your councils, you may be enabled to promote friendly feelings between different classes of my subjects, provide additional security for the continuance of peace, and to maintain contentment and happiness at home, by increasing the comforts and bettering the condition of the great body of my people."

Believing as we firmly do that the principles of Free Trade, fully carried out, will eventually secure for us prosperity at home and peace abroad, we survey with unspeakable interest, and with perfect confidence as to the final result, the present conflict of opinions. Much shall we rejoice if this great question can be settled by the present Par liament, and thus the country be saved from the mischief of delay, and from the serious social evil of a contest between the two great elements of our national strength, Land and Trade. For their own sake, and for the sake of our mixed constitution, (which we wish to remain undisturbed,) we heartily desire that the members of the Aristocracy may not peril either their country's weal or their own order by madly putting themselves in array against the mighty and onward rolling tide of public opinion. Every day is pregnant with important events. Before another month's publication will appear, the immediate question which now occupies the nation's

attention will probably be settled. May it be at once decided in accordance with the benevolent and "earnest prayer" of our beloved Queen! We are sanguine in the hope that it will, and that the great Council of the Nation now assembled will, by its justice, firmness and wisdom, win for itself the respect and gratitude of all classes of the community now living, and of countless generations to come.

Evangelical Alliance at Manchester. Mr. Stowell and twenty-five of the "Evangelical" clergy of Manchester have put forth a paper containing nine reasons for not joining the proposed Evangelical Alliance. We should sadly abuse our readers' patience, and waste valuable space, if we were to copy this wordy manifesto. It is sufficient to state, that the hostility of Mr Stowell and his clerical brethren rests mainly on the Establishment principle, and on the Evangelical Alliance making light "of the unhappy separations" from the established church. They also intimate their opinion, that the Alliance includes some who are not "living members of Christ," and add, that they see "no likelihood of any practical and important measures emanating from a combination embarrassed and crippled by so many conflicting peculiarities of sentiment and opinion."

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

The large space this month necessarily devoted to that melancholy portion of our work, the Obituary, has prevented our giving any Critical Notices or much Intelligence. In future Nos. we will endeavour to remedy this. We can at present only state, that we have received Mr. Wellbeloved's very interesting Memoir of Thomas Thrush, Esq.;" Dr. Greenwood's "Sermons of Consolation;" Mr. Brownson's "Charles Elwood, or the Infidel converted," the two latter being very elegant and welcome reprints from American works in Mr. Chapman's Catholic Series; Dr. Cromwell's "Literary Florets;" " Margaret, a Tale;" Green's "Efforts at Christian Culture;" Preston's "School Education for the Nineteenth Century;" "The Biblical Review," being the first No. of a greatly improved Series of the Congregational Magazine; Mr. Greg on "the German Schism and the Irish Priests;" Combe's "Notes on the New Reformation in Germany;" Mr. Beste's Poem entitled "The Beggar's Coin ;" Mr. Brock's Letter to Rev. R. S. Bunbury; and Fichte's "Destination of Man."

R. and T. H. G. in our next No., in which also our correspondent will resume the History of the Trinitarian Controversy. The second of the Swiss Sketches will also appear. In the April and June Nos. we hope to give the concluding Letters from Rome.

We beg to thank Mr. James, of Newbury, for his obliging offer, which we accept.

The letter from Mr. James and Mr. Wreford only arrived as we were going to press with the last sheet. It shall appear in our next.

ERRATUM.

P. 25, line 10 from the bottom, for "alium," read "aliam."

No. II.-A SUNDAY AT PETIT SACONNEX.

I NEVER could believe that devotional feeling would awaken at the sound of a dinner-bell, or at the dictation of an Act of Parliamentthat it was indicated by a genuflection or a rigid countenance, or that it would come equally spontaneously in a barn, a cottage, or a splendid church; on the contrary, there is no one sentiment, I am persuaded, which requires so much the concurrence of favourable circumstances to raise it to its greatest elevation. Of course I draw a marked distinction between devotional thought and devotional feeling; the former we may call to us by a single effort of the mind; but the latter, like the prismatic colours of the bow, are the result of that moral light which shines not at our bidding, and which, when it shines, chooses its own time and season. So far, therefore, from understanding the reasonableness of those censures which I have sometimes heard cast upon some unhappy mortals because under given circumstances they have not manifested a devotional spirit, I have rather sympathized with the objects of them, remembering how often it has happened with myself in youth-nay, even in my maturer years-that the gaynay, even the comic, vein has prevailed at the very moment when the world has said, "Be devout!" Such thoughts have been suggested to me, perhaps, by the varieties of worship I have lately witnessed, and consequently by the varieties of impressions created in Italy and Switzerland; countries presenting the extremes of ostentation and simplicity: in the one case, offending good taste by an excess of ornament and form, and whatever is intended to appeal to the imagination, as much as they do in the other by the utter absence of them. It was my good fortune, however, not many weeks since, to find out what to my taste was the juste milieu; for I was present at a religious service distinguished by so much simplicity, good sense and good taste, whether as regards the discourse of the preacher, or the attendant circumstances of the worship, that I shall ever think of that sabbath morn as amongst the happiest I have spent. It was at Petit Saconnex, near Geneva, that I attended this service. Now, Petit Saconnex is a very pretty little village, just such an one as Miss Mitford might have described; but as I mean to linger on the lovely road which leads to it, I must not anticipate. The reason for my undertaking so long a walk on a hot July morning, when opportunities of attending religious worship presented themselves so much nearer, was the desire I had of hearing M. Cheneviere, fils, preach,-one of the Venerable Company of Pastors, with whose name and reputation I had for a long time been familiar. Leaving, then, Geneva with my brother and three

