a hidden dale, blessed him daily in their hearts before God. We would fain see that ample, if rude, hall, in which from Michaelmas to Easter, every Sunday, the tables were spread for all his flock: and where, no doubt, as they sate together at meat, many a discourse passed—many a question was asked of the doings and sufferings of simple life, and many a quaint relation was made, that it would do one's heart good to hear now. One would like to see, in one's mind's eye, those "four and twenty scollers," sitting at their place at table by him, "whom in his own house he boarded and kept, sometimes fewer, but seldom; the greater part poor men's sonnes, upon whom he bestowed meat, drink, and cloth, and education." One would like to see where that great pot hung, "which he took order should, every Thursday, throughout the yeare, be provided full of boyled meat, for the poor of Houghton." One would like to image where and how sate and looked the great statesman Burleigh, and his train, with that venerable Apostle at the head of the table, which astonished Burleigh, "who took of such diligence and abundance of all things, and so compleat service in the entertainment of so great a stranger, and so unlooked-for a guest." "His parsonage," says his protegee and biographer, George Carleton, bishop of Chichester, from whom we quote, "seemed like a bishop's palace; nor shall a man lightly find one bishop's house among many, worthy to be compared to this house of his, if he consider the variety of buildings, and neatness of the situation. Within, his house was like a monasterie, if a man consider a monasterie such as were in the time of St. Augustine, where hospitality and economy went hand in hand, and the doors were always open to the poor and the stranger."

But there are at Houghton relics and remembrancers which cannot soon be obliterated. The churchyard, for instance, is there, and other tokens and instructive as well as touching records of Barnard Gilpin. We must let our Visitor tell of them; for what we now cite is far better and more enduring than the antique in art, or the picturesque in scenery :

The church of Houghton, where Gilpin so long preached, and where he lies, is a large and handsome old church, with a low tower and spire. The churchyard is large, and finely shaded with avenues of lime-trees, under which you approach the church. At the top of the churchyard stands the Kepyer School, founded by Gilpin, and named after his true friend, John Heath, Esq., of Kepyer, and the almshouses begun by him, and extended and completed by his successor the Rev. George Davenport, and George Lilburne, the cousin of the celebrated Colonel John Lilburne. The sight of Gilpin's school calls to mind some of the noblest of his deeds, and the bitterest scenes of his life. In this school he assembled the children of both rich and poor, so that sound knowledge might be diffused through the district, and able men be raised for the service of their country and their kind. Like most such institutions, it has long ceased to be a school for the poor, but few such schools in such places have suffered so much. It has always been supplied with first-rate scholars from Oxford, as masters, and has sent out a great number of soundly-educated men. In

Gilpin's own time it produced a plentiful harvest, some of whose names we have already mentioned. We have also alluded to Gilpin's custom of taking into it poor boys that he encountered in his travels, and whom he imagined capable of being raised into instruments of national usefulness. Some of these grew into a full realization of his hopes, and amply repaid him by their virtues and prosperity, for his care of them. Such a one was George Carleton, who became bishop of Chichester, and who wrote his life with the glow of a most grateful and honourable mind. But Gilpin was not exempt from the chances of such a lottery as this world is, and others of his scholars grieved him most deeply by their base ingratitude. The journeyings of Barnard Gilpin, and the strange incidents which befell him on the Borders, we shall refer to when we reach those regions in our wanderings; but, before we visit his tomb, we must notice the most eminent instance of ingratitude towards him from his pupils, and its consequences. In one of his journeys near the borders of Wales a ragged lad running by his horse's side and begging, Gilpin, who was struck with the lad's intelligent look, fell into conversation with him, and being as much pleased with his clear, sharp answers, sought out his parents, and with their consent took him home with him, educated him in his school, and afterwards sent him to Queen's College, Oxford. In time, this Hugh Broughton became a very learned man, maintained a theological controversy with the celebrated Beza, and was acknowledged to be the best Hebrew scholar of his time, and skilled in all the learning and traditions of the Rabbins. Great, however, as was his erudition, his heart was base and ungrateful. He joined himself to the enemies and enviers of the good man who had raised him from rags to honour and comfort. The worthy uncle of Barnard Gilpin, Tunstal, had now long been banished by the Reformation, from the see of Durham; James Pilkington, a Protestant bishop, had succeeded him, and had been a kind and steady friend of Gilpin; but now came Richard Barnes, the companion of Broughton, and chancellor of Durham, whose mind was speedily poisoned against him by his relative and the ungrateful Broughton. Barnes suspended him from all his ecclesiastical offices, and summoned him to meet him and the rest of the clergy in the church at Chester-le-Street. This is the relation of what followed by George Carleton. "Master Gilpin," saith Bishop Barnes, "I must have you preach to-day!" Gilpin pleaded that he was not provided with a sermon, and his suspension. "But I can free you," saith the bishop, "from that suspension, and now do free you; and well know that you are never unprovided, for you have now gotten such a habite of preaching that you are able to performe it even upon the soudaine." Master Gilpin remained immoveable, answering," that God was not so to be tempted; and that it was well with him if he were able to performe anything in this kinde upon mature deliberation." "Well then," replyed the bishop, "I commande you, upon your canonicall obedience, to goe up into the pulpit." Master Gilpin, delaying the time yet a little while, answered —“Well, sir, seeing it can be no otherwise, your lordshipe's will be done;" and, after a little pause, began his sermon. He observed his enemies taking notes of all he spoke; yet he proceeded without fear or hesitation; and when his discourse gradually led him to the reprehension of vice, he boldly

