as well as at any time during the last two months of his life.

He delighted in affording an agreeable surprise to his friends, as the following fact will shew. His medical attendants had left him one morning exceedingly ill, and without hope of his leaving his bed for the day. Such was their anxiety, that they shortly repeated their visit, and proceeded immediately, as a matter of course, to his bed-room. There he was, to all appearance, lying, as they left him, with little more than his nightcap visible above the clothes. In short, there was nothing beneath them more than a stuffed mockery; for the man himself had arisen, shaved, washed, neatly dressed himself, and walked, unassisted, down stairs into the sittingroom, where he received his surprised visitors with a significant “ Aha!"

"I

I called upon him one evening, and took the liberty of introducing a friend. During our stay, several visitors, from time to time, came in. It struck me that Mathews was more than usually irritable. I caught his eye, and he beckoned me to a close parley. don't know whether you're aware of it; but I've observed—that your friend— has given up his seat successively to each new-comer since your arrival. He has now occupied for a brief moment every chair in the room-except one; and I wish you'd ask him to secure that, and not suffer the next comer to take it from him. Its really hard upon him, because he gets no thanks; and I'm sure he must be tired, if its only from bobbing up and down. You can't think how it fidgets me. Now, pray ask him to sit down, and hold fast."

In the latter end of June he removed from the Victualling Yard to a lodginghouse in Lockyer Street, Plymouth, where he was within a short distance from the Hoe, so remarkable for its elevated promenade and the noble prospect which it commands. To this charming spot he was several times carried in a wheeled chair; and he would sit watching the numerous vessels ever sailing in all directions, more particularly looking out for the little pleasure-boat of his friend Mr. Gyles. He had been on three or four successive occasions disappointed in not seeing it; and thwarted curiosity was (as usual with him) becoming irksome bevond endurance, when positivo.

by the respective parties that each, at a certain time, should be in a certain express locality. "Now, is that Gylly's boat?" said Mathews to Mrs. G. Mrs. G. could not tell. 66 Humph: well, that is odd. Here's a woman don't know her husband's boat." He, however, espied the boat at last, and watched it with that ever-lively and child-like interest which constituted his success as a sketcher of men and manners. He did not, like commoner men, "get accustomed" to things. His extractive power was such, that it never admitted the exhaustibility of a subject while that subject retained "a local habitation and a name." The tacks of G.'s boat were with him so many emblems of the shifts of men when the winds of fortune and the tides of circumstance are not directly in their favour; and I have no doubt but that Mathews was one of those speculators who often anticipate from accidental metaphor the nature of moral operations.

I was with him several evenings during his stay in Lockyer Street. "During his stay in Lockyer Street!" How thoughtlessly was that last sentence penned! Where, then, was the spot of his next sojourn? But I anticipate my conclusion. It was not, however, a hopeless thought that he might be yet removed to Londou a living man. His symptoms were in some respects improved, an amendment chiefly shewing itself in a more regular pulse, and the comparative infrequency of paroxysms. He was one evening enabled to take tea with his friends in full assemblage, and to give continued attention to the admirable song and guitar accompaniment of his accomplished son, in whose native talent and acquired grace he took, as well he might, an honest pride. And, here, it is impossible not to make a passing comment on the success which has attended Mr. Charles Mathews since his entrance into that profession which conferred celebrity on his father's name, and gained and added respectability from his father's virtues. It is something to be the son of such a man; but it is more to be worthy of the parentage; and it is under the impulse of fond recollection and assured hope that the Countess Rousillon's words are here echoed :

Poor Mathews was now becoming daily weaker. Dropsical swellings increased upon him. He ceased to leave the house, and was more confined to his bed still he suffered much less than on his first arrival; and his medical friend left him at half-past ten on the night of Saturday the 27th of June with no increased expectation of an immediate catastrophe. As the clock sounded midnight the sleeping comedian completed his fifty-ninth year. It was now his birth-day, the 28th of June. The morning sun might have brought with it gentle congratulation and smiling hope; but it was doomed otherwise. A slight alteration in his breathing seemed to indicate a coming paroxysm. Now, as oftentimes before, it was an immediate summons to his bed-side. Charles Mathews was no more !

