Church of Scotland, you may suppose that I willingly availed myself of the present opportunity of witnessing the proceedings of our western neighbours in their supreme ecclesiastical judicatory.

By a lucky accident, I had taken my passage from Aberdeen in a steam-boat, where I had for my fellowpassengers a whole northern synod, bound for the metropolis. You will probably suppose that I felt somewhat awkward among so many grave divines, but the truth is, I was the only grave man of the party myself. My companions evidently considered themselves as men whose business it was to enjoy, to the utmost limits which discretion would permit, their short relaxation from the cares of their pastoral charge. An excellent breakfast soon furnished a happy occasion for the exercise of their social talents; and though I had often heard the Aberdonians praised for the keenness of their wit, I now discovered, for the first time, that they were, or at least deserved to be, equally famous for the keenness of their appetite. But though breakfast certainly did last an unconscionable time, it could not last for ever; and the conversation, as soon as it ceased to be a reciprocal demand for eggs, rolls, tea, toast, butter, ham, and salmon, naturally turned upon the ensuing General Assembly, and such subjects as would probably come before it for discussion. The characters

of the Moderator, the principal speakers, and probable leaders, then came under review; and I now discovered, from the strong leaning which they showed toward certain principles, and the partiality which they manifested for certain individuals, that my friends were moderatea discovery which affected me with no small astonishment; but I trust they have better claims to so honourable an epithet in ecclesiastical legislation, than in the enjoyment of creature comforts. On the subject of leaders, the following conversation took place.

"Will the Moderates, think ye, be satisfied with Dr Cook for their leader this year?" asked a smart young man, with rosy cheeks, and a well-brushed coat, who evidently felt the importance which he was about to assume, in sitting, for the first time, as a legislator of the church.

"I fear we must," replied his aged neighbour, shrugging his shoulders, as if but half-pleased with the arrange

ment.

"For my own part," observed a third, with a smile, "I can see no great hardship in the case. Dr Cook is an impressive and a ready speaker; he is intimately acquainted with the laws of the church, and with the forms of church courts; and really, in the absence of Dr Inglis, and since the delicate health of our own Dr Mearns prevents him from assuming in the Assembly that attitude which his high talents and eminent learning would entitle him to take, I do not see that we could have a better leader."

Here my young friend muttered something about half measures, indecision, pseudo-moderation, and hinted that Principal Macfarlan had a better title than Dr Cook to the confidence of the Moderate party.

." I grant you," returned the former speaker, "the Principal is clear-headed, sagacious, honest; but he wants the tact to perceive, or the skill to avail himself of those little accidents which often give to a debate a character materially different from what it originally possessed. Besides, his stiffness and pomposity, though they do not act much to his prejudice upon great occasions, disqualify him for managing the minor details of business and ordinary debate."

|

is in London, preaching before the Marquis of Lansdowne and Sir Robert Peel, and cramming his poor laws down the capacious throats of our worthy senators and whe is there left, with the exception of Lord Moncreiff, who can either think, speak, or act, in a business-like manner ?"

“Ay, but his lordship is in himself a host," observed the old gentleman whom I have already mentioned"Lives there a chief whom Ajax ought to dread, Ajax, in all the toils of battle bred ?"

Besides, lads, notoriously moderate as our whole synod is known to be, it must be admitted, between ourselves, that among the High there are as talented men as in our own party. Even in the present Assembly they have Dr Gordon,—a man who, with a little attention to the forms of business, and with less diffidence in his own powers of commanding the attention of church courts, might add a fresh wreath to the laurels which his pulpit eloquence has already secured to him. I never heard him speak in a church court but once, in the Edinburgh Presbytery, on the Catholic question; and I have seldom heard, in the Assembly or elsewhere, an abler or more interesting speech."

