« AnteriorContinuar »
those of a fortified monastery. Situated near the estuary of the Humber, and exposed to the hostile attacks with which this part of the coast was often visited, Thornton Abbey united the military with the religious character in its establishment; and if we could now be made acquainted with its early annals, we should doubtless. read of many a stout battle fought by the defenders of this venerable pile. Originally the inclosure consisted of an extensive quadrangle, nearly approaching to a square, surrounded by a deep ditch and high ramparts. The gate-house formed the western, and perhaps the only entrance, and was in itself a fortress of no mean proportions. A broad ditch flowed in front, and, the entrance road, crossing it, was bounded on each side by walls projecting obliquely from the gateway, and terminating in two round towers, between which there was formerly a drawbridge. In each wall are fourteen niches provided with loop-holes; the front of the tower is also thickly studded with loop-holes, formerly, no doubt, on many occasions, well manned with archers. There is no window in the front of this building, but the deficiency this respect is well compensated by beautiful niches with statues, and ornamental sculpture. These combined with six embattled turrets, form a very elegant façade. Three of the statues still remain, being those of the Virgin, John the Baptist, and some mitred
Immediately over the entrance arch is a parapet four feet broad, upon which a small doorway opens, leading from the little cell of the porter or watchman. There is a groove for an immense portcullis, and part of the great wooden doors are still pendant on their massy hinges. The roof of the archway is finely groined, and the ribs are supported by elegant brackets, enriched with flowers and figures. The materials employed in the construction of this building consist of a mixture of brick, freestone, and cauk. The plain surface on the outside is chiefly brick; most of the turrets, arches, battlements, canopies, figures, mouldings, and ornaments are cut in freestone; the internal walls are chiefly of a soft cauk, found in the neighbourhood. Over the gateway are two rooms, and four handsome hexagonal towers form the four angles. A winding staircase opens into a spacious apartment, generally called the refectory; but with greater reason, supposed to have been the guest hall, perhaps the identical apartment in which Henry the Eighth, and Queen Katherine Howard, were entertained in 1541. Mr. Greenwood describes this room as measuring forty-seven feet, by nearly twenty-eight feet, with a fine place at each end, that at the upper end being of unusual breadth. This room receives light from the rear and the side of the building, there being, as already stated, no windows in front. On the east of the guest hall is a small room, with a beautiful oval window, exhibiting the remains of masterly masonry. On the south side of this is a piscina, and on each side of the window are two recesses. This room is separated from the principal apartment by a depressed pointed arch. "Another room has evidently existed above: three very large corbel figures, that have originally supported the middle beams, still remain; their distorted features bespeak the heavy burden they were wont to support; the waggish sculptor has endeavoured to alleviate one, by ingeniously placing a cushion upon his shoulders." Round these rooms were corridors, or passages, for the bowmen to all the turrets on both fronts.
pillar. The entrance was from the south-west, and appears to have communicated with the cloisters. Four of the sides were in all probability completely closed, and the other four admitted the light. This building was highly decorated, having round it, under its handsome windows, an arcade, consisting of pointed arches with cinquefoil heads, and in the centre of each an ornamented trefoil pendant drop. Adjoining the entrance to the chapter-house is an arched room, with pointed recesses for seats, like the stalls in our cathedral choirs. This apartment seems to have had no other entrance than one from the cloisters, and has been supposed to be a secret council chamber. The chapterhouses and other council rooms of the ecclesiastics of those days, too often recall to mind the tyrannical laws, and dreadful punishments, resulting from priestly domination. In taking down a wall in the ruins of the abbey of Thornton, a human skeleton was found, with a table, a book, and a candlestick. The skeleton was supposed to have been that of the fourteenth abbot, who for some crime was sentenced to that most horrible of punishments, the being immured, or built up, in the wall of the edifice, there to suffer the agonies of being buried alive.
To the east of the gateway, at a little distance, are the remains of the Abbey Church, which seems formerly to have been a considerable pile of building. United to the south transept of the church was the chapter-house, an octagonal building, part of which is still standing. Its sides measure exactly eighteen feet, consequently its diameter was about forty-four. From the remains of one of its ponderous buttresses, Mr. Greenwood thinks it probable that the roof was supported without a central
The site of the Abbey Church was some years ago explored by the proprietor, Lord Yarborough, and the investigation opened to view a great number of gravestones, which were evidently not displaced when the edifice fell on hem, and have been only broken and defaced by the fallen materials. Among these the gravestone of one of the abbots has been discovered, but it is much broken, and is unfortunately deficient at the place where the name stood, but the date which occurs on this stone being 1439, gives some clue to the individual. The name of this abbot is not, however, given in the list of the abbots of Thornton, but John Hoton is stated to have succeeded to the dignity in 1439.