He had only lived half an hour into his birth-day -a day which, having reason to be proud of the being whom it had ushered into life, claimed the privilege of lighting him to dusty death." The sad duty of preparing for his funeral devolved on his longattached friend, Henry Gyles, Esq.; and on Friday morning, the 3d of July, his remains were consigned to the tomb. All honours that could be offered on the occasion were proudly, not less than feelingly, paid; and such a general sympathy was awakened as really seemed to betoken a national loss. The rank, intellect, and respectability of the three towns of Devonport, Stonehouse, and Plymouth, were satisfactorily represented by the pallbearers, and the numerous gentlemen who attended. The officiating clergy of the parish, and the churchwardens, manifested a gentleness of attention which will not be forgotten: the organist accompanied the deceased comedian to the grave with the most solemn tones of sacred harmony; and he was lowered into his tomb amid the heavy sighs and irrepressible tears-not of the chief mourner only!

Such was the affecting end of " dear Charles Mathews," as the feeling Coleridge designated him. Had he died in London, friends more numerous, trappings of wo" more pompous, and a train more theatrical, would, doubtless, have attended on his exit;

but no where could he have been followed by friends more affectionate, nor waited on by ceremonies more truly suitable and decent, than at Plymouth. Even the day seemed to take a part in the duties of the occasion. It rained, until the mournful procession began to move forward, when it suddenly became dry, still, however, veiling itself from the sun until the return of the mourners from the church, when the clouds were partially dispelled, and a gleam of sober cheerfulness admitted.

He lies in a vault in the western vestibule of the fine old church of St. Andrew, at Plymouth. A man so interwoven with the public should lie in such a place interred. Hundreds weekly pass his tomb in their way to prepare for that last home to which they are also hastening; and the verger, who points out the interesting spot to the stranger, testifies to the words of the pathetic Tristram,—“ not a passenger goes by without stopping to cast a look upon it, and sighing, as he walks on,

'Alas! poor Yorick !'"

A brief while longer. I cannot help lingering o'er his grave, for I knew him as a man-you, perhaps, only as an actor. I had opportunities of observing his scrupulous integrity; his affectionate and grateful attachment to those who loved him; his forgiving generosity towards those who had wronged him; and, more than all, his Christian resignation when threatened by the death which has since laid him low. Nor will you, ***, superciliously smile at my melancholy,-for, while from the best motives you are opposed to the theatre (or, rather, let us hope, to those abuses which too frequently degrade it), you will with holy charity take upon report the exalted character of the individual; and, though you may never have afforded a smile to his mirth, you will not, surely, hesitate to breathe a sigh over his grave!

And now, adieu for ever! Adieu, Charles Mathews! For the many hours of innocent and instructive amusement thou hast afforded, we proffer our gratitude; for thy purity of mind and unsullied integrity, our admiration ; for thy warmth of heart, our love; for thy loss, our deep sorrow!

THAT the designs of Providence are marvellously and minutely adapted to the wants and welfare of mankind, is an observation more trite than practically recognised, more generally acknowledged than felt. Often, whilst confessing the control of an all-wise disposer of events, we live in a sort of practical atheism, either disregarding the operation of his hands, or distrusting and disowning the universal agency by which the whole is governed subservient to his own and our ultimate good. We murmur, and we deplore; we see the great charnel-house of human existence--the moral pestilence which "walketh in darkness"-the "mystery of iniquity"—the universal depravity around us, forgetting that the "wheel of Providence" is thereby unfolding; that these are portions of the grand scheme of Divine government, which worketh all things for good; which maketh the wrath of man to praise him, and from the very elements of evil brings forth the most beneficent, the most wondrous manifestations of his goodness and his power. Even the vices and miseries of mankind are but links in the vast chain of events; and these shall exist until his purposes be fulfilled, and all things subdued to himself.

Sometimes we are permitted a glimpse, like Ezekiel in the vision; sometimes we can discern their operation, the wisdom by which they are guided. The Almighty condescends to vindicate his character and authority. By some generally unexpected and sudden interruption, some special interposition, we see the power that has coerced, and the goodness that has permitted, this apparent disorder. The cloud has "burst in blessings," and is now glowing, in the light of heaven, with beauty and with grandeur.

