hand unseen, and with a partiality or caprice inexplicable, though, no doubt, wise.

What is to be the final result of all this? A revolution, says one, both of property and rank:-a perfectibility, or rather, a perfection, of the human race, says another, with the maximum of wisdom, and happiness! The anticipations of both parties will probably be disappointed. There may be a revolution; but it will be one of opinion rather than of property or rank. That which is most prized, generally becomes the standard of comparison among mankind. Wealth is now the test, by which men are weighed—and has long been so. Valour was once the touchstone of merit-and it is just possible that knowledge (not mere learning) may be so, at some future period.

Should the time ever arrive when men shall be estimated by their talents and acquirements, rather than by their titles and estates, a considerable revolution will undoubtedly be effected-not in the possession of real property or hereditary rank, but in the reverence, or rather idolatry, now paid to these last, and in the influence which they exert over the actions and passions of mankind. And though the possession of property may not be disturbed by the utmost diffusion of information through all gradations of life; yet the means of acquiring it must be greatly affected.

Nor does it seem likely that laws will lose either in force or authority, by the spread of literature and science, even among the minutest ramifications of mankind. On the contrary, they will gain the additional force of OPINION, more potent in the prevention of crime, than the axe and the dungeon, the halter and the scourge. In times of general information, it is highly improbable that the dregs of ignorance and vice can ever rise to the surface of society, except as froth and scum, thrown off by the depurating operation of the ever-active intellect pervading the general mass. Judgment and good sense, though not always attendant on individual talent or acquirement, are sure to characterize the aggregate intelligence of a community; and the wider the range, and the higher the amount of this aggregate, the greater is the chance of wisdom in council and justice in politics. But is there no background to-no drawback on, this prospect? It may be laid down as almost an axiom that, in exact proportion as knowledge extends, the empire of opinion will rise, as a counterpoise to that of physical or brute force. These two great and antagonising powers may now be considered as in actual conflict; and the struggle may not terminate in a bloodless victory. Newly-acquired liberty in all ages has broken out into licentiousness; and learning is too prone to engender scepticism among the affluent, and discontent among the indigent-while, on the

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other hand, triumphant despotism must become the grave, or, at least, the dungeon of the human mind. Between these two points there appears, as yet, no safe or certain resting place-or if there be, it is enveloped in shadows, clouds, and darkness! Time alone can dispel the cloud; but he must be an indifferent or a prejudiced observer who does not acknowledge an invisible INFLUENCE directing a current of events, which no earthly power can arrest, though Christian feeling and natural wisdom may prepare channels for its course, that shall fertilize, rather than desolate, the lands through which it passes. No human force could stem the flow of the majestic Nile, from its Nubian cradle to its Mediterranean grave; but human wisdom and ingenuity have diverted a portion of its waters into useful irrigation, and made the irresistible stream itself subservient to the purposes of navigation and commerce. The wise men of the earth may profit by this simile-and it is to be hoped they will do so, ere it is too late!

But what have these reflections to do with the romantic city beneath us ?-Much. Whether the cultivation of intellect and the diffusion of learning, among orders of human beings, who have hitherto been doomed by man, and, apparently, destined by heaven, to ignorance and toil, shall conduce finally to the increase of happiness or of misery, yon Modern Athens will have much cause for gratulation or mourning; for she has taken an active, an initiatory part in preparing the way for the struggle that exists, and the crisis that must ensue.

Neither in site nor in aspect does the ancient metropolis of Greece bear much resemblance to Modern Athens. The placid and tideless Mediterranean, the almost tropical verdure of the vegetable world, the balmy air, and the blue skies of Attica, contrast rather than harmonize with the boisterous Forth, the bare and somewhat barren hills, the frigid climate, and the cloudy atmosphere of the Caledonian capital. It will probably be more prudent to rest the analogy on a metaphysical than on a topographical basis-and perhaps wiser policy still, to drop the analogy altogether. This last thought has sprung from the contemplation of a very remarkable object on the Calton-hill. To build a ruin there, in imitation of the Parthenon, is certainly an original idea, and, on that account, most praiseworthy, considering the paucity of such articles in our days. Some critics might be disposed to say that, to build a ruin, is nearly the same thing as to ruin a building! In free countries, all monuments to commemorate political and military events or characters should be speedily finished. That a "Modern Parthenon," to record the victories of Great Britain, during a long and glorious war, shall ever be finished on the Calton-hill, is exceedingly improbable. Nay, I would go farther, and say that, were the monument

of Nelson yet unbuilt, a stone would never be carried to the Calton-hill by Caledonian mechanic, in honour of the hero of the Nile and Trafalgar! Never was the difference between war and literature-between physical courage and intellectual talent, more strikingly exemplified than on that romantic mount. To Burns and Dugald Stewart the monuments are now rising, and will certainly be completed. As for the heroes of the revolutionary war, yon twelve columns will long stand as a memento of the instability of popular feeling in matters of a political and even national character. On yon tall column "pointing to the skies," in St. Andrew's-square, a MELVILLE has been raised by grateful Scots, nearly as high as TRAJAN was by the haughty Romans. Well! The victorious Cæsar has descended from his lofty eminence in the forum Trajani, and has been succeeded by a priest, with a key, instead of a sceptre, in his hand. In the revolutions of empire and of opinion, it would be hazardous to say whose statue may stand at the summit of the noble column in St. Andrew's-square, some three centuries hence! Yet would I venture to prophesy, that the monuments erected to Burns and Stewart will never change their names, while one stone remains on another, in the edifices consecrated to their memory! Such, I reiterate, is the difference between the physique and the morale-between the prowess of matter, and the product of mind!

