you"; but prophetically to have added, “I pity England— I pity Europe-I pity human nature." He died in the spirit of peace, tranquil in his own expiring heart, and cherishing to the last, with a parental solicitude, the consoling hope that he should be able to give established tranquillity to harassed contending nations. Let us trust that that stroke of death which has borne him from us, may not have left the peace of the world, and the civilized charities of man, as orphans upon the earth. With such a man, to have battled in the cause of genuine liberty-with such a man to have struggled against the inroads of oppression and corruption-with such an example before me, to have to boast that I never in my life gave one vote in Parliament that was not on the side of freedom, is the congratulation that attends the retrospect of my public life. His friendship was the pride and honour of my days. I never, for one moment, regretted to share with him the difficulties, the calumnies, and sometimes even the dangers, that attended his honourable life. And now, reviewing my past political conduct (were the option possible that I should retread the path), I solemnly and deliberately declare, that I would pursue the same course, bear up under the same pressure, abide by the same principles, and remain by his side an exile from power, distinction, and emolument. If I have missed the opportunity of obtaining all the support I might, perhaps, have had, on the present occasion, from a very scrupulous delicacy, which I think became, and was incumbent upon me, I cannot repent it. In so doing, I acted on the feelings upon which I am sensible all those would have acted who loved Mr. Fox as I did. I felt within myself, that while the slightest aspiration might still quiver on those lips, that were the copious channels of eloquence, wisdom, and benevolence-that while one drop of life's blood might still warm that heart, which throbbed only for the good of mankind-I should not, I could not have acted otherwise.

Gentlemen, the hour is not far distant, when an awful knell shall tell you, that the unburied remains of your revered patriot are passing through your streets to that sepulchral home, where your kings, your heroes, your sages, and your poets, will be honoured by an association with his

mortal remains. At that hour, when the sad solemnity shall take place, in a private way, as more suited to the simple dignity of his character, than the splendid gaudiness of public pageantry; when you (all of you), shall be selfmarshalled in reverential sorrow mute, and reflecting on your mighty loss—at that moment shall the disgusting contest of an election-wrangle break the solemnity of such a scene? Is it fitting that any man should overlook the crisis, and risk the monstrous and disgusting contest? Is it fitting that I should be that man? R. B. SHERIDAN.

INAUGURAL DISCOURSE,

ON BEING INSTALLED LORD RECTOR OF THE UNIVERSITY

OF GLASGOW, 1825.

Ir now becomes me to return my very sincere and respectful thanks for the kindness which has placed me in a chair, filled at former times by so many great men, whose names might well make any comparison formidable to a far more worthy successor.

I feel very sensibly, that if I shall now urge you, by general exhortations, to be instant in the pursuit of the learning which, in all its branches, flourishes under the kindly shelter of these roofs, I may weary you with the unprofitable repetition of a thrice-told tale; and if I presume to offer my advice touching the conduct of your studies, I may seem to trespass upon the province of those venerable persons under whose care you have the singular happiness to be placed. But I would, nevertheless, expose myself to either charge, for the sake of joining my voice with theirs, in anxiously entreating you to believe how incomparably the present season is verily and indeed the most precious of your whole lives. It is not the less true,

because it has been oftentimes said, that the period of youth is by far the best fitted for the improvement of the mind, and the retirement of a college almost exclusively adapted to much study. At your enviable age, everything has the lively interest of novelty and freshness; attention is perpetually sharpened by curiosity, and the memory is

tenacious of the deep impressions it thus receives, to a degree unknown in after life; while the distracting cares of the world, or its beguiling pleasures, cross not the threshold of these calm retreats; its distant noise and bustle are faintly heard, making the shelter you enjoy more grateful; and the struggles of anxious mortals, embarked upon that troublous sea, are viewed from an eminence, the security of which is rendered more sweet by the prospect of the scene below. Yet a little while, and you, too, will be plunged into those waters of bitterness; and will cast an eye of regret, as now I do, upon the peaceful regions you have quitted for ever. Such is your lot, as members of society; but it will be your own fault, if you look back on this place with repentance or with shame; and be well assured, that whatever time-aye, every hour-you squander here on unprofitable idling, will then rise up against you, and be paid for by years of bitter but unavailing regrets. Study, then, I beseech you, so to store your minds with the exquisite learning of former ages, that you may always possess within yourselves sources of rational and refined enjoyment, which will enable you to set at nought the grosser pleasures of sense, whereof other men are slaves; and so imbue yourselves with the sound philosophy of later days, forming yourselves to the virtuous babits which are its legitimate offspring, that you may walk unhurt through the trials which await you, and may look down upon the ignorance and error that surround you, not with lofty and supercilious contempt, as the sages of old times, but with the vehement desire of enlightening those who wander in darkness, and who are by so much the more endeared to us by how much they want our assistance.