and openly reproved the enormities which the bishop permitted in the diocese. "To you, Reverend Father, my speech must be directed. God hath exalted you to bee bishop of this diocese, and God requireth an account of your government thereof. Beholde, I bring these things to your knowledge this day. Say not these crimes have been committed without your knowledge; for, whatever, either yourself shall doe in person, or suffer to be done by others, is wholly your own. Therefore, in the presence of God, of angels, and of men, I pronounce you to be the author of all these evils; yea, and in that strict day of general account, I shall be a witness against you, that all these things have come to your knowledge by my meanes; and all these men shall bear witnesse thereof, who have heard mee speaking unto you this day." A murmur ran through the assembly. Gilpin's enemies trusted that his ruin was sealed; his friends trembled; and when he descended from the pulpit, crowded about him in tears; "You have put a sword into your enemies' hands to slay you with! If the bishop were offended without a cause, what may you expect now?" "God," answered Gilpin, "overruleth all. So that the truth may be propagated, and God glorified, God's will be done regarding me." The clergy dined with the bishop, and Gilpin's friends and enemies silently waited the event. Gilpin came to take his leave of the bishop, and to return homewards. "It shall not be so," answered the bishop, "for I will bring you to your house." And when they were now come to Master Gilpin's parsonage, and walked within into the parlour, the bishop, on a sudden caught Mr. Gilpin by the hand. "Father Gilpin," said he, "I do acknowledge you are fitter to be Bishop of Durham than myself to be parson of this church of yours. I ask forgivenesse for errors past; forgive me, father. I knowe you have hatched some chickens that now seeke to pecke out your eyes, but so long as I shall live Bishop of Durham, be secure-no one shall hurt you."

Gilpin "fell asleep in great peace in the 68th year of this age, in the year of our Lord 1583."

Our readers see that our author reaps sterling as well as delicious fruit, albeit there may be found a multitude of leaves, some of them gratuitously and inopportunely affixed. The foliage, however, is generally green, unwrinkled, and unwithered.

ART. XIII.-Frederick the Great and his Times.

Edited, with an Intro

duction, by TH. CAMPBELL, Esq. 2 vols. Colburn.

THE life of Frederick the Great should be as familiar to every person as any portion or era of modern history; and yet industry and minute research may bring to light important particulars belonging to any period, although it may have been often and long the subject of discussion and illustration. Such industry and research has, for example, been employed by the author of the present volumes, as to have accomplished what we have stated may be generally done.

