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have had for six years our English ploughs, which are now used over a great part of Switzerland and France. The boys of this division are not allowed to join the sports of the others, nor to accompany them in their travels. Here it may be remarked as applicable to all the schools, that early rising is insisted upon, and that corporal punishment is unknown. A good preceptor should be, as much as possible, a kind and experienced friend, who guides, rather than a master, who commands, and is feared more than loved. Here the boys feel as if under the paternal roof.

The Third Class, the Poor, or Wehrli, School has 128 boys, kept entirely at M. de F.'s expense. They have been taught by a Mr. Wehrli, a clever person, appointed to that important undertaking by de Fellenberg, since he has been so fully engaged. Each boy, upon entering, has to make his agreement to serve till he is twenty-one; the first three years he only learns, and afterwards he must make himself useful. They have their masters for two hours in the day, when they are instructed in Geography, History, and Mathematics; the rest of the time they work in the fields. They keep the whole of the land (about 250 acres) in order, with the assistance of some daily labourers, and they are always occupied. In wet weather they cut wood, make baskets, and thresh corn. Their different trades are the Butcher, Baker, Carpenter, Mechanic, Sadler, Tailor, Shoemaker, Tallowchandler, Blacksmith, and Bookbinder; and there is scarcely any thing worn or consumed at Hofwyl, that is not made by them. On Sunday, they attend service. They have collected a very good cabinet of Natural History, their own property, in which are all sorts of stuffed birds, beasts, and a large collection of insects, minerals, and dried plants: this they keep up, by a subscription among themselves. Each has a small garden, in which are grown plants and vegetables, to be disposed of, the money being kept for their use. They also take charge of a dairy of sixty cows.

With the view of improving the system of education amongst the poor of Switzerland, M. de F. takes annually 300 schoolmasters, men of ths country, who instruct the poor children in the different cantons. These men are received free of every expense; he boards and lodges them in a house which he has built for their use, and on which is written in large characters, Die Hoffnung des Vaterlandes, or The Hope of the Country. They stay at Hofwyl for three months in the year, July, August, and September, as that is the time their own pupils are at work on the fields. These 300 men are principally instructed in geography, and the history of their own country, with a sketch of that of others, Mathematics, and Agriculture. M. de Fellenberg is very fond of this part of his plan, and says, if he can but make it answer, he is sure that it will save many a poor lad from want and ruin. At the .end of the three months, the probationary masters are publicly examined.

The Fourth and last division, I'Ecole des Filles, is conducted by one of M. de Fellenberg's daughters, who willingly undertakes the trouble free of expense. These girls are of various ages. They do ill sorts of needle-work, and knit stockings for themselves and the several members of the establishment; they likewise have a garden, belonging to Madame de Fellenberg, to look after, and a small one of their own: in summer they help in the hay and corn harvest. They are all Protestants, and have church service held in their own apartments; they obtain an excellent education; and if they conduct themselves properly for a few years, their kind patron provides for

them as for the poor boys, by taking them into bis service, or procuring them good situations in respectable families.

MORAL DISCIPLINE. The law of habit when enlisted on the side of righteousness, not only strengthens and makes sure our resistance to vice, but facilitates the most arduous performances of virtue. The man whose thoughts with the purposes and doings to which they lead, are at the bidding of conscience, will, by frequent repetition, at length describe the same track almost spontaneously,—even as in physical education, things, laboriously learned at the first, come to be done at last without the feeling of an effort. And so, in moral education, every new achievement of principle smooths the way to frture achievements of the same kind; and the precious fruit or purchase of each moral virtue is to set us on higher and firmer vantage-ground for the conquests of principle in all time coming. He who resolutely bids away the suggestions of avarice, when they come into conflict with the incumbent generosity; or the suggestions of voluptuousness, when they come into conflict with the incumbent self-denial; or the suggestions of anger, when they come into conflict with the incumbent act of magnanimity and forbearance—will at length obtain, not a respite only, but a final deliver • ance from their intrusion.

