transparent ground, and displayed by a rich illumination, with an accompaniment of choruses selected from the works of old masters, such as Palestrina, Gluck, Haydn, &c., so as to give an harmonious exposition of the subjects of these great pictures.

In concluding this series of papers, the "Englishman in Prussia" requests permission to offer one or two emphatic remarks. Much has been said of a disparaging kind in the views he has taken of the politics, religion, morals, and customs of Prussia; nor have various objectionable characteristics and domesticities been allowed to pass without comment. All he can now say is this,— he has spoken the truth exactly as it presented itself to his mind. But no disparagements that he has thought himself bound to utter, no sense of absurdities, incongruities, and shortcomings, have in any respect altered his estimate and opinion of the essentially high qualities existing in the inner spirit of the German nation. He regards Germany as the great store-house of new ideas; as the nation by which the kingdoms, equally of imagination and of science, have been ruled over in modern days by potentates of a genius ranking with the highest; as the nation producing the greatest number of indefatigable and life-devoting spirits in the cause of Truth, both abstract and practical, though chiefly abstract; as the nation to whom, of all others, the modern age is most indebted for new food for its soul; and as the nation in which (though the practical development and organization may devolve upon England and France) the redemption of the modern world will be originated.

A VISION.

METHOUGHT, upon a barren promontory,
Rearing a mighty bulwark 'gainst the sea,
Whose wild waves round it roared tumultuously,
I lay in slumber, and a form of glory

Came in a dream, and told me the sad story,
Of dark crime brooding over misery;

Of human laws that warred perpetually

With the soul's holiest instincts, and the dowry
Bequeathed to man by nature of free thought,
Free bread, free labour, filched from human kind,
Who in their struggles as their fury blind,

Like the wild ocean chafing 'gainst the rock
That stands unshaken, freedom vainly sought

From tyrants who their prayers and threats did only mock.

THE HEDGEHOG LETTERS.

CONTAINING THE OPINIONS AND ADVENTURES OF JUNIPER HEDGEHOG, CABMAN, LONDON; AND WRITTEN ΤΟ HIS RELATIVES AND ACQUAINTANCE, IN VARIOUS PARTS OF THE WORLD.

LETTER XXIV.-TO THE FIRST LORD OF THE ADMIRALTY.

MY LORD,-Having put the nose-bag on the mare, I sat down to my porter and paper. I was soon hard and fast in the "Naval Intelligence." I don't know how it is, but I've a hankering after the navy. I had an uncle who was discharged a midshipman at forty, and died a light porter. That was, however, in the good old times; they say, we don't see grey-headed reefers now. Well, having a sort of regard for the wooden walls, I was looking for the ship news, when I run my head against these words :-"The Admiralty, to mark their sense of the noble services of the late Dr. Sidney Bernard on board the Eclair, have presented a near relative of his, Mr. Robert Bernard, assistant-surgeon of the Pique frigate, to the rank of surgeon in the navy." All well and good, and all success to Mr. Robert Bernard! Still, I can't help thinking it, that the Lords of the Admiralty might, as I may say, pay a still prettier compliment to the memory of the dead herofor a hero he was, dying the death of a hero, as much as my Lord Nelson, though no bullet went through his shoulder-than by promoting his relation. Pardon a cabman's boldness, while I tell you what I mean.

Doctor Sidney Bernard boarded the Eclair to attack a fever that was laying all hands low. The noble, big-hearted fellow volunteered to lead the forlorn hope against death, and fell the foremost. That's granted. Well, how do you think, if I was a Lord of the Admiralty, I'd reward the dead? I'll tell you.

You've several new frigates at the present moment on the stocks. They must all, when they 're launched, be christened. Well, why not call one of the best and trimmest of the lot, the Sidney Bernard? You can't think that she'd sail the slower, or answer her helm less readily, for bearing such a name? You can't think that the jack tars aboard of her, nay that the sailors of the whole fleet, would think the worse of the craft, because called after the

sailor's friend—the noble courageous man who died in the sailor's service. Well, my lord, what do you say? Do you think the proposal a bold one-do you fear that the nobs of the navy would look glum at it? Let us talk the matter over.

In the first place, my lord, run your eye down the Admiralty List. Well, saving your presence, wouldn't you think that sometimes Satan, in a waggish humour, named her Majesty's ships, and not Christian men? Here we have Griffins, and Rattlesnakes, and Vipers, and Furies, and Harpies, and all sorts of terrible and filthy things, all complimented and honoured by the Lords of the Admiralty, as if they were their own dearest pets, and they wanted to show the world how much they thought of 'em. Now, for once, let their lordships show they can have another sort of favourite. At the present moment they may intend to call one of their new frigates the Flea, or the Spider, or the Cockroach, or the Polecat, or the Water-rat. Let them pause awhile; let them think again, and, renouncing the foolish notion, determine to name her the Sidney Bernard. It is a name that must glorify her timbers; and who knows-even her gracious Majesty, delighted with their lordships' choice-might, herself, condescend to christen her.'Twould be a pretty compliment from a British Queen to Britannia !