To me, calmly revolving these things, such pursuits seem far more noble objects of ambition than any upon which the vulgar herd of busy men lavish prodigal their restless exertions. To diffuse useful information-to further intellectual refinement, sure forerunner of moral improvement to hasten the coming of that bright day, when the dawn of general knowledge shall chase away the lazy, lingering mists, even from the base of the great social pyramid ; this, indeed, is a high calling, in which the most splendid talents and consummate virtue may well press onward, eager

to bear a part. I know that I speak in a place consecrated by the pious wisdom of ancient times to the instruction of but a select portion of the community, yet from this classic ground have gone forth those whose genius, not their ancestry, ennobled them; whose incredible merits have opened to all ranks the temple of science; whose illustrious example has made the humblest emulous to climb steeps no longer inaccessible, and enter the unfolded gates burning in the sun. I speak in that city where Black having once taught, and Watt learned, the grand experiment was afterwards made in our day, and with entire success, to demonstrate that the highest intellectual cultivation is perfectly compatible with the daily cares and toils of working men; to shew, by thousands of living examples, that a keen relish for the most sublime truths of science belongs alike to every class of mankind.

To promote this, of all objects the most important, men of talents and of influence I rejoice to behold pressing forward in every part of the empire; but I wait with impatient anxiety to see the same course pursued by men of high station in society, and by men of rank in the world of letters. It should seem as if these felt some little lurking jealousy, and those were somewhat scared by feelings of alarm-the one and the other surely alike groundless. No man of science needs fear to see the day when scientific excellence shall be too vulgar a commodity to bear a high price. The more widely knowledge is spread, the more will they be prized whose happy lot it is to extend its bounds by discovering new truths, or multiply its uses by inventing new modes of applying it in practice. Their numbers will, indeed, be increased, and among them more Watts and more Franklins will be enrolled among the lights of the world, in proportion as more thousands of the working-classes, to which Franklin and Watt belonged, have their thoughts turned towards philosophy; but the order of discoverers and inventors will still be a select few, and the only material variation in their proportion to the bulk of mankind will be, that the mass of the ignorant multitude being progressively diminished, the body of those will be incalculably increased who are worthy to admire genius, and able to bestow upon its possessors an immortal fame.

And if the benefactors of mankind, when they rest from their pious labours, shall be permitted to enjoy hereafter, as an appropriate reward of their virtue, the privilege of looking down upon the blessings with which their toils and sufferings have clothed the scene of their former existence; do not vainly imagine that, in a state of exalted purity and wisdom, the founders of mighty dynasties, the conquerors of new empires, or the more vulgar crowd of evil-doers, who have sacrificed to their own aggrandisement the good of their fellow-creatures, will be gratified by contemplating the monuments of their inglorious fame: theirs will be the delight—theirs the triumph-who can trace the remote effects of their enlightened benevolence in the improved condition of their species, and exult in the reflection, that the prodigious change they now survey, with eyes that age and sorrow can make dim no more—of knowledge become power-virtue sharing in the dominion-superstition trampled under foot - tyranny driven from the world—are the fruits-precious, though costly and though late reaped, yet long enduring-of all the hardships and all the hazards they encountered here below!

BROUGHAM.

NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE'S PROCLAMATION

ON HIS RETURN FROM ELBA.

SOLDIERS! we have not been conquered: two men, sprung from our ranks, have betrayed our laurels, their country, their benefactor, and their prince. Those whom we have beheld for twenty-five years, traversing all Europe to raise up enemies against us; who have spent their lives in fighting against us in the ranks of foreign armies, and in cursing our beautiful France; shall they pretend to command or enchain our eagles, they who have never been able to look them in the face? Shall we suffer them to inherit the fruit of our glorious toils; to take possession of our honours, of our fortunes; to calumniate and revile our glory? If their reign were to continue, all would be lost, even the recollection of those memorable days. With what fury they misrepresent them! They seek to tarnish