we desert the Brighton line at nearly a right angle and run to the east in a very straight direction, passing through Holmsdale, famous for its oaks, the impene

trable refuge of the Britons when persecuted by the Romans." Some of the descendants of these old protectors of our ancestors still remain, and no native of England can regard them without veneration, though our sympathies may be little disturbed by passing at railway speed through the sacred shades of the Druids.

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We were now fairly on the company's peculiar line, and none certainly is better adapted for speed, with a perfectly straight stretch of forty-five miles, and a ruling gradient of one in two hundred and forty only. Here then the power of our engines, the Shakspeare and the Scott, was put forth, and though we might with equal ease have reached sixty miles an hour, we were satisfied with fifty, and seated as we were on the tender, it appeared fast enough, though it is very remarkable how little extraordinary sensation is experienced by passing through the air at this very rapid rate. It must be confessed that whatever our familiarity with this rate may in time do in breeding contempt of it, at present it appears very satisfactory, and the travellers to Dover need not envy the Great Western its larger gauge, which is said to be peculiarly adapted to great speed. It is impossible to exaggerate the beauty of the country between Reigate and Ashford through Tunbridge. This forms the Weald of Kent; the soil rests on the clay formation, and the sand which stretches over the greater part of the county, surrounded by the greensand and chalk. Here the timber is luxuriant, and though the wheat may not this season be a very heavy crop, and the beans are indifferent, the hops are healthy, and nothing can be more rich than the whole appearance of the country. Nevertheless, the whole of this country requires draining very much, and the strong soil is considered, from the water with which it is surcharged, inferior to the rest of the county. One great obstacle to improvement has been the want of good roads and the difficulty of carrying the produce to market, and bringing back manure. We were assured nothing could be greater than the contrast of travelling as we were now doing, and the obstructions which the natural character of the country and the wretched state of communication presented to the works in progress.

The value of this great trunk as a thoroughfare will become every day more apparent, and already the change is very great. Coals which at Ashford cost formerly thirtyfour shillings per ton, are now reduced to twenty-four shillings, and lime which, until draining becomes general, is the only corrective of the cold land in this district, is now much used. The breed of cattle is generally the Devon, but there is a long-horned black breed mixed with them, resembling the Welsh. The sheep are not the South-downs, but a white-faced breed resembling the Notts of the West of England. At Ashford the railway bends towards the south, and very soon the face of the country changes, and we again enter the chalk, which is bare of trees, and presents a succession of rising grounds that continue all the way to Folkstone. The present station is considerably above the harbour, and about a quarter of a mile distant. We reached it five minutes before one, having accomplished eighty-two miles in less than two hours and a quarter. An omnibus was ready to take us to the pier, but a branch railroad is now in preparation, and it is to be recorded to the honour of an old inhabitant of Folkstone, that he said he was so well aware of the benefit the railway must confer upon his native place, that he would put the garden, which had been the joy of his life for fifty years, into the hands of the company and take what they chose to offer for it. It is an ancient landing place mentioned by the name of "Fulcheston" in Doomsday Book, and here the French made a descent and burned the town in 1378. The town hangs upon the steep slopes and is ill-built, but its former inhabitants, the fishermen, are likely to give place to much more fashionable residents. The company, finding they could make no reasonable terms with the former trustees, were forced to purchase the harbour, and have spent a large sum of money in clearing it. Unfortunately a strong current from the west brings in an immense quantity of shingle, to avoid which, and obtain a low water pier, a plan has been made for extending the present pier at an expense of 80,0007.

We partook of a déjeuner served in the Harbour house kept for the meetings of the company. After luncheon the offer to put one of the Company's steamers in requisition for a little trip was gladly accepted, and we embarked in the far-famed Princess Mary, an iron boat, which has beat everything she has tried speed with. She makes the trajet to Boulogne, 26 miles, in one hour and fifty minutes, and is the fastest steamer ever built. Nothing could exceed