Conscience, the longer it has made way over the obstacles of selfishness and passion, the less will it give way to these adverse forces, themselves weakened by the repeated defeats which they have sustained in the warfare of moral discipline: or, in other words the oftener that conscience makes good the supremacy which she claims, the greater would be the work of violence, and less the strength for its accomplishment, to cast her down from that station of practical guidance and command, which of right belongs to her. It is just, because, in virtue of the law of suggestion, those trains of thought and feeling, which connect her first biddings with their final execution, are the less exposed at every new instance to be disturbed, and the more likely to be repeated over again, that every good principle is more strengthened by its exercise, and every good affection is more strengthened by its indulgence than before. The acts of virtue ripen into habits; and the goodly and permanent result is, the formation or establishment of a virtuous character. Chalmers.

I Kvow but oneway of fortifying my soul against gloomy presages and terrors of mind, and that is, by securing to myself the friendship and protection of that Being who disposes of events, and governs futurity. He sees, at one view, the whole thread of my existence, not only that part of it which I have already passed through, but that which runs forward into all the depths of eternity. When I lay me down to sleep, I recommend myself to His care: when I awake, I give myself up to his direction. Amidst all the evils that threaten me, I will look up to Him for help, and question not but He will avert them, or turn them to my advantage. Though I know neither the time nor the manner of the death I am to die, I am not at all solicitous about it; because I am sure that He knows them both, and that He wdl not fail to comfort and support me under them.——addison.

By him who can look with firmness on difficulties, the conquest is already half achieved; but the man on whose heart and spirits they lie heavy, will scarcely be able to bear up against their pressure. The forecast of timid, or the disgust of toe delicate minds, are very unfortunate attendants for men of business, who to be successful, must often push improbabilities and bear with mortifications, ">. N.


FAMILIAR ILLUSTRATIONS CF NATURAL PHENOMENA. No. XIV. Water In A Fluid State. "when a person returns from sea, after a long voyage, in which he has been on short allowance of water, some time elapses before he is quite reconciled to the great waste of fresh water in ordinary life. He sees the purest water, perhaps, employed for washing down a flight of steps, or cleaning a carriage; or some spout pouring idly away what, to a ship's crew in distress, would have been an inestimable treasure. Thus it is that circumstances make us acquainted with the incalculable importance of many things which we are continually enjoying without reflection. Water is one of these: and, especially, water as a fluid, the state in which it is most familiar to us.

Water is the universal drink of animals. It is admirably adapted for this purpose by being in itself nearly tasteless, yet capable of being flavoured by various means. The water of our rivers, springs, and wells, might, for any thing we know, have been all disagreeably salt, or sweet, or bitter; and yet we might have been compelled to drink it, in order to support life. Instead of any inconvenience of this kind, nothing can be more grateful than a draught of pure and cool water. When we call spring-water pure, however, we must be understood to speak in a somewhat qualified sense. The purest water is that which has been carefully distilled; and such water is not, by any means, so agreeable to the palate as that of springs or rivers, which contains a small quantity of other substances, especially atmospheric air, and carbonic acid gas.

Water is also the means of conveying nutriment to vegetables. All plants absorb their food by very small sponge-like tufts, called spongioles, situated at the ends of the fibres of their roots 5 and this food cannot be taken in, except it be first reduced to a liquid state.

Thus the existence of the whole animal and vegetable creation depends upon a constant supply of fresh water: and the fluid itself is endued with properties which effectually secure such a supply. The

main instrument by which water is thus carried fr> all parts of the earth is the atmosphere. The vapour of water which is mixed with the air is usuallr invisible *, and becomes sensible only when it begins to be condensed, in the form of clouds, fog, or rain. It is carried with the atmosphere in this highlyrarefied state until it is condensed, either by comius in contact with high land, by the mixture of two currents of air of different temperatures, by the action of electricity, or by some other causes which are not understood. We shall return to this part of the subject when we have occasion to speak of water in the state of vapour. For the present, we will endeavour to trace the progress of the water which has been pumped up by evaporation from the ocean or from the land, and then precipitated in a copious shower, which we will suppose to fall on the high land.

A great part of this welcome supply, having, in its fall, washed the leaves of trees, and thus cleansed them from impurities which impeded their growth, sinks directly into the earth, and having there dissolved such substances as are fitted for the nourishment of vegetables, is soon imbibed by the roots of trees and plants, and conveys to every part its appropriate supply of food. Another portion of the shower runs down into reservoirs or lakes, where it is stored for the use of man and animals living near the spot upon which it falls. In parts of India, and elsewhere, the rain water is collected in large tanks, and is so pure and delicious, that those who have been accustomed to it are long before they can be reconciled to the water of rivers and springs.

