emotions and sensations are really very inconsiderable matters, though they commonly give a complexion to the actions of our daily life; they are not of us, but they are about and within us; they come and go unbidden, and without our controul; they bear, in general, but little trace of their whereabout; they are ready to take flight at any moment when the wing of time and change prepares to waft them away; and the heart on which they have lighted for a season, is apt to be as inconstant and changeful as they. But, there is a deep, inward process, far beyond sensation and emotion, which goes on in hearts directed and regulated in their movements by the Spirit of God, and which results in depositing impressions as enduring as the mind itself-impressions from a die formed with the lines of thoughtful reflectiveness, and intelligible, on their exposure, to other minds acted on by a similar influence.

The charm of all visible things, or the reverse, is the effect of some inward impression made by them on the seat of the intellect and the affections; and it is the province of such impressions to recall, not only the objects themselves, but all that stands in association with them, whether referring to the past, the present, or the future. And it is possible, in the way of simple narrative and description to give such a portraiture of events, persons and places, as shall bring them before the minds of others with startling vividness and reality; but that is not all we want. It is the invisible portraiture of things reflected on the heart, reproduced and given forth from mind to mind, which alone has power to satisfy the enquiring and rightly discerning spirit. And I am not without hope that such will read these pages with interest.

4

FRANCE-BOULOGNE.

When we weighed anchor on the Fifth of March, 1842, at the dawn of day, in the stirring port of London, and when I felt that a few hours would probably land me on a foreign shore, I could but look around amidst the forest of masts, and contemplate the indications they afforded of England's national greatness and commercial importance; and in that contemplation, I could not help blending a thought of the vastness of her responsibility as a Christian nation, blest with the fulness of gospel light, and enriched beyond other lands in gospel privileges.

Ten hours and a half of pleasant sailing brought us to the port of Boulogne. The first sight of the shores of France awakened in my mind many a train of thought bearing upon her past history as well as her present condition and prospects. Truc-the age of her chivalry was gone, and perhaps somewhat of her national glory departed: clouds had burst over her, and the volcanic eruptions of political terror had lacerated her: light and darkness had undergone many a conflict within her, and deep traces of the latter, in a spiritual form, were abundantly visible; but still no one could deny that there were yet left in France materials of a great and noble kind, on which a regenerative process, political, moral, and spiritual might act successfully. For this every christian heart should pray; and if it please God that the movement towards spiritual light which has happily begun, and towards which many influential minds are now inclining, both in and out of the Church of Rome, should grow and effectually extend itself, there is no height of national greatness to which France may

not arise.

It was on Sunday—the day after our arrival at Boulogne, that an opportunity presented itself of hearing a style and manner of preaching in the Church of Rome, calculated to induce and propel such a movement as that to which I have referred. After having attended the service in the English Chapel with comfort and edification, the bells of the parish Church announced the hour of vespers. I entered while

ROMISH PREACHING.

5

the congregation was assembling, and which consisted, as most Roman Catholic congregations in France do, chiefly of females of the humbler classes. But few men are ever found among them; which may tend to prove, that however the genius of Popery may prevail, yet that its outward symbols have but little charm for, or influence upon, the public mind. The caffè, the promenade, and the other various sources of mere gratification, seem to claim the Sunday hours of the greater part of the population.

After the usual service of vespers, upon which I make no comment, a young ecclesiastic-the beau ideal of a French priest-ascended the pulpit, and addressed the congregation with great earnestness on the subject of the real presence of our Lord Jesus Christ in the eucharist. There was a degree of boldness and unrestraint in his manner of preaching, which left my mind impressed with the notion that it was not just on the side of the dogmas of a Church that he was declaiming, but on matters which were deposited in his mind with all the sanctity of eternal truth about them and one remarkable feature of his ministry was—that he earnestly appealed to the judgments of his hearers-a novel appeal to come from the lips of a priest of the Church of Rome. Let but the people be invited and urged to form a judgment for themselves, and let the means and opportunities for right judgment be set before them by the unhindered circulation of the pure and unadulterated word of God, and the movement set on foot in France-the element of which was contained in this young preacher's sermon-must, under the Divine blessing, lead on to a happy issue for the spiritual interests of the French people, and others on whom their national influence may be exercised.