From the general conversation which ensued, I learned that Dr Cook was to lead the Moderate party—that Mr Thomson of Dundee was to order the battle on the opposite side-that, as the usual place of meeting was undergoing repairs, the Assembly would meet in the Tron Church-that, with the exception of some cases of heresy, there was to be no business of importance before the venerable House-that, accordingly, the Assembly would be a dull one-that two young lads, nephews of profes sors, were to preach before the Commissioner, (upon which my pot-bellied friend made some joke, which I did not very well understand, about the "popish system of nepotism,")—that Lord Forbes was an excellent man, and, what appeared to be contemplated by my fellow-voyagers with unmingled satisfaction, that this year there was a chance of enjoying his admirable dinners with some degree of comfort, since there would be no late debates.

On Thursday, I arrived in Edinburgh in time to see the Commissioner walk to church. The High Street, through which he passed, was lined with cavalry—the crowd of people was considerable the day fine-the Commissioner's suite gay, and altogether the spectacle was rather an imposing one. I did not visit the Assembly this day, as I had business to transact with our correspondent B; and, besides, I was told that the first week was entirely occupied with preliminary arrangements. On Tuesday, I paid my first visit to this venerable court. Near the pulpit, a handsome throne bad been erected and railed in for the Lord Commissioner, who represents the King at the sittings of this ecclesiastical judicatory. The Commissioner's box (as it is called) was crowded with fashionable ladies, and a few gentlemen in uniform, and a sprinkling of persons who go under the general name of Dandies in this country-among the latter was pointed out to me the Editor of that Literary Journal, the two first volumes of which our friend Van der Hooght has lately translated into Dutch. The Commissioner himself was absent, owing to the death of a near relation. The area of the church was set apart for the members of Assembly; the gallery was divided into two parts, one for students of divinity and preachers, the other for strangers; of course I took my place in the latter. I was much amused with the contrast presented

"That is true," replied another. "Their great men are off the field. Thomson is not a member-Chalmers

Among the ministers there was self-complacency, ease, and upon the whole decorum; in the appearance and conduct of the viri candidati, I could perceive curiosity, restlessness, a decided propensity to disputation and quer, relling, with a very general disposition to indulge in what is called practical jokes. I happened to be placed near the partition between the two galleries, and had the good for.

tune to have for my next neighbour, a comely, fresh old gentleman, with a smart periwig and copper-headed cane, who appeared to be taking no small interest in the proceedings of his more fortunate brethren below. From this polite old gentleman, who, I understand, is the father of the "church expectant," I learned the name, party, and character of the more eminent members of Assembly. Indeed, I required little information on these points,— thanks to my northern friends' catalogue raisonné of the great men of either party,-except the being able to identify the principal speakers, and this my new cicerone enabled me to do.

"That gentleman in the gown and bands is the Moderator, Dr Singer, a good man and an orthodox. The old fellow with the powdered head and wrinkled forehead, is Principal Macfarlan; 'gad, sir, he's the man that ought to lead the Assembly. That fat good-looking gentleman is Dr Meiklejohn, a shrewd man and a pleasant. I have dined with him. That is the Solicitor-General, the young fellow with the silver chain and eye-glass-clever fellow -I'm told he makes three thousand a-year. There is Lord Moncreiff in the Moderator's box-he is an honour to the Scottish bar and bench-his father was a minister, old Sir Harry, as worthy a man as ever lived. The venerable gentleman beside him is old Dr Lamont, who preached before the King. Ah! there is Dr Cook-'gad, he is getting fat on his professorship; I wish they would make me a professor-You see he is pulling down his waistcoat; that's a sign he is going to speak: I knew a man who used on such occasions to pull up the waistband of his breeches, and it was a good plan, for it commanded attention-Hush! Cook is going to give us a speech."

For the present, however, I was disappointed; the Doctor merely rose to make some uninteresting remark about the appointment of a committee, and immediately sat down. My friend, therefore, resumed his communi

cations.