If the soil, however, upon which the shower falls, is of a porous nature, a great part of the rain sinks directly down, and would appear to be lost to the use of animals and vegetables. But here a different property of fluids is called into action. All fluids run down to the lowest attainable level; and thus the water which falls upon high land is carried downwards. But all fluids which are confined rise to the same level in all parts which are connected. Thus if there be a reservoir of water, R, and pipes p p be laid from it to any distance, the water in all those

• See Saturday Magaiine, Vol. III., p. 236.

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in different places. In some districts we find chalk, in others clay, in others again marl, stone, slate, and many other substances. In sinking a well also, we find that the soil varies at different depths. Again, in passing through a tract of country, we observe that a soil, which, in one place, was at a considerable depth, conies to the surface in another place. Thus the different substances of which the crust of the earth is composed are usually found in strata or layers, which are cut horizontal, but inclined, so as to come to the surface, or cross-cut, as it is called, at different points, in a manner somewhat resembling the annexed figure. Here, if a traveller went from A to B, he would pass successively over chalk, for

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instance, in the stratum c, over clay in D, over sand in E, and so on. Or if a well be sunk through the clay, the different soils will be found at different depths, as at d, e, f, &c, in succession. ■ Now suppose that there is high land at p, the soil of which permits the water to pass freely, as sand or gravel does: but that on each side of this stratum, as at o and Q, there is a stratum of stone or clay, which will not let the water pass. Thus the whole stratum, P, will be very full of water, and if, in another place, as M, the soil be bored through, till the stratum p be reached, as at p, the water will


immediately rise, not only to the surface at M, but as high as m, the level of the surface at p, if a pipe be inserted into the bore at M.

This method is frequently used to procure water artificially: and the springs which rise naturally, are probably often occasioned by the same cause: and thus the water, which falls upon one district, and appears to sink into the earth, and to be lost, is stored up in reservoirs, to supply the wants of places far distant.

A part of the shower, then, which we have supposed, having been immediately applied to support animal and vegetable life, and part having sunk into the earth, the remainder is poured down the sides of the hills, is collected in streams, and rivers, and, in the end, completes its circuit to the ocean, whence it arose.

In contemplating this beautiful arrangement, it is impossible not to call to mind the language of David: "He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which ran among the hills. They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild asses quench their thirst. By them shall the fowls of the air have their habitation, and sing among the branches. He watereth the hills from his chambers j the earth is satisfied with the fruit of thy works." (Psalm civ. 10—13.)

Thece, however, are by no means the only benefits derived from water in its fluid state. The waters furnish the means of subsistence and enjoyment, probably to more living creatures than the earth and the air. The ocean, again, which might appear to shut out oue country from another, becomes the

directest means of intercourse by navigation: and in the interior of every civilized country, either rivers, or navigable canals, furnish the inhabitants with an easy and cheap conveyance for merchandise and productions of all kinds. Water, also, either enters, as an ingredient, into almost every article of food, or is used as the means of preparing it. Without the aid of water, many of the operations of agri?ulture could not be performed; nor any building constructed with any ordinary cement.

Of such universal benefit is the apparently simple substance, water: furnishing us with an instance of the numerous merciful ends, which the wisdom of the Creator produces, by the fittest means. Thus, the more deeply we reflect upon objects, even of the most familiar nature, the stronger proofs do we meet with of intelligence, beneficence, and design. C.


The orange-plantations, or quintas, of St. Mic)>ael"s, are of large extent, always encircled by a wall from fifteen to twenty feet high, and within a thick plantation belt of the faya, cedar-tree, fern, birch, &c, to protect the orange-trees from the sea breezes.

The trees are propagated from shoots or layers, which are bent at the lower end into the ground, and covered with soil until roots begin to strike, when they are separated from the parent stem, and transplanted into a small excavated well about three feet deep, (lined with pieces of lava, and surrounded at the top by plantations of laurel, young faya, and broom,) until the tender orange-plants are sufficiently strong, at which period the plantations immediately round them are removed, and each plant begins to shoot up and flourish, after which no further care is taken of it, beyond tarring occasionally the stem to prevent injury by insects; and it in time spreads out with the majestic luxuriance of a chesnut-tree. In this country it only requires seven years to bring an orange-plantation to good bearing and each tree, on arriving at full growth, a few years after, will then, annually, upon an average, produce from 12,000 to 10,000 oranges:—a gentleman told me, he had once gathered 26,000.

