means of a door, can be entered at pleasure. This box adds six fect to the length of the tube, which, like its predecessor, is of wood, hooped with iron, like a barrel, and so wide, that a tall man could walk through it without stooping. It is this huge black funnel that I have spoken of, as being suspended between high and strong walls of gothic architecture. It swings with a clear space of twelve feet on each side; and so far...it can be drawn aside, giving half an hour before and after the meridian. By means of a windlass, and a most skillful adjustment of chains and counterpoising weights, it can also be brought to the zenith, or turned fairly round from south to north, always within its bounds of twenty-four feet. Enormous as are its dimensions, and although weighing, altogether, twelve tons, it seemed to me about as easily moved as the other telescope; and it is as much in the mechanical contrivances for effecting this purpose, as in any. thing else, that the peculiar merit of the structure consists.

CHAMBERS.

CXLII.-LONDON.

I DWELL amid the city.
The great humanity which beats
Its life along the stony streets,
Like a strong unsunnèd river
In a self-made course, is ever
Rolling on, rolling on!—

I sit and hear it as it rolls,
That flow of souls!

The infinite tendencies,

In the finite, chafed and pent,

In the finite, turbulent!

The long drear monotone,

Made of many tones that rise

Each to each as contraries!

The rich man's ambling steeds

Lolling their necks as the chariot comes
With its inward gleam of the eddying plumes!-
The poor man's abject needs-
The feet that wearily, wearily roam,

Unquickened by thoughts of the fire at home

The cry of the babe unheard of its mother,

Though it lic on her breast, while she thinks of the other
Laid yesterday in tomb!—

The whine of voices that have made
Their own grief's sacredness a trade-
The curse that ringeth hollowly
The crime against the misery-

The haggling talk-the organ's grinding-
The grinder's face being o'er it leant,
Most vacant even of woe,-
While the children's hearts leap so
At the merry music's winding!-

The rapid pace of the business men
Whose eyes do glitter cold,
As still they saw the gold!-
The funeral's long slow train
Plumèd black, beside

Many a house where the rioters laugh
And count the beakers they shall quaff
At the morrow's festivals-

Many a house where sits a bride
Trying the morrow's coronals,
With a red blush, even to-day!—

Slowly creep the funerals,—

As none should hear the noise and say
The living, the living, must go away
To multiply the dead!

Hark! an upward shout is sent!

In grave strong joy from tower to steeple
The bells ring out-

The trumpets sound, the people shout,
The young queen goes to her parliament !—
She turneth round her large blue eyes,
More bright with childish memories
Than royal hopes, upon the people—
On either side she bows her head
Lowly, with a queenly grace,
And smile most trusting-innocent,

As if she smiled to her mother!

The thousands press before each other

To bless her to her face

And booms the deep majestic voice

Through trump and drum-" May the queen rejoica In the people's liberties!"

I dwell amid the city,

And hear the flow of souls!

I do not hear the several contraries

I do not hear the separate tone that rolls
In act or speech,

For pomp or trade, for merrymake or folly—
I hear the confluence and sum of each,

And that

Thy voice is a complaint, O crownèd city,

The blue sky covering thee, like God's great pity!

MISS E. B. BARRETT.

CXLIII.-SPEECH AGAINST THE AMERICAN WAR.

I CANNOT, my Lords, I will not, join in congratulation on misfortune and disgrace. This, my Lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment. It is not a time for adulation. The smoothness of flattery cannot save us in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now necessary to instruct the throne in the language of truth. We must, if possible, dispel the illusion and the darkness which envelop it; and display, in its full danger and genuine colors, the ruin which is brought to our doors. Can ministers still presume to expect support in their infatuation? Can parliament be so dead to its dignity and duty, as to give their support to measures thus obtruded and forced upon them? Measures, my Lords, which have reduced this late flourishing empire to ruin and contempt! But yesterday, and England might have stood against the world; now, none. so poor to do her

reverence.

The people, whom we at first despised as rebels, but whom we now acknowledge as enemies, are abetted against us; supplied with every military store, their interest consulted, and their ambassadors entertained, by our inveterate enemy!-and ministers do not, and dare not, interpose with dignity or effect. The desperate state of our army abroad is in part known. No man more highly esteems and honors the English troops than I do; I know their virtues and their valor; I know they can achieve anything but impossibilities; and I know that the conquest of English America is an impossibility.