The work indeed cannot be called a compilation, a mere scissors and paste performance, from ordinary and easily accessible sources. The range of Mr. Campbell's reading is here proved not only to be extensive and his studies patient and profound, but he has had the perseverance to ransack many French and German documents and authorities which are unknown to mere English readers; and demonstrates that his acquaintance with foreign languages is particular and accurate, while no one will require to be told that the wholeboth that which is familiar to us and that which is new-is so put together as literary skill and a chastened eloquence alone can accomplish. It is indeed remarkable that the author of the "Pleasures of Hope," that a person who while a youth took his stand in the front rank of our bards, and in an age of great poets should have the taste and the diligence for such a work as the one before us; that he should be at the pains to collect facts like any dry chronicler, to ferret out minutiæ like any book-worm. But the feature of the performance that is most deserving of notice, is the sobriety with which he expresses himself, the utter repudiating of such enthusiasm and colouring as one would presume must characterize the pages of a poetic genius, detracting from the sterling worth of history, however much the ornaments might affect the imagination and gratify the ear. But our author's life of Petrarch, recently published, and noticed by us, must have prepared the reader for the qualities to which we gladly call attention; and when the period and the characters principally concerned in these volumes are taken into consideration, it may confidently be expected that a more agreeable work is rarely to be met with.

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The Times of Frederick the Great" constitute a grand era; for the history of the world presents so many and such distinct compartments as will enable any philosophic and observing mind to divide the whole into epochs. To the English reader, again, these "Times" furnish important and peculiar claims for regard, seeing that the country and people treated of by the author are related to us by very close ties of kinship and also of religion. Still, how different was that country and those times compared with what are to be witnessed in our day! The periods are removed from each other by little more than an hundred years; and yet how dissimilar the manners, how great the contrast, how wonderful the changes! Why, some of the incontestible facts which we are about to notice would seem to belong to savage nations and to an age of monsters. Yet it cannot be said that Europe was at that era in an uncivilized condition; that learning and refinement had not reached a lofty height; or that useful as well as profound knowledge was a rarity. Still, there was on the part of the rulers of states and of the great in rank a gross disregard of public opinion, often to the violation of every decency, every country presenting its own peculiar aspects

in this way. In our day, however, thanks to the power of the press, and to the rapidity and wonderful ramifications of the means of intercourse, there is not only a general uniformity over all the free states of Europe, but an obedience to public opinion and becoming forms. A monarch now dare not openly act the buffoon, or set at defiance all the moralities; he cannot, safely for his own person, indulge in wanton cruelties, or violate established and sound principles of policy without endangering his throne. But how different was the period which Mr. Campbell's volumes comprise! How striking its characteristics! "It was an epoch of transition," he observes," from the barbarism and brutality of the middle ages to a refinement of manners, if not of sentiments, which radiating from France as its centre, began to penetrate to the remotest parts of Europe. This refinement, too often coupled, it is true, with gross sensuality and contemptible effeminancy, had scarcely yet spread to all the states composing the Germanic empire, including the dominion of the house of Brandenburg, to which these volumes specifically relate. There was still to be found more or less of that coarseness, selfishness, and bigotry which so eminently characterize the boasted ages of chivalry; there still reigned the right divine to govern wrong;' there still prevailed such disdain for that knowledge which not only is power, but which softens the minds and tames down the savage passions, that we shall find, even in the middle of the last century, field-marshals, princes of the empire, who could not read a letter or write their own names."

If we direct attention to particular rulers and to particular countries, we shall meet with such instances of brutality and disgusting indulgence of base passions as were never heard of among the Red Indians or the Negro race. Go north to Peter the Great, of whom we are told, not a day passed in which he was not intoxicated. His cruelty to his attendants, and especially to his confessor, knew no bounds. The Czar would kiss his hands on going away from mass, and "the next moment give him fillips on the nose, beat him, and use him like the meanest slave." The same functionary was also made the emperor's fool. But as to cruelty and despotic acts, the following are illustrations, which in little contain volumes. "The unfortunate Princess Galitzin, who on account of her participation in a conspiracy had been subjected to the knout, so that she had lost her reason, was in this state obliged to contribute to his amusement at table. Whatever he left upon his plate he was accustomed to fling at her head, and she was obliged to rise and come to him to receive fillips on the nose. Riding with the King (Frederick William of Prussia) through Berlin, he saw the gallows in the new market-place, and inquired what sort of machine that was. When the King had explained its use to him, he was so curious to see an execution, that he earnestly begged to be gratified with the amuse