Consider, my lord, what a very nice thing it would be to have a Sidney Bernard afloat! How pleasantly the fleet would look upon her! How, at certain times, in every sea of the world, she would carry with her the recollection of the gallant surgeon -how she would help to keep up the spirits of the young and struggling, who, wherever her pennant was seen, would see the gratitude of England to humble, but heroic men! It is worth while, depend upon it, my lord, to keep up this spirit; so have nothing to do with the Flea-cast aside the Cockroach-renounce the Polecat, and stick to nothing but the Sidney Bernard.

Who knows, if the good example be once set, how, among all future Lords of the Admiralty, it might spread! There is a Vixen in the List--why then, on the other hand, should we not, some day, launch a Grace Darling? I don't think that even the Trafalgar or the Howe would be ashamed to sail in her company; do you my lord? At all events, you can but try a little bit of this kind of reform; and, therefore, my advice to you is, begin with the Sidney Bernard. For my part, I don't see why you shouldn't have all the great names of England afloat: I

can't understand why Shakespeare shouldn't sail as well as the Devastation, or that Milton shouldn't go as close to the wind as the Canopus.

And so I am,

Your obedient servant, my lord,

JUNIPER HEDGEHOG,

LETTER XXV.-To MRS. HEDGEHOG, OF NEW YORK.

DEAR GRANDMOTHER,-Knowing your love for all titled folks, I write to tell you that at this moment I do think all dukes double hazardous. I shouldn't wonder if my next letter should tell you that they're entirely repealed-smudged out of the Peerage. We've been in a pretty pucker for this last month, and a few dukes have done it all. Good souls! They all mean well, and yet people will misunderstand 'em : nay, I heard one low fellow declare that the Duke of Norfolk only wanted bells to his coronet to be quite in character with his talk. Excellent man! How much has he been mistaken!

You must know that the Duke of Norfolk can't abide the Corn Laws. With all his heart and soul he wants 'em repealed. But he doesn't bawl and shout against 'em ; no, he goes quite another way to work; he tries to joke 'em down; but somehow, either dukes are commonly bad hands at a joke, or vulgar people won't give 'em credit for it; for which reason the Duke's joke has been taken quite the wrong way. Nevertheless, it was so good-so original—that it was impossible to be altogether spoiled.

However, the Duke's waggery is this. The people will want wheaten flour, whereupon Norfolk (without a smile on his face) has advised them to take, in nice warm water, "a pinch of curry powder" going to bed. What a friend at a pinch! He said "he meant to try it himself with his labourers ;" that is, I suppose, "on his labourers;" a very different thing. Should his Grace succeed, I do hope that there will be a labourer's show ; when I have no doubt that Norfolk will carry away the prize-say a jar of mixed pickles-for a curried ploughman. Norfolk further explained to the ignorant mob that curry powder was made "of spices and that sort of thing," and was very good "with a little bacon or any little thing of that kind "-(I believe pickled pork is the nearest cousin to bacon)" they might have: IT WAS A FICKLE!" But why did not his Grace further recommend with

curry powder fowls and rabbits? They are, I believe, equally good with "a little bacon," and quite as soon to be had, by people who can't buy Corn Law bread.

It is said-but I don't believe it-that the Duke of Norfolk is so certain that curry powder is as good or better than wheaten bread, that he has given orders to plant, I don't know how many acres of his land, with pepper and nutmeg trees. To be sure,

he 'll not be able to grow spices so cheap as he can bring 'em from the Indies—no more than we can grow wheat at the price we can get it from other countries-but it will only be a part of Corn-Law wisdom if the Duke should try it.

However, I don't believe a word of this story. As I say, I'm certain the Duke of Norfolk hates the Corn-Laws; for he's gone a new way to work, and made monopoly quite ridiculous. He has flung a squib at it made of curry powder-and never squib did more mischief or made a greater noise. It is not the Duke's fault if his joke has not been taken the right way; nevertheless it has done better service than his best seriousness. Never was Jackpudding more successful! For my part, I can quite believe that his Grace foresaw that he should be misunderstood; but nevertheless, knowing what injury his mistaken joke would do the Corn-Laws, he did not care to be thought, for a time, very ridiculous, so that in the end he might continue to be useful.

Once, grandmother, I read in Roman history that one Curtius jumped on horseback into a tremendous deep ditch, to save his country from ruin of some sort. Curtius was smashed, buried, of course; but Rome was saved. Well, the Duke of Norfolk has done the same generous thing. Once a man advertised that he would jump into a quart-bottle-but didn't so much as try it. Now the Duke, in his ducal robes, and with his coronet upon his head, to save his country has jumped right into a curry-bottle. There he is, corked for all posterity! There he is, as I once read—

Like bottled-up babes that grace the room

Ι

Of that worthy knight, Sir Everard Home!

Who would think that a great duke could make so little of himself?

But I tell you, there's something broken out among the dukes, just as something has happened to all the potatoes. There's five or six of 'em, just now, very bad indeed. The Duke of Wellington, for one, is, they say, in a high state of inflammation; he is