The crops are purchased previous to their arriving at a state of maturity by the merchants, who ascertain the value of the probable year's produce, through the medium of experienced men, and then make their offer accordingly. The men thus employed to value orange-crops, gain a livelihood thereby; and such is the skill whereto they attain, that, by walking once through a plantation, and giving a general glance at the trees, they are enabled to state, with the most astonishing accuracy, on what number of boxes the merchant may calculate. It becomes, however, quite a matter of speculation to the purchaser, as orange-crops are a very uncertain property, and subject to various casualties between the time they are thus valued and the gathering. For instance, a continuance of cold north or north-easterly wind will cut thera off;—a violent storm will sometimes lay the whole crop on the ground in a night, or it may be entirely destroyed by insects.

Nothing can exceed the rich luxuriant appearance of these Hesperian gardens, during the principal fruit months —namely, from November to March, when the emerald tints of the unripe and golden hue of the mature fruit mingle their beauties with the thick dark foliage of the trees; and the bright odoriferous blossom which diffuses a sweetness through the surrounding neighbourhood is quite delicious.

The present amount of oranges and lemons exported, is upwards of 120,000 boxes, and nearly seventy or eighty vessels are sometimes seen lying in the roads, waiting to carry them to Europe. Besides these, a large quantity of the sweet lemon is cultivated for the consumption of the inhabitants: it is produced by grafting the sour lemon on the orange, but is tasteless and vapid, though esteemed salutary and refreshing by the natives.

There is a species of epicurism peculiar to the Azores with respect to oranges, particularly observed by the higher classes, who only eat that side which has been most exposed to the sun, and is, of course, in its fresh state, easily distinguished by the tint—a refinement we are unable to emulate, the colour being rendered uniform by age. [boid's Western hlands.]


In 1822, Alexis St. Martin, employed by the American Fur Company, was wounded in the side by the discharge of a musket. The contents of the gun blew from his left side integuments and muscles, the size of a man's hand, so as to leave, when the wound had haaled, a perforation in his stomach, about two and a half inches in circumference. Hence the cavity of his stomach is exposed to view; its surface, and secretions from it, can be readily examined, and different articles of food can be introduced, and taken out at pleasure, to study the changes which they have undergone. Since the recovery of Martin, he lias enjoyed the best health. He has performed the duties of a labourer, has married, and become the father of a family; and Dr. Beaumont, a physician stationed at the place where the accident happened, has retained Martin several years in his service, for the express purpose of examining the functions of an organ, which was so accidentally thrown open for his inspection and study. The results of this laborious inquiry, have been published by Dr. Beaumont, and he has added much important information to animal physiology. He found the inner coat of the stomach to be of a light or pale pink colour, varying in its hues, according as it was full or empty. It had a soft or velvet-like appearance, and was constantly covered with a thin, transparent, viscid mucus, secreted from small oval-shaped glandular bodies, beneath the mucous coat. When aliment or other irritants were applied to the inner coat of the stomach, there were seen, with a magnifying glass, innumerable minute lucid points, and very fine nervous and vascular papilla, arising from the villous membrane, and protruding through the mucous coat, and from which distilled a pure, limpid, colourless, and slightly viscid fluid. This fluid is always distinctly acid, and is the gastric juice which converts the food into chyme. Dr. Beaumont regards, with much probability, the sensation of hunger, as occasioned by a distension or repletion of the gastric vessels, which cannot discharge their contents till the stomach is irritated with food. When food was placed in the gastric juice, taken out of the stomach, the same chemical result was obtained, when it was kept at the temperature of 100° Fahrenheit, which Dr. Beaumont found to be that of the stomach. This artificial digestion, however, occupied a period two or three times longer than when the gastric juice acted upon the same materials in the stomach.

Dr. Beaumont has published the times in which various articles of food are digested. A full meal of various articles of food was digested, in from three to three and a half hours; but when the stomach was diseased, or affected by narcotics, or when the mind was agitated by anger, or other strong emotions, or when the food was taken in large masses, the time of digestion was prolonged, while, on the contrary, it was shortened when the food had been minutely divided and mingled with saliva, and when the temperature of the stomach, and the rest of the body, had been elevated by moderate exercise. Among vegetable substances, rice was the soonest converted into chyme, viz., in one hour; and of all animal substances, broiled venison, which was converted into chyme in one hour and thirty-five minutes; while beef, roasted or broiled, required three hours; broiled veal and fowls four hours; and roasted pork, five and a quarter hours.—Edinburgh Review. O. N.