VOL. II.

S

other relatives on a bright sunny morning by the Cornavin Gate, which is the road to Paris and Lyons, we turned off by a narrow pathway, leading, as we were told, to Petit Saconnex. Who could fail to anticipate a pretty village from its very name? Grand Saconnex would not have any thing like so much interested me; but these diminutives, from association, are so winning, and, whether applied to persons or places, seem so strongly to bespeak our regard and affection, and to promise something worthy of them, that I had made up my mind long before arriving, that Petit Saconnex must be a kind of boudoir village -a pattern for all others—a fit subject for a tale; and truth to say, as I proceeded, every thing seemed to encourage the anticipation. The road was so well kept, and gradually dwindled down into such diminutive proportions, that it seemed quite in harmony with the village which my fancy had pictured: then the hedges, so neatly, not formally clipped, (I always regard the state of the hedges as indicative of the taste and condition of a rural district,) all spoke of industry united with good taste and a love of order. Here and there, a pretty rustic gate, yet not without elegance, interrupted the line of hedge, and apparently asked one to pause and look in upon the retirement of some thrifty Swiss family. And what a pretty scene it often was we witnessed! A house-that is too town-like; a cottage-nay, that is too rustic; something between the two, and so exquisitely fashioned, as I believe no people on earth can fashion their dwellings but the Swiss; and around it (the abode, we hope, of the purest human love) a garden, so neatly kept and so prettily laid out, and smelling so sweetly of flowers, that, but for the object I had in view, I might have lingered there the entire morning, forgetful of the world and dreaming of a happiness of which this enchanted spot seemed to be the type. Such is the general character of the country through which we passed -an expansion of the village of Henbury; those pretty cottages, however, detached and enlarged, and scattered here and there, with equal or greater neatness and order prevailing, and, unlike Henbury, appearing to be the natural, every-day expression of the tastes of the inhabitants.

But the morning is passing, and we have been wandering amongst these pretty pathways till we have lost our road, and are in danger of arriving too late for the service, not for the sermon perhaps but then the Swiss so far regard the decencies of worship, that the doors are closed soon after the commencement, so as to prevent those unseemly interruptions which are almost the mode in England. "Pray, mademoiselle," said I, addressing a young person evidently belonging to the class of servants-for the French language is necessarily connected with courtesy, and has this peculiarity, which the English certainly has not, that it seems to regard the labouring classes as portions of humanity Pray, mademoiselle," said I, "have the goodness to direct us to Petit Saconnex;" and then she pointed to a series of winding lanes, and, hurrying on, gave us reason to hope that she was bent on the same direction. But the mystery of her haste was soon solved; for presently she overtook and joined some companions-and then what pleasant greetings and eager communications there were, as if to make the most of those precious moments which to them occurred only once a week! Every now and then, from some of the shady paths

which crossed our own, other groups or solitary individuals fell in with us, their wide straw hats waving up and down with their hurried and belated movement. Carriages, too, began to pass us, with a female servant invariably seated on the box-sure indication of a country home, and one, too, regulated by religion. Oh, how English this was! And, though far distant from my native land, how delightful was the momentary illusion that I was in the midst of scenes and associations similar to, if not really, those to which I had been accustomed in the golden days of my early youth! As the stream thus gradually swelled and continued flowing on in one direction, I felt that we were on the right road, and that we were all going up to the house of God in company. Then it was that I could thoroughly sympathize with the feeling of the Psalmist, "I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go unto the house of the Lord." The cheerfulness of nature had communicated itself to my heart, and it seemed as if feeling, not form, was the motive which led me this morning to the sanctuary. There was something, too, in the lovely country through which I was passing which was unspeakably tranquillizing, and which of itself disposed the soul to devotion; for wherever I looked, I could discover nothing but marks of beauty, indications of benevolence infinite and divine-in the bright shining heavens above-in the verdant earth beneath, with its flowerenamelled turf, and its graceful trees, and pretty villas sheltered and half concealed beneath their shade-and the silvery lake glistening in the sun-and the dark range of the Juras contrasting with and frowning like the personification of Sin upon this scene of Beauty. Oh! my heart labours even now with the recollection, as it did then much more with the actual fulness of its enjoyment. Worship was no task. I felt it would be a relief to that overwhelming sense of gratitude which my bosom at that moment experienced to the Creator of the ends of the earth. Yea, I was glad when they said unto me, "Let us go up unto the house of the Lord!"

