IV. The gentlemen of Lord Macartney's embassy had the good fortune to pass into Tartary by one of the most entire portions of the great wall of China, and an examination of it was made by Captain Parish. It goes over the ridges of the highest hills, descends into the deepest valleys, crosses large rivers, and in some important places is built with double thickness. It is supplied with massive towers or bastions at distances of about one hundred yards. One of the most elevated ridges crossed by the wall is 5,000 feet above the level of the sea, which we can better estimate when we remember that Snowdon, the highest mountain in England and Wales, is only 3,571 feet high. It far surpasses, in fact, the sum total of all other works of this kind, and proved a useful barrier against the enemies of the Chinese, till the great conqueror, Zenghis Khan, overthrew their empire.

The body of the wall is composed of earth, bound up on both sides by walls of brick, and overlaid at the top by a platform of square bricks. The total height is twenty feet, and its thickness at the bottom is twenty-five feet, diminishing to fifteen feet at the top. The towers are forty feet square at the bottom, and thirty feet at the top, being thirty-seven feet in total height. The bricks are, as usual in China, of a bluish colour. The blue colour of the bricks led to some doubt of their having been burned; but some ancient kilns were observed near the wall, and since then it has been found by actual experiment that the brick clay of the Chinese, being red at first, burns blue. This wall was not built to resist cannon, as this engine of warfare was not invented at the time it was built.

MEN'S words are a poor exponent of their thoughts. No man can explain himself, can get himself explained; men see not one another, but distorted phantasms which they call one another; which they hate, and go to battle with; for all battle is well be misunderstanding.-Carlyle's French Revolution.

SIR Thomas More, on the day that he was beheaded, had a barber sent to him because his hair was long; which it was thought would make him to be pitied by the people. The barber came to him, and asked him whether he would be pleased to be trimmed. "In good faith, honest fellow," saith Sir Thomas, "the king and I have a suit for my head; and till the title be cleared I will do no cost on it."

Long Sermons.

R. BARROW was a famous divine of the English Church, who lived in the reign of Charles II. He was not only remarkable for the excellence, but for the extraordinary length of his sermons. In preaching the Hospital sermon before the Lord Mayor and the Corporation, he spent three hours and a half. Being asked, after he came down from the pulpit, if he was not tired, he replied, "Yes, indeed; I begin to be weary with standing so long."

He was once requested by the Bishop of Rochester, then Dean of Westminster, to preach at Westminster Abbey. The bishop desired him not to preach a long sermon, because the people loved short ones, and were accustomed to them. He replied: 'My lord, I will show you my sermon ;" and immediately gave it to the bishop. The text was: "He that uttereth slander is a liar;" and the sermon was divided into two parts, one treating on slander and the other on lies. The bishop desired him to preach the first part of it only; and to this he consented, though not without some reluctance. This half sermon took him an hour and a half in the delivery.

At another time Dr. Barrow preached in the Abbey on a holiday. It was then customary for the servants of the church upon all holidays, except Sundays, between the sermon and evening prayer, to show the tombs and monuments in the Abbey to such strangers as would purchase the privilege for twopence. Perceiving Dr. Barrow in the pulpit after the hour was past, the servants of the church became impatient, and most indecently caused the organ of the church to be struck up against him; nor would they cease playing till the doctor was silenced, which was not until he despaired of being heard, or of exhausting the strength of the organ blower.

DIOGENES was one day in the Market-place, with a candle in his hand, and being asked what he sought, said, "An honest man."

The Three Warnings.

HE tree of deepest root is found,

Least willing still to quit the ground;
'Twas therefore said by ancient sages,
That love of life increased with years
So much, that in our later stages,
When pains grow sharp, and sickness rages,
The greatest love of life appears.
This great affection to believe,
Which all confess but few perceive,
If old assertions can't prevail,
Be pleased to hear a modern tale.