"Yonder is Dr Gordon, with his fine bald head—a capital study for the phrenologists—od, phrenology's a queer thing after all. There's Burns of Paisley-him with the spectacles. Ah ha! yonder is Andrew Thomson himself, sitting under the gallery, and hiding his curly head behind the pillar—he is the cock of the club-capital preacher-best speaker of them all-pity he is not a member this year. Look at that tall old gentleman standing in the passage, that is John Inglis, the ablest man in the church. Yonder mild-looking gentleman is Henry Grey, who has the clever wife--Anglicanus, you know. The other gentleman with the gold spectacles"

The sudden pause in my cicerone's speech made me turn round my head, when I observed the old beau arranging the folds of his neckcloth with one hand, while with the other he was gracefully managing his eye-glass, which he directed toward the Commissioner's box, where a fashionable party of young ladies had newly arrived. The grin of delight which illumined my old friend's countenance, convinced me that in him the fair sex had a most devoted admirer. While he was thus engaged, wreathing his face into smiles, and adjusting the curls of his yellow wig, I endeavoured, but in vain, to call back his attention to the less inviting physiognomies which had excited my own curiosity in the body of the house, and which still remained undescribed. You might as well have tried to withdraw Narcissus from his fountain, or endeavoured to divert the attention of Actæon from Diana and her nymphs, as attempted to give the eye-glass of my enamoured companion a new direction.

But luckily my attention was now arrested by a very animated debate upon some semi-arian doctrines which have of late been making a noise in this country. The particular subject was the somewhat abstruse doctrine of the peccability of Christ's human nature, and you will find the speeches and proceedings upon the whole case faithfully reported in the Observer newspaper, which I send you. I am interrupted by the arrival of the porter

I SAILED from the Thames in a merchant brig for Jamaica. I was the only passenger; and before I had been many days on board, it struck me that there was something odd both about the captain and crew. They had all very bad expressions of countenance; and when I happened to be upon deck, I frequently observed that they collected in groups, and seemed to carry on in whispers a mysterious kind of conversation, with which I could not help thinking that I was myself in some way connected. The captain, in particular, was a dark-looking man, with a very ugly meaning in his large bright eyes. He seldom spoke, except in monosyllables, and then the tones of his voice almost startled me. He and I had beds in the same cabin; but I soon discovered that he never slept. Whenever I happened to look across from my own berth towards his, I could see, by the dim light of a lamp that burned upon the table all night, his large eyes glaring full upon me, with a most unnatural kind of intelligence in them. I am not of a timid disposition, but I confess I did not feel altogether comfortable. We had favourable winds, however, and ran across the Atlantic without any thing remarkable occurring.

On the evening of the twenty-fifth day, I was told that the land we saw, about fifteen miles to leeward, was that of the island of St Domingo, and that, the breeze continuing, we might expect to reach Kingston in little more than eight-and-forty hours. I retired to rest between ten and eleven, with a lighter heart than I had done for some time before; and with the prospect of so soon again meeting several of my oldest and best friends, I speedily found myself locked in the embraces of slumber, and busily occupied in the ideal world of dreams. Hour after hour past unnoted by, and daylight was shining full into my cabin before I again opened my eyes. The sun had been long up, but was not visible. It was one of those calm grey days which, in this climate, commonly predict some change of weather. There was that stillness on board the ship which almost always accompanies a calm; for when sailors have nothing to do, they are the last people in the world who will do any thing. I did not hear a step over head, and even the steward and cabin-boys I supposed had fallen asleep; for though I called pretty lustily for my breakfast, not a soul came near me. I rose at length, and having performed my toilet with all convenient speed, I got upon deck. I was somewhat surprised at not seeing a single hand either fore or aft. The very helm was deserted. I went forward to the steerage, but it was empty, and so was every hammock it contained! My pulse began to beat more quickly; I became alarmed and uneasy. I called aloud, but no one answered me. I looked into the hold, but no living thing was to be seen; nay, what struck me as peculiarly odd, there was nothing in the hold at all, except a cask or two of fresh water, though I had been given to understand that the vessel had a full and valuable cargo on board. back to the cabin; neither captain nor mate was there. I opened the door of every cupboard and closet, but it was in vain. Conviction of the truth, though at first its very conception almost bewildered me, inevitably forced itself on my mind ;—I was the only human being in the ship. During the night she had been purposely abandoned by

I went

her crew, and I was left alone to the mercy of the waves. On the previous evening land had been visible at the distance of five or six leagues, but now, having drifted out of my course, it was nowhere to be discovered.