You cannot, my Lords, you cannot conquer America. What is your present situation there? We do not know the worst; but we know that in three campaigns we have done nothing, and suffered much. You may swell every expense, accumulate every assistance, and extend your traffic to the shambles of every German despot: your

attempts will be for ever vain and impotent-doubly so, indeed, from this mercenary aid on which you rely; for it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the minds of your adversaries, to overrun them with the mercenary sons of rapine and plunder, devoting them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms-never, never, never!

But, my Lords, who is the man, that, in addition to the disgraces and mischiefs of the war, has dâred to authorize and associate to our arms the tomahawk and scalping knife of the savage?-to call into civilized alliance the wild and inhuman inhabitant of the woods?to delegate to the merciless Indian the defence of disputed rights, and to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our brethren? My Lords, these enormities cry aloud for redress and punishment. But, my Lords, this barbarous measure has been defended, not only on the principles of policy and necessity, but also on those of morality; "for it is perfectly allowable," says Lord Suffolk, “to use all the means which God and nature have put into our hands." I am astonished, I am shocked, to hear such principles confessed; to hear them avowed in this House, or in this country; principles equally unconstitutional, inhuman, and unchristian!

My Lords, I did not intend to encroach so much upon your attention, but I cannot repress my indignation. I feel myself impelled to speak. My Lords, we are called upon as members of this House, as men, as Christian men, to protest against such horrible barbarity! That God and nature have put into our hands!" What ideas of God and nature that noble Lord may entertain, I know not; but I know that such detestable principles are equally abhorrent to religion and humanity. What! to attribute the sacred sanction of God and nature to the massacres of the Indian scalping knife! to the cannibal savage, torturing, murdering, devouring, drinking the blood of his mangled victims! Such notions shock every precept of morality, every feeling of humanity, every sentiment of honor. These abominable principles, and this more abominable avowal of them, demand the most decisive indignation.

I call upon that right reverend, and this most learned bench, to vindicate the religion of their God, to support the justice of their country. I call upon the bishops to interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawn;-upon the judges to interpose the purity of their °ermine, to save us from this pollution. I call upon the honor of your Lordships to reverence the dignity of your ancestors, and maintain your own. I call upon the spirit and humanity of my country, to vindicate the national character. I invoke the Genius of the Consti tution. From the tapestry that adorns these walls, the immortal ancestor of this noble Lord frowns with indignation at the disgrace

of his country. In vain did he defend the liberty, and establish the religion of Britain against the tyranny of Rome, if these worse than popish cruelties, and inquisitorial practices, are endured among us. To send forth the merciless cannibal, thirsting for blood! against whom?—your protestant brethren!—to lay waste their country, to desolate their dwellings, and extirpate their race and name by the aid and instrumentality of these horrible hounds of war! Spain can no longer boast pre-eminence in barbarity. She armed herself with blood-hounds, to extirpate the wretched natives of Mexico; we, more ruthless,, loose these hell-hounds against our countrymen in America, endeared to us by every tie that can sanctify humanity.

I solemnly call upon your Lordships, and upon every order of men in the state, to stamp upon this infamous procedure, the indelible stigma of the public abhorrence. More particularly, I call upon the holy prelates of our religion to do away this iniq'uity: let them perform a lustration, to purify the country from this deep and deadly sin.

My Lords, I am old and weak, and at present unable to say more; but my feelings and indignation were too strong to have said less. I could not have slept this night in my bed, nor reposed my head upon my pillow, without giving vent to my eternal abhorrence of such enormous and preposterous principles. LORD CHATHAM.

CXLIV. POVERTY'S DREAM.

WITH ruddy cheeks, not warm with ruddy wine,
Nor lightsome joy, but red with feverish heat,
He strode the crowded street.

He passed, unheeding each inviting sign,
Nor gazed about, but ever did incline
His face toward his feet.

Shame-faced at his sad poverty he blushed,
And closed his coat to hide the rents between,
And thought they were not seen.
A proud and noble youth; but one unflushed
With wealth. Alas! his heart was crushed:
He wished he ne'er had been.

And as he walked, with awkward steps, it seemed
That moody misery had deranged his mind;
And then, forsooth, he dreamed.