When sports went round, and all were gay,
On neighbour Dodson's wedding-day,
Death called aside the jocund groom
With him into another room,

And, looking grave, "You must," says he,
"Quit your sweet bride, and come with me."
"With you! and quit my Susan's side?
With you!" the hapless husband cried;
"Young as I am, 'tis monstrous hard!
Besides, in truth, I'm not prepared:
My thoughts on other matters go;
This is my wedding-day, you know."

What more he urged I have not heard ;
His reasons could not well be stronger;
So Death the poor delinquent spared,
And let him live a little longer.

Yet calling up a serious look,

His hour glass trembled while he spoke—
"Neighbour," he said, "Farewell! no more
Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour;
And further, to avoid all blame

Of cruelty upon my name,

To give you time for preparation,
And fit you for your future station,
Three several warnings you shall have,
Before you're summoned to the grave;
Willing for once I'll quit my prey,
And grant a kind reprieve,

In hopes you'll have no more to say ;
But, when I call again this way,

Well pleased the world will leave."
To these conditions both consented,
And parted perfectly contented.

What next the hero of our tale befell,
How long he lived, how wise, how well;
How roundly he pursued his course,

And smoked his pipe, and stroked his horse,
The willing muse shall tell:

He chaffered, then he bought and sold,
Nor once perceived his growing old,
Nor thought of Death as near:
His friends not false, his wife no shrew,
Many his gains, his children few,
He passed his hours in peace.

But while he viewed his wealth increase,
While thus along life's dusty road
The beaten track content he trod,
Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares,
Uncalled, unheeded, unawares,

Brought on his eightieth year.

And now, one night, in musing mood,
As all alone he sate,

The unwelcome messenger of fate
Once more before him stood.

Half-killed with anger and surprise,
"So soon returned!" old Dodson cries.
"So soon, d'ye call it?" Death replies :
"Surely, my friend, you're but in jest !
Since I was here before

'Tis six-and-thirty years at least,
And you are now fourscore."

"So much the worse," the clown rejoined ; "To spare the aged would be kind: However, see your search be legal ;

And your authority-is it regal?

Besides, you promised me Three Warnings, Which I have looked for nights and mornings; But for that loss of time and ease

I can recover damages."

I know," cries Death, "that at the best,

I seldom am a welcome guest;

But don't be captious, friend, at least ;
I little thought you'd still be able
To stump about your farm and stable :
Your years have run to a great length;
I wish you joy, though, of your strength!"

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"Hold!" says the farmer; "not so fast;
I have been lame these four years past."
"And no great wonder," Death replies :
"However, you still keep your eyes;
And sure to see one's goods and friends,
For legs and arms would make amends."
Perhaps," says Dodson, so it might;
But latterly I've lost my sight."
"This is a shocking tale, 'tis true;
But still there's comfort left for you:
Each strives your sadness to amuse;
I warrant you hear all the news."
"There's none," cried he, "and if there were,
I'm grown so deaf I could not hear."

"Nay, then," the spectre stern rejoined,
"These are unjustifiable yearnings;
If you are lame, and deaf, and blind,

You've had your Three sufficient Warnings;
So come along; no more we'll part;"
He said, and touched him with his dart;
And now old Dodson, turning pale,
Yields to his fate-so ends my tale.

MRS. THRALE.

Death of Sir Launcelot.

HEN Sir Launcelot never after ate but little meat, nor drank much till he was dead. For then he sickened more and more, and dried and dwindled away. For neither the bishop nor his fellows could make him to eat, and little he drank, so that he was waxen by a cubit shorter than he was before. And evermore, day and night, he prayed, but sometimes he slumbered a broken sleep; and ever he loved to lie grovelling on the tomb of King Arthur and Queen Guenevere. And there was no comfort that the bishop or any of his fellows could give him.

So within six weeks Sir Launcelot fell sick and lay in his bed, and then he sent for the bishop, and said, "Sir bishop, I pray you give to me all my rights that belongeth to a Christian man (the last sacraments). "You shall not need them," said the hermit, and his companions; "it is but a heaviness of your