In the south of the ruins of the church is a building now occupied as a farm-house, which is generally spoken of as the abbot's lodge, and considered to be the remains of the edifice so called; but it appears like a comparatively modern cottage, and was most likely built with the old materials of the original lodge. A residence of the abbots undoubtedly occupied this site, and the estate afterwards became the seat of Edward Skinner, Esq., who married Ann, daughter of Sir William Wentworth, brother to the unfortunate Earl of Strafford. The estate was purchased from one of the Skinner family by Sir Richard Sutton, Bart., in whose family it continued several years. It is now in the possession of Lord Yarborough. The arms of Mortimer, in three shields, having between the two uppermost a pastoral staff, are said to have been the arms of the abbey. This indicates that the site once belonged to that family, and it is thought likely that the founder might become possessed of the estate by his marriage with the daughter of Roger, earl of Mortimer.
The village of Thornton-Curtis, about a mile eastward from the abbey, also once formed part of the possessions of William, earl of Albemarle. The manorial estates afterwards came into the possession of Henry Percy, first earl of Northumberland, who was slain in an engagement with the forces of Henry the Fourth on Bramham Moor, in February, 1407-8. He was succeeded in this estate by Henry, the second earl, who, on the breaking out of the civil wars between the houses of York and Lancaster, adhered to the interest of the latter, and was slain in May, 1455, in an engagement at St. Albans. The manor, which comprises the whole parish, except the site and possessions of the monastery, is, or was, a few years ago, the property of Charles Winn, esq.
The church of Thornton is a neat structure of the early English architecture, consisting of a nave with aisles, a chancel, and a tower. The church is dedicated to St. Lawrence. The living is a vicarage, valued in the King's books at 5l. 18s. 4d. There is a curious old font
in this church, evidently of Saxon workmanship, and which much resembles that in Lincoln Cathedral: its top is square, each face being sculptured with wiverns, and other strange animals. It stands upon a curious pedestal, and has a pillar in each corner.
The notices of Thornton Abbey are few, and scattered at present, but it is to be hoped that a more complete history of that interesting structure will yet appear. The materials are not wanting, though they have to be sought for in many places. Among the best popular accounts may be mentioned those of Greenwood, in his Picturesque Tour to Thornton Abbey, and of Saunders, in his History of the County of Lincoln. Very excellent engravings of the abbey are also given in HOWLETT's Views in Lincolnshire, from one of which our illustration is taken.
ON THE INTELLECTUAL QUALITIES OF MILTON.
In speaking of the intellectual qualities of Milton, we may begin by observing, that the very splendour of his poetic fame has tended to obscure or conceal the extent of his mind, and the variety of its energies and attainments. To many he seems only a poet, when in truth he was a profound scholar, a man of vast compass of thought, imbued, thoroughly, with all ancient and modern learning, and able to master, to mould, to impregnate, with his own intellectual power, his great and various acquisitions. He had not learned the superficial doctrine of a later day, that poetry
flourishes most in an uncultivated soil, and that imagination shapes its brightest visions from the mists of a superstitious age; and he had no dread of accumulating knowledge, lest he should oppress and smother his genius. He was conscious of that within him, which could quicken all knowledge, and wield it with ease and might; which could give freshness to old truths, and harmony to discordant thoughts; which could bind together, by living ties and mysterious affinities, the most remote discoveries; and rear fabrics of glory and beauty from the rude materials which other minds had collected. Milton had that universality which marks the highest order of intellect. Though accustomed almost from infancy, to drink at the fountains of classical literature, he had nothing of the pedantry and fastidiousness, which disdains all other draughts. His healthy mind delighted in genius, in whatever soil, or in whatever age it has burst forth, and poured out its fulness. He understood too well the right, and dignity, and pride of creative imagination, to lay on it the laws of the Greek or Roman school. Parnassus was not to him the only holy ground of genius. He felt that poetry was a universal presence. Great minds were everywhere his kindred. He felt the enchantment of oriental fictions; surrendered himself to the strange creations of "Araby the blest;" and delighted still more in the romantic spirit of chivalry, and in the tales of wonder in which it was embodied. Accordingly, his poetry reminds us of the ocean, which adds to its own boundlessness contributions from all regions under heaven. Nor was it only in the department of imagination, that his acquisitions were vast. He travelled over the whole field of knowledge, as far as it had been then explored. His various philological attainments were used to put him in possession of the wisdom stored in all countries where the intellect had been cultivated. The natural philosophy, metaphysics, ethics, history, theology, and political science of his own and former times, were familiar to him. Never was there a more unconfined mind; and we would cite Milton as a practical example of the benefits of that universal culture of intellect, which forms one distinction of our times, but which some dread as unfriendly to original thought. Let such remember that mind is in its own nature diffusive. Its object is the universe, which is strictly one, or bound together by infinite connexions and correspondences; and accordingly, its natural progress is from one to another field of thought; and, wherever original power or creative genius exists, the mind, far from being distracted or oppressed by the variety of its acquisitions, will see more and more bearings, and hidden and beautiful analogies in all the objects of knowledge; will see mutual light shed from truth to truth; and will compel, as with a kingly power, whatever it understands to yield some tribute of proof, or illustration, or splendour, to whatever topic it would unfold.-C.
