persecuted for sedition by governmant. His defence of Paine occasioned his sudden dismissal from the office he held of Attorney-General to the Prince of Wales, to which, however, he was restored in 1802. One of the most remarkable events in Erskine's professional life, was the part he took, in conjunction with Mr., afterwards Sir Vicary, Gibbs, in the trials of Hardy, Tooke, and others, for high treason, in 1794. Insensible to the fatigues of long, and continued exertion, he, on that occasion, defended the accused with an enthusiasm and an eloquence almost superhuman. On the death of Mr. Pitt, in 1806, and the accession to office of Lord Grenville and his party, Mr. Erskine was created a peer, by the title of Lord Erskine of Restormel Castle, in the county of Cornwall, and raised to the dignity of Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain. In the early part of 1807 the short-lived administration of Lord Grenville expired, and Lord Erskine, after quitting the woolsack, took little further share in public affairs. In his retirement he occupied himself chiefly with literary labours He edited several of the state trials, wrote the preface to Mr. Fox's speeches, published a political romance in two volumes, entitled "Armata," and wrote some pamphlets in support of the Greek cause. His lordship died of inflammation of the chest, on the 17th of November, 1823, at Almondell, near Edinburgh, the seat of his nephew, the Hon. Henry Erskine. Profound and accomplished as a lawyer, unrivalled as an orator, Erskine ranks high among the brightest luminaries of the English bar. His daring spirit and undaunted courage, rendered him peculiarly able in the defence of those who were persecuted by the government; and it has been truly remarked of this great man, that he

never raised his voice in the courts, but to war against oppression. To his exertions we owe the present firm establishment of some leading, but then disputed, constitutional doctrines. His lordship married twice, first Miss Moore, as aforesaid, who died on the 22nd of December, 1805, and secondly, Miss Sarah Buck. He was succeeded by his eldest son, David Montagu, present peer, envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary at Munich. His lordship wedded, in January, 1800, Frances, daughter of General Cadwallader, and has, with other issue, an eldest daughter,

FRANCES, who was married in November, 1824, to Gabriel Shaw, Esq.

I LOVE NOT THE MORNING'S LIGHT.

I LOVE not the morning's light,

It is too glad and bright;

When the full fresh beam
Gilds mount and stream,

And the dashing sea
Sparkles broad and free,

And the merry birds wake
To song 'mid the brake.

No answering echo my spirit can own,
Such joy for me hath too wild a tone.

But oh when fades the even

In autumn's changing heaven,
And far in the west,

Like isles of the blest,

The gold clouds lie,

And her low sweet sigh

The soft wind weaves

'Mong the quivering leaves,

My heart, like the lute to an olden strain,
Is wakened to music, and speaks again!

I love not the face where mirth

Still looks unwearied forth,

Where tears are few,

And smiles ever new,
When, like fount that plays

In the noon's hot rays,

The thoughts fast stream

In joy's full beam :

For dread that the soul of so radiant flow

May be vain, and worthless, and cold below.

But show me the serious eye
In whose mild depths there lie
Mind's eagle might,

And fancy's light,

Yet tinged by the hue,

So warm and true,

On the brightest things

Which feeling flings:

For there I feel that there breathes a heart

Where all that is purest and best hath part!

And look we in truth abroad

On the loveliest gifts of God,
The poet's lyre,

The painter's fire,

And Music's flow

Still a tinge of woe,

Still a native tone

Of sweet sadness is thrown

Alike by all o'er the silent soul,

So true doth Genius own Sorrow's controul.

And why must it ever be,

By a bounteous heaven's decree,
That the heart overfraught

With the noblest thought

Must always find,
With its being twined,

A mournful feeling,

Beyond concealing,

That even in summer's full brightness gives
A colour of autumn to all that lives?-

Ah! wisely and well 'twas given
By the mercy of guardian heaven
That the souls loved best,
By its light most blest,

Should never win,

In a world of sin,

That joy serene

Which their dreams have seen,

Lest rapt in earth's pleasures, their heart's full love

Should forget its true home in the joy above!

THE PILGRIM;

AN ANECDOTE OF THE ROMAN JUBILEE.

BY MISS JANE ANNE PORTER.

WHO in this great metropolis of England has not seen and admired the beautiful painting by Wilkie, which represents a well-known lovely Princess at Rome, washing the feet of the Pilgrims who visited the shrine of St. Peter in that renowned city, during the Jubilee? After having witnessed the interesting scene from which he made his sketch, and seen this high-born woman perform her act of humility, our party proceeded to the refectory of the Sacred Institution, where the whole body of fasting and wearied pilgrims were assembled to partake of some needful refreshment. At a given signal, each pilgrim approached the amply spread board, and awaited her turn to be served by the noble ladies who attended the table in a menial, but far from degrading capacity. I remarked when the pilgrims were all placed, and the blessing had been said, that there was still, at the end of the board, one vacant seat, to which every eye seem directed. A strange whispering took place among the spectators, when suddenly a light quick step was heard on the marble floor. I looked round, and beheld one of the fairest visions that my fancy had ever painted. It was a young girl of about seventeen, dressed in the costume of a peasant of the environs of Duomo d'Ossola, over which she wore the scalloped cape and massive rosary, which denoted her to be one of those with whom she now, for the first time, associated.