I cannot forbear to record here a circumstance which affected my mind very sensibly. On the evening of my arrival at Boulogne, I had retired to my room, and on opening my Bible for my evening portion, the first passage on which my eye rested, was Isaiah lxvi. 13-"As one whom

his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you; and ye shall be comforted in Jerusalem." I am not wont to use holy scripture superstitiously, nor do I think it could justly be deemed superstitious, if I regarded this passage as given for my special solace and comfort on the very day I commenced my journey to the Holy Land. If there are any who would account me superstitious on this score, I should be much more willing to bear the imputation than forego the comfort which that word. afforded me.

From Boulogne, our route lay direct to Paris. I dwell not on the objects of deep historical interest which arrested my attention while there. They are familiar to most readers. The genius of the French mind, and the habitude of the French people, are both strikingly exhibited in every thing that meets the eye in that remarkable capital. One thing which afforded me great satisfaction was the opportunity of meeting the venerable Caviglia, so celebrated for his twenty years explorative residence in and about the Pyramids of Egypt. He was then in Paris. We had expected to find him in Egypt. Introduced by a note from a mutual friend, we visited him at his residence-a small attic, five or six floors upwards, with barely room for his bed, a small table, and a little collection of books. He received us with frankness and urbanity. The history of this man is very remarkable and instructive. After a long life, spent in scientific pursuits, and in the search of truth in her many avenues, or rather in the many avenues in which she is commonly sought; and after labouring in occult sciences and pushing his enquiries, as he now believes, through the personal agency of the evil one, to their extreme point, God was pleased to land him on the sure foundation of revealed truth; and though in communion, nominally only I hope, with the Church of Rome, yet he seems to be aware of, and disengaged from, her sorceries. He is as simple as a child, and his sweet benevolent countenance beamed on us. He told us of the fact above alluded to, that there is a great movement, in the way of enquiry, going on in the Church of Rome in France; and in this he seemed heartily

FRENCH DILIGENCE.

to rejoice, as every man would, who, like him, has found his religion in the bible, apart from the traditions of men. I shall not easily forget him. There sat the enlightened, the distinguished, the Christian Caviglia, in his poor rude attic, without fire, without domestics, and almost without the usual conveniences of life, and with but few friends. He was within the mighty heart of Paris; but infinitely above all that makes it throb with ever changing emotions. He says his great desire is now to die a little daily, that he may not have it all to do at the last. He seems like a man of a better age than this; one who has fed on better hopes than the men of this generation. He has lived so long above the ordinary habits of the world, that it is now no matter of self-denial to end his career in an attic. It seemed to afford him satisfaction to see my dear fellow-traveller and myself-two English Clergymen on our way to the Holy Land; and when we rose to take our leave, he held us by the hand, called us his dear brethren in the Lord Jesus Christ, and prayed God to increase the number of devoted followers of our Divine Master. There was a touching solemnity in our parting. The door closed upon us. I felt that our next meeting might be where there will be no separation.

I have made this mention of the venerable Caviglia, in order to put before my readers a memorable instance of the unsearchable manner in which our heavenly Father is sometimes pleased to dispense his grace, and to seek and find those on whom he intends his glory should rest.

Our route lay from Paris to Chalons, through Charenton, Melun, Sens, Joigny, Auxerre, Avallon and Autun; and the whole of it was dreary enough. On quitting Paris, we experienced an instance of merciful protection not to be forgotten. The huge, unwieldy and overladen Diligence was driven by a wild, dashing and reckless fellow; and as we were turning a very sharp corner, with a rapid descent in the road, at full gallop, I felt the vast machine poising under me, and all but dashed down on its side. The driver himself looked