THE three requisites of song: thought that shows genius, fancy directed by art, and truth.
The three embellishments of song: fine invention, happy subject, and a masterly harmonious composition. The three excellencies of song: simplicity of language, simplicity of subject, and simplicity of invention. The three necessaries of song: dignified intention, thought, and matter.
The three commendables of song: praise without flattery, pleasantry without obscenity, and satire without
The three diversities of song; diversity of thought, language; and versification.
The three beauties of song: attraction, eloquence, and boldness.
The three sweets of song: facility of comprehenthoughts. sion, sprightliness of language, and sweetly soothing
The three agreements that ought to be in song: between digression and uniformity, between elevated and common language, and between truth and the marvellous.
The three things that improve song: the studying it thoroughly, the examining of it frequently, and exerting it to the utmost.
The three appropriates of song: its quantity, its purpose, and its occasion.
The three properties of song: correct fancy, correct order, and correct metre.
The three honours of song: the verity of the thing the manner in which it is managed. treated of, the excellency of it, and the ingenuity of
The three attractions of song: novelty, comprehension, and correct poetry.
The three things which ought to pervade song: perfect learning, perfect vigour, and perfect nature.
The three intentions of song: to improve the understanding, to improve the heart, and to soothe the
The three materials of song: language, invention, and art.
The three indispensables of language: purity, copiousness, and aptness.
The three qualities wherein consist the purity of a language: original formation, use, and matter.
The three ways that a language may be rendered copious: by diversifying synonymous words, by a variety of compound epithets, and a multiformity of expression.
The three branches of the aptitude of a language: what is understood, what affords pleasure, and what is believed.
The three uses of language: to relate, to excite, and to describe-CATHRALL's History of North Wales.
CHOICE OF COMPANY.-Be very circumspect in the choice of thy company; in the society of thine equals thou shalt enjoy more pleasure; in the society of thy superiors thou shalt find more profit.-QUARLES.
ARGUMENT.-Let the end of thy argument be rather to discover a doubtful truth than a commanding wit; in the one thou shalt gain substance, in the other froth: that flint strikes the steel in vain that produces no sparkles.—Quarles.
HASTY WORDS.-Give not thy tongue too great liberty, lest it take thee prisoner: a word unspoken is, like the sword in thy scabbard, thine; if vented, thy sword is in another's hand.-QUARLES.