And now the clear sound of a village bell tells us we are almost arrived. Already between the trees I catch a glimpse of the whitened front of the little church, and a few moments more bring us to the open space before it. Here are assembled all the great men of the village to discuss the affairs of the week, and to give the right-hand of welcome and of friendship to those whose only day of rest is the sabbath, and whose only spot of union is the village green. Sometimes there is a sudden pause in the conversation, and a yielding in the crowd, and a direction of the attention to where a carriage of some great proprietor is driving up; for in republican Switzerland, as in aristocratical England, one meets with the pride of wealth or birth asserted and allowed; and many are the armorial bearings I have seen emblazoned on the church seats in Lucerne and Berne, contrasting strongly with the assumed simplicity and humility of these republicans, and declaring that the pride of rank is a natural feeling, which never will be rooted out until Utopia has been discovered and peopled.—But the second bell warns us to enter the church. As at Berne, the women are seated in the centre, and the men are ranged around; on the right of the pulpit was the schoolmaster or a candidate for the ministry, who read a portion of the Scriptures and the Ten Commandments; at the conclusion of which the clergyman entered the pulpit. This was M.

Charles Cheneviere, a man of about the middle size, with a very pale oval face and dark hair, and wearing spectacles. With hands clasped and eyes uplifted, he rose to pray, occupying not more than two or three minutes. He then read the first verse of the lxxxivth Psalm, already noticed on the front of the pulpit, which the congregation sang with rather better taste than at Berne. This was followed by another prayer of not more than five minutes, concluding with our Lord's Prayer; and then the preacher rose to address his audience, taking as his text Isaiah lv. 8, 9. Restoring the Bible to a little shelf on one side of him, and having on the other side an hour-glass and a glass of water, our preacher proceeded to talk to, rather than harangue, his flock, always in French; and as a specimen of the style of thought peculiar to a certain portion of the Genevese clergy, I will give you some recollections of his discourse. Dividing his subject into three portions, during the intervals of which he paused for about a minute to mark the divisions more distinctly, he proceeded to state the fact, that the difference between human and divine thoughts to which the prophet alluded, was not in their sublimity-for that, all comparison would have been absurd—but in their discordancy. This he wished to illustrate, and thence to shew how much better off man was under the immediate and sole control of God, than if left to the direction of his own thoughts. My thoughts are not your thoughts; neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. The fact of this discordancy," said the preacher," is perceptible in every thing. Which of you can place his hand on his heart and say, I am satisfied? You are all desiring either wealth or position or rank, or other favourable circumstances-never contented with what you have, never harmonizing with God's views and ways. Even in our prayers it is evident: we request the prolongation of a certain blessing, or the change of a disagreeable position, or the removal of such and such a grief and torment. That complete abandonment of the soul to God which follows upon a thorough confidence in him, is but little known amongst us; and least of all are we disposed to endure the desagremens of our position with cheerfulness, as being so ordered for the eternal welfare of our souls. Many of you, again, have friends, who in the course of nature must be taken from you shortly; yet how little are you prepared to resign them, and to sacrifice your own fleeting happiness to their eternal welfare! But I will shew you what would be the consequence of your being left to your own control. At present, indeed, God is regarded rather as an impediment to your happiness. You would like thus and thus to have disposed your life; you would drive poverty out of society, and remove all pain and grief: but what would then remain to elicit the best affections of your nature; and what would become even of your very enjoyments, which depend on the fluctuating character of happiness? But let us imagine a man left to his own direction. He has birth and fortune and the love of friends, and one to share with him his joys; he is overwhelmed, in fact (comble), with advantages. Behold this angel-nay, this demi-god, for such he is: what follows? First, he is devoured by egoism. Surrounded by blessings in a world of suffering, the contrast is unfavourable to his character; he has little sympathy with his kind; his thoughts revert necessarily to, and are concentrated in, his own lofty position. Hence arises a hardness of