I

My feelings can neither be imagined nor described. was perfectly ignorant of all nautical affairs, and consequently had not the most distant idea of what ought to be done. But this was, perhaps, hardly to be regretted; for however great my skill had been, what could a single person have done in the guidance and management of so large a vessel? Had a boat been left, I should instantly have intrusted myself to it, and, though at a venture, endeavoured to steer in some particular direction; but we had only two originally, and they had both been taken away. I could find no loose timber, of which to make a raft, for even a raft I should have considered myself safer on than where I was. There is something that the human mind cannot bear to dwell upon, in the idea that it has lost its power over inert matter, and that all its intellectual energies must succumb to the mere blind chance which governs an inanimate mass. I was alone in a great floating castle, to which seemed to be left the power of determining whither it would carry me, and what fate it would assign me. The very bulk of my prison made me the more helpless; besides, I soon discovered that it was, in the sea-phrase, water-logged, and, no doubt, abandoned under the belief that it was speedily to sink. I would have given any thing for the merest little cockboat with a single oar, for I should have been comparatively my own master on the wide ocean.

As long as the daylight continued, my situation, though sufficiently solitary, was not so dismal. Light is companionable, and seems to be the natural element of the human soul. But the sun had scarcely set, ere I perceived that the waters were not long to continue unruffled. The sails, almost all of which were set, and which I found it quite impossible to take in, or even to reef, no longer hung motionless by the side of the masts, but, for some time, kept flapping incessantly like the wings of a mighty bird, and then becoming steadily filled, carried the ship along with them, I knew not where. Twilight darkened into night; the moon came out of the sea like a spectre-wan and vapoury-surrounded by a dark assemblage of murky clouds. Stronger and stronger grew the wind. The waves, as they went careering by, left in their tract a broad gleam of foam, that gave to the dark sea an unnatural whiteness. I stood at the stern, with the useless helm in my hand, and almost believed that the whole was a horrible dream, from which, if I did not speedily awake, I might never awake with reason unimpaired. The storm increased; the vessel, from the quantity of canvass she carried, was tossed like a toy from wave to wave. At length, the foremast snapt, and, with all its sails and cordage, fell overboard;—it was lost among the billows in an instant.

Day returned, but the storm did not abate. The wind was for a while north-west, which blew me back nearly upon the course I had already sailed, but afterwards, shifting several points, it became nearly due north, so that I conjectured it was carrying me along the coast of South | America, though that coast was nowhere visible. For several days the hurricane continued, and every moment seemed to bring along with it the promise of destruction; but though the ship was now in the most miserable condition, its planks still held together, and I still continued

to exist.

Day after day, week after week, and, were I to judge by my own feelings, I should say year after year, passed on, and I still continued rolling about in my dismasted hulk, sometimes with fair, and sometimes with foul | weather, either in the Atlantic or Pacific ocean, I knew not which. There were, luckily, provisions enough on board, such as they were, to have supported me, I should have thought, for any length of time; but existence was becoming too painful to me to admit of my being able to

endure it much longer. Let no man talk of solitude, as long as he can see around him fields, and trees, and mountains. All these hold communion with his spirit, and as they vary their garb according to the season, be can read in them lessons of wisdom and improvement. But on the wide and changeless ocean, where human sympathies exist not, and where the very element seems of a nature uncongenial to ours, there, where the eye can see nothing but rolling waters, and the ear catch no sound but that of the breaking wave, there speak of solitude, there feel its horrors, feel your affections stagnant within you, and your mental capabilities mouldering away into nothingness. Look at the sun, the clouds, the stars, and ask, in the frenzy of despair, why you are the only created thing curst with the curse of speech?

