One evening sumptuously lodged; the next,
Humbly in a religious hospital;

Or with some merry outlaws of the wood;
Or haply shrouded in a hermit's cell.
Him, sleeping or awake, the robber spared;
He walk'd, protected from the sword of war
By virtue of that sacred instrument
His harp, suspended at the traveller's side;
His dear companion wheresoe'er he went,
Opening from land to land an easy way
By melody, and by the charm of verse.
Yet not the noblest of that honour'd Race
Drew happier, loftier, more impassion'd thoughts
From his long journeyings and eventful life,
Than this obscure Itinerant had skill

To gather, ranging through the tamer ground
Of these our unimaginative days;

Both while he trod the earth in humblest guise
Accoutred with his burthen and his staff;
And now, when free to move with lighter pace.

What wonder, then, if I, whose favourite school
Hath been the fields, the roads, and rural lanes,
Look'd on this guide with reverential love?
Each with the other pleased, we now pursued
Our journey, under favourable skies.
Turn whersoe'er we would, he was a light
Unfailing: not a hamlet could we pass,
Rarely a house, that did not yield to him
Remembrances; or from his tongue call forth
Some way-beguiling tale. Nor less regard
Accompanied those strains of apt discourse,
Which Nature's various objects might inspire;
And in the silence of his face I read
His overflowing spirit. Birds and beasts,
And the mute fish that glances in the stream,
And harmless reptile coiling in the sun,
And gorgeous insect hovering in the air,

been chaplain to a Highland regiment. Of his former position I availed myself, to connect with the Wanderer, also a Scotchman, a character suitable to my purpose, the elements of which I drew from several persons with whom I had been connected and who fell under my observation during frequent residences in London at the be ginning of the French Revolution. The chief of these was a Mr. Fawcet, a preacher at a dissenting meeting-house at the Old Jewry. It happened to me several times to be one of his congregation through my connection with Mr. Nicholson, who, at a time when I had not many acquaintances in London, used often to invite us to dine with him on Sundays; and I took the opportunity (Mr. Nicholson being a dissenter) of going to hear Fawcet, who was an able and eloquent man. But his Christianity was probably never very deeply rooted; and, like many others in those times of like showy talents, he had not strength of character to withstand the effects of the French Revolution, and of the wild and lax opinions which had done so much towards producing it, and far more in carrying it forward in its extremes.-Author's Notes, 1843.

The fowl domestic, and the household dog,-
In his capacious mind, he loved them all:
Their rights acknowledging he felt for all.
Oft was occasion given me to perceive
How the calm pleasures of the pasturing herd
To happy contemplation soothed his walk;
How the poor brute's condition, forced to run
Its course of suffering in the public road,
Sad contrast! all too often smote his heart
With unavailing pity. Rich in love
And sweet humanity, he was, himself,
To the degree that he desired, beloved.
Smiles of good-will from faces that he knew
Greeted us all day long; we took our seats
By many a cottage-hearth, where he received
The welcome of an Inmate from afar,
And I at once forgot I was a Stranger.-
Nor was he loth to enter ragged huts,
Huts where his charity was blest; his voice
Heard as the voice of an experienced friend.
And sometimes - where the poor man held dispute
With his own mind, unable to subdue
Impatience through inaptness to perceive
General distress in his particular lot;
Or cherishing resentment, or in vain
Struggling against it; with a soul perplex'd,
And finding in herself no steady power
To draw the line of comfort that divides
Calamity, the chastisement of Heaven,
From the injustice of our brother men
To him appeal was made as to a judge;
Who, with an understanding heart, allay'd
The perturbation; listen'd to the plea;
Resolved the dubious point; and sentence gave
So grounded, so applied, that it was heard
With soften'd spirit, even when it condemn'd.
Such intercourse I witness'd, while we roved,
Now as his choice directed, now as mine;
Or both, with equal readiness of will,
Our course submitting to the changeful breeze
Of accident. But when the rising Sun
Had three times call'd us to renew our walk,
My Fellow-traveller, with earnest voice,
As if the thought were but a moment old,
Claim'd absolute dominion for the day.

We started, and he led me toward the hills,

Up through an ample vale, with higher hills
Before us, mountains stern and desolate;
But, in the majesty of distance, now
Set off, and to our ken appearing fair
Of aspect, with aërial softness clad,
And beautified with morning's purple beams.
The wealthy, the luxurious, by the stress
Of business roused, or pleasure, ere their time,
May roll in chariots, or provoke the hoofs
Of the fleet coursers they bestride, to raise
From earth the dust of morning, slow to rise;
And they, if blest with health and hearts at ease,
Shall lack not their enjoyment; but how faint
Compared with ours! who, pacing side by side,
Could, with an eye of leisure, look on all
That we beheld; and lend the listening sense
To every grateful sound of earth and air;

-

Pausing at will, our spirits braced, our thoughts Pleasant as roses in the thickets blown,