the effect of the changing lights as we rounded the pier-speare Tunnel, which is constructed with a double archway, head and stood along to Sandgate, about three miles to the the openings having an appearance, from Folkstone, like west. It stands prettily, but the accommodation is evi- two black figures against the chalk cliff. This tunnel, dently very limited. The whole coast, however, presents which is 4000 feet long, was constructed with two parallel that varied appearance of broken ground and sea-beach lines and lofty Gothic arches, in the vain hope that the which may well tempt a townsman to exchange for it his partition wall of chalk between would stand without buildcity haunts in the dog days. Here one may feel as if ing. It ended with the whole being cased in brick. It is shaking hands with our opposite neighbours, not only from a very fine work, and we were enabled to examine it with the appearance of the Company's servants with Interprête great care, the engine being made to go slow, and blue Français on their collars, and the crowd of foreigners lights burned. Thus we see that above two miles out of leaving the steamer, which only two hours ago was made the six are actually tunnelled; and besides, the immense fast to the French shore, but from the distinct view sea wall, and the cliff broken down soon after issuing obtained of the Cape Gris Nez and a considerable stretch from the Shakspeare Tunnel, as if to exhaust every species of coast. The effect produced by the good-humoured of difficulty in this extraordinary work, the road is carried mixture of all classes on the railways cannot be overvalued. along the face of the cliff upon a gallery, with the sea There is something in the facilities they afford compared rolling beneath for a long space, till at length it enters the with the old modes of travelling, the perfect respectability terminus through one of the bastions of the outworks, of the whole management, and the civility of their ser- which was tunnelled. The station is of enormous extent vants, that not only inspire confidence, but promote a and extremely well arranged. It approaches very near to feeling of ease and cheerfulness, in strong contrast to the the Docks, which we inspected. Here too the want of a anxiety and constant attitude of self-defence, which was low-water pier is much felt. The harbour is besides liable the natural position of every traveller under the old regime. to be filled up by the immense quantities of gravel which This effect is now carried a step further by the facilities the sea, in a westerly wind, transports to its entrance, for intercourse with our continental neighbours, which the forming a bar very inconvenient for shipping. Mr. Walker, railways have so materially promoted. Whatever may be the engineer, was consulted about removing this obstructhe difference of character, sufficient points of sympathy tion, and advised, what appears to be successful, a dock near exist when the salient angles are a little rubbed off, and the mouth of the harbour, which keeps back every tide a our strangest mutual prejudices subdued. It is certainly supply of water to be let out with a rush through sluices. most undesirable that we should import indiscriminately This has proved very useful in clearing the harbour at small every novelty we see on the other side of the water, but expense. The appearance of the place is picturesque, surthe danger of this is greatly exaggerated, and at all events rounded on three sides with irregular hills, the sea forming its greatest force existed on the first opening of the conti- a little bay sheltered from the west. nent, and is now much diminished, because the natural impulse of national character has resumed its power, and discrimination is certainly not deficient to assist our judgment. But we have many mouths to feed and many hands to employ at home, and every little opening must be seized to extend our acquaintance and form connections. Every mile per hour that our steamers gain by modern improvements, every pound of fuel that can be economized, contributes to extend our market, and if we can but push these accessions of power fast enough and far enough, in increasing our production of food at home and bringing nearer to us our colonial and foreign correspondents, no fear that even our enormous production will not find outlets for our industry. To revert to our journey, after the return of the steamer, we again took our places in the omnibus in order to regain the Folkstone station, from which point we commenced the six miles towards Dover. Looking at the white wall which extends in continuous cliffs along the coast in that direction, and the admirable accommodations at Folkstone, one can scarcely help feeling that every useful object was gained by the completion of the line thus far, and a good turnpike road might have been sufficient to Dover, while a part of the enormous outlay of £100,000 per mile for the last portion might have been spent in improving Folkstone harbour; but the public demand for the extension could not be resisted, and though the authorities at Dover appear to have given very little encouragement, (except the Government, who afforded every facility as far as the necessary interference with the fortifications was concerned,) the benefit to the town and harbour must be very great.

On leaving the station at Folkstone, we begin almost immediately to enter the lower chalk hills, and after a long eut with very steep sides, pass through the Martello Tunnel, so called from having one of those towers above it, forming a part of the range of forts erected, during the last war, along the line of this coast. This tunnel extends to 1848 feet, and immediately on leaving it we enter the Abbott's Cliff, 5685 feet long. Beyond this tunnel that extraordinary operation, the blasting of the cliff, took place. As described by an eye-witness, the scene must have been imposing in the highest degree. The cliff is several hundred feet high at this point, and so deeply was the mine sunk that the signal gun was the loudest report they heard. There was a violent tremor of the earth, and the tremendous mass reft from the mountain side by the force of the gunpowder, (of which 18,000lbs. are said to have been used,) sunk with majestic deliberation into the sea, the flag-staff still standing upright on the top. It is perhaps to be regretted that the rough masses have all been smoothed, and the black stain on the face of the cliff was of course speedily obliterated by the weather. Beyond this point a sea wall of 4533 feet has been erected as a barrier, and we enter the Shak

The castle has a good effect on the heights. The Marine Terrace, the fashionable residence, encircles a part of the beach with very handsome houses, much resorted to now at the best season. The probable result of the rivalry between the two ports of Dover and Folkstone will be, that the latter will retain almost all the traffic to Paris, especially after the railway is carried from thence to Boulogne, while Dover will attract from London almost all the passengers going by Calais and Ostend to the Northern parts of Europe. Already the arrangements enable you to reach Brussels in one day from London, where you can pay the whole fare beforehand, as well as to Cologne, &c. We remained on the pier some time enjoying the sea breeze, and watching the bustle of the port, which gives it an interest that Brighton and most other places of the kind along the coast cannot command. But, besides the views and the constant variety of a sea-port, Dover retains many curious relics of the Roman power in Britain, which are well worthy of the attention of the antiquary, and although Shakspeare's mistake in describing the gathering of samphire on these cliffs has been perpetuated by giving his name to them, his admirable description of the bold bluff promontory renders that interesting object not unworthy of such an appellation. Returning to the train, and passing again through the wonderful works which render this line one of the most striking instances of perseverance and scientific power, we reached London at an early hour in the evening, in a glorious sunset,....St. Paul's glittering like burnished gold,....after a day full of variety and interest, such as could alone be enjoyed in the present age, and is undoubtedly one of its most curious characteristics.

THE DEAD.

[From the German of KLOPSTOCK.]
How they so softly rest,
All, all the holy dead,
Unto whose dwelling-place
Now doth my soul draw near!
How they so softly rest,
All in their silent graves,
Deep to corruption
Slowly down-sinking!
And they no longer weep,
Here, where complaint is still!
And they no longer feel,
Here, where all gladness flies
And, by the cypresses

Softly o'ershadowed,

Until the Angel

Calls them, they slumber!-LONGFELLOW.

JOHN W. PARKFR, PUBLISHER, WEST STRAND, LONDON

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