some have flowed till the fountains were dried up; and they could only sit down in the silence of unutterable grief. Many of those who are gone hence listened, no doubt, the last anniversary of the new year, to the monitory voice of the preacher; and thought as little of being so soon removed to the shades of death as you now do. But their seats in the sanctuary are now vacant : their voices here are heard no more. They belong now to the great congregation of the dead, where silence must reign till the time when all that are in their graves shall hear the voice of the Son of God and shall come forth. What their eternal state is, another day shall tell us, and shall fix ours too. Such being the fact, who can look forward with certainty to the future? When the events of this year on which we have just entered shall be written on the tablet of the past, what will be recorded of us? Methinks I see the parting scene of some fond parent which called tears from every eye, described by the pen of history as a past event that moved the sympathy of a numerous circle of kinsfolk and acquaintance. Methinks I see it written that such a frolicksome youth was arrested by the pale messenger, his laughter turned into sadness, his body clothed with the melancholy shroud, and shut up in the coffin. Methinks I see the startled looks of of his companions as they receive the solemn tidings of his exit, and I hear the faint resolutions of living a new life that they may be prepared for an equally sudden departure from the world. Methinks I see it written also that these resolutions passed away like the morning cloud and the early dew. Perhaps it will be recorded that some man of business had all his plans frustrated by the untimely visit of the destroyer, and his head laid low in the comfortle-s tomb. Some one who reads this, perhaps, will have passed 1826.-No. I. 3 through the scene of viewing his dearest friends anxiously bending over his dying bed, and some one of them kindly wiping the cold sweat from his forehead as he was about to sink into the arms of death. Perhaps it may be remembered by those who shall survive, that he anxiously looked forward to the appearance of the Judge who should take account of all bis actions, and that having put off the subject to so late a period, God did not vouchsafe to grant bim assurance of acceptance at his bar. Perhaps too, some saint who is now devoutly waiting for his redemption from sin will be this year delivered from all his woes, and made for ever happy ; and when the record of the year shall be inspected, it will be found thus written: "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from henceforth; yea, saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labours, and their works do follow them." Such may be among the facts which this present year, when numbered with the past, shall exhibit to the view of the living as matters of history. A thousand events may transpire which shall change the face of all things in regard to us. Known only to God are the events before us. Could I lift the veil which conceals the future from our view, I would not do it. Far happier is it that we know not what shall be on the morrow. Far bet ter, that we trust ourselves and all we have in the hands of Him who doeth all things well. With such a feeling let us begin this new year. Let the events of the past teach us, that "here we have no continuing city." Let us remember that the time is short; that whatever our hands find to do must be done with our might, for there is no work nor device in the grave whither we hasten. When we look back on the past and see all classes of men cut down without discrimination; let us acknowledge the hand that has done it, and hear the voice that sounds from the grave to all of every age, "Be ye also ready, for in such an hour as ye think not, the Son of man cometh." Count not, reader, upon future years. They may dance before your imagination, and yet never appear in the reality. If you ever intend to accept the offers of salvation, now is the time. If you ever expect to enter the abodes of ever lasting happiness, the present moment is the time to secure your title. A little postponement may be your ruin a few more days may open to you the terrible prison of the universe, and its awful recesses may frown upon you as your everlasting habitation. Who can dwell with devouring fire? Who can lie down in everlasting burnings? MISCELLANEOUS. For the Christian Spectator. OBSERVATIONS OF AN AMERICAN IN ENGLAND Ir may be proper to repeat here, that the following observations consist of miscellaneous extracts of letters from agentleman, now resident in England to a friend in Connecticut. Our correspondent states, that they were written occasionally as the author could find leisure from other objects, and with out any reference to publication. They were commenced in the eleventh number of our last volume, and will be continued as we may find room for them. "The English carry agriculture to great perfection. Every spot of ground capable of cultivation is improved. Wherever I have been, the fields are generally small, enclosed by hedges, and made perfectly smooth, by means of cast iron rollers. Numerous trees are left to grow around the hedges, and scattered over the fields. These are so nicely trimmed, as to add greatly to the beauty of the country. Not a weed is suffered to grow. The crops all look well, and are much more productive than ours. The cattle and sheep feed on grass up to their knees, and look, as we should say, fit to kill. The slight enclosures that keep them in their pastures, would be but a poor protection against our lean, half-fed, unruly animals. Here the cattle have no need to break fences. They have food sufficient within their own domains. I came here under the impression that the country was bare of trees. On the contrary, I find it better stocked in this respect than the thick settlements of our own