ORATORY.-Clothe not thy language either with obscudarkness, in the other too much lightness: he that speaks rity or affectation: in the one thou discoverest too much from the understanding to the understanding, is the best interpreter.-QUARLES,
IN the county of Cornwall there still exist the remains of several rude circular buildings or hill castles, which are seated on the summits of hills and have the most picturesque effect. The walls, which were originally built of stones without mortar, are now thrown down, and lying in a ridge; but the keep in general retains enough of its original character to give a tolerable idea of its ancient appearance. In the narrowest part of Cornwall, from St. Michael's Mount to the Land's End, there are seven of these castles, the most remarkable of which are Caerbrân Castle, Castle Andinas, and Chûn Castle. The circular wall of Caerbrân Castle is ninety paces in diameter, surrounded by a ditch fifteen yards wide; beyond which is an earth-work fifteen feet high, and another ditch fifteen feet in width. Castle Andinas stands on the highest hill in the hundred of Penwith, and consists of two stone walls built one within the other in a circular form. The ruin has fallen on either side of the walls, and shows the work to have been of great height and thickness. A third wall appears to have been built more than half way round, but left unfinished: the diameter of the whole was four hundred feet, and the principal ditch sixty feet wide. Within the walls are many little inclosures of a circular form, supposed by Dr. Borlase to have been so many huts, for the accommodation of the garrison. Near the middle of the area is a well almost choked with its own ruins, and at a little distance is a narrow pit, its sides walled round, probably dug for water also, but now filled with rubbish. The construction of this castle apparently did not differ much from that of Caerbrân. But the most regular structure of the kind is Castle Chûn, in the parish of Morvah, which stands on an eminence above the Atlantic Ocean, and commands an extensive view of the Bristol Channel, Mount's Bay, &c. This ruin is of an oval form, consisting of two walls, now thrown down, and forming high ridges of stones. The inner area measures one hundred and twenty-five feet from east to west, and one hundred and ten feet from north to south. The outer wall seems to have
been about five feet wide, the inner eight feet, but thicker towards the foundation. "By the ruins of these walls, (says Dr. Borlase,) I judge that the outer could not be less than ten feet high, and the innermost fifteen, or within were probably shelters from the weather. Some rather more, and both well perfected; the apartments rude ones of like use we have taken notice of in other examples; but these are much more regularly disposed, and indeed the whole of this work, the neatness and regularity of the walls, providing such security for their entrance, flanking, and dividing their fosse, shows a military knowledge superior to that of any other works of this kind which I have seen in Cornwall."
Of the seven castles here alluded to, some are not one mile, none more than three miles distant from each other, so that from the first you can see the second, and so on; and this narrow spot where the castles are so frequent, is in no place more than six miles distant from the sea. All the seven agree in having no vestige of dwellings within them; but only of low huts for soldiers: most of them have some part of their fortifications left unfinished, and all have their castles dismantled. On these accounts, the antiquarian above quoted, does not hesitate to pronounce these particular fortresses Danish in their origin. The Danes chose this western part of Cornwall for disembarking their troops, and planting their garrisons, because small parties were not so easily surrounded, forced, and cut off here, as they would have been in a more extended country. They doubtless placed them in sight of each other, that the alarm might reach from one castle to another, or signals for assembling be easily communicated. They also placed them near the sea to give notice to their fleet, and discover the ships of the enemy; and in making these castles only temporary shelters, and not comfort able abodes, they only did what restless invaders and natives of a colder climate might be expected to do The outer parts were probably left unfinished, when their generals, either satiated with plunder, or because of the advanced season, called off their garrisons. They were finally dismantled, no doubt by the incensed
Britons, who had suffered too much from the garrisons | Queen Elizabeth's time, abolished it as a superfluous they contained, not to hate the sight of their forbidding
charge to the crown." Tintagel had been made a state prison in the reign of Richard II., and at that time the custody of the castle was given to persons of rank and consequence. John Holland, Earl of Huntingdon, was made constable in 1388. The only state-prisoners whose names are recorded, of those who were confined at Tintagel, are John Northampton, Lord Mayor of London, who is said, by Carew, in 1385, to have been "for his unruly maioralty condemned thither as a perpetual penitentiary;" and Thomas, Earl of Warwick, who was imprisoned there in 1397.