And pure as dew bathing their crimson leaves.
Mount slowly, Sun! that we may journey long,
By this dark hill protected from thy beams!
Such is the summer pilgrim's frequent wish;
But quickly from among our morning thoughts
'Twas chased away: for, toward the western side
Of the broad vale, casting a casual glance,
We saw a throng of people; wherefore met?
Blithe notes of music, suddenly let loose
On the thrill'd ear, and flags uprising, yield
Prompt answer; they proclaim the annual Wake,
Which the bright season favours. Tabor and pipe
In purpose join to hasten or reprove
The laggard Rustic; and repay with boons
Of merriment a parti-colour'd knot,
Already form'd upon the village-green.-
Beyond the limits of the shadow cast
By the broad hill, glisten'd upon our sight
That gay assemblage. Round them and above,
Glitter, with dark recesses interposed,
Casement, and cottage-roof, and stems of trees
Half-veil'd in vapoury cloud, the silver steam
Of dews fast melting on their leafy boughs
By the strong sunbeams smitten. Like a mast
Of gold, the Maypole shines; as if the rays
Of morning, aided by exhaling dew,
With gladsome influence could re-animate

The faded garlands dangling from its sides.
Said I, "The music and the sprightly scene
Invite us; shall we quit our road, and join
These festive matins?" He replied, "Not loth
To linger I would here with you partake,
Not one hour merely, but till evening's close,
The simple pastimes of the day and place.
By the fleet Racers, ere the Sun be set,
The turf of yon large pasture will be skimm'd;
There, too, the lusty Wrestlers shall contend:
But know we not that he who intermits
Th' appointed task and duties of the day
Untunes full oft the pleasures of the day,
Checking the finer spirits that refuse

To flow, when purposes are lightly changed?
A length of journey yet remains untraced:
Let us proceed." Then, pointing with his staff
Raised toward those craggy summits, his intent
He thus imparted:

"In a spot that lies
Among yon mountain fastnesses conceal'd,
You will receive, before the hour of noon,
Good recompense, I hope, for this day's toil,
From sight of One who lives secluded there,
Lonesome and lost: of whom, and whose past life,
(Not to forestall such knowledge as may be
More faithfully collected from himself,)
This brief communication shall suffice.

Though now sojourning there, he, like myself,
Sprang from a stock of lowly parentage
Among the wilds of Scotland, in a tract
Where many a shelter'd and well-tended plant
Bears, on the humblest ground of social life,
Blossoms of piety and innocence.

Such grateful promises his youth display'd:
And, having shown in study forward zeal,
He to the Ministry was duly call'd;
And straight, incited by a curious mind
Fill'd with vague hopes, he undertook the charge
Of Chaplain to a military troop

Cheer'd by the Highland bagpipe, as they march'd
In plaided vest,-his fellow-countrymen.
This office filling, yet by native power
And force of native inclination made
An intellectual ruler in the haunts
Of social vanity, he walk'd the world,

Gay, and affecting graceful gaiety;

Lax, buoyant, less a pastor with his flock

Than a soldier among soldiers, — lived and roam'd
Where Fortune led: and Fortune, who oft proves
The careless wanderer's friend, to him made known
A blooming Lady, a conspicuous flower,
Admired for beauty, for her sweetness praised;
Whom he had sensibility to love,

Ambition to attempt, and skill to win.

For this fair Bride, most rich in gifts of mind
Nor sparingly endow'd with worldly wealth,
His office he relinquish'd; and retired
From the world's notice to a rural home.
Youth's season yet with him was scarcely past,
And she was in youth's prime. How free their love,
How full their joy! till, pitiable doom!

In the short course of one undreaded year,
Death blasted all. Death suddenly o'erthrew
Two lovely Children, all that they possess'd!
The Mother follow'd. Miserably bare

-

The one Survivor stood; he wept, he pray'd
For his dismissal, day and night, compell'd
To hold communion with the grave, and face
With pain the regions of eternity.

An uncomplaining apathy displaced
This anguish; and, indifferent to delight,
To aim and purpose, he consumed his days,
To private interest dead, and public care.

So lived he; so he might have died. But now,
To the wide world's astonishment, appear'd
A glorious opening, the unlook'd-for dawn,
That promised everlasting joy to France!
Her voice of social transport reach'd even him.
He broke from his contracted bounds, repair'd
To the great City, an emporium then
Of golden expectations, and receiving
Freights every day from a new world of hope.
Thither his popular talents he transferr'd;
And, from the pulpit, zealously maintain❜d
The cause of Christ and civil liberty,
As one, and moving to one glorious end.10
Intoxicating service! I might say

10 The same false identification, assumed as a first principle, has led many in our day to an utter repudiation of the Christian Faith. The cause of civil liberty, how. ever good in itself, is not the same as the cause of Christ; and to regard them as one cannot but prove a fatal source of error and confusion,-dangerous alike, perhaps, in the end, to both causes.