country. they were of no value: here they We wantonly destroy trees as if much care, as though they bore are planted and nursed with as choice fruit. "Mr. G. and myself walked out to Aston Hall, two miles from Birmingham. It is memorable in history as being one of the places in which Charles I. secreted himself from his pursuers Cromwell's troops, in passing the hall, threw some shot into it without knowing or even suspecting that it contained the royal fugitive. I knocked at the porter's lodge, and asked for admission. The reply was that his master did not admit any one except on business. We had to content ourselves therefore with only an outside view. The park is very extensive, and is enclosed by a highbrick wall two miles in circumference. The great avenue opening upon the Sheffield road, is about half a mile in length, on each side of which are about 65 trees, rently the growth of centuries. Great appa numbers more are scattered throughout the park, affording shade for the owner, and shelter for the cattle. There is something about these stately trees that elevate my feelings, and give me more impressive ideas of greatness than even castles or palaces. I know not how long they are in arriving to maturity, or how long before they decay; but from their present appearance, should think that they would continue to increase and flourish even after the hall which they surround, shall have fallen to decay." I On our return, we noticed a long, low, one-story building, divided into ten different apartments. Our curiosity led us to make inquiries respecting the design of it. From an old man standing in the yard, we learned that five widowers, of whom himself was one, lived in the five apartments on the left, and five widows, on the right; all I think he said, over eighty years of age. He took us into his apartment. It was furnished with a bed, chair, table, and a few cooking utensils. It was lighted by a small window, and a few coals were burning in the grate. It seemed however a cold damp place for so aged a man to reside in. All the rooms are alike. Each has a patch of land in the rear, on which they raise vegetables sufficient for their own use. By a legacy of one of the former owners of the hall, a certain piece of land was benevolently set apart, the rents of which are for ever to be appropriated for the support of this singular establishment. A pleasant ride of eighteen miles brought us to Coventry. While detained for a coach, we took a hasty view of the churches. St. Michael's being open, and undergoing some repairs, we walked in. Making a few turns around the aisles we returned to the gate, when man stepped up and said, "Hope you'll not forget the workmen." It was useless to dispute with the pick-pocket. He had taken the a advantage of us, having closed the gate during our stay. We paid him the extorted fee, since time would not permit any hindrance. St. Michael's is about 500 years old, and is a good specimen of the ancient style of church building. The spire, one of the handsomest to be found, is 303 feet in height. Time has made such ravages in the lower part of it, that the people living in the neighbourhood, are, every day in danger of being crushed by its fall. An additional shilling handed to the coachman, brought us within a short distance of Kenilworth Castle. This place I had strongly wished to see. The Great Unknown," has rendered it enchanted, if not classic ground, and whoever has read his Kenilworth, will approach the spot with feelings of deep interest. Independently of fiction, it is interesting from its real history, its great antiquity, and its vast extent. What my feelings were I cannot easily describe. I was well acquainted with the history of the castle, and in my imagination could look back to the time in which it was inhabited proud Earl of Leicester, and see him giving an entertainment to Queen Elizabeth and all her suite. by the As I drew near the Castle, a crowd of beggarly children flocked around me offering to sell me a description of the place. To hush their clamours I purchased one, although I had been previously supplied. They then began, in a monotonous tone, to give an account of the different parts of the ruins, all talking at once, and all in the same strain, but not one of them comprehending a word of what they said. A question put to them beyond the compass of their lesson would make them quite mute. 1 distributed among them all the pennies in my possession, and proceeded to the gate. Here again I was beset by several old women, dressed in tattered garments, To stretching out their withered hands and craving charity These molestations which I occasionally mention, are of almost constant occurrence, in this land of enormous hereditary opulence and of no less notorious hereditary poverty. To an American, they are peculiarly vexatious as he is seldom annoyed in this manner in his own country. Passing through the gate, I approached the inner court. describe this place as it is, "great in ruin, noble in decay," is beyond my power. Imagine me standing Imagine me standing agape, like a countryman just arrived in Rome-the mighty tower of Cæsar rising directly on my right, further on lying the ruins of the kitchens--on my left Lord Leicester's buildings, connected with the presence and privy chambers, and in front the great Hall presenting its noble pile. With such a scene around me, I felt amply compensated for all the tediousness of a voyage across the Atlantic. Enough remained of the ruins to convey an impressive idea of the former splendour of the buildings. The walls which are of hewn stone and from ten to fifteen feet thick, rise to a great height, and are partially overgrown with ivy. In some places, their tops crowned with the hawthorn, and trees of considerable size have sprung up from the crevices. The curious manner in which the ivy climbs about the ruins, to appearance binding and holding them together, adds much