But there is a second description of hill castles, built for residence, as well as for defence, Most of these were also provided with keeps, and those that were destitute of this appendage, were generally built turretwise as Castle Karnbré. Tintagel Castle, represented in our illustration, appears to have been one of these, and is, doubtless, a building of very great antiquity. It is situated partly on the extremity of a bold rock of slate, on the northern coast of the county, partly on a rocky island, with which it was formerly connected by a drawbridge. Dr. Borlase says of it, "Tintagel Castle was built on a cape of land, the extremity of which was a peninsula, a very lofty hill. Where this peninsula joined the mainland there are the fortifications, partly on the hill and partly on the main." In the survey made in the eleventh year of King Edward the Third, Tintagel is described as "a certain castle sufficiently walled," in which were two chambers beyond the two gates in a decayed state; one chamber, with a small kitchen for the constable, in good repair; one stable for eight horses, decayed; one cellar and bakehouse, ruinous. The timber of the great hall had been taken down by command of John, Earl of Cornwall, because the hall was ruinous, and the walls thereof of no value. In the reign of Qeeen Elizabeth the following lines respecting Tintagel were translated from the Latin by
The renown which this castle has acquired as the birth-place of King Arthur rests upon dubious grounds. The history of that individual, if such a person ever really existed, has been so obscured by monkish legends, and miraculous stories, that it has acquired altogether fabulous air. Yet there is the high authority of Chancellor Bacon on the side of his claims, who says that there was enough truth in his story to make him famous, besides that which was fabulous. Mr. Redding, in his interesting Itinerary of the County of Cornwall, recently published, describes a visit to the ruined and shattered walls of Tintagel, and its precipitous cliffs at the foot of which the sea has hollowed out a cavern, "in which the waves thunder, rage, and boil. Such," he remarks, "is all that remains of the reputed birth-place of him whose exploits and good sword Excaliber' have bards of Italy, and the minstrels of the North have alike been said and sung from age to age. The troubadours, the
done honour to the name of the hero whose existence some truth, to doubt. It is difficult at first," he adds, “looking are so contumacious to the pleasure of fiction, if not of at the ruinous state of Tintagel Castle, the dark slate rocks upon which they stand, and the sterility of the surrounding country, to reconcile the antique pomp and pageantry of the hero and of his knights of the round table with such a scene. Imagination, prompt in resources for all difficulties, at once calls in the agency of time, operating every where, changing fertile territories into barren lands, and rendering the barren fertile; strewing earth with the wrecks of castles, as well as of empires, and reconciling past protion thus recalls the actions of the potent hero of the west, bability with existing doubt. The magic of the imaginathe magnificence of his court, the valour of his knights, the visions of his glory, and the triumphs of his conquests; fierce war and faithful love; where desolation holds an undivided sovereignty, and black rocks shivered by tempests, treeless, and almost herbless shores, and cliffs of almost fearful grandeur are all that remain. Yet even here fancy nurses her day-dreams of what has been in story, and further for-depicts the British hero borne back from Slaughter Bridge, mortally wounded, the tears of beauty unavailingly shed for him, the mournful countenances of his warriors, and the last moment when he rendered up his soul to God."
The name of Tintagel properly belongs only to the castle, and to the rugged and precipitous cliff on which its ruins stand; but the town, a mile distant, called also Bossiney, or Trevena, has popularly received the name of Tintagel likewise. It has now dwindled to a mere hamlet, containing not more than half a dozen houses. In the time of Henry VIII., though only a fishing town, it possessed considerable privileges; and Leland says that there were at that time the ruins of a great number of houses in it, showing that it was far more considerable at some previous period. Before the Reform Act this place returned two members of Parliament, elected by only five or six persons. The church of Tintagel formerly belonged to the Abbey of Fontevrault, in Normandy, and was afterwards given by Edward IV. to the collegiate church at Windsor, the dean_and chapter of which attach all the great tithes, and are patrons of the living. The bells of Tintagel are particularly musical, and in connection with their merry peals, is a story, which, according to Mr. Reddel, is sincerely believed among the Cornish folk to the present day. We have somewhat shortened that gentleman's version of the tale, which is to the following effect. About three miles from Tintagel is the church of
There is a place within the winding shore of Severne sea, On mids of rock, about whose foote the tides turn-keeping play
A tow'ry-topped Castle here wide blazeth over all
steps from the ascent to the highest part of the
for their fortress.