One night the thunder walked through the air; but its peals were welcome to me, for they sounded like the voice of an unseen giant. The waning moon looked dimly down through the snatches of the hurrying clouds, and the lurid lightning flashed far and wide below, as if in mockery of the pale light of the melancholy wanderer of heaven. There was alternate gloom and brightness. In the gloom was heard the savage roaring of the thunder-laden winds; in the brightness was seen the tortured ocean heaving in convulsions, and flinging its spray in impotent wrath far up into the dark concave. Such scenes had become familiar to me, and had almost lost their terrors. My crazy ship went tumbling on, and I had lashed myself to the remnant of one of her masts, lest I should be swept from the deck as every thing else had been already. Again the moon looked down for an instant, again the lightning gushed from the cloudsGood God! a vessel, with all her sails set, bounded past me, and I heard the cries of human beings. Another gleam of moonshine,-she was still there! Another blaze of lightning,-she was gone,-down-down into the gulf for ever!

The storm passed away, and I was still safe. The wind was in the north, and the ship sailed on. One morning I came upon deck; it was clear, though cold, and the sea at some little distance seemed peopled with islands. How my heart bounded! I was approaching them! Shipwreck-death was all I desired, provided I met it in an attempt to make the land. I came nearer the islands.-Heaven and earth! they were islands of ice! Where was I? I had been sailing south ;-) I got within the antarctic circle? Ice-nothing but ice. Huge mountains of dreary ice.

to the east.

"I was the first that ever burst Into that silent sea!"

-Had

I know not how it was, but I sailed far in among those frozen fields. The wind at length shifted, and my course was altered. I retraced part of my way, and went more One night I was in bed, and my vessel was drifting as usual where it pleased. Suddenly it struck against something with a violent shock and crash. I rushed upon deck; the ship was going to pieces. It seemed to have come upon a reef of rocks. It was calm, and I was a good swimmer. I threw myself into the sea, and reaching some of the more prominent heights, I scrambled up upon them, and waited till daylight should discover to me my situation. It came soon enough; I was on the highest peak of two or three insulated rocks, not a hundred yards in circumference altogether, that rose up from the fathomless depths of the southern ocean till they reached a little above its surface. Water-nothing but water, could be seen around. Here, then, on this unknown rock, which no human eye but mine had ever seen before, it was to be my lot to die. I wonder I did not grow mad at once. I recollect that I lost all belief in my personal identity. I could not conceive it possible that I was the same being who had once so keenly enjoyed all the pleasures of social and civilized life;-who had loved and hated, who had laughed and wept, who

had feared and hoped. On a solitary peak in the ocean, what was man?-more useless than the sea-weed, more helpless than the bubbles that floated past with the waves. The ship had disappeared; but some fragments still floated about the rock. I took possession of one of them, and drifted away, as I believed, to certain death. Now, talk of solitude!-on a single plank in the untraversed South Pacific. I floated away and away; but nature was at length exhausted. I stretched myself out at full length; I closed my eyes; and became insensible. When my senses returned, I was on board a French discovery-ship, in a comfortable bed, and enjoying every luxury, and oh! that luxury above all other luxuriesthe music of the human voice, when its tones are softened by human affections! I did nothing but weep like a child for a whole week. In two months I was again in England.

THE ASCENT OF ELIJAH.

'MID peaks abrupt, the snows are ever deep
On lonely Lebanon's unshelter'd steep;
And cedars wild, o'er all that drear abode,
Spring up to fill the garden-mount of God:
For pilgrim tired they point to shade and rest,
They tell of life on desolation's breast,
And through the desert's gloom, its icy chill,
They soar like hope above a world of ill.
And thus, across the waste of ages gone,
All gleaming wan as monumental stone,

With awe we look on those to whom were given
The Prophet's heart of fire, the words of heaven.
We feel their names a spell, when faith grows cold,
To bear the soul within those glories old,
When through the world supernal mandates ran,
And Godhead communed visibly with man.

The hour is dim; the sacred passion swells;
And, rapt in thought, the vision'd spirit dwells
Where shapes divine and ancient worlds appear,
In dark ancestral pageantry of fear!

The scene hath risen.-The river banks are fair,
And Eden-like the groves that glimmer there;
Shadows are sinking on the western green,
Where Jericho, amid her palms, is seen;
And, towards the desert east, the parting day
Burns on yon holy mountains far away,
Till that resplendence to their summits given,
Hath lighted earth with all the blaze of heaven.

