They come on, howling for their own, like wolves that have been scared from their prey. When the dawn visits another region, they raise commotions to shut it out. Thrones they rally under their black banners, and principalities under their ensign of darkness; false religion makes them drunk with the cup of her abominations, and they rush full upon the servants of the Lord like incarnate demons from the pit. Sin is the lord of this earth, and grudgeth hard to give up what he won in the fatal garden."

"What may be in the womb of eternity, I know not. Whether there may be a visit paid to hell's habitations by another 'mighty to save,' I know not. Whether there may be some other dispensations of mercy to the abject creatures when this dispensation is fulfilled, another trial of the forlorn creatures, and another levy of righteous men carried after probation and sanctification to heaven, and so, dispensation after dispensation, the numbers of the damned thinned and thinned, until at length they shall be all recovered-these things, there is not one shadow of revelation to induce the hope of, and therefore I declare it to be the most daring invasion upon the prerogative of God, the most monstrous abuse of his gracious revelation, the most dangerous unloosing of its power over men, to set forth as certain, as probable, or even as possible, such doctrines as are wont to be set forth amongst us."

Mr Irving cannot, r FOR ONE, DOUBT THE ALMIGHTY'S FORCE OF CHARACTER!!!"-but no-we leave all this entirely without comment. If other people can read such things without painful feelings, we certainly cannot. If such speculations are the proper materials for addresses to ⚫ Christian congregations, assembled chiefly (which your thundering popular pulpit orators are so very apt to forget) for the purpose of worshipping their Maker, we are entirely mistaken in all our views as to these matters. We have no doubt, a parcel of servant girls and apprentices may prick up their ears when they hear such unwonted topics started, and go home with great satisfaction, after hearing a few paragraphs exploded about themes, the proper discussion of which is not much farther beyond their own understanding than that of their oraclewe willingly believe that all this may be so; but we do not believe, that such a choice of themes, far less such a method of treating them, is at all adapted for conciliating the favour of "the more learned," or even of " the more imaginative classes." Fine ladies

and gentlemen will do much for the sake of a stare. They will take their stare and have done. We venture to prophesy that we shall hear very little of Hatton-Garden Chapel after the long vacation.

We have said these things in no spirit of unkindness towards Mr Irving. He is young-and he is clever -and he may change his plan, and do far better things hereafter. We sincerely hope it may be so. But we must hint in conclusion, that if, instead of giving advice as to the choice composition of sermons, to such a diand management of subjects in the vine as Mr Gordon of Edinburgh, (which he so coolly does in the dedication of his argument to that clergyman,) he himself would condescend to imitate a little of that modesty for which Mr Gordon, in the midst of real learning and real eloquence, is so honourably distinguished, it might be much better for his own congregation, to say nothing of his own character. Mr Gordon is a man of profound attainments in the exact sciences-but his habits of close reasoning are not found to impair the flow of his Christian zeal. He is naturally an oratora true orator-and yet his feeling of the vastness and mysteriousness of the arcana of Theology, makes him well content to keep his oratory for. man, and the doings of man. Such

an example might be held in view sometimes, with great advantage, by Dr Chalmers himself-but to see this raw and affected imitator of the Chalmerian vein, so entirely overlooking that example-nay, to see him capable of the unheard-of audacity of giving advice to the eminent person who sets it

this is really almost enough to make one shut Mr Irving's book for ever, with feelings less benign than we should wish to entertain towards any man who we are bound to believe means well, however mistaken the cast of his exertions may be.

We have a very few words to say in rather a lighter strain, ere we close this article but we hope Mr Irving will not fall into the error of supposing that we have not been very serious, merely because he finds us dismissing him in the end not with a frown, but with a smile.

To come to the matter at once, then, the most novel thing of which this book of sermons can boast, is, after all, a thing not worthy of being

not written many admirable books books which belong to the classical literature of England-books which bear the impress of original and masterly genius-books which live, and which cannot die? This is the true question; and it being answered in the affirmative, as it must be by every man who knows anything whatever about our literature and our poetry-by every man who has ever had head enough and heart enough to understand a single page of such works as Thalaba, that exquisite etherial romance-or the life of Nelson, that specimen of chaste and nervous biography-that gem of Engfish patriotism-or the sublime poem of Roderick-in a word, by every man who knows anything at all about what Mr Southey has done-This being answered in the affirmative, and it being moreover remembered, that Mr Southey is not only one of the very first order of living scholars and authors in England-indisputably so-but that he is also, "his enemies themselves being judges," a man who has through a life, not now a short one, discharged every social and moral duty of an English GENTLEMAN, with uniform and exemplary propriety-All this being kept in mind and it being also kept in mind, that Mr Edward Irving is a young, raw Scotch dominie, who probably never sat in the same parlour for five minutes with any man worthy of tying the latchets of Mr Southey's shoes-a person who has done nothing as yet, and who very probably never will do anything, that can entitle him to any place at all in the higher ranks of intellect-a vain green youth, drunk with the joy of a novel, and, in all likelihood, a very transitory notoriety -All these things, we say, being calmly had in mind, and this precious paragraph read over again, we really do not hesitate to say, that we cannot conceive of there being more than one opinion as to who is the most dauntlessly and despicably arrogant person now living in England. We confess that such