What we term the course of nature is the constant administration of Providence.—Hekvey.

LIFE PROLONGED BY CIVILIZATION. If we collect England, Germany, and France, in one group, we find that the average term of mortality, which, in that great and populous region, was formerly one in thirty people annually, is not at present more than one in thirty-eight. This difference reduces the number of deaths throughout these countries, from 1,900,000 to less than 1,200,000 persons; and 700,000 lives, or one in eighty-three annually, owe their preservation to the social ameliorations effected in the three countries of western Europe, whose efforts to obtain this object have been attended with the greatest success. The life of man is thus not only embellished in its course by the advancement of civilization, but is extended by it, and rendered less doubtful.

The effects of the amelioration of the social condition, are to restrain and diminish, in proportion to the population, the annual number of births, and in a still greater degree, that of deaths; on the contrary, a great number of births, equalled or even exceeded by that of deaths, is a characteristic sign of a state of barbarism. In the former case, as men in a mass reach the plenitude of their physical and social dcvelopement, the population is strong, intelligent, and manly; while ft remains in perpetual infancy, whole generations are swept off without being able to profit by the past,—to bring social economy to perfection. Philosophical Journal,

THE WELLINGTON SHIELD. No. XI. The Dukedom Of Wellington


In the preceding papers of this series, we have narrated the principal events in the military life of Lord Wellington, from the year 1803, when he won the battle of Assaye, down to the period when, in 1814, the entry of the allied British, Spanish, and Portuguese army into Toulouse, closed the war in the Peninsula and the South of France; we have no* only, for the completion of our task, to speak of the honours which awaited him at the hands of his sovereign and his country, on the termination of so brilliant a career.

Of these, the most distinguished was, his elevation to the highest rank in the peerage, to which the Crown can raise a subject.

On the 10th of May, a message from the Prince Regent was communicated to both houses of Parliament, announcing that his Royal Highness, having taken into consideration the many signal victories obtained by Lord Wellington, had been pleased to confer upon him the rank and title of a Duke and Marquess of the United Kingdom, and expressing the wish entertained by his Royal Highness, to be enabled to grant such annuity to his Grace and his successors, as should tend to support the high dignity of the title conferred, and be, at the same time, a lasting memorial of his Royal Highness's feelings, and ot the gratitude and munificence of the nation. The subject was speedily taken into the consideration of Parliament, in which there appeared to exist but one fecluig, —that of an ardent disposition to give full effect to the gracious intentions of the Prince Regent. The services of the Duke were acknowledged with equal readiness by all, however wide the difference of their political opinions; and his exploits were compared with those of a general with whom comparison was indeed glorious—the great Duke of Marlborough.

But Marlborough, said the Earl of Liverpool, in the house of Lords, had been opposed to Louis XTV*» the decline of his power, when his most eminent officers were dead or unemployed, and when Marshal Villars was, perhaps, the only very great general with whom he had to contend. Let their lordships, continued the noble Earl, then, look at the Duke of Wellington, opposed to Buonaparte, in the plenitude of his power, with not only France, but Italy, and the greater part of the Peninsula at his command. Their lordships might remember what was the state of Europe four years before, when Russia, Sweden, Denmark, Germany, nay, the whole Continent almost, was on the side of France; when nothing remained of Europe, except Great Britain, and the space within the lines of Torres Vedras, and the limits of Cadiz. Let them consider the situation of the civilized world at that period, and then look at the advance of the Duke of Wellington from Torres Vedras, in 1810; let them follow his steps to Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz, and the brilliant exploits there performed; let them then follow his course in those operations which closed with the battle of Salamanca; let them next trace his steps to Vittoria; see him deliver Spain and Portugal from the oppressor, carry the war into the invader's own territory, and at last, plant the British standard in Bourdeaux. Let them look at all this, and say, whether the renown which was gained, had ever been exceeded or equalled at any former period of our history.