On the near mound, with column'd palm-trees crown'd,
Where honey'd fragrance dews the air around,
Why on the verdant knoll do yonder band
Cluster and gaze, and murmur as they stand?
Sons of the prophets of the Lord are those,
Why do they seek the hill at evening's close?
Come they to muse by Jordan's steepy bank
Of willows blue and alders straight and dank?
Or do they strive, from yonder city fair,
To catch the faint low sound of distant prayer,
If on its terraced roofs some Levite pale,
Clad in white ephod, turns to Sion's vale?
Or crowd they there to hear the fiercer cry
Which on the waken'd gale is hurrying by,
The fluttering cry as of a soul in pain,

The ostrich' shriek from Moab's homeless plain?
Perchance they look on yonder shadowy heights,
Whose peaks are warm with eve's aerial lights,
Glad as the dying prophet's hour of awe,
When from their tops the land of rest he saw!
No; though the City of the Palms is bright,
And her far walls are seen through rosy light;
Though ancient Jordan's waves are dark in rest,
And cliff and wood lie imaged on his breast;
No; though Mount Abarim, in valleys lone,
Conceals the grave where Moses sleeps unknown;

Although her rock is tall, and wild, and dread,
And Amor's sands below are desolate as the dead;
The solemn thoughts which on their fancies steal,
Not from the spirit of the hour they feel;
A deeper charm upon their hearts is cast,
And over all a holier awe hath past.

Look downward where the glade retiring opes, And a grey pathway to the river slopes; And mark the mantled twain, whose footsteps slow Are moving to the deep stream's bridgeless flow. Lo! stern Elijah seeks his fated hour, To close and seal his ministry of power; Already heaven is busy in his heart; A moment more, and he shall calmly part, Leaving immortal a memorial strange Of heavenly triumph over earthly change. He, too, is there, on whom shall soon alight The double wonders of prophetic might; Unmoved of soul, though they have striven to wake His human fear. "Elisha, God will take

Away to-day thy master from thy head."

"I know it, yea, and wait, but not with dread."
They reach the river: will they breast its sweep?
They wind-they tread-they pass the waters deep!
The prophet's robe hath smote them; and the waves
Own the command, and leave their reedy caves.
"Father," Elisha murmur'd, " on my head
A double share be of thy spirit shed !”
Upward he look'd, and that pale ancient brow
With warmer passion seem'd to kindle now,
And seraph-like the smile which flitted there,
As, o'er his kneeling servant bent in prayer,
He blest the seer with accents all divine :
"Much hast thou ask'd, yet shall the gift be thine,
If thou behold me when mine hour is come."
-The vision burst, and mortal voice was dumb.
Hail to God's visions in their dread array!
Oh, dark and wondrous in their pomp are they!
Like breaking storms the revelation came
Wrapt in the glories of descending flame,
Where blended wildest sights with darkness dread,
And light unspeakable around was spread ;—
Strange as the forms which cross'd Ezekiel's glance,
By Chenar's stream in that tremendous trance;
Of living things like lamps of clearest light,
Of beryl-wheels where spirit lodged, and might,
And dreadful voices, that from out the car
Rush'd like the sounds of Deity or war ;-
Thus dim was all, and all mysterious there,
Where burn'd the angel-chariot on the air;

And such the sounds that through the whirlwind broke,
Loud as the trumpet out from Sinai spoke.

Whose is the form that mingles in the blaze? A mortal shape ascending as he prays; Till in the shrouding depths he fades away, Like a lost star-beam at the gates of day! Breathless Elisha mark'd him as he soar'd, Then veil'd his head, and speechlessly adored; Look'd reverent up, and caught his parting eye, And bade him hail with one ecstatic cry; Outstretch'd his arms to pour his last farewell, And caught the sacred mantle as it fell. He rose, and gazed around; the trance was o'er, And Jordan's shores were darkening as before; He turn'd, and smote the river-waters free; "Elijah's God, Jehovah, where is he ?" Echoing they parted, and he cross'd the glen, And mute among his brethren stood again.

Oh, awed and still as that old seer, and they Who throng'd around him in the twilight grey, And wondering as they saw his troubled air, Knew the dark spirit of Elijah there;