This castle was the seat of the Dukes of Cornwall at a very remote era, and it continued," says Borlase, "to be one of the castles of the Earls of Cornwall to the time of Richard, King of the Romans, who entertained here his nephew David, Prince of Wales. After the death of Richard and his son Edmund, Earls of Cornwall, all the ancient castle went to ruin; from palaces became prisons and gaols, and this among the rest. There was, however, a yearly stipend allowed for keeping this castle, till the Lord Treasurer Burleigh, in
Bottreaux, from whose silent tower no musical peal ever fell upon mortal ears. Not that the inhabitants were indifferent to the charms of music. They loved to hear the merry peal from Tintagel, when the wind bore the melodious sounds in the direction of their village, and they were exceedingly emulous of possessing a similar peal themselves. The bells of Tintagel, which some said had tolled for King Arthur, as he was borne a corpse from the field of blood, near Camelford, to Tintagel, and again as he was borne away from his native castle to be interred at Glastonbury, were not the bells of Bottreaux, but altogether aliens to the place; so the people determined to have as choice a peal as money could procure. The Lord de Bottreaux subscribed largely towards the purchase, and an order was sent to London for the bells, to a founder of great reputation. The bells were made and consecrated: they were shipped and had a prosperous voyage, and at length the vessel came into the bay opposite Bottreaux. Tintagel bells were 'swinging slow wita sullen roar,' and as the sound boomed along the waves to the ear of the pilot, he rejoiced at the music of his native bells, and thanked God that on that evening he should be on shore. "Thank the ship, you fool," said the captain; "thank God upon the shore." Nay," said the pilot, should thank God every where." "Go to; thou art a fool, I tell thee," said the Captain, "thank thyself and a steady helm."
This strain was continued for some time; the pilot soberly maintaining that it was the duty of all to thank God on sea or land, and the captain becoming choleric, and uttering sinful oaths and blasphemies. The ship meanwhile was in sight of the town, that only lacked the bells to be a fair rival to Tintagel. The people were out on the cliffs watching the approach of the precious freight, and ready to welcome it with joy. But at this moment the wind rose suddenly, and blew furiously from the west. Nearer and nearer drove the vessel into the bay, and when not more than a mile from the church tower a monstrous sea struck her; she gave a lurch to port, and went down, bells and all. The pilot, who could swim, was taken up by a daring fisherman. As the ship went down the clang of the bells was distinctly heard, dull, as if muffled by the waves, through which there came from the ocean depths solemn tollings, at intervals, clearly distinguishable from the roar of the winds and waves. And ever since (so goes the tale) the sound continues to be heard in the frequent tempests that assail that part of the coast. The Rev. Mr. Hawker has versified this tale, entitling it The Silent Tower of Bottreaux. The more important part is contained in the following stanzas:
THE CHRISTIAN IN HIS GARDEN. THE Contemplation of nature feeds the mind with sweet and refreshing food. Few illustrations of this abiding love could be produced, more sublime or touching than the dying exclamation of the excellent Bishop Porteus. In the early part of May he had been removed to Fulham; he was reduced to a state of great weakness, but the soft air and the charms of the opening spring seemed to revive him. Upon the morning of the 13th, he sat in his library, near the window; the sun shone with beautiful lustre; the air was full of balm and sweetness; the countenance of the good bishop beamed with a transient glow, and in the grateful gladness of his heart, he exclaimed several times, "O, that glorious sun!" Soon after, he fell asleep, and a brighter sun broke upon him. A Scottish poet, Dr. Leyden, has sung that,
Sad is he that dies in spring,
When flowers begin to blow and larks to sing; but the Christian can never live too long, nor die too soon; to him all seasons are equally welcome, for Faith surrounds his dwelling, even upon earth, with the bloom and verdure of Paradise.
When Manso, a name rendered dear to us by Milton, visited Tasso at Bissaccio, the poet, in the delirium of by a familiar spirit, and inquired of his friend, whether his melancholy gloom, believed himself to be attended he did not behold him. Manso saw nothing but the there is a heavenly spirit, not only in every flash of sunbeams pouring in at the window. But, in truth, sunshine, but in every flower of the garden, and in every cloud of a summer evening, if we look upon them with Christian eyes. Keble has touched upon this feeling with great sweetness and beauty:
But he whose heart will bound to mark
By leaf or flow'ret worn:
Cheap forms and common hues, 'tis true, Through the bright shower-drop meet his view;
The colouring may be of this earth,
The lustre comes of heavenly birth.
By studying nature in this spirit of meek devotion and solemn love, a good man may, indeed, "walk up and down the world as in a garden of spices, and draw a divine sweetness out of every flower."
To dwell listlessly and dissatisfied in a world so embellished by the workmanship of its Creator, so illuminated by his presence, so fragrant with the incense of nature's worship, is surely to imitate Eve, and to slumber in the garden of Paradise, while the sun shines upon our eyes, and the voice of the bird is heard among the branches. We need not envy the Abbot of Clairvaux, who, after sailing down the Leman Lake, asked his fellow-travellers in the evening where it was. Gibbon, beneath whose library-windows the beautiful landscape was spread out, remarked that the reader should see it, in order to admire or despise St. Bernard. The earnest