Perhaps nothing was viewed with deeper apprehension by every friend of true liberty and social order, than the formation of political unions amongst the working classes. Hailed by the rancorous demagogue as the dawn of that political regeneration, already worked out to its terrible result in restless, unhappy France, the political incendiary waited only until material should be gathered, until the great bulk of the population should be

roused to an unnatural excitement, ere he applied the brand that was to kindle the whole in one wide, one universal conflagration. And had our labouring classes generally been imbued with the pernicious doctrines so fatally prevalent in France;- had not the influence of revealed truth been imperceptibly intervowen with their education, and with the earliest lispings of childhood; - had they been reared, fostered under the benighting, demoralising influences of Popery, whose stronghold is ignorance, the withholding of the written word from its votaries, - the fate of France, nay, a deeper abyss of guilt, might have been ours. When they had thrown off the Papal yoke, their only refuge was the wild and reckless libertinism of infidelity. The alternative being purgatory or eternal sleep, no wonder their choice should remain with the latter.

In Ireland, had it not been for the gracious leaven of Protestantism, we should, long ere this, have seen the same, the inevitable results. Popery, that mole-eyed monster which gropeth at noon-day, prepares its victims to throw off the obedience they hate, to scoff at and deny the very being of that God they are ignorantly taught to worship and when men have cast off their allegiance to Heaven, they will not long be subject to that of an earthly monarch. We need not, then, wonder at the extremes of superstition and infidelity, bigotry and licentiousness, offsprings of the same stem, produced by that system which forbids access to the book of life. Indeed, the Bible is a sad Tory book;" and we wonder the political Dissenters, whose practices are so plainly denounced in its pages, have not compiled an "index expurgatorius," for the use of their disciples. It would be a wholesome and instructive exposition of their designs, to see sitting in solemn conclave, "the old, original Whig," the first reformer, elevated in the midst, Daniel O'Connell, that fearful impersonation of all that is mischievous and malignant in the worst, the darkest abominations of Popery, on his right hand; while some dissenting heresiarch takes the sinister place. The texts carefully submitted

66

this

ordeal bigotry and sedition are well appointed to the devil's work-and "The Book," pruned by such hands, would have little left that could minister to the wants and woes of humanity. The Bible, however, no thanks to the O'Connell ministry, is not yet a sealed book to the multitude.

Lord Melbourne, the noble Protestant apologist for Popery, on moving the second reading of the Irish Church Bill, made the following statement; viz. "That he would assert that, fundamentally, the doctrines of the Romish Catholic Church were the same as those of the Church of England." Now, what are those doctrines which the Church of Rome holds as fundamental? 1. The infallibility of the church; 2. The Pope's supremacy; 3. Transubstantiation, or the conversion of a wafer into the very body and blood, soul and divinity, of Christ; and all who deny this dogma are declared accursed; 4. Auricular confession; 5. The mass, a true and propitiatory sacrifice for the sins of the living and the dead; 6. Invocations to the Virgin, and saints; 7. Satisfaction for sin by penance and other meritorious works; 8. Purgatory and prayers for the dead; 9. The worship of images and relics. These are the fundamental doctrines of the Romish church, on which the whole of her corrupt system is built; and, we ask, are these, or any part of them, maintained in the liturgy of the Protestant church? Nay, are they not solemnly denounced, and unequivocally denied? Yet these churches are pronounced by the O'Connell-ridden minister to be, in doctrine, fundamentally similar!

This unchristian speech, the result of both ignorance of, and blind hostility to, religion, is, and ever shall be, on record against the man, whom Dissenters of all classes do openly and shamefully support; who identify themselves in every possible shape with those whom their forefathers, whose best blood has been shed as a testimony against them, would have resisted unto death.

It is, in all likelihood, this apparent community of interests, this shameless prostitution of principle, this confederacy with men of the most notorious

misgovernment, on the part of their rulers.

But Lord John Russell says there is no league, no compact. It was not his fault, or that of his coadjutors, if it did happen that Daniel O'Connell joined issue with them. Great virtue, my lord, in this word "happen;" and we often hear gentlemen of a certain profession, when detected in their ingenuity, saying, “ I had nothing to do with the handkerchief. It is not my fault if it does happen' to be found in my pocket."