to their picturesque beauty. Standing thus in admiration of the objects by which I was surrounded, the question naturally occurred, where are the kings and queens, the lords and ladies, that once feasted in these halls, and tilted on these grounds? Where are Cromwell and bis soldiers, with their battering engines? Alas! they have mouldered to dust,-a catastrophe to which even the proudest works of art are tending, though surviving are by so many ages their authors. These scenes preach, in a thrilling manner, what we mortals are-how little there is in pleasure, revelry, and song-how soon "the mightiest pageantry" of life is at an end! If you will accept of my reflections, you may again fancy me among the ruins, wandering through balls, and chambers, and vaults; at one moment winding my way up stone stair-cases, the next climbing to the summits of the walls and towers; sometimes clinging to stones and shrubs, and once or twice fixed in places whence I could not descend without assistance. Since writing the foregoing, I have read a description of the castle in language so much more forcible than my own, that I am tempted to break in upon my narrative, that you may have the benefit of a part of it. "Kenilworth Castle, as it now appears, is a vast and magnificent pile of ruins, proudly seated on an elevated spot, extended round three sides of a spacious inner court, exhibiting in grand display, mouldering walls, dismantled towers, broken battlements, shattered stair-cases, and fragments, more or less perfect, of arches and windows, some highly ornamented and beautiful Nor are the fine picturesque decorations wanting. The gray moss creeps over the surface of the stone, and the long spiry grass waves on the heights of the ramparts; to the corners and cavities of the roofless chambers cling the nestling shrubs, whilst, with its deepening shades, the aged ivy expands in clustering masses, over the side walls and buttresses, or spreads in wild luxuriance to the summits of the towers and higher buildings, or hangs in graceful festoons from the tops of the arches and the tracing of the windows." After running over the different buildings, grounds, &c. for the space of two hours, in my eagerness to see all at once, I began at length to make my examinations more partic ular and definite. Taking my book and plates in hand, I commenced at the entrance through the Great Gateway. This building, which is flanked by four turrets, is in a tolerable state of preservation, and is now inhabited by a farmer. The entrance to the castle was formerly through the centre, but since it has been inhabited, the entrance has been closed up. In this building you meet with an elegant chimneypiece, and an oak wainscot, taken from Leicester's buildings. The next pile to which I came is called Cæsar's Tower, which served as a fortress in time of danger. Three sides remain entire; the fourth was destroyed by Cromwell's troops. Adjoining are the remains of the three kitchens. Passing these, you next enter Lancaster's buildings, in which is the great Banqueting Hall. Several large arched windows here remain entire, and still show the marks of the chisel. I next entered the White Hall, Presence, and Privy Chambers. These are principally in ruins, not much remaining except crumbling walls and broken staircases. Leicester's buildings stand next; and though they are of much later construction than the others, are, like them, fast falling into decay. These structures are so placed as to form nearly a semi-circle; the two ends being formerly connected by Dudley's Lobby and King Henry's Lodgings, both of which are now entirely gone. I next made the circuit of the walls. Commencing at the Great Gateway, and turning to the left, I came to Lun's Tower, the Stables, Water Tower, Mortimer's, and Swan's, successively. These towers served as outposts in times of danger. The wall encloses seven acres, and was formerly surrounded by a deep moat, so consructed that it might at any time be filled with water from the lake or pool that fronted the castle. The lake is now drained, and a rich meadow occupies its place. The tilt-yard may still be traced, and the remains of the towers which were built for the accommodation of the ladies that came to see the performances. In the days of Leicester, the park occupied about eight hundred acres, and was well stocked with deer. The lake which fronted the castle covered one hundred and eleven acres. The park is now divided into farms. The castle was commenced early in the twelfth century. Many additions were made from time to time by the different owners, till it came into the hands of Lord Leicester, who finalcompleted it at the enormous expense of £60,000 sterling, equal at the present time to about $6,000.000. If such was the expense of completing the castle, what must have been the cost of the whole? It reverted from the crown to individuals, and thus back several times in succession. In the year 1216, it was made the strong hold of the barons, and was besieged by the royal forces. After sustaining a siege of six months, it surrendered to the king, and was given by him to his son. In 1575 it was the scene of a grand entertainment, given by the Earl of Leicester to Queen Elizabeth. The historian of the occasion says:"Having completed all things for her reception, did he entertain the Queen for the space of seventeen dayes, with excessive costs, and a variety of delightful shows, as may be seen at large in a special discourse thereof, then printed and entitled, The Princely Pleasures of Kenilworth Casile. &c.'-the cost and expense whereof may be guest at by the quantity of beer then drank, which amounted to three hundred and twenty hogsheads of the ordinary sort, as I have credibly heard." During the civil wars the castle was seized by Cromwell, and by him given to his officers, who left it what it now is, a mighty and majestic pile of ruins. After spending six hours in visit |