a measure of self-conceit and self-ignorance-such a total negation of diffidence and of delicacy, to say no more about the matter, inspires us with many doubts as to Mr Irving-doubts of rather a more serious nature than we are at present disposed to enlarge upon.

Such are our serious feelings in regard to this base outrage upon the decorum of the pulpit, and the rights of genius and virtue. Nevertheless, taking a lower, and perhaps a more suitable view of this Mr Irving's case, and considering him merely as a young adventurer, who wants to make a noise, we certainly do not advise him to desist from seasoning his discourses with literary allusions and personalities. He may depend upon it, that the more personal his allusions are, the more alluring and delectable will they be found by "the more learned, imaginative, and accomplished classes;" and he is probably sufficiently aware already, that there is no vehicle in which they may be more safely and conveniently conveyed to such classes, than the Sermon-we beg pardon the Oration. Why not review Don Juan in that form? We venture to promise a crowded auditory of both Whigs and Tories, matrons and maids, the day for which that Oration is announced. Let the clerk read the extracts, if Mr Irving feels fatigued. He really has had the merit of hitting upon one good new idea; and by all means let him make the most of it. And, by the way, since he has laid aside altogether the name of sermon, why keep up the farce of sticking texts from the Bible to the beginning of his productions? It would be well, we think, to try the effect of a neat little text from some popular work of the day." In the Book of Blackwood, in volume the

page the — column the second, and there the first paragraph, you will find it written," &c. This would certainly produce a sensation among the more imaginative classes.

THIS is a manly and intelligent account of the remarkable proceedings which drew the general eye on Madrid and the South of Spain during the latter part of 1822, and the commencement of 1823. The Journal occupies only seven months, but those were seven months of revolutionary and royalist agitation-perhaps the most stirring political period that had happened to Spain since the suppression of the Cortes by Charles the Fifth. The agitation of the Peninsular war bore the character of the time; it was warlike, a great swell and heave of popular indignation against a national enemy-a noble and vindicatory revolt of human nature against a fraudulent, insulting, and homicidal tyranny. The pressure of this supreme hatred and abhorrence crushed all the little local influences for the time;-a great combat was to be fought, from whose muster nothing could be spared for petty passions and individual objects; and in the vigour of this universal feeling, as in the confidence and leading of a sign from Heaven, Spain conquered.

But the fall of Napoleon was to Spain what the ruin of Carthage was to Rome. In the loss of that salutary terror, it lost the great teacher of those virtues which are the food and spirit of national eminence, and, in their own good season, of solid, prosperous tranquillity. They thought their task was ended, when it was scarcely more than be gun. The expulsion of the French should have been hailed, not as the signal of rest, but of labour unincumbered, free to choose its ground, and putting its hand to the plough with the nerve of recent success. A constitution, founded on the ancient forms of the country, with whatever of utility and civilized fitness there was to be found in the wisdom of modern times, ought to have been the first and the holiest work of the noblest minds of Spain. Whatever spoils of battle they

might have borne to their temple of victory, this work of peace would have outshone them all. The most glorious record of their triumph would have been a charter, securing liberty to all ranks of the generous population of Spain.

The return of Ferdinand extinguished the Cortes-a feeble, ignorant, and corrupt cabal, who degraded the name of patriots and of statesmen. The populace, disgusted with faction, huzzaed after the King's wheels, as he drove over the mutilated body of this charlatanism. No man in Spain was found public-spirited enough to demand freedom for the nation, or wise enough to propose a rational scheme of freedom. Thus the great chance was cast away. A prejudiced King on the one side, an unadvised people on the other-the throne without a heart, and the people without a head-all the elements were prepared that wreck nations. To minds looking on those things from that distance of place and feeling, which allows of the truest political view, Spain was on the verge of convulsion.

