till settled. Then endeavour to procure a good heart, and, if possible, choose it without guile, and put them all into your clean, well-polished vase, and keep up a steady fire of affection, which must be constantly supplied by attention and true delicacy, and the longer it is kept hot the better, only take care it does not burn; when it is all ready for use, dish it up-be sure to lay at the bottom, and cover it all over with, the leaves of pure religion. If from time and frequent use you should unfortunately be deprived of any of these ingredients, especially the heart, you must add as much resignation, fortitude, and patience as you can procure, and it will, in some measure, hide the bitter flavour, and be more palatable to yourselves and friends.

Nov. 26, 1814.

THE DEFEAT OF VARUS.

Arminius was far too sage a commander to lead on his followers with their unwieldy broadswords and inefficient defensive armour, against the Roman legionaries, fully armed with helmet, cuirass, greaves, and shield. . . . For some distance, Varus was allowed to move on, only harassed by slight skirmishes, but struggling with difficulty through the broken ground, the toil and distress of his men being aggravated by heavy torrents of rain, which burst upon the devoted legions, as if the angry gods of Germany were pouring out the vials of their wrath upon the invaders. . . . Arminius had caused barricades of hewn trees to be formed, so as to add to the natural difficulties of the passage. ... Fatigue and dis

couragement now began to betray themselves in the Roman ranks. Their line became less steady; baggage waggons were abandoned, from the impossibility of forcing them along; and as this happened, many soldiers left their ranks and crowded round the waggons to secure the most valuable portions of their property: each was busy about his own affairs, and purposely slow in hearing the word of command from his officers. Arminius now gave the signal for a general attack. The fierce shouts of the Germans pealed through the gloom of the forests, and in thronging multitudes they assailed the flanks of the invaders, pouring in clouds of darts on the encumbered legionaries, as they struggled up the glens or floundered in the morasses. With a chosen band of personal retainers round him, Arminius cheered on his countrymen by voice and example. He and his men aimed their weapons particularly at the horses of the Roman cavalry. The wounded animals, slipping about in the mire and their own blood, threw their riders, and plunged among the ranks of the legions, disordering all round them. Varus now ordered the troops to be countermarched, in the hope of reaching the nearest Roman garrison on the Lippe. But retreat was now as impracticable as advance; and the falling back of the Romans only augmented the courage of their assailants, and caused fiercer and more frequent charges on the flanks of the disheartened army. Varus, after being severely wounded in a charge of the Germans against his part of the column, committed suicide to avoid falling into the hands of those whom he had exasperated by his oppressions. . . . At last, in a series of desperate attacks, the column was pierced through and through,

two of the eagles captured, and the Roman hostwhich, on yester morning, had marched forth in such pride and might, now broken up into confused fragments—either fell fighting beneath the overpowering numbers of the enemy, or perished in the swamps and wood in unavailing efforts at flight. Few, very few, ever saw again the left bank of the Rhine.

CREASY, "The Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World.”

SIR WALTER RALEIGH'S FIRST VIEW OF HIS

QUEEN.

The young cavalier we have so often mentioned had probably never yet approached so near the person of his sovereign; and he pressed forward as far as the line of warders permitted, in order to avail himself of the present opportunity. His companion, on the contrary, cursing his impudence, kept pulling him backwards, till Walter shook him off impatiently, letting his rich cloak drop carelessly from one shoulder; a natural action, which served, however, to display to the best advantage his well-proportioned person. Unbonneting at the same time, he fixed his eager gaze on the Queen's approach, with a mixture of respectful curiosity and modest yet ardent admiration, which suited so well his fine features, that the warders, struck with his rich attire and noble countenance, suffered him to approach the ground over which the Queen was to pass somewhat closer than was permitted to ordinary spectators. Thus the adventurous youth stood full in Elizabeth's eyean eye never indifferent to the admiration which she deservedly excited among her subjects, or to the fair

proportions of external form which chanced to distinguish any of her courtiers. Accordingly, she fixed her keen glance on the youth as she approached the place where he stood, with a look in which surprise at his boldness seemed to be unmingled with resentment, while a trifling accident happened which attracted her attention towards him yet more strongly. The night had been rainy, and, just where the young gentleman stood, a small quantity of mud interrupted the Queen's passage. As she hesitated to pass on, the gallant, throwing his cloak from his shoulders, laid it on the miry spot so as to ensure her stepping over it dryshod. Elizabeth looked at the young man, who accompanied this act of devoted courtesy with a profound reverence and blush that overspread his whole countenance. The Queen was confused, and blushed in her turn, nodded her head, hastily passed on, and embarked in her barge without saying a word.

SIR WALTER SCOTT, "Kenilworth."

ON THE POPE CORRESPONDENCE.

Save that unlucky part of the Pope Correspondence, I do not know, in the range of our literature, volumes more delightful. You live in them in the finest company in the world. A little stately, perhaps; a little apprêté and conscious that they are speaking to whole generations who are listening; but in the tone of their voices-pitched, as no doubt they are, beyond the mere conversation key-in the expression of their thoughts, their various views and natures, there is something generous, and cheering,

and ennobling. You are in the society of men who have filled the greatest parts in the world's story. You are with St. John, the statesman; Peterborough, the conqueror; Swift, the greatest wit of all times; Gay, the kindliest laugher,—it is a privilege to sit in that company. Delightful and generous banquet! with a little faith and a little fancy, any one of us here may enjoy it, and conjure up those great figures out of the past, and listen to their wit and wisdom. Mind that there is always a certain stamp about great men-they may be as mean on many points as you or I, but they carry their great air-they speak of common life more largely and generously than common men do-they regard the world with a manlier countenance, and see its real features more fairly than the timid shufflers who only dare to look up at life through blinkers, or to have an opinion when there is a crowd to back it. He who reads these noble records of a past age salutes and reverences the great spirits who adorn it. . . . .

Might I give counsel to any young hearer, I would say to him, try to frequent the company of your betters. In books and life, that is the most wholesome society. Learn to admire rightly; the great pleasure of life is that. Note what the great men admired; they admired great things: narrow spirits admire basely, and worship meanly.

THACKERAY,

"Lectures on English Humourists.”