These sentiments were responded to by every peer who spoke; and in the house of Commons a similar unanimity prevailed. It was there proposed by the government, that an annuity of 10,000/. should be granted to the Duke, to be at any time commuted for the sum of 300,000/. to be laid out in the purchase of an estate; but at the instance of those who had been the loudest in condemning the policy of continuing the war in the Peninsula, the amount was raised to 400,000/; thus making, together with what had been formerly granted to the Duke of Wellington by the nation, the sum of half a million.

It was not till towards the close of the month of June, that the Duke arrived in England; nothing could, however, exceed the rapture with which he was then received. One of his first acts was to take his scat in the house of Lords; and this he performed on the 28th of June. The ceremony was highly interesting, and nothing was omitted that could render it more pleasing or honourable to the great commander. A considerable concourse of persons were assembled below the bar of the house, and an unusual number of peers were present on the occasion. Below the throne were seated the Duchess of Wellington, and the Countess of Mornington, the venerable mother of the noble Duke; several other ladies were present, and many members of the house of Commons. His Grace was introduced with the usual formalities; and as he had not been in England since he was first raised to the peerage, the patents of his creation, as baron, earl, marquess, and duke, were severally read one after the other. The oaths were then administered to him, and having subscribed the parliamentary roll, he took his seat; when the Lord Chancellor rose to address him, for the purpose of conveying the thanks of the house, as voted to him, on the preceding evening, for the twelfth time. In the execution of that duty, Lord Eldon said, he could not refrain from calling the attention of his Grace, and that of the noble lords present, to a circumstance singular in the history of that house ;—that, upon his introduction, he had gone through every dignity of the peerage which it was in the power of the crown to bestow. These dignities had been conferred upon him for eminent and distinguished services; and for the same

services, both houses of Parliament had bestowed the highest honours it was in their power to grant—their unanimous thanks and approbation. The glorious result of all his toils and victories, had been to achieve the peace, the security, and the greatness of his country, while, by his example, he had animated the rest of Europe, and enabled her governments to restore their ancient order. The Lord Chancellor then expressed the infinite gratification which he felt in fulfilling the commands of their lordships, by informing the noble duke, that they had unanimously voted their thanks for his eminent and unremitted services, and their congratulations upon his return to this country. The duke briefly acknowledged the honour thus conferred upon him, and observed, that the entire confidence which the government had reposed in him, the ample means which they had intrusted to his disposal, and the cordial assistance which he received from the gallant officers who shared his campaigns, contributed powerfully to those successes which the house had noticed in a manner so gratifying.

In addition to the pecuniary remuneration so liberally and cheerfully voted by Parliament to the Duke of Wellington, the House of Commons resolved to pay him the highest tribute of respect that it was possible for them to bestow; namely, voting him their thanks, and appointing a committee to wait upon him to communicate the same, and to offer him their congratulations on his return to England. The Duke, in reply, signified his desire to express to the House his answer in person; and the following day, July 1st, was appointed for the purpose. At about a quarter before five o'clock, the Speaker being dressed in his official robes, and the House being crowded with members, some of them in naval and military uniforms, and a great number in the courtdresses in which they had attended the Speaker to Carlton-House with their address to the Prince Regent, upon the definitive treaty with France, Lord Castlereagh acquainted the House that the Duke of Wellington, having desired that he might have the honour to wait upon the House, was now in attendance. Upon this it was resolved unanimously, that the Duke of Wellington be now admitted. And a chair being set for his grace on the left hand of the bar, towards the middle of the House, he came in, making his obeisances, the whole House rising upon his entrance within the bar; and the Speaker, having informed him that there was a chair in which he might repose himself, the Duke sat down covered for some time, the Serjeants standing on his right hand with the mace grounded. The House then resumed their seats; and his grace, rising uncovered, expressed his thanks for the honour they had done him in deputing a committee of members to congratulate him on his return to this country,-—and this after they had animated his exertions by their applause upon every occasion which appeared to merit their approbation; and after they had filled up the measure of their favours by conferring upon him, at the recommendation of the Prince Regent, the noblest gift that any subject had ever received.

At the conclusion of his address, the speaker, Mr. Abbot *, who had sate covered during its delivery, then stood up uncovered, and replied to his grace. He spoke of the splendid triumphs which the duke had achieved, and of the feelings which they had excited in the minds of nations, and then continued in these words:

"It is not, however, the grandeur of military success which has alone fixed our admiration or • Afterwards Lord Colchester.

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