The revolt of the troops decided the question, and those military legislators virtually made a cypher of the crown. But, once again, the apathy of the national character became the national safeguard. The army conquered the King, and then rested on its arms. A knot of city politicians, refugees, and mendicants, took up the game, when the men of the plume and the bayonet had fallen asleep beside the board. The terrors of a military struggle subsided into the squabbles of the gown; and Spain, by nature and habit the enemy of France and Republicanism, saw itself governed under the name of national freedom by the code of a Parisian Democracy.

Our first curiosity is of course excited, like that of the writer, to see the forms of this strange legislation.

"One of the first places to which I bent

my steps was the Hall of the Cortes. 1t is of an oval form, and has very much of a scenic appearance. The throne is at one extremity. It consists of a chair of state, supported by two bronze gilt lions; the back is composed of standards, made in the form of the Roman fasces. On the top is placed a Baronial helmet, adorned with a large ostrich feather, which droops over the seat. Above the chair is the inscription, "Fernando VII. Padre de la patria." On each side of the chair are Caryatides, the one representing South America, the other the Peninsula, which support a square canopy, &c. The throne is elevated upon a platform. One step below this there is another platform, on which stands an oblong table, for the President and six Secretaries of the Cortes. The President sits with his back to the throne, the Secretaries occupy the sides of the table. At the end opposite to the President stands a silver crucifix. A small silver bell is placed at his right hand, which he rings when he feels it necessary to call any of the members to order. Copies of the Evangelists, the Constitution, the Decrees of Cortes, and books of authority, are arranged upon

the lower end of the table," &c.

"There are twenty-two benches for the deputies, arranged in equal numbers at each side of the hall, cushioned and covered with purple velvet. The floor is carpetted, and mats are placed for the feet. A considerable segment of the oval is railed off for the bar, the floor of which is covered with green baize. In the centre are two marble pedestals, which support two large and beautiful bronze lions couched. Those grasp in their fore-claw, a thick gilt rod, which is removed when the King goes to Cortes, but on no other occasion. Below the bar are a lofty pair of folding doors, through which his Majesty, the royal family, and the officers of state enter. During the sittings, those gates are guarded on the inside by two sentinels, dressed in silk and gold-lace, hats and drooping feathers, in the style of the ancient Spanish costume. They hold gilt maces in their hands, and are relieved every hour; they look more like a pair of stage mutes than the officers of a senate. The hall is hung with six large

lustres, whose tin sconces mar the elegance of the glass manufacture. Immediately before the throne are four bronze figures, sustaining sockets for wax-lights. There are also several side lustres; they are seldom used, as the Cortes rarely sit at night.

"The decorations consist principally of a number of casts from statues, which are well executed. Two, representing

Genius and Honour, stand at the sides of the throne, and four-the cardinal virtues-are placed, two at each side, lower down. There are affixed to the wall several marble slabs, on which are written, in letters of gold, the names of Alvarez, D. Felix Acevedo, D. Luis Daois, D. Pedro Velardo, D. Juan Diez Porlier, D. Luis Lacy, and D. Mariano Alvarez, men who have distinguished themselves by their exertions for liberty. On the front of the lower gallery the third ar ticle of the Constitution is inscribed :

"The sovereignty resides essentially in the nation, and therefore to it belongs exclusively the right of making its fundamental laws."

Spectators are not admitted below the bar, nor into the space appropriated to the Deputies; but they are amply provided for in two large galleries, one over the other, which are at the lower extremity of the hall, opposite to the throne. On the right of the throne, half way between the floor and the ceiling, there is a tribune for the ambassadors, opposite to which is a similar recess for the use of the officers of the guard attendant on the Cortes. In the central part of the hall, nearly on a level with the floor, is a tribune for the ex-Deputies, into which the Deputies have the privilege of introducing their friends, A similar tribune, opposite to this, is occupied by the short-hand writers to the Cortes. It is the duty of those gentlemen to take down every word that is spoken, both in the public and the private meetings.

All this apparatus is now, we take it for granted, abandoned to the use of the moths, and other Spanish devastators of cloth and velvet. But as Spain will have, in some way or other, a representative body, let the war turn as it may, this description holds good for the next meeting of the King and the Cortes. Those who have heard of the perpetual sittings of the British House of Commons will be inclined to think that the Spaniards "have their mother's spirit in them still," and will be but lazy politicians to the last.

"The Cortes begin their debates usually at half-past eleven in the forenoon, and, unless some very important subject occupies them, they seldom sit beyond three o'clock. The Deputies rise and speak from their places, and generally without the aid of notes. There is a handsome rostrum on each side of the chair, but those are resort.