One word more. Though it cannot be denied that stone is a more abundant article in Scotland than corn, yet the country that allowed Burns to want bread can only record its own ingratitude by offering marble to his memory! Scotland, however, is not peculiar in this respect. The same kind of injustice to living merit is recorded in brass and marble, on every soil from the rising to the setting sun. Athenian ingratitude is not confined to the Acropolis of Attica and Edinburgh! These eyes have seen the chariot of a British hero, on arriving at Portsmouth, unable to make its way through the countless myriads of his countrymen, rending the skies with shouts of welcome, and yoking themselves to the harness of his carriage to draw him in triumph into the presence of three mighty sovereigns*, who heaped on him the emblems of military honour and regal esteem. The same eyes have seen the same people hurl mud, stones, and execrations on the head of this same hero, in his native land!

Should the intellectual city ever be visited by an earthquake, the scene of havoc and destruction will be portentous beyond all precedent in other countries, not excepting the catastrophe on the banks of the

* Emperor of Russia, Prince Regent of England, and King of Prussia, then on the Parade at Portsmouth, when the Duke of Wellington arrived.

Tagus. The DRAGON will instantly shake from his flinty sides, and precipitate into the yawning gulfs below, those stupendous piles of massive architecture, with their myriads of inhabitants, which now appear to cling, as if by cement, to his flanks, rather than to rest on solid foundations. The mighty monster, too, will quickly dash from his craggy forehead the gigantic mural crown, and hurl its fragments down the giddy precipices, over which it now frowns in military pride!

The "domestic manners" of Modern Athens I must leave to the abler pens of Mrs. Trollope and others-if the proximity of Edinburgh does not render a faithful portrait tame, and an overcharged one dangerous.

In no city that I have ever visited, did I see so remarkable a union of ORDER and IDLENESS, as in the intellectual capital of the North. I walked slowly, in the middle of a working day, from the Castle to the Canongate, and I counted four hundred and seventy individuals (men, women, and children) completely idle-most of them taking snuff, and some of them whisky. Let any one walk from St. James's-palace to Leadenhall-street, along Pall-Mall, the Strand, Fleet-street, Ludgatehill, Cheapside, and Cornhill—and he will not detect twenty idlers, in all that stupendous tide of human existence! So much for IDLENESS in Modern Athens. Now for ORDER. In the evening of the day when the passing of the Reform Bill was commemorated in Edinburgh, I perambulated the streets of that city, for two or three hours. It seemed as if all the wynds, closes,-nay, the beds of sickness, had disgorged their tenants!—I sometimes thought the graves had given up their dead; for never, in my life, did I see such a multitude of meagre, stunted, half starved, pallid, and sickly human beings, crowding the streets. Still, it required no LAVATER to perceive a transient gleam of joy in the eyes of all; even where care had furrowed the brow, where poverty had sharpened the features, where disease had sallowed the complexion, and where intemperance had fixed its degrading signet on the countenance !

Yet, throughout this incalculable multitude of the lower orders-this immeasurable mass of human penury, so well adapted for anarchy, confusion, and lawless riot, I did not witness a single symptom of disturbance, or hear an angry expression! The only breach of the peace was in Princes-street, where two gentlemen sallied, or reeled out of a tavern-settled their political disputes by the argumentum baculinumand were conveyed to the watch-house by the police!

I do not think the inferior classes of the Scotch are so very industrious as the world imagines. They are orderly, systematic, and persevering; yet they have not the energetic activity of the Irish, nor the plodding,

herculean labour of the English. But, per contra, their vivacity and their poverty do not lead them into the excesses, the follies, and the feuds of their Hibernian neighbours-nor into the deep and hardened crimes of their southern brethren.

If the Scotch do not exhibit the bustling and boisterous labour of the Irish, they seem to appreciate more justly the products of their toil. Frugality is the elder daughter and the best help-maid of industry. Without the former, the latter can hardly be reckoned a virtue, and seldom proves a blessing!

I have disclaimed the invidious task of painting the "domestic manners" of the Modern Athenians-remembering the words of a celebrated poet

"Manners with fortunes, tempers change with climes,

Tenets with books, and principles with times."

But this disclaimer does not preclude a philosophic, or rather a phrenological glance at the interesting people among whom I am sojourning. I took every opportunity of frequenting the places of public worship, and the tribunals of justice, where hats and caps were doffed, and where craniological indications were laid bare. I do not profess to be an adept in the new science, nor did I venture to manipulate the various heads which came under my observation-an operation that would have trenched on the principle which I prescribed to myself, and might have subjected me to some rough remonstrances. The only phrenological prominences that struck my eye, were four, viz., the organs of caution, of acquisitiveness, of veneration, and of self-esteem.

All phrenologists will admit that these are excellent organs, and that the propensities which they represent are calculated, when properly directed, to elevate mankind in the scale of human nature. But, alas! organs and propensities may be inordinate, as well as moderate. Thus CAUTION may, in the extreme, degenerate into timidity-ACQUISITIVENESS may lapse into avarice, selfishness, or parsimony-VENERATION for the Deity may pass the salutary point, in religion, and merge itself in fanaticism or superstition; while, in worldly matters, it may assume the form of obsequiousness to our superiors. SELF-ESTEEM, one of the noblest of our organizations or propensities, may, when inordinate, run into vanity or ostentation. If I am not misinformed, the truth of this last proposition was exemplified on a late occasion, when the presence of royalty in the intellectual city induced many individuals, with large organs of self-esteem, or perhaps of veneration, to incur expenses that have proved inconvenient, if not disastrous to their families afterwards. But this is a digression. The New Town of Edinburgh is beautifully