We know the working classes well (for have we not eyes and ears in every place?); and we fearlessly assert, that, as a body, they are loyal. Britain is yet sound at the core. Mis

led for a season by the arts of the seducer, by men employed, paid, to debauch and delude their understandings, the people will, in the end, see how and by whom they have been deceived. Their eyes are opening, and a fearful retribution awaits those base, those selfish betrayers, who would sell them and their birth-rights for a mess of pottage! Men who once leaped boldly to the reins of the revolutionary car, and now find themselves tied to its" tail!"

It has been too much the fashion to imagine that the manufacturing districts are so many volcanoes ready to burst forth on the slightest occasion, always smouldering and smoking, as a presage of their power to ravage and destroy. Nothing can be more erroneous than this impression. Taken as a body, our working classes are men of strong practical sense, who will generally come to a right decision in the end; multitudes of whom are now opening their eyes to the wholesome truth, that in the maintenance of the constitution lies the best safeguard of their rights, and the great bulwark of their liberties: and that the Whigs, dragged downwards by their own fears of the loss of place, and the vices inherent in their political system, have done more in one short season to undermine, if not destroy, their liberties, than the greatest despot could have accomplished, or the united efforts of an irresponsible and arbitrary governtheir best interests

ment.

the just prerogative of the king and the aristocracy, would, but for the firmness and prudence of the conservative party, have ended in one universal overthrow.

And how have these great truths been perceived? Simply by the Whigs having seized office; for, like other impostors, they are only dangerous until they are found out. Their miserable fallacies have been tested by experiment, and proved utterly impracticable. But their second "usurpation" has been characterised by such a flagrant dereliction of principle, such a total absence of that high and honourable feeling, once the great boast of a British statesman, that "he who runs may read." With all the violence, without the honesty of the Radicals without any fixed principles for their guidance, they have shewn themselves ready to surrender every thing dear to Britons-every bulwark of our national faith-every safeguard of our liberties; in short, every thing save place. So pleasant, so essential is office to their support, and even for the procuring a decent livelihood to these dishonest servants of the crown, that, rather than let go their paltry incomes, they are prepared to go any length, if, by so doing, their fraudulent receipt of the public monies may be endured a little longer.

But, within the last few months, an "organic change" has taken place in the minds of the people. According to the statements of the operative addresses now before us, thousands of them have embraced the Conservative creed. The cause, say they, is this: "The Conservatives have stepped out boldly, with a frank avowal of their principles,' and the operatives are perfectly satisfied and convinced that the avowal is honest, and that it will be acted up to honourably, and to the very letter."

"Our opponents," continues one of these spirited documents, "have heaped upon us every opprobrious epithet they could command-Orange Lodges! Political Unions!! In short, any thing in their opinion conveying a censurable meaning. Our answer to them is this: We care not by what names they are distinguished, so long as their objects are of a true Conservative nature." "Our objects are diametrically opposite to those of the

late political unions; we exist for the purpose of defending, not attacking, the institutions of the country." "The very men, who but a few short months ago were accustomed to laud the natural good sense of the operative part of the community,' to denominate them the voice of the country,' &c. now call us 'besotted fools,'' sanguinary miscreants,' and a hundred other names equally expressive of hate and mortification. Now that the people have discovered who really are their true friends, and they have learned the difference between a nominal theory and a theory now reduced to practice, they are assailed by the taunts and threats of their quondam supporters."

These extracts-and we could multiply them a hundred fold-shew that the working classes are men who can think soundly, who can reason justly, and are not to be cheated with impunity.

Our great conservative strength is in the people. If these, the staple of our national greatness, be imbued with constitutional and religious principles, we may defy, proudly defy, every preacher of sedition - - every itinerant demagogue, even though his allies be our rulers, and he is sent forth bearing the credentials, and, on his brazen front, the broad impress of their

mission.

Many who are now joining the conservative ranks were formerly in those of the political unions; and these are our surest and best allies. Knowing the sources of their former delusion, the direction, the aim of the unprincipled men who once cajoled them; smarting under the consequences, and loathing the moral poison which some "miscreant agitator" once so fatally disseminated, who so fit, who so likely, to warn from the gulf of democracy as those who have been so near its brink? Who can so feelingly persuade, so effectually deter, from that downward path, as those who have been rescued from its perilous termination?

Through this division of our subject we naturally return to the position whence we set out. The healing waters drawn from these impure fountains; the merciful interposition which, out of so much that was evil, and fraught with unutterable danger to society, has turned the